Lost in His Reflection

Hope waits–even for vanity.

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Halfway to nowhere, my foot drifts

Above the cracked pavement

Past the pond’s edge

Its ripples tug

At my knees’ shadow.

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I almost look.

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I see my face–

Half-covered.

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The ripples pull.

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Harder.

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I fall before I meet…

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Myself.

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I’m not the boy who fell.

Not a man who walked past–

Just a breath between

A pond’s half-reflection

Almost familiar.

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In the space between dark and self-

Hope waits.

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Please find a book of my horror microfiction, Echoes in the Dark, free for download here.