INHUMAN

There stood a lonely mirror. Inside a blank state of reality with nothing and everything colored in blackness. A void existence of what was and is... what had been and what will be. The mirror merely showing a blank expression of a clear and none-see through material. None-see through yet it clearly sees through the masks of emotion of those who use it.

Agony. Its favorite meal. A figure that feeds off the internal pain of those who bear dreams or nightmares about it. The emotion resulting of such depending on who and what happens to find it in ones dazzling psyche.

Reginald Bartolome Arka, A Half-American Half-Filipino Deadbeat in his early 20s bears such a monster within him, yet it acts more of a crutch rather than a curse from all the instances he's been able to avoid with it... Yet the power he didn't know he had held his own emotions hostage, from blissful intent up to malicious emotion, his face remained the same. Ever so serious, yet unknowing of what may have been causing this to him.

They described him as an overly stoic individual, one who didn't seem to have remorse for his wrongdoings, nor had any festive cheer for anything in his life. Truly a marvel to behold, average yet containing a greater feature than most vessels out there in the world. He lived in a small yet spacious apartment, the floor donning wooden features, furniture having been in a minimal amount as to compliment the non-spacious space he resided in. The room merely had a few chairs, shelves, a bed, wardrobe, grayish dusted up carpet, and a ceiling fan. The walls merely extending to support the sliding window on the left-hand side, the other donning a door into a small bathroom.

The man was fast asleep, his eyes shut from reality as he stared at the inside figure of the mirror, observing his room as the side of himself that had always been consumed before his vessel awoken. A kind of hijacking in terms yet not fully taking over his mind. A mirror fixed into a sense of mental psychopathy, One made from its own actions, yet one that continues to feed it as long as it deems the emotions of man acceptable in its voidless and boundless appetite. Merely being able to feast on one instead of multiple like the olden days of his reign. Surely, the time of essence was the peak of activity from these creature. The ones who used to roam and walk the lands, now confined to mere vessels unchosen and undetermined.

The Mirror that stood before him broke. Shards reforming into a shattered glassy state. The Mirror soon grew tired of the emotionless vessel it had been stuck inside of, Its parts popping out, growing sharp fangs and a voidless mouth. Chewing. Biting. Lacerating of flesh. The man merely watched nonchalantly, his gaze of unexpressed terror looked upon the entrails of his body, being dragged off towards the mouthy shard-filled chompers of the mirror.

His brain kicked off his nightmarish process, waking him up, confused as to why he had been sweating so much. His breathing heavier than the debt he had to pay off for that 2 year computer science course. Reggie sat and leaned upon the wooden frames of his bed. His mind half-asleep, unable to render what his nightmare was. He picked up the notebook and pen he held in his hand. Scribbling down the imagery as well as noting down as much as he could under the blank page. 466.

It's been like this each day for him now... 466 days in a row. Too much to call as a normal pattern of neurological stasis in one's mentality. Yet something felt whole about him. Even with all the complications in his mind, his inner machinations and workings had been fine. He was fine. Doctors told him so... And he did eventually tell himself the same. He wasn't wrong, nor was he right. He had been living at the same town most his life, nothing was off for him as he didnt care.

7:08. Late. He woke up, rather late as he had to open up the shop by 7 for the unfortunate kids and other folk to be able to access internet. He managed a computer shop, passed down from his dad. Though he didn't know him much... seeing as this was his mothers shop. Given to him after his mom died, resulting in his dad leaving him for a new spouse. He hated this place... hated... hated? It was the only viable means of money he could get. Seeing as most looked at him as an unreliable and off putting character. A foul addition to anyone's company rosters. Because of this, he was content... rather used to the below regular lifestyle.

He didn't ask much for anything... since the luxury of having what what he wanted as a kid wasn't at all present. Left by both parents at the age of 6... raised by his grandparents who would have eventually passed on as he turned 18. Yet it didn't phase him. The way it didn't phase him couldn't phase him as well. Since the mirror fed on whatever he felt at the time, he wasn't seen as normal anymore. Stoic didn't cut it... nothing was able to move him...

He couldn't tell anyone about their dark aura. The emotions and such they emit even with their masked attempts of various faces. Reggie could see emotion from others, even with their faces covered up or their emotions suppressed. The Mirror could see yet it couldn't feed amongst the unhinged souls of those who visited his computer shop.

A sad fate for both. Yet the Mirror seems to always match with any vessel it is provided. Unlike the others. This one couldn't talk or influence. Not yet that is.