UNFAIREST OF THEM ALL
By Steven L. Shrewsbury
“Let justice be done, though the world may perish.”
FERDINAND I
Personal Motto
Larry pumped the cylinder up on the shotgun and glared at
his image in the long, oval mirror. Gaunt, sweaty, clad in filthy jeans and flannel shirt
infested with holes, Larry knew he had seen better days. The dark barrel of the shotgun
rested on his unshaven cheek and provided a cool sensation. Quivering lips parted as
Larry’s eyes blinked and he muttered, “Mirror, mirror…” then coughed
and laughed. It was an ironic gesture, but not one to exude joy.
His legs failed him for a moment.
Larry slumped forward and supported himself on the nightstand beside the aged mirror. When
his weight shifted, the table moved and tapped the long mirror, knocking it askew. Still
holding the gun, the tall man gripped the table with his other hand and glared down.
Quickly, Larry closed his eyes, not wanting to see what lived on that wooden surface. All
that resided there reminded him of reality: An exhausted unemployment benefits notice; a
crumpled letter that was a refusal to be re-hired at CHEMICON Weapons firm; a denied
extension of medical benefits letter and unrenewable prescription medication bottles.
Standing straight again, Larry held
the gun across his chest flat and barked at the distorted reflection, “Mirror,
mirror, who is the fairest of them all?” Eyes closed, tears streaming from them, he
flopped on the bed, hip impacting on the large suitcase in the process. His right hand
drummed on the thin cover and the lumpy contents within. Peering at the tag on the case,
he gave out an ironic chuckle, stunned that the case still bore the CHEMICON Security
clearance tag. Larry ruminated on the fact that their Personnel Department sucked at
making choices as well as their Security force. Larry opened the flap of the case, but his
hand soon receded.
Licking the icy tip of the barrel,
Larry closed his eyes and thought of the daughter he could no longer visit without
supervision. More tears came and torrents of ice flowed over his skull. Glancing at the
mirror again, he thumbed the trigger. Suddenly, Larry turned his head and said,
“Mirror, mirror, who is the fairest of them all? Sonofabitch!”
Jumping up, he went to the mirror
and gaped deep into its depths. No stygian spirit or force dire confronted him, only a
bounced image…one that escaped him before. He looked at the window where this image
originated and then back to the mirror.
Larry put down the rifle and stepped
closer to the window. He opened the two long, antiquated doors and heard the bustle of the
city, teaming with life. The smells of exhaust and the distant aroma of Lake Michigan
filled his senses. Gazing over at the open suitcase, exposing dozens of bottles from
CHEMICON germ warfare research sector, Larry knew the answer to his question.
“Mirror, mirror, I shoulda
known who was fairer than me!” Teeth grinding, hands balled into fists, Larry leered
at the city and proclaimed, “All of them!” |
©2004 Steven L. Shrewsbury
Because
of time constraints, this magazine will no longer have new issues but will be up-dated
with new fiction as it comes in. Present fiction will stay for one month and be rotated to
the archives. |