The painted mirror – part 11

“Robin,” Tim repeated.”Robin.”

He didn´t have the energy to reach out. All had lost its firmness. Contours were overlaid to blurring in his vision. A hand multiplied to dozens and sound came distantly. The world under had stolen him and he feared reaching out lest it disappear leaving nothing.

Blood trickling into his mouth from his busted lip brought Tim to. The urge to gag seized him. He clutched his hand to his head which pounded with each movement. There was a soft whisper of pain in his arm too.

“Robin,” said Tim. The fallen body twitched. The limbs, revealed in the little light of the wind-up torch, moved sluggish, silently. The torso began to right itself in the half-shadow.

“Robin,” said Tim. His brother had got to his feet.

“Robin, please,” said Tim.

His brother didn´t turn.

Tim´s anxiety rose as he saw his brother move out of the cave in the direction of the bone cruncher. He didn´t want to speak further for what he saw chilled his blood. His brother carried a mirror that shone liquidly in his hands like a pet serpent and his face bore the grin of an ecstatic devotee. Tim slumped to the floor as he watched the glow lights of Robin´s trainers disappear into the darkness once again along with all trace of normality.

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