Neighbourskid habitica 01-14-2021

Written By: [neighbourskid]

[FINISH THIS STORY]- [At your birthday party, you receive a very special present…]

At your birthday party, you receive a very special present. It is wrapped in paper that shimmers in constantly changing colours when you hold into the light just so. The ribbon holds it together tightly, the bows on the knot twisting and turning in all sorts of directions. You are fascinated by the way it appears to be changing in colour and size of bow every time you steal a glance at it. There it sits, innocently, forever-changing, on the table with all the other presents. You feel this urge, this tingling in your fingers. You want to open it so bad. But no, it is not time yet. Not quite.

You laugh at a joke your friend made, you reach for yet another plate of birthday cake your father hands you over the back of the couch, you watch as your partner places yet another present on the table while leading the latest arrival into the room. There they now all are, finally. Everyone is here, and you, in the middle of it all, smile with joy abandon. While the conversations slowly die down, your partner gives you a look and a nod. Go on then, you read in their expression. You bargain with yourself for a moment, then decide that, no, that very special present (now a deep purple, the silvery ribbon folding over itself into the form of a snake) would have to wait for last.

You open present after present, the floor around you slowly filled with torn wrapping paper. You laugh and smile and hug and thank person after person for the thoughtful, useful, wonderful gifts. As the table slowly empties and you catch yourself going through the room with your gaze, ticking off whose presents you have already unwrapped, you notice something odd. The very special present seems to be from….no one. The gifts unwrapped, the hugs given, the thanks said—it all adds up to every person in the room. You’ve thanked everyone. So the special present sits, unnamed, alone.

Although the thought does not quite leave you alone, you push it from your mind, and reach for the small present sitting on the table by itself. It is cool to the touch, and the now light blue wrapping paper feels slightly sandy under your fingers. You tug at the ribbon slightly, now simply in the form of a heart, and it falls from the present near effortlessly. The present is not much bigger than the palm of your hand and yet it seems to be the most special of all. You turn it around, slide your fingers into the corners of the paper, tugging open the taped-shut folds of it. You lift your gaze to the room, smile at everyone looking at you intently, curious as to what you’re being gifted. The wrapping paper opens and you fold it aside, revealing the secret it holds inside. For a moment, a golden light illuminates your face, but as you tilt the gift slightly, the shimmer fades. It’s a mirror. A small, palm-sized mirror in an antique-looking bronze frame. You look into it and see yourself looking back. Nothing out of the ordinary seems to be happening, now that the curious wrapping paper is gone. There is no card with the mirror, no name, no indication as to who bestowed this gift upon you. You turn the mirror in your hand, but all you find on its back side is a small, scratchy inscription in a language you do not appear to understand. Turning the mirror back around, you find yourself looking back out of it, once more.

Looking up from this strange gift in your hand, you find your partner looking at you intently, a curious worry etched into their face. You look past them and find the same worry on your father’s face and, slowly, on every face coming into view as your party guests inch closer to look at you. You let your gaze wander over their faces, but something feels very, very wrong. A slight film of silvery substance seems to obstruct your vision. And you feel small, like everyone is gazing down on you.

Held in the palm of your partner, the mirror neatly fits, displaying your confusion for all to see, as you stand behind glass, imprisoned by a bronze frame.