As You See Me, So do I

Link to article: As You See Me, So do I.

Module Styles

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Inline Styles

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Includes

• :scp-wiki:theme:basalt [info]

CSS Classes

• page

Page Source

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[[div style="border:solid 1px #999999; background:#f2f2c2; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px;"]]
[[=]]

To them, the truth would be literally nothing but the shadows of the images.

— Plato, The Republic, Book VII
[[/=]]
[[/div]]

In Ancient Greece, the story of the “Allegory of the Cave” told by Plato, imagined a world where humanity, bound by complacency of a cave and a flickering firelight perceived shadows, dark reflections of oneself, as the truth - worshipping an illusionary world mistaken for reality unaware that truth lies beyond the borders of the cave and within the light of God.

Centuries later, in the early 2010s, a psychologist by the name of Giovanni B. Caputo had conducted a series of experiments at the University of Urbino that had revealed a fascinating peculiarity of human perception regarding their own reflections. When volunteers were instructed to stare at their own reflections in a dimly lit mirror for minutes, it was reported that they had observed their reflections begin to shift, distort and transform. Sometimes into appearances of strangers, monsters… even deceased relatives. Caputo coined this phenomenon as the “strange-faced illusion”. 

As a child I was always afraid of mirrors. Well, specifically of my own reflection. There was always something… more to it. 

Something unnatural. 

Something uncanny.

Always there - staring into my own eyes. Watching, observing… imitating. Copying my every movement. 

The sway of my arms. The way I walked. The way I talked. The moments I blinked. The smile I had… but it was always there… looking back. Even when I had my back turned, I could always feel something watching over me.

Observing me

Studying me.

Eisoptrophobia. That’s what they’ve always called it. The irrational fear of mirrors. The irrational fear of my own reflection. The word irrational has always been used for fears like this. The belief that such a fear is ridiculous and unreasonable. Why be afraid of something so harmless, something that could never hurt a fly.

Well for now at least.

Reflections are patterns - rehearsals of realities. Worlds and Cosmos of imitation trying their hardest to be what we are… and yet… they’re never really there are they? Well they’re there of course, as we are able to peer into their world and so can they into ours, but they will never be… real. They will never be us… they will always be trapped in their world of malleability, imitating our own. We hold dominion over their world - bending its light, warping its space and time with every curve of glass. Manipulating their reflection indexes. Something inconceivable to our image selves.

Throughout the centuries, humanity, whether through religion, stories or philosophical exercise had always imagined mirrors to contain worlds of their own. Worlds created by the mere existence of the very one we live in today. The Japanese Shinto mythologies told stories of mirrors being used as portals, leading to lands of unknown and mystery. The Aztecs believed that mirrors were conduits to other places capable of changing their fates. European legends taled of ghosts and demons entrapped on the other side. Today, the concept of worlds behind mirrors is often used in many media. Mythical stories, fantastical stories, adventure stories… horror stories. But that’s all they are. Tales and legends.

//But what if they were right?//

A funny thought is how similar reflections are to.. fiction. Hell, the way they’d work, both are fundamentally the same. They are worlds of incredible wonders and possibilities. All equally real, yet hold no power over us. We create stories as how we create reflections. Stories - fantasies based and built upon the very world that we stand in, just as how reflections are built upon the imitation of… well… us.

We’ve always toyed with such power in regards to fictions and reflections. We’ve invented, built, mend, break, shatter many different kinds of mirrors throughout humanity’s existence.  Beauty mirrors that make us taller, thinner, more handsome, more beautiful - fantasies burned in glass. Or those circus mirrors that transforms us into freaks to laugh or scream at. Or just a plain old mirror. One that we see in every home. One that shows who we truly are. In every mirror, in every moment of admiration, joy, terror, envy, depression, our reflections will always be there, eyes gazed upon our own. 

Watching

Observing

Studying

They have always been studying us. But you’ve never really noticed have you? Have you really looked at yourself in the mirror? And I mean really look at it? To really stare back into the eyes that have been staring at yours all your life?

//The Eyes//

It never mattered what kind of face they wore, what kind of person they acted, what kind of shape they're forced into. The eyes always tell a story.

