Tonight Dr. Fuggly dreams. On most nights, he will dream of a love long lost and he would cry. Acapiellia was her name, and no words in my language can describe her beauty without accidentally discrediting her. I'll just ask you, the reader, to picture in your head right now the most beautiful woman you can possibly imagine, and we'll leave it at that. This night, however, is unlike most.
He's 18 years old and back in the War of Bookenhile. The rest of his platoon is dead. The sun has gone down. The moon's full illuminatory state goes unseen from the amount of smoke and ash in the air. He's running, stumbling, and falling through the forest. The blood soaking his clothes is not his. Nothing is his. Those aren't his enemies. This isn't his war, and it's not his mind that's in control anymore. He's lost his grip.
He sees three lights go up in the distance in front of him. He instinctively pulls the trigger, and one by one the tiny lights trickle out. He now turns to run in the opposite direction. His heart pounds in his chest so hard he can feel the blood being pumped through every major pressure point in his body. His train of thought wandering off into a million different places. His grip tightens and he fires blindy into the dark empty space. Not caring who or what gets it. Suddenly something sticking out of the ground catches hold of his foot, and brings the young Jikoad Fuggly flat onto his face. His gun soars through the air and lands somewhere up ahead of him in a puddle. He lifts his head. He begins to see an image in front of him. He quickly starts feeling his way through the leaves and branches, and comes across a body. As he stares at the face of the bloody corpse in front of him, he feels as though he's looking at himself. I believe it was at that moment he remembers he has, or in this case, had a twin brother, and as he stared into the eyes of his reflection his brother's body began melting and twisting until it took the form of a mirror.
Fuggly stood up. He looked up at this huge mirror in front of him. Tall as flellaphant, and wide as a water rhino. He stares at his own reflection. The same eyes stare back at him, but the face looks much older. The explosions start back up again, and the image on the other side of the mirror is reaching out his hand to the young Dr. Fuggly, as if to be saying, "Come my friend, and this too shall pass." He looks back one more time at the orange and red-colored explosions in the distance, and takes three steps. One towards the mirror, one through the mirror, and one onto the hard rock floor of where he now found himself. The old man was not to be seen, but hanging on the wall to his left he sees another smaller mirror. He stares into it and sees the old man, and realizes that's who he's become. "No!" He quickly turns to look out at the larger mirror from which he just stepped through. He sees himself again, only younger, like he was only moments ago. The image is smiling and shaking his head as if to mock the Dr. He bends down and picks up a good size rock from withen the pile of sticks and leaves, and throws it with full force at the mirror. There is a look of terror in the Dr's eyes as the shards of glass blow past him. Once and awhile a piece grazes his skin just enough to tear it open and make him bleed. In a moment it is all over and he finds himself staring at a blank wall in the castle. Glass is everywhere. Blood drips down from his fingertips onto the floor, and the Dr. still standing there closes his eyes. That's all the dreaming he does for the night. Dr. Fuggly, lying in his bed, curled into the fetal position, shivers the rest of the night away.
