Chapter 18: Inside [2]

Thunder and lightning terrorized a house in the middle of a dense forest. Rain poured from dark clouds that blocked the sun’s beautiful rays. The house held its defense against the rain, but the wind swayed it ever-so-slightly. The walls rumble and shook from the outside, but everything seemed fine on the inside. All the rooms seen from outside weren’t lit… all but one.

A single light-bulb attached to a string connected to the ceiling swung back and forth. A 12-hour-clock sat on a wall; its second-hand and minute-hand seem to be stuck in place, but the hour-hand was moving as expected when it turned to 1. The light-bulb’s dim light fought valiantly against the darkness, and set the stage for two people. One sat on a chair at one end of the table, and the other sat on another chair at the other end of the table. Them staring at each other was like looking in a mirror, except they both held different facial expressions.

Morr blinked.

“Welcome back.” The imitation greeted.

He held a piece of parchment paper and a quill dipped in ink.

“Hello.” Morr greeted

“Who am I speaking to?” The imitation asked.

“Morr… me, duh.” Morr smiled. “I wanted to ask this the last time we met… is this my house?”

“What makes you think that?” The imitation asked.

“These photos on the wall and those memories of that kid… those are from me, right?” Morr asked.

“Can I ask you a few questions?” The imitation requested.

“Sure.” Morr replied.

“If you do live in this house, can you tell me the names of the people who live here?” The imitation asked.

“Uh…” Morr tried to recall the names of his family, but none came to mind.

“Is it too hard of a question?” The imitation asked.

“I can’t answer right now.” Morr replied.

“Why not?” The imitation inquired.

“I just can’t.” Morr firmly stood his position.

“Then the next question: if this really is your home, then tell me about your room.” The imitation requested.

“It’s a room with stuff in it…” Morr vaguely replied. “You know… a typical boy’s room.”

“Am I being unfair?” The imitation asked in an annoyed tone.

“No…” Morr said.

“If this is your house, then telling me who lives here or how your room looks like shouldn’t be a problem.” The imitation said. “If you can’t specifically answer these questions, then why do you think this is your house?”

“Because that boy… that kid was me.” Morr replied.

“The boy in these fragmented memories?” The imitation inquired.

“Yeah.” Morr confirmed.

“Isn’t that a bit of a stretch?” The imitation asked. “You never even talked to him.”

“I just know it…” Morr said. “If you saw a picture of your younger self, wouldn’t you immediately recognize it?”

“So you’re saying you can recognize yourself, but the memories of those who raised you or where you grew up is too hard?” The imitation inquired.

Morr shook his head.

“Maybe a different approach will help.” The imitation suggested. “Do you know much about magic, if any at all?”

“Only the basics from what I learned awhile ago.” Morr answered honestly.

“Odd, don’t you think?” The imitation asked.

“What?” Morr didn’t think there was anything odd in what he said.

“If you recall from the memory fragments, the kid earned a Merlin award, albeit a junior level.” The imitation reminded. “A junior level Merlin award is still an award that requires more than the basics.”

“What are you implying?” Morr asked.

“If the kid from the memory fragments is truly you, then how is it possible that you only know the basics of magic, when the younger you knew more?” The imitation pressured. “It’s not like one can just willfully forget about magic and start over.”

“No… it has to be me! I know it!” Morr adamantly shouted.

“If that really is you, then don’t you think everything should piece together like a jigsaw puzzle?” The imitation asked. “This is more like you trying to jam yourself into a hole you don’t belong in.”

“Are you saying… this isn’t my house, and that boy isn’t me?” Morr hid his face under the strokes of his fingers massaging his forehead.

“All I’m doing is pointing out the inconsistencies.” The imitation said. “But this won’t get us anywhere… yet. So, let’s move on. That power of yours is interesting. Have you figured it out, yet?”

Morr blinked.

“Not yet.” Morr replied. “I only had a wizard to test it on, and that damn bishop.”

“It is amazing what it can and can’t do.” The imitation said. “By the way, who am I speaking to?”

“Huh? You can’t even recognize your own face? Of course its me.” Morr clicked his tongue. “What are you asking that for?”

“Wouldn’t it be easier for everyone to know who you are by stating your name?” The imitation suggested.

“The hell? It’s just the two of us here.” Morr said. “My name is Morr Yore. Happy?”

“It was quite a heroic effort to save the 20 adventurers trapped behind the marauder.” The imitation commented. “Why did you want to save them?”

“What are you talking about?” Morr asked, confused as to what it meant. “I didn’t save anyone.”

“You didn’t save anyone? Then why fight the marauder?” The imitation asked.

“Because I felt like it.” Morr answered.

“Because you felt like it…” The imitation repeated. “Sometimes I feel like talking.”

“What?” Morr felt the imitation mocking him.

“Am I talking to the right person?” The imitation asked.

“Who else would you be talking to?” Morr replied with a question.

