The old man lived by himself.
He wasn't that old, really. Just reaching the crest of that hill they say you go over when you've seen too many birthdays. Seems like every decade they push that mark back just a little further. Give 'em twenty or so years, with medicine how it is, and you won't be "Over the Hill" 'til you're a hundred and one.
He wasn't that old really.
But he felt it.
And he looked it.1
He lived alone in an old, white, wooden house in the countryside.
It was falling to pieces;
leaking,
dripping,
creaking,
cracking,
rotting,
and damn near collapsing.
But, by God it was a house. And it was HIS house. It even had a pleasant view of the South fields, which he hadn't spent a moment looking at it in twenty-some-odd years. It's subtle beauty just didn't strike him anymore. The uglier he got, the uglier the world was.2
Every morning he'd wake up at the same time, eat the same stale bran, and drink the same cheap coffee. And every morning he would spend at least two hours staring at himself in the tiny hand-held mirror his wife had long-since left behind; herself twenty two years in the grave.
And he was surely close on her heels.
Every afternoon, it was his ghostly reflection in the pond by the barn.
When the sun went down and the light failed him, he'd turn to his bedroom window. It helped him sleep to see himself so vague and smooth in the soft candlelight.
He had been something great once. Well-respected, well-liked, well-appreciated. And the girls! The very memory sent a chill down his spine, and damned if he was too far over-the-hill to feel that chill in his pants too.
He had loved his wife. He really did. Sweet as the dickens, she was. Stupid and naive, but sweet. She never did know about all the other women, else she turned a blind eye. Doubtful though. That shit-for-brains.
GIRLS
WEALTH
FAME
He had it all once. But it faded with time.
It faded with age.
It faded with his looks.
In that little mirror he saw the monster he had become. A terrible old man! With those thin wisps of hair popping out of his liver-spotted bald head. There were so few he could count them and keep track as they fell out.
The wrinkles!
The bags under the eyes!
The complexion of a corpse!no better than his shitforbrains deadandrottingnastylittleBITCHofaWIFE!!-!!
!-SMASH-!
Fragments of the old man's reflection bounced and clattered across the table. Hundreds of bloodshot eyes and nasty blemishes and warts and cuts that won't heal, all splintering into a thousand more. It was unbearable.
But the mirror... his wife's mirror...
He was already out the door. He put on his coat as he walked and jumped into his junker pickup. Two turns of the ignition and still no luck. Damn junker! At the third try, the engine puttered to life and off the OLD MAN went to town.3
The first store he stopped at, any mirror that suited him was far too expensive.
The second store he stopped at, no mirror suited him at all.
It was then that he tried the antique store off Main. Seems he'd been there once before
with his wife
many years ago.
The girl that greeted him at the door was pretty. He smiled at her. She smiled back, but surely it was faked. No one could smile at an ugly old man like him and mean it worth a lick. There was a time though, when that girl would have dropped her last dime for a night with him.4
The pretty girl showed the old man a mirror. A mirror six feet tall and freestanding. A mirror with a majestic, but subtle mahogany framing. A PERFECT mirror. And the more he looked at it, the more he felt himself drawn away from any sideways glances or backwards thoughts of that young girl's unmentionables.
The more he looked at it...
at himself...
the better he looked!
He asked the girl in a faint voice what the price of such a PERFECT mirror might be
and much to his surprise, it cost barely anything at all.
A clearance item!
A markdown!
A sale!
Sold!5
The OLD MAN drove home carefully with the mirror riding shotgun in the junker. He couldn't wait to get it home. He could barely keep his eyes on the road.
When the car creaked to a halt, he jumped out and carried the mirror as fast as he could into the living room.
Knocking over anything in his path, he hurriedly set up the wonderful mirror directly in front of the fireplace.6
And just stared.7
H o u r s went by.
