Novel & Cerita Mirror Poems

POV: Afnan The chamber trembled violently. The walls of the Mirror Gate cracked and warped, flickering between reality and nightmare. My reflection hovered a few feet away, eyes sharper, movements more fluid, a perfect imitation of me, yet everything about it screamed danger. I staggered backward, barely catching myself as the floor rippled like water. My reflection smirked, a cruel twist of my own lips, and raised a hand. Instinct screamed at me to strike, to destroy it. But something deep inside whispered: You can’t fight yourself. Not here. Not now.

So, I am not able to see the one standing behind the mirrors of the room, but they can see me and communicate with me. Four mirror-like walls are enclosing this room: the mirror of reality, the mirror of fear, the mirror of sins and guilt and the mirror of retribution and punishment. The first mirror is the mirror of reality. That one is displaying the true self of the one imprisoned. I looked at that one and… goddamn, do I look like shit, I look like long haired butterfaced ogre, all swollen, with broken bones jutting through my lacerated skin, which was plagued with cuts and bruises. My hair is knotted, sticky, and full of blood and dust. It is matted, dirty and all over the place. I look

The surface of the mirror begins to ripple, distorting our images even more than before until they slowly begin to fade to gray, which is then replaced with blackness. “Merlin Devona Alestra Avalonia..” she finishes then turns to me. “Mirrors are a type of portal,” she explains. “Not as good as shadows, which fall between light and dark where reality is fuzzy and easily changed, but still good. When we see ourselves in the mirror, it is us but not us, another not-quite-there space. A “tween” space.” "What happens next?" I'm shaking now, struggling to keep myself here, present and not screaming. "What do I need to do?"

Evelyn ran, excited and everyone followed her. Seraphina's eyes roamed over that big shiny mirror before her. Its edges were coated with a crimson colour metal. "This mirror is special," Seraphina heard an old woman speaking, who was standing beside the mirror with an old man which she assumed was her husband. "What's special about this mirror?" Nevada asked, curious. "This mirror is called the Mirror Of Love," The old man uttered, smiling. Seraphina became curious at his words. "Mirror of love?" Evelyn asked.

Suddenly, the mirror fogged—on the glass, words began to burn in reverse from within the reflection itself. Glowing Words: “BEWARE THE BLOOD YOU HIDE.” Ceres gasped. The mirror cracked.

The air grew thick with anticipation as the grove shimmered with a soft golden light. In that moment, visions began to swirl around me, revealing fragments of my past, present, and future. They showed me moments of joy and moments of despair, the heights of success and the depths of vulnerability. I watched as the threads of my life wove together, creating a tapestry of experiences and emotions. But amidst the visions, a mirror materialized before me—a mirror that reflected not only my external appearance but also the essence of who I was. As I gazed into it, I saw my deepest desires, my greatest fears, and the vulnerabilities that lay hidden within.

I did a good job, too, because it lay hidden there until my sophomore year when one phone call stripped those masks away, laying bare the Truth so I could see myself for what I was. *** As maybe you can imagine I avoid mirrors as much as possible. Can’t be managed all the time, obviously. I do have to shave, comb my hair and brush my teeth occasionally. There’s also the rear-view mirror in my cab, too. That’s somehow the worst. It focuses on my eyes. Everyone’s heard it by now. It’s used in countless stories, poems and movies when someone wants to sound insightful. Eyes are the windows to the soul. Cliché, but remarkably apt. I hate looking into my eyes. They’re dead and flat, which spooks m

Then she opens the poetry anthology to the poem. A Reflection By MM de Wet (2015) a reflection of the mirror a trick of the eyes and the body what do you really feel? is that tears of joy or of sadness a emotion can easily change a dependent variable of time breaking the mirror will not fit it you will still feel the same haunted by that image of sadness anger pain or of a good memory of happiness and joy

And between those columns— Mirrors. Hundreds of them. No two alike. Some were tall and elegant, framed in blackened gold. Others were warped, their surfaces rippling like disturbed water. A few were fractured, split into jagged pieces that still somehow functioned as one. But none of them reflected Hell. They showed the human world. Cities. Streets. Homes. Moments. A woman crying in silence. A man screaming in rage. A child laughing—until the moment twisted into something else. Each mirror held a different scene, a different fragment of humanity.

Its frame was adorned with intricate carvings, and the surface shimmered like liquid silver, almost inviting them to look within. Emily approached the mirror, her reflection gazing back at her with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. "What is this mirror, and why does it feel so unsettling?" Liam stepped forward, studying his own reflection with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. "I believe this is no ordinary mirror. It seems to reflect more than just our physical appearance." As the pack gathered around, the mirror began to glow softly, and each member's reflection took on a life of its own. Rachel's reflection showed her laughing, carefree, and joyful, but Sarah's reflect