THE HYPOCRITE IN THE MIRROR (SHORT STORY)

I had an encounter today.

I was getting ready to go out with the family, and I had finished dressing up.

Already, dad was hooting his horn outside, impatiently yelling us into the car at the same time.

I had almost run out to meet up with my family of seven before I remembered I had dropped my phone on my bed. I rushed in again, got it and swirled round to head off, before I came face to face with this strange boy.

He wore a mask, this beautiful mask of handsomeness and he had this charming allure about him. He was clad with muscles and all, and believe me he was hot. I really could have just complimented his gracious physical appearance and personality and then moved on with my business if I hadn’t noticed a quick transformation in his once beautiful eyes.

In his eyes I saw something deep and strange I hadn’t noticed before. There was this plain look in it that sent shivers down my spine.

He scared me when he looked at me this time.

I couldn’t place this look with any emotion I knew, but in it was a touch of every pessimistic kind of feeling, and a sense of darkness that was unique.

His eyes

He bore out his soul through his eyes, and I could really see all that went through him by just looking deep into his eyes. It was creepy.

I saw anger, I saw rage, and I saw bitterness. All this in one being whose outward appearance was beautiful and charming. I wondered how he got to this level and how he allowed things to escalate deeply, and bring him to this state of entangled mess.

His soul was jumbled up amidst every wrong feeling I knew, and instantly I hated him. He was a reproach to my goodness and my happy and cheerful personality.  As far as I was concerned, he shouldn’t even exist. The countless dark and evil thoughts running through his mind disgusted me, and seeing them made me hate him more.

I could feel the heat fuming through my core as I stared at this entity of darkness. I was still in this feat of judgmental rage when I saw something in him I hadn’t noticed earlier.

I saw fear.

It puzzled me how someone could skillfully combine the elements of fear and brutality, and weave it into a grave masterpiece of darkness. He was scared, he was vulnerable. He was scared of his future, scared of things he couldn’t understand, but mostly he was scared of what he was becoming.

Immediately my anger towards him died at this realization. He was scared of himself, and for himself.

He was scared of all the darkness running through him, scared of what this meant for his future, and scared of what would happen if anyone got knowledge of this part of him.

My heart reached out to him, and I was overcome with pity. He actually hated himself more than I hated him.
He didn’t fancy the idea of the depression that came with this darkness, and he wasn’t in it because he chose to. He was trapped there because he didn’t see a way out. He was scared of what people’s reaction would be if he ever exposed the man underneath the mask.

He had realized that everybody loved a cheerful, happy, optimistic person, but nobody wanted to put up with the person who battled darkness, and was losing the war to it.

He knew people loved the mask more than they loved him, just like I had loved the mask and hated him. He knew that people enjoyed comforting deception, no matter how much they claimed to hate deceivers. He knew that nobody wanted to be associated with any appearance of evil, and that was all he was.

He was also scared of his afterlife. He knew with certainty that there was a heaven and hell, and he was sure that all he reeked of was hell. He was already going through a terrible encounter of hell on earth, and he knew more awaited him after death. He had gotten tired of people confronting him selfishly with his worst fears of going to hell, so he had decided to take up the mask. At least they had let him be after they believed that he was now the good person they wanted to see. It was at this point I realized I was crying.

“Who are you?” I managed to say, finally convincing my voice to say something

He smirked like he pitied me.

“Who am I?” He barfed

“Get me a full note book, I would exhaust it and still wouldn’t be able to write who I am completely. I am almost every teenager, child, and adult you encounter on a daily basis.

I am that girl who had to pretend to be a new creature, so that she could fit into a circle of other new creatures, without being scorned.

I am that pastor’s son who just has to hide the fact that he is going through a lot because nobody expects a pastor’s child to have the problems that he is having. As if it is us that select the kind of problems that we would like to have.

I am that girl who can’t talk to her mother about her battles with certain issues of life, because the mummy keeps telling her that to whom much is given, much is expected. Like the much that is given suppresses the devil’s desire to see my soul in ruins.

I am that boy who can’t tell his father that he is depressed because his father is convinced that depression is demonic, and his son cannot be the victim of a demonic attack. I just never knew that the devil now gave preferential treatment to whom he chose to steal from, kill and destroy.

I am that girl who was not happy with her weight, but she couldn’t tell anybody because when she tried, they scorned and rebuked her for being too self-conscious and lacking self-esteem. What I don’t get is how being laughed at builds this esteem. Sadly, that girl became anorexic, and it took her to her grave.

I am that person that everybody expects to be perfect, or hide his imperfections.

Basically, I am that person who can’t open up to anybody about my pains and struggles, because I DARE NOT have those kinds of pains

I am just the last phase of every person who is walking down THIS path”

As he spoke on, tears clouded my vision, and I was still yet to know why I was crying

“Finally” the strange boy spoke out again

“Where did you find me?” he asked, his voice reduced to a whisper

My eyes widened when it dawned on me where I had met this lad

“You are in the mirror”

“Then that should ring a bell. I…am…you” he whispered with tears of his own, gradually disappearing under his mask.

“Young man, you’re busy admiring yourself in the mirror! My father screamed as he barged into my room”

You and your vanity!  Your admiration of yourself has blocked your ears that you cannot hear the horn! If only you would give your spiritual life the kind of attention that you give to your body. Would you rush to the car now! You want us to be late for communion service abi?”

 

Aaay People! Thank you reading this one, my love would always rest with you guys.

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6 comments

  1. Ayyye I subscribed…
    Okay I think this is a really deep story that requires much understanding and absorption to get a grisp of the whole message but regardless of all,this is beautiful

  2. This story is really deep.I just decided to take out time to go through all your write ups this is indeed nice .kudos Mr_Zombie

  3. You know this isn’t fair at all. I’ve been visiting this site daily for a long while now waiting for new posts but there’s none why???? It’s not good to keep your readers waiting Mr zombie. We need new posts or we riot. What’s it gon be?

    1. Oh my Chedges, I’m so sorry for the delaaay. A lot has been going on and I’ve been quite busy, but I promise you, I’m going to resume regular postings very very soon. My deepest apologies for keeping you waiting

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