The man in the mirror

The sea lived in those eyes. They were powerful, reagle, and restless. The mirror chilled his fingertips as Brent gazed into the glass. If only they were his. His eyes closed and darkness comforted him. Brent didn’t need to see to know the dream had faded. Every time he opened his eyes and saw who he really was a part of him died. He had done all he could to give life back the color it once had, but still hope withered. He rested in the bliss. The air smelt moist and he licked the salt off his lips. The muffled sounds of life drifted past. Only the blind could truly see. Light invaded and reality concurred. In the scratched mirror stood a man with dark hair and a weathered face. His brown eyes stared into Brent's soul and found nothing. Brent inhaled and slicked back his greasy hair. It would do. He picked up his duffle bag and shouldered open the door. A hundred conversations assaulted him as he merged into the flow of life. He walked briskly as the sky began to shed its tears. “Train to, port kembla, now boarding.” chimed an automated voice from above. Brent stepped aboard and ducked into the lower deck. He scooted into an empty row and looked out the window, throwing his duffle bag on the seats beside him. “Cair if I join ya?” A tattered old man pointed to Brent's bag with his cane. Brent caught the man out of the corner of his eye, of course he cared, why else would a bag need two seats. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. After giving the man plenty of time to find another seat Brent chanced a look. The man hadn't moved. He exhaled and scooted his bag over. “Thank ya kindly.” The elderly man fell back into the chair. The train hissed and Brent looked out the window as the platform began to slide by. “My names charlie.” Brent studied the graffiti outside. “Your name is Brent Wolf is it not?” He looked over casually “Yeah, what about it.” The elderly mans green eyes sparkled “Well sir I have come to offer you a proposal.” “Thank you for the offer.” Brent turned his back to the man. “Mr. wolf, if you are willing to listen, I believe you will find what I have to say quite interesting.” Gods angry voice echoed in the rolling clouds above. “ Go find someone else to Gip.” “Mr. wolf this is no trick. I’m certain what I have can help you. ” Brent sighed and turned to face the man “ Look, I’m not stupid alright so go sell your junk to someone else.” The man sighed. “Very well.” He struggled to his feet and placed a white card on the dirty seat. “For when you change your mind.” Brent glanced at the card and scoffed. The old man hobbled down the aisle humming “Hands stained red, hearts the same. Men who seek money and fame…” his song was pleasantly interrupted by the hiss of trains distaste. Brent pressed his cheek against the glass and looked to the skies. They billowed and swirled like smoke from a chimney. Brent closed his eyes. He was awoken by a cheery voice as it sang over the train speakers. “This train terminates at, Port Kembla.” Brent groaned and shouldered his duffle bag. He eyed the card and pocketed it. Don't want anyone else to buy what that old man was selling. The void car pulled up to the station and Brent waited impatiently for the door to open. It didn't. The train began to chug forward and pick up speed. “Hey!” Brent pounded against the door. He put down his duffle bag and jogged to the front of the train. “Hey you missed my stop!” He looked threw the small cabin door window. It was ghostly empty. Brent jerked back. Outside indistinct foliage flew past. He clutched a pole. Any second now the train would reach the end of the line. Brent braced for impact his knuckles went white. Five seconds, ten seconds, twenty He hesitantly let go of the pole. “Next stop, Wentworth station.” The train slowed and Brent wandered over to the doors. They parted revealing the green eyes of a teenager. The eyes widened and immediately the young man dropped his bag and knelt. The whole world stopped and instantly fell to its knees. Brent blinked and gazed into what was a world so still and silent it may as well have been a photograph. “Denarius.” A well dressed man with blue eyes and a forced smile approached Brent, arms open wide. A little girl ran in front of him “Move!” His voice darkened and he kicked a small girl out of his way. The girl flew in to the stations hard cement and began to cry. Quickly two men stole the girl away. “Denarius I’m so glad you have graced us with your presence. Come we mustn't stay with these pigs.” He gestured to the kneeling people around them and lead Brent toward his limozeen. Brent shook his head and pulled away. “Who are you? Where am I?” “I trust your trip was pleasant but I must say your mode of transportation was… an interesting choice.” “What did you do to that girl?” “Quickly we haven't time to waste” “ Who do you think you are! You can’t just treat people like that!” The man stopped “I’m am royalty. Surely you of all people understand this.” “I don't care who you are you can't just drop kick a little girl.” The man paused and stared into Brent's eyes “You're not Denarius. You're a criminal! I could have sworn…” Brent stood fists clenched a fire licking up into his eyes. “Guards!” yelled the man turning with a swirl of his cape. Two men grabbed Brent’s arms. “Hey, let go!” He thrashed against their grasp. “Put this man were he belongs.” and the blue eyed man stepped into the limozean. The guards hands were like vice grips, as they dragged Brent down the stairs. “ Halt.” the gate keeper stopped Brent's captures. “What are you doing with this man.” “He is a crimal, look at his eyes.” he peered into Brent's eyes “He is but a commoner, Release him!” “What?” One of the guards that held him let go and looked at Brent. “They were black! I swear!” “I said release him!” The remaining guard that held him let go. Brent rubbed his arms and furrowed his brow. My eyes are black? The commanding guard gestured to him “Don't just stand there like an Idiot, move!” Brent sprung to life and bounded up the stairs. The evening light cast long shadows as a river of green eyes flowed around him. “How did you do that?” A excited teen grasped Brent's shoulders. “Woah.” Brent jerked back and held the teen at arms distance. “Dude, give me some space.” “How did you make your eyes green?” “My eyes are brown alright! not green or black or anything else so just leave me alone.” “You're an amorphic.” A smile grin cracked and grew on the teens brightening face. “I knew it! I knew they were real.” “Look I just need to know where I am and how to get home.” “Of course.” The teen ran his hands threw his hair. “Follow me.” He bounced out of the way of traffic. Brent hesitated and followed. “Ok, ok, ok the myths say you come from a world where your eye color doesn't really matter right? Well here it's different. Either your eye color determines who you are or you determine your eye color I can't really tell the difference. My mom always said you decided who you would be before you were born but…” “What?” Brent stared skeptically at the young man “Right, right focus, so the point is here your eye color shows your personality. Blue is regal, green is lively, and black is strong. The blue eyes took over a long time ago and the black eyes have been fighting against them ever since. Us green eyes we just kinda go with the flow.” “How did I get here?” “Don't know but Legend tells of being from another world that was all these qualities and could change the color his eyes at will.” “So…” “So you're like the most special person ever!” “Fine, but how do I get home.” “The stories always had something about a riddle, You don't happen to have a riddle do you?” Brent fumbled through his pocket and pulled out the white card.

