Mirror

(Challenge: The story starts when the protagonist breaks a mirror.)

The shivering clenched fist plunges into the mirror with a mighty blow. The cloud of smoke following it branches out its tendrils, leaving in a rush akin to haughty winds blowing amongst trees. The fist has pummeled into the frail, thin skin of glass, striking a torrent of ruby hot to drip onto the smooth marble ground. The ground’s chill is a mocking trail of laughter beneath the quivering legs, snaking its way up and into bones, tendons, -escaping blood. The hotness of life flows from the open wounds, coating-colouring plain glass shards, blossoming with fervor of thudding hearts. It travels, flows- in an ironically thin neat line onto the floor; the torrent a calm wave of essence dribbling out of him, draining the red, hot lava from his veins. His fist is littered beautifully with a myriad of glass shapes stuck out of misshapen folded skin, akin to an icy crystal mountain in mighty rein, with the blood forming a stark contrast to the perfect glittered crystals. His vision is awashed, saturated with blooming hues, addled with shadows and rising black figures in the background. It is teeming with grays and frightening darkness and unspoken shadows reaching out to him, swallowing and engulfing-