“Commala-come-come…”

The whispered song stole over her like a breath of cold breeze. She wanted to turn around but stopped herself just in time. The house was dark and it wasn’t like she’d see anything by turning around. She had lived in this house all her life; it was her sense of the house that was helping her traverse and not her eyes. She cautiously took another step forward.

She was numb all over. It perhaps explained why she wasn’t scared. “Commala-come-three! I beg ya, tell me,” she whispered finally. This game wouldn’t end till she gave in and at this moment, she would rather lose and have it end than win and have it continue for an eternity.

“Ye is no fun,” mumbled the shadow that had now moved in front of Sonja.

The only reason she could see the shadow was because it was a shade lighter than her surroundings. She smiled grimly but kept quiet. It wouldn’t do to gloat. “What do you want Shade?” she asked. “We have been through this before. My answer is not going to change.”

“That is what ye thinks,” said Shade with obvious relish. He had been following Sonja for a week now but she had still not given him what he wanted. It was frustrating and amusing. He hadn’t had so much fun tormenting a soul in a thousand years. But now, he wondered who was tormenting whom.

He knew her game as well and so said, “Is it ghosts or just your darker self that makes ya wanna flee?”

“It is me, it is me, that makes me wanna flee,” said Sonja, knowing it was not the answer Shade was looking for.

She heard Shade hissing with anger and grudging admiration as he moved closer to her. “Why do ye frustrate me so? Ye can see me and yet ye is not afraid of me,” he asked caressing her cheek with a long spindly finger.

“There is nothing you can do to me that I cannot do worse to myself.”

“What sort of a soul are ye Sonja? Why do ye torment yeself so?”

“I am a human, Shade, that’s what we do.”

As soon as she said that Shade disappeared and the lights came on. Sonja blinked rapidly as her eyes tried to adjust to the sudden brightness. After a minute, she realized she was on a stage and the theatre was empty but for one member in the audience. She shivered suddenly and realized she was cold. She looked at herself and realized she was wearing a white tank top with black tracks.

The audience member walked closer to her and when s(he) was close enough to be heard but not seen, s(he) breathed, “Commala-come-come…”

Sonja’s eyes popped out with fear and excitement. Why was the voice familiar? As the audience member walked closer, Sonja realized it was her…not some unknown man or woman or Shade for that matter but her. She was just wearing different clothes. Instead of the tank top, she was wearing a pink bra.

“What is going on?” she squeaked, gulping convulsively. Now she was scared.

“Is it ghosts or just your darker self that makes ya wanna flee,” whispered the woman in the white tank top.

Sonja jerked awake in bed, her heart thundering in her chest. She touched her forehead and her hand came off wet with sweat. Her hair was sticking to the nape of her neck and she couldn’t remember the last thing she had done before falling asleep.

She got up and cautiously approached the mirror to the side of her bed. She didn’t know what she expected to see. She laughed with relief when she saw herself staring back.

Abruptly, something shifted in her eyes and she went closer to the mirror. What had she seen? Was it a simple reflection of light streaming from the bedroom window or something else?

In her right iris, to her horror, she saw herself in a white tank top banging as if on the inside and screaming ‘let me out.’ Sonja immediately averted her eyes and looked down at her top. She was wearing a pink bra and panties. Confused, she looked back into the mirror.

She saw a wide-eyed Sonja in pink staring back; no reflections; no disconnected images of herself. Maybe they were just residual images from the dream, she thought turning away from the mirror and going into the bathroom.

Back in the mirror, the white tank top Sonja was trying to find a way out. If only the usurper looked into the mirror one more time, she could take back control of her body.


Reference to Tangent: ‘Commala-come-come’ is a song from the Stephen King novels The Dark Tower. I am obsessed with this song and the series.

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