Flash Fiction – written by Lee Bailes
I have been every race and gender, and no one is safe. I could be standing right next to you on the tube, and you’d be unaware.
Each morning, I fear what I will find in the mirror’s accursed reflection. Secretly longing for a day when it will stay the same. Hoping one day it will be my true visage.
Until then, I must face the monster in my bathroom alone. It’s me. It’s always me.
Every day begins the same. Born again naked. Stood gripping the cold basin, eyes down, averted. Crusted head to toe in gore. Forever wondering, what have I done now? Who have I become? Whose flesh do I floss from my teeth? Until finally I look.
I’d attempted to vary the routine, to no avail. Doing so never stopped the worst from happening or appearing, but merely delayed the inevitable. I dread it though, daily, fearing what it will show, or who?
I kept detailed records. Noted down what I saw and when. Hoped to learn enough to stop it; that out of this data, I’d spot a vital clue.
I’ve tried preventing this. Done almost everything. I got called a nut when I called it in. No one cared. Killed myself many times. Eternally healed. Persistently reborn.
When it happens, I am wracked with pain. The time it takes depends on the complexity of the turning. I’ve tried to will the transformation, but without success. It’s e’er a mystery to me what will stare back at me in the mirror.
The only name I know for it doesn’t quite capture the essence of me: “Shape shifter”; “changeling?” Unlike the creatures of myth that change at will into anything living or inanimate. I have zero control. I am merely the sum of all my kills. I am what I ate.
It’s my daily manifestation of guilt. Each morning, I become a walking copy of the person I consumed last. Never having remembered doing it. I only know because I’ve seen their faces in the media and scrubbed their blood from my skin.
I’ve tried to stop it. Locked myself up. Paid men to kidnap and imprison me. To end me. All to keep you safe from me.
Except I always wake the same way, covered in the blood of my prey. Rank and foetid of breath. Confronted by the day’s reflected confession. Unsure how I got free, where I fed, or how I got home.
It’s as if I walk in my sleep. Hunt in my nightmares and lead another life when darkness falls.
Must day follow night? Can the cycle be broken?
It’s time I saw the face of the dead in my mirror. The latest victim of the monster in my bathroom.
When you see me, if you know me, can you tell me who they were?
