I once tried my hand at writing horror. It was a short horror story, in fact, that gave me the final edge in getting accepted to the college I wanted to go to.
A few nights ago I had a dream that was spawned somewhere between too many Edgar Allen Poe stories and my own personal insecurities. The premise of the dream would either make a very nice horror story or a very interesting psychiatrist session. Probably both.
The premise is this: what would it feel like to be trapped behind a mirror in your own home? And I mean this literally. Being bound and gagged in a room just tall and wide enough for you stand in, no room to turn or sit. And you face a one-way mirror into the bathroom of your house. Those who come in, your loved ones, the ones you care about, stare into the mirror and only see their reflections. But you are trapped, watching them stare right at you, oblivious.
This was my dream, being trapped there. Watching.