Crystal Shards

The mirror. Nothing more than a simple item, often used for the benefit of the vain, but here in the absolute silence, it held a dark attraction. Something he couldn't resist. Not that he was vain, far from it, but because it had been so long. He started towards it, with the intention of glancing at himself. Upon reaching the reflective glass, he stopped suddenly. His attention completely absorbed by what he saw, and in the mirror, his emerald eyes widened. He didn't remember his reflection like this, of course it had been a while since he last saw it. His eyes, though still very green, were dark and unforgiving. His entire appearance seemed to be cloaked in shadow. His delicate eyebrows knitted together in utter confusion.

It may have been a long time, but he was sure he did not look like this. He shut his eyes to block the dreadful vision, then shook his head vigorously. Slowly, he opened his eyes again, perhaps he had been mistaken? But he was not, once again the frightful image was still there. He leaned in closer to the mirror, searching desperately. He was only rewarded with the image of himself moving closer. He jumped back, it was rather chilling to have a face that was so full of cold hatred and malice, so close to you. The figure in the mirror did the same, almost as if it too was frightened of some horrid figure reflection. He continued to study the figure, and glimpsed something, a very small something, but he was sure it was something. He searched harder, and thought he saw it again. It was somewhere in the abysmal depths of the emerald pools. If was only a tiny flicker, but it provided hope enough. Therefore, he waited.

Relentlessly, he stood there and gazed into the mirror for what felt an eternity. His eyes got blurry and a wave of weariness washed over him, but he remained. However, after awhile his body relaxed and he felt his eyes droop, and then a very curious thing happened. While his head lulled forward, he caught the eye of the figure in the mirror, and he felt as though he was being pulled into that piercing gaze. He seemed to be drawing closer to it, and as he did, he saw that thing, whatever it was, but it was the very same thing he had seen earlier. Still nearing the other emerald eye, he began to see for the first, and perhaps, the last time, what it was that flickered so indecisively in his, no its, eye. He recognized it, he knew what it was, but he could not name it. It was so familiar, yet so foreign, at the same time. He wracked his brain for a moment trying very hard to remember what it was. The word itself, hovered in some far corner of his mind. At a snail's pace it returned. Mentally, he embraced it and was shocked that such a thing had escaped the clutches of his mind. Emotion. He had forgotten emotion. How? Emotion. He knew emotion to be cruel, merciless, and hateful, but this, this was not any of these. This was something new. No, not something new, but something else that was forgotten. That he had forgotten. When he finally grasped what it was, the tiny flame of emotion blossomed in his eyes.

It was sorrow, it was regret. It was guilt and sadness. To him, it was weakness. Anger flashed across his features, and one delicate, gloved hand violently struck the mirror. The delicate surface shattered into miniscule fragments. They made a light, tinkling sound as they rained down upon the hard floor. He was not weak, he was the best, the strongest! Nothing defied him! And those who did, never lived to boast about it! No, he was not weak. His reassurances didn't halt the steady stream of depression that he felt. In the end, his own crystal shards rained on the floor, but these were softer, and they made no sound as they hit the hard surface. They ran down his cheeks, and poured from two emerald abysses. When the last of the shards settled on the floor, he looked at the gaping hole where the glass of the mirror used to be. It was nothing more than a hollow, a shell of its former glory. It was once beautiful, until he had broken it. It had only taken a mere second for him to destroy it, yet it probably took days, weeks even to make. It was plain to see that only someone very skilled could have made it. It dawned on him that he was the one who had ruined such beauty. He ran a hand across his own handsome face, and found that in the recesses of his mind, from that same corner where emotion had come from, he knew that he was broken. He knew that it was his shattered fragments that were strewn across the floor, that his crystal shards were destroyed, that he would never be able to mend such a wound.

Hello, i would like to know what you think of this. plz review