Great green leafy trees are reflected on the lagoons glimmering surface. High above the actual trees dance in the breeze, drooping, almost as if to kiss the water with their branches. On the shore are large rocks which I take and skip across the lagoon. The mermaids will love me for this.
I continue to skip rocks until a few lovely mermaids pop their heads out of the forest lagoon and give me dirty looks. They hope it’s Peter, but when they see it’s only Peter’s shadow, they roll their eyes diving back under the water beneath the lillypads and floating flowers.
No one anywhere thinks much of a shadow and they don’t realize shadows are beings too. So the mischief in me has unsewn myself from Peter Pan. He’s been chasing me all day but I’m quicker and smarter than he. It’s why I decided he should take a trip home to a little girl I fancy; she is called Wendy.
Time’s clock is forever ticking above death’s throne. The clock’s glass face absorbes the colours of the landscape where death resides. The greyish-green of the stone mass, a floating island, and the pinky-red fire of the sky above and below, reflects on the clock’s face.
The figure of death sits soberly in his throne. The stone carved form a perfect fit for his lanky tall body. Beneath death’s left and right hands, the leering skulls of his first two victims sit. They are from our first two ancestors, people who lived exceptionally long compared to the humans living in modern times. Adam and Eve had tried to evade death, even though they knew he was coming for them. They had been ignorant and had no idea what death actually meant until they breathed their last.
Their souls he’d had to let fly in heaven, gold birds with giant wings exploring their freedom and return to painlessness. He had kept their skulls, though one day he knew he would have to return them. For now, Adam and Eve’s skulls peered eerily out onto whichever soul was before death seated on his throne. Together with the dying person, death watched their last seconds of life tick away. He towered over them in his realm and let their soul sour to heaven or to hell, there was no inbetween except him.
Some souls who stood before him were not afraid. This always amazed death. He was an imposing figure, giant and fearsome, his red hair as consuming flames, and his eyes burning coals. Some humans gazed up at him with what frightened death as wisdom, something they had gained, which few knew, not even him. Their souls flew away and he knew he would never see them again. Other people crumbled before him and he took time to torment them whether they went below or above. He was death after all, a fearsome being.
Yet, he had no control where a soul went. Death had no power to choose or to do as he wanted. He had a job, a task. He was death, he killed; but he was not merely an end. He was also the beginning. What he valued most of all, freeing those souls trapped in decaying bodies or in bodies injured profusely. Death was a contradiction of terms, both good and evil. Souls of faith went above and souls of disbelief went down to hades. Even death was afraid of what lay far beneath him in the abyss.
Your eyes are a reflection of your soul it is said; but if you’ve seen pitch black-brown eyes, you know they can be the kindest gentle eyes.
People used to be afraid of their reflection — much like our pets. The authorities thought using mirrors was vanity as the Puritans had no mirrors. But I can think of many instances having a mirror would be handy.
It was thought that your left hand was evil, especially if you were left handed. Because the right hand mirrors the left, the left was to be watched.
People used to look at themselves in surfaces that shone and reflected a person’s image back. Glass has not been around so long so we used metals that when shiney gave a reflection.
When mirrors came about, they were put in every place you could think of. On the table, the wall, and on the ceiling. Where can you escape your reflection when it is always mirrored.
And when you do sit down and think, for some self – reflection, does your self reflect your heart or soul? Are you living the life you want to?
And with “selfies” and mirrored surfaces at every place we go. Does our appearance always measure up? Did we leave lipstick on our teeth? Or cut our face during shaving?
I think there’s a bit too much reflective surfaces if I may say so myself. I think we are a bit vain as we look at ourselves in every mirrored surface we can. Perhaps, if we reflected more on the inside our bodies would reflect something greater — something kind.