Bits of reflective glass shot through the air as the mirror burst and another me stepped out. We all stared at it, stunned. Gaped mouths dropped around the dinner table, frozen in place by our unbelieving eyes. It stared only at me, focusing its empty pupils on the face we shared and when it smiled, I felt my own lips move in sync. I realized I was already standing, though I didn’t remember doing so. It took a step forward, as did I, and I felt my right arm reaching out just as it was extending its own, our upright palms now mere inches apart. As our fingers touched a searing pain shot through me, with it a fear so strong I couldn’t move. A fire coursed through my veins as it pushed further, its entire being consuming mine in a jolt of electricity so raw that bile climbed its way up my throat. Someone screamed but it seemed distant somehow, dream-like.
[I originally had an idea for the Dungeon Writing Prompt regarding anger. It was going to start out with something happening to the main character that made the energy from her anger so strong that it literally spawned a second version of her. That version was to go off and do some unsavory things in regards to her anger, unbeknownst to the main character. When she finally realized what was happening, she had to find a way to deal with her anger on an everyday basis, so that it never balled up like that again, destroying her spawn in the process. However, I could think of absolutely no way to begin my plot so I tried to force it. FYI, I hate that feeling. And since I watched the movie The Broken with Lena Headey yesterday, that’s what provoked the above paragraph. I tried to go somewhere with it, but I am so cosmically blocked its not even funny.]