Hands stained red

Souls the same

Men who seek

Power and fame

The lost and weary

The broken heart

All have come

To play their part

But only when

They truly see

Can the captive

Be set free

“Woah! That's so cool!” The teen fidgeted with his fingers. Brent scowled at him “No not cool! How am I going to get home?” “You solve the riddle of course.” Brent closed his eyes trying to ignore the teens rambling in the background. Only when you truly see. Can the captive be set free. How do you truly see? Brent felt the warmth of the evening light as it soaked into his skin. He relaxed. All around him voices boomed but he tuned them out. A bird sang in the distance its melody cascading through the air to Brent's ear. He smelt the blooming buds as they unfurled and welcomed the world. Only the blind man could truly see. An image found his mind. Brent had blue eyes and sat upon a golden throne. His jaw was set and unmoving, and there was no mercy in his gaze. Brent pushed the picture away, it wasn't him. He saw himself again and his green eyes twinkled playfully. Dressed in commoner’s clothes he knelt before his taskmaster. In there was no courage in this man. Brent pushed the image away, it wasn’t him. He saw himself once more and his black eyes stared unwavering. His burly muscles tensed. Brent searched the man's eyes and found no joy. It wasn't him. One more man stepped on to the seen. His brown eyes confidently peered into Brent's own and a smile cracked on his lips. This was him. Brent put his hand on the man's shoulder and embraced him. He opened his eyes. “... so it could be that you're supposed to like find deep inner vibes but who knows. ” Brent walked toward the train determination in his step. “Hey. Where are you going?” The teen jogged after him. Brent stepped aboard the train. “What are you doing?” the teen stopped outside the door. “I’m finding myself.” The doors closed and the train chugged forward. The bustling station passed from view and a wall of green filled the windows. The car began to quake underneath his feet. “Sir I must ask you to leave.” Brent groaned and cracked open his eyes. The conductor shook him once more. “Alright, alright, I’m up.” Brent stretched and rubbed his head. “Sir I need you to get off.” “Ok, I’m moving.” groggily he wandered to the door. Brent stepped into the rain and its sweet fragrance brought his senses to life.. He took a deep breath of the cool air. “Did you enjoy your trip.” The tattered old man sat smiling on the lone bench. Cool streams dribbled down brent's neck and cheek. “Uh ya, It was pretty crazy.” Brent walked over to him and gestured to the old man's cane occupying the bench. “Can I sit? ” The old man looked at Brent from the corner of his eye. “No.” Brent chuckled and the thunder joined him.