Tales from a twisted mind

   The reflection staring back at him was his own.     There he stood, in the darkness of the room, all lights out but for the faint sliver, which crept from below the small space between the curtain and the floor. Although it was not much, he could make out the outline of his nose. Even in the darkness, he knew how perfect he looked.     He raised his fingers and slowly caressed his cheekbone. Until recently, they bore the scars of acne he had while growing up. Undertaking massive skin care treatments, they became a thing of the past now. He moved his fingers again and this time, lightly touched his lips. They felt full and soft. He could not believe how dry and chapped they used to be at one point.     He ran his fingers through the mane of thick hair on his head. He recalled the amount of products he used to kept them soft and silky over the years, after having re-grown them post getting a transplant. He took pride whenever people com...

Anthony walked back to his home slowly. He was returning to his home from the service at the church. Today’s sermon had nothing new to offer, what he had not known for the last 69 years of his life. His knee was paining as ever, thanks to the arthritis now creeping in due to his old age. The walking stick was his most trusted friend now. Sometimes, he felt his walking stick was the only thing in the world he could trust with his life. A retired government employee, Anthony had lived a life what many people would have termed as a mellowed down version of a prophet’s. He was a quiet man; hardly spoke to his neighbors, always minding his own business and never interfering in the lives of others. His own friend often complained how little did they knew about him, for which he partly felt responsible. He had seen the matrix of life and had learnt how disillusioning it is. After reaching his home, he made his way to the cupboard and hung his coat on the hook. He reached his armchair ...