I got over my initial shock and kept on going, though I had felt fragile. I entered some sort of room. I didn’t know what it was that made me close the door behind me. When I was a teenager I used to always close the door when I went in to my room so my people wouldn’t look down on me.
I was completely cast in darkness. Pure darkness. I shone the torch around the room and saw not much of interest. I realised how dull my torch was when it didn’t give me much light. I looked through the room anyway, not thinking to open up the door because I could see all I needed to see nonetheless.
The floor was made of smooth stones all glued together with concrete and at the very end of the room lay a ragged, wooden desk which was bare apart from a framed photograph of a beautiful blonde woman. Then to the right of me I shone the torch on a mirror. A reflection shot towards me, making my heart miss two beats. I shook and jumped, then fell back, grazing my arms on the stone with only the slightest gasp leaving my lips. I shone the torch back towards the mirror, then realised that the face staring at me was just me- and boy did I look tired.
I then decided to look around. I walked up to the desk and took the picture. This is what he must have wanted… Then I looked around a bit more; at the mirror. It was an ordinary mirror, hanging off the wall and framed with tattered, rotting wood, but the idea of someone standing there shining the torch back at me sent shivers down my spine so I looked away from it. Then I attempted to check behind the mirror, but it wouldn’t budge.