In the reflection
his face became younger. His hair grew back. His blemishes disappeared as though they were never there. He was himself again, if only in the mirror. He looked just as good as he did twenty-some-odd years ago.8
When midnight finally rolled around,
another person appeared in the mirror.9
The old man was shocked to see his wife standing beside his reflection, though he himself was alone in that awful old house. The Young Man in the mirror smiled at the appearance of his wife and she smiled back in that dumb way she always did. That little shit-for-brains. The Young Man's smile quickly turned to a frown and he pushed the unsuspecting young woman to the ground. He produced a blade from his coat pocket and cut the girl's throat without a second's hesitation.
The Old Man watched in horror as he ended the life of his wife in that PERFECT mirror. The Young Man's knife plunged in and out of his wife's body,
her legs,
her head.
Her pretty little face. Her stupid, naive, pathetic fucking brains andbloodandgutsandbileSTINGINGhis face!
STOP! That wasn't him! That couldn't be him!
The Young Man didn't stop cutting when he turned to look the Old Man in the eyes.
Blood and bits of this-and-that dripped in streams and clumps off his beautiful, well-respected, well-liked, well-appreciated face. He cracked a terribly PERFECT smile, some of the blood staining those PERFECT teeth brown.
But how could-
He never-
She-10
But then it wasn't just her. Then there were others. All those girls... So many girls... And he cut them too! He
sliced,
jabbed,
ripped,
slashed,
and damn near bathed in their blood.
The Old Man was scared, but he could not look away. And the Young Man knew why. You could see it in that smile. That PERFECT bloodstained smile. He knew because HE knew.
Then FLASH, they were gone. The bodies, the blood and the terror.
It was just Him.
Watching Him.
Then the Young Man smiled again and brought the knife to his own wrists
and
C U T
and
CUT
and Cut
and
cut
c u t.
The Old Man cried out and averted his eyes for the first time in hours, smashing that PERFECT mirror with his gnarled, discolored Old Man hands.
It shattered, but the OLD MAN kept his eyes closed. He stumbled back and collapsed into the corner, toppling over a vase of long-dead plants.
When the old man finally caught his breath and opened his eyes
the blood began to pour from his lacerated arms,
shredded like ribbons,
like the dark red rivers
were waiting
to make sure he saw.
A contest entry
- Points Up For Grabs. by Savage.
817 points, ended January 23, 33 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Impress Me by SigningOff.ImOnline.
200 points, ended February 11, 18 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Want to show off what you can really do? by VampireFriends.
330 points, ended February 21, 32 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Horror or Games?......You Decide......:) by MoonRoseWolf.
370 points, ended April 28, 25 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Horror/Paranormal Thriller Contest by Dr. Psycho.
175 points, ended April 18, 19 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Of a Depraved Mind by Night Terrors.
340 points, ended April 19, 12 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 19 of 19
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An old man with a daranged mind. It happens more often than we like to admit. They are just as sick as any other killer they just have more wisdom. I think you did a great job with this.
The Positives:
Great story full of some great horror elements that I find really fasinarting.
The Negatives:
Well your style is odd and unessisary sometimes, but a great story regardless.
Overall:
I give this an 6/10 you did great. I hope to see you in my future contests thanks so much for entering.
~*~Apathetic Poison~*~beginning: 3, language: 2, plot: 4, ending: 4, dialog: 2, characters: 4.
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Nice written story. I like how you would least expect an Old man go on a psycho rampage. Its very entertaining, but the caps on a couple words looks bad.
Good job! thanks for entering.
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This piece is amazing. You captured the mood and the characters perfectly. The ending was disturbing and this is a very good thing. Thank you for sharing this brilliant piece.
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Loved the story, loved the writing, and especially loved the fact that you aren't afraid to toss "rules" out the window to make this piece all the more effective. The sudden paragraph breaks, bursts of caps, and all other crazy little syntactical choices turned what was a great story to begin with into something even better than that. You've a wonderfully unique style, and this was a very eerie, very enjoyable tale.