“Moving on, do you recognize this door?” The imitation changed the scenery from a barely-lit room to the hallway that led to many rooms with the word ‘Forget’ carved on each door.

The imitation focused the scenery on a door that had many chains locked on so that it wouldn’t open. Wooden planks attached to the wall and doors reinforced the security of the locks. The broken door knob fell to the floor with a heavy thud. Blue light shone from the slit underneath the doorway.

“Of course not.” Morr answered.

“Do you know what’s behind the door?” The imitation asked.

“I just told you I don’t know what that door is,” Morr repeated, “how would I even know what’s behind it?”

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I opened it, would you?” The imitation proposed.

“Be my guest.” Morr granted his permission.

The imitation stood up from its chair and walked over to the door.

Morr blinked.

As the imitation placed its hand on the door, Morr suddenly knocked his chair back and slammed both hands on the table.

“Stop!” Morr shouted with a grim face.

The imitation looked back, gave an approving nod, and sat on its chair.

“Who am I speaking to?” The imitation asked.

“Morr.” Morr responded in a timid voice. He picked up the chair and situated it upright in front of the table.

“Pleased to meet you, but this isn’t our first time, is it?” The imitation asked.

“I don’t know… but you can’t open that door.” Morr implored.

“I won’t.” The imitation reassured. “It’s already obvious what’s behind it. So, can you tell me why you saved those adventurers?”

“I wanted to save those that are similar to me.” Morr answered timidly.

“And how are they similar to you?” The imitation asked.

“They were stuck… with no way of getting out.” Morr answered honestly. “I didn’t want them to end up like me.”

“Odd, don’t you think?” The imitation asked.

Morr grew nervous and asked, “What do you mean?”

“You killed a wizard before, and wasn’t he in a similar situation?” The imitation asked.

“What are you talking about?” Morr asked in a soft voice.

“You don’t remember?” The imitation inquired. “I imagine it’d be hard to forget killing someone.”

“I don’t.” Morr answered.

The imitation examined Morr’s honest face and noted his answer on the parchment paper.

“I see…” The imitation said.

“Can I ask you a question?” Morr tucked his arms together and nervously looked around.

“What is it?” The imitation inquired.

“Who are you?” Morr asked. “…Why do you have my face?”

“Another odd thing to ask.” The imitation said. “I spare you my time of day and you continuously asked these weird questions.”

“Why is it… weird?” Morr inquired.

“If you were to walk into another person’s house, would you say that everything in that house is yours?” The imitation asked.

“No…” Morr answered.

“Then why do you assume that my face is yours?” The imitation asked.

“Wait…” Morr shook his head. “That’s my face.”

“I see…” The imitation noted those words onto the parchment paper with his quill. “This is a good time to stop for now--“

“You haven’t answered my question.” Morr urged. “Who are you?”

“Curious, are we?” The imitation looked at the clock with its hour-hand on 6. “I’m not one to dawdle on things, but I won’t answer your question either. I want to hear your mind speak, so show me what the Church has done to you.”

A small, circle-shaped mirror appeared between the two of them and sat at the center of the table.

“Look at your own face.” The imitation suggested.

Morr reluctantly held the mirror to eye-level.

A joyful face reflected in the mirror. It stared back, happy that it has everything it does and was genuinely thankful for being alive. The amount of people he killed, or the amount of deaths he saw were clearly not shown. It seemed that his life up until now had been peaceful and worth living. its innocent was pure; to accuse it of murdering would attract doubtful eyes.

A raging face was the next to appear. It stared back, its seething anger couldn’t be contained in its eyes. Everything from the way he lived until now, and the amount of people that he wanted to kill -- it was all visible from his facial expression. Rather than striving for a good life, he wanted to burn down everything that caused him misfortune. The Church, the marauder, the Guard Captain -- nothing could escape his gaze.

Next, a timid face reflected in the mirror. It stared back, cautious and scare of everything. Everything that move or had a life in them was a danger to him. He watched the world with a relentless heart that distrusted everything in his view. It was scared of everything, and it had to if it wanted to live. The abomination from the church could be seen deep in its eyes, refusing to let it spread.

Morr placed the mirror back onto the table, deeply shocked at what he just saw. He looked at the imitation who had analytical eyes. He was as calm and composed as ever.

"What the hell is going on!" Morr pressed his fingers against his face.

"Going crazy from looking at your own face?" The imitation asked.

Morr wildly shook his head and refused to believe what he just saw. His face constantly changed and shifted from one emotion to another. He didn't have any control over it, nor did he felt it. It all happened so seemlessly.

"My... own face?" Morr fell into a deep thought.

It was then that Morr finally understood what the hell was going on. The conversation between him and the imitation became so clear. To confirm his thought, he walked over to the imitation and placed the mirror towards its face.

Nothing was there.

Morr sat down where the imitation should be, and asked, “Does that confirm your suspicion?”

Morr then walked to the other side of the table and breathlessly said, “It can’t be… No way…”

Morr walked to the other side of the table again and said, “It’s time to go back.”