The Mist – Short Fiction

The mist weaved and inter weaved. She became the mist and the mist became her.

It was all very confusing and new to her.

She had turned 18 and this was surely meant to happen but no one had warned her that this would come so soon.

She walked to the mirror and there she was. Twice reflected back.

She tried to touch the mirror. But the mirror wasn’t there anymore. It dissapeared.

She wasn’t her anymore.

You think that was weird? How about the split end tongue that she now possessed?

She couldn’t talk anymore. She made a low hissing sound.

Alhornitis.

Photo by Mar Newhall on Unsplash

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