Definitely reminded me of Wilde's "Dorian Gray", as others have said, though it also made me think now and then of some short stories I've read - have you heard of "We Can Get Them for You Wholesale" by Neil Gaiman? I think you'd enjoy it =)
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This was very well written, and the story itself was very interesting. However, the thing that made it difficult to read was all the caps lock you used, and the way started new lines in the middle of paragraphs. This can be very effective, but when used too much, it loses its impact.
Nonetheless, I enjoyed this story. It reminded of something by Stephen King. Well done, and thanks for entering! -
Wow
That was brilliant and scary. Have you read Oscar Wilde's "The Picture of Dorian Gray"? That's what your story reminded me of. A gripping read..I liked the words all bunching up together to emphasise the violence. And the idea that 'decency' and old age had grown over the man's deeds but not covered them up altogether.
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brilliant
i think you must already know from all the others who've posted but i'd like to tell you i tought it was amazing
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Very disturbing, but also entertaining. Good job.
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Wow,
I especially liked these lines;He lived alone in an old, white, wooden house in the countryside.
It was falling to pieces;
leaking,
dripping,
creaking,
cracking,
rotting,
and damn near collapsing.I was hoping all the women he had killed would start marching out of the mirror like the brooms in the "Sorcerer's Apprentice" and stab the hell out of him, but your ending was the right one.
You're batting a thousand. I'll catch a flaw sooner or later.
JJ
beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 1, characters: 5.
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You are far too kind to me. I'm looking forward to the day that you rip one of my stories to shreds. Weird thing is, this story seems to be my most well received so far and I think it is weak and in serious need of a rewrite. But after all these positive reviews, I will humbly accept my brilliance and move on.
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that was really good, you kept the pace of the story nice and fast making me just keep reading,
fantastic work.
N.
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you earned a shredded blue ribbon
Disturbing but thoroughly entertaining.
I like the clever way you created pace...
Words, description, and rhythm...Until, itallcrescendosintothe horrorofyourcharacter.
My favorite part ws when you allowed me to breath with
"And just stared"
Good job. I hope you win.
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Mate normally if I like a story and cannot fault it, I usually try offer some sort of grammatical insight for consideration.
However, you have played with the malleable rules and created your own. I love this style, have you heard of Mark Z Danielwski??? Awesome author, plays around with typeface etc, to create cinematic effect. Works a dream. Another author your work reminded me of was Hubert Selby Junior, (God rest his soul) for the anger and use of Caps lock for emphasis regardless of the flimsy rules set out by teachers and the grammer police.
Loved how you said so much, in so little words. Felt like I i'd read a novel in a heartbeat (in a good way)
Keep up the good work, I will definately be checking back to read some of your other stuff! -
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Danielwski is the House of Leaves guy, right? I've been told I need to check that out. Thanks as always for the high marks! I'm glad you dug the story. And I'm really glad you are searching for flaws. I need more of that.
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Holy crap, that was great to read. You, sir, have a way with wording. What stood out the most to me was the format you used to get that rapid-read sensation with the actions and adjectives. It really kept my mind attentive and spun the yarn like a theatrical play.
Great description, great character, great flow and ending. A wonderful piece overall. I didn't see any mistakes or necessities to improve off-hand.
Thank you for submitting this and giving me something worth-while to read. Shit-for-brains. Hur. Old people are funny.
beginning: 5, plot: 4, ending: 5, characters: 5.
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This was really good, Had me hooked from the beginning, and I was eager to find out what was going to happen next. Great job.
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I loved this
Very creepy and very suspenseful.
It is very well written.
It held me from the beginning and didn't let go.
You spun a wonderful story here
Fire -
Wow, this was creepy. I love how you moved the text around for better impact. Amazing, just... amazingly creepy. Nice!
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Whoa. That's some violent, depressing, but very well-written story. I love how you emphasized everything with different ways and divided it up so that it was both fun and interesting to read. The ending...with the mirror...whoa, once again! Imagination. Flawless. I don't know what else to say. Good luck in the contest (I was thinking of entering, too)!
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