Labels:text | screenshot | black and white OCR: "You're OK kid, you're gonna be fine! You can go through the door or you can stay here and play with us. You passed the test." When Timmy rose from the ground, he saw that everything had restored to a normal, more appropriate color. The large door now reflected his own image. He looked at himself, he was healthy, but slightly transparent. John did not reflect. "Go through kid, you've earned your peace. I'll miss you." Little Timmy was too confused to respond, he simply stared at himself and tried to remember how he got here in the first place. One last glance was cast at John, who turned and faded away, saying in the background, "Good luck, kid." A single hand reached out, the palm facing away, the fingers extended. Timmy could not remember the last time he stood on his feet, unaided, unguarded He looked around. The light cast on a gloomy scene, covered with with a bitter smelling mist. There was not a sound, save for the unceasing whir of the drill and an occasional thud sound of it encountering a hard substance. He looked at the scene: it was himself, on a white table. Dark red stains spread near his head, the drill boring steadily through his skull. No voices, but Timmy could see the EKG, it was flatline. He worried now as the doctor ceased drilling, all of the people assembled around him looked up at the large analog clock, and then down at their own watches. It was over. But no sooner had Timmy thrust his hands toward the image, than had the image simply faded from the mist. Now, all that remained was the mirror and the light. It called, soothed, calmed. The light was pure and warm, and Timmy sensed that there were answers in the light, but he also remembered his friends in the mirror; they were back there, back in the fun place. Soft voices caressed Timmy's mind. All he could see here were the soothing tones of the light. He wanted the light, sought it, there was warmth and peace in the light, a calm satisfaction he had never known before. But just as Timmy was about to step into the light, he fought back another tiny, miniscule voice calling out to him from the mirror. "You're OK kid, we'll miss you ... " Timmy had never really had many friends; John was the closest thing he had. John didn't seem to mind that Timmy wasn't perfect. And with all the pain and sorrow he had known, the mirror looked more and more like a really great place to be. Timmy's mind was made up. He stepped away from the light. Surrounded by the dissolute mist of his death, he walked toward the mirror. His face distorted quite concerting in the image as it smiled at him in return. He knew there was no turning back. Despite all of the answers and warmth in the light, his mind needed to be set free, to play. A single hand outstretched into the liquid surface of the mirror. His fingers felt a strange chill as his hand submerged in the smooth mirror up to the wrist. He smiled. No fear, just happiness and joy, he would get to play with his friends in the mirror, forever. He stepped through, his entire body feeling the numbing cold as he melted into the mirror and entered the realm. His tragically tormented soul was finally set free in the land of eternal happiness. GWOP
(.png)
