The Red Cup
As soon as I took a sip, I realized it was poison. However, it was too late to fix my mistake. The liquid burned the back of my throat in a subtle way; similar to that of inhaling smoke from a fire. It slid across my tongue and left a trail of bitterness behind. Despite the unpleasantness inside my red cup, I enjoyed it. A small smile fluttered upon my face because, finally, something different was happening. The same day wasn’t being played on repeat. To me, my life could be compared to a car’s broken CD with the disc still stuck inside; I couldn’t change it, all I could do was nothing or listen. And, I chose to listen. But, it’s always the same. Maybe now the CD player at long last ejected the CD from it’s grasp. I once told my mother of this analogy, and she told me that my imagination was my greatest enemy; that this problem was being created within, rather than something that was real. I thought she was being ridiculous. But who doesn’t think that about their mother sometimes.
I could feel the poison dancing within my stomach, and my eyes traveled upwards towards the person who had given me my drink. But, instead of finding the familiar face, I found something even more recognizable staring back into my eyes. It was my own face, or rather, a reflection of it. The smile was still visible and every last detail was an exact copy. Everything except for the red cup, for it was no where to be seen. My hand was clasped around an invisible cylinder that had contained the invisible poison.
A sharp pain lashed itself underneath my ribs, and I fell to my knees, clutching at my chest. The smile had vanished and was replaced with a grimace of fear and agony. My excitement had been short-lived, and regret seeped into every pore of my body. I looked around for my red cup, but it wasn’t there. Had the poison never existed, and if that was the case, why is this happening to me? My eyes flickered as my consciousness swiftly left me, and I fell all the way down, down, down.
I guess the real danger was my imagination all along, and that some people’s poison is the type that can’t be seen.