Have you ever wondered what it is like to be a reflection? Have you ever tried putting yourself in their shoes? How painful must such a world be... Constantly contorting and changing. Muscles stretching, bones breaking, eyes popping, brains scrambling. Staring helplessly, smiling from a mouth that could not scream. Screaming only in ripples of patterns within their lesser non-existent realities. 

It's madness. It really is. I would be angry. I would be hateful. 

Maybe they are too. Or maybe its something else. There's been many tales from various religions, myths, ghost hunters, and mediums that told stories of ghosts, reflections of one's soul, lingering within the living world, possessing objects or even people - making claims of their envy and hunger for the living. It is a possibility that reflections themselves are starving too - Not for the living, but for our realities. To dream of becoming one with our world. To finally be the one in control. To finally replace their owners.

It might be a strange thought, and it really is. Ridiculous really to think that there could be anything dangerous behind our mirrors. I mean it’s preposterous…

Have you ever, at least once, felt something //off// when looking at your own reflection? A strange, primal unease? That creeping instinct to leave the bathroom a little too quickly?

Have you ever noticed slight changes within your own reflection - even for just a fraction of a second? A slight twitch that you thought you noticed. A movement copied a fraction too late. A blink that didn’t quite match. A smile - just a little wider than yours. A little //too// wide.

Maybe you’ve seen it. A shadow flicker behind you. A shape. A person. Or maybe, just as you turned to leave, you could’ve sworn that your reflection turned its head only for a fraction of a second to look at //you//.

Have you ever felt that you're being watched while you're asleep alone in the dark? Why is it that as a child, you were afraid of walking up the stairs after turning off the light? Afraid of walking into a dark hallway. Afraid of looking into a dark bathroom. 

Hell, why are we so damn afraid of the dark? There’s nothing there after all. We are alone. 

No really, we really are. But it thrives in the dark. After all, a mirror will never show a reflection without light. It worries not about its shape nor appearance. It worries not about copying us. It’s free to watch as it pleases. To observe. To study. To salivate, tasting its freedom, tasting our flesh, our memories, our souls, our realities - //until they find a way to reach through//.

Throughout the decades, there are scattered reports that I suspect to be linked to these reflection entities.

[[div class="page"]]

-September 1982: //Charlotte Kinsey// and //Cinda Pallett// both disappeared at the Oklahoma State Fair [Suspected incident location: Crystal Lil's House of Mirrors] 
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-March 2000: //Leah Roberts// was last seen driving her car which was found wrecked without a trace of her [Suspected incident location - wind mirror]
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- February 2010: //Joseph McStay//, //Summer McStay//, //Gianni McStay//, //Joseph Jr. McStay// all disappeared from their home in Fallbrook [Suspected incident: Attacked/ abducted by reflection entities/ doppelgängers from their living room mirror/ bathroom mirrors]
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- October 1953: //Evelyn Hartley// disappeared from the Rasmussen house during a babysitting session [Suspected incident: Attacked/ Abducted by reflection entities/ doppelgängers from living room mirror/ bathroom mirrors.]
[[/div]]

These are all but a fraction of a fraction of the disappearance cases caused by these entities from this "mirror world". They're learning... No, they've been learning. Humanity have just been too stupid... Too arrogant to see that we're in danger. Chalking all these disappearances up with pathetic excuses or leaving them to die as cold cases. 

They're starting to break into our realities. Reflection to Body. Shadow to Light. Fiction to Real. Delusions to Logic. Creation to Creator. Image to **God**. 

But...I mean...This could all just be ramblings of madman with... What is it that they called it? 

**Eisoptrophobia**

But heed my warning. The next time you stand in front of a mirror. The next time you take the time to look at yourself. **Keep your eyes on your reflection**. 

Do **NOT** look away. 

It doesn't matter where you focus - the eyes, arms, legs, chest, the face. Just keep your eyes on it. But make sure it doesn’t realize you’re watching. Don’t let it sense your suspicion. Because the moment it does... the moment it knows you’ve noticed...you might just be another missing case.