Uranium Eyes

Green eyes glow in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. Radioactive isotopes are degrading beautifully, thereby releasing their unstable electrons in the form of light. A peculiar kind of bio-luminescence exuding from the iris.

She stares into the fixture with shock at the unnatural beam emanating from her body. It feels like a gear has fractured within her mind because she cannot seem to form any coherent thoughts. The cogs and wheels have stopped turning, their progress blocked by some bizarre obstacle. An unknown, but yet familiar, obstruction.

Yes, these two eyes are my own.

They lie between two lines of black lashes, in almond-shaped homes. A purple moon always hangs underneath each of their abodes, sometimes more prominently than others. Unfortunately, little red strings are branching out from here and there, but it doesn't hurt.

Yes, they are undoubtedly mine.

If I look a bit lower down in my looking glass I can see a swamp colored long-sleeved shirt with horizontal black stripes. The shoulders are cut out to show pale skin in what has become the modern fashion, the garment fitting loosely but well.

Military green painted talons called nails clutch at the bottom of those sleeves, as was habitual. I can feel the moisture building on my nervous palms and being absorbed by that cotton blend.

And then, further down yet, are the jeans I remember wearing to school today. They are a favorite pair because of their dark denim color and comfortable, but flattering, waist. I put them on this morning so that I might show off the strapy summer heels they went so well with this time of year. Golden toenails show up brightly against black patent leather.

Back to the radium gems.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink-Blink-Blink.

It is not a trick of the light. No jewelry is causing this odd picture returning back to my retinas.

I observe a hand fly to my half open mouth, and it then moves to the space just below my eyebrow. The hand cannot understand what it feels anymore than I can understand what I see...Dull shock runs through my chest. Panic is starting to precipitate as solution did in chemistry class this morning, taking definitive shape. But not fear. Why am I not afraid? Am I going to die? Am I no longer human? Have I ever been human?

Blink-Blink.

The radiance, like so many trapped algae fueled fireflies, does not fade.

But then she notices, there is another figure just behind her, a bit to the right. Misty outline of what may be, or may not be, a man. Tall and lanky with a high cheek boned face and wild black hair, but that is all she can guess from his form in the reflection. She can't focus on it, only detect that either it or he is there.

And now I am certain that it is there, just behind me, a little to the right. But I can't turn towards him; my body cannot move away from the mirror in any way.

I have been trapped in my own strange effigy, which does not want to disappear. Its toxic rays are reflecting and refracting back.

'Who are you?' I wish I could ask, but things here are far out of my control. This world does not follow any of the known rules of the one I had used to live in.

That does scare me. I am afraid.

Uncertainty.

The shadow remains, it or he has not moved. He just stands there, an impartial audience to my emotions, my thoughts and fears. Somehow it does not feel like an intrusion, since he has every right to be there, maybe even more so than me.

Blaring music, I fall out of the impossible room, and back into my real body. I jerk back into the one which follows the more familiar, safe, rules. Biological, physical, scientific and otherwise.

Turn off the alarm-must have because it stopped sounding. Get out of bed, don't let the covers drop to the floor, turn on overhead light. Ack, too bright, flinch hard.

Open the door, which you have unlocked-yes that's right. Walk into the bathroom so that you can get ready, can't be late again this semester. Turn on sharp bathroom lights, look into the mirror with glazed expression. You find tired confusion in the fact that your irises are their usual bland color. Didn't you just...?

Oh.

Oh, it must have been a dream. But you could have sworn that what you saw was real, you could have sworn that it was a vividly detailed memory. You could have sworn...

Blink-Blink.

Uncertainty.