Mirror Site Grampa
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Mirror Site: A Father's Love free porn video
I wrote this for Ms. Dauber's new universe and sent it to her. She
seemed to like it, so I hope she doesn't mind my sending it to the
lists. I hope it serves as an adequate introduction story. I don't write
much, or often-so if you like it, I'm sorry there won't be scads more
and if you hate it then congratulations, you shan't be plagued with
large amounts of literary dross.
Mirror Site: A Father's Love
By Shadoe1
It was another small town. Non-descript Americana at it's best. An ice
cream parlor, a 5 and 10 store, big yellow school buses running to the
three small schools, and a Mom and Pop sort of a grocery store. No Super
Wal-Mart here yet. The air was crisp and clean with Autumn's breeze
carrying the hint of Winter's breath on it. Leaves swirled down the
cracked macadam street as it ran off in front of his Chevy. In a barren
lot, to the right, sat a large green tent with a yellow flag displayed
at the top. Signs tacked to nearby power poles announced the "Hall of
Mystic Mirrors".
Harold sat in his car and stared through tired eyes. He always seemed
tired these days. His life was kind of like the old Route 66. Once so
vibrant and full of life and hope, now empty and abandoned. As devoid of
hope as that swamp land his brother in law had bought back in '76. The
year after he and Jenny had married. In 1980 they had their first, and
only, child. Samantha was as beautiful as her mother, and even more
delicate.
Four days into Samantha's young life Harold and Jenny had been told she
had a heart condition. She needed surgery. She was so tiny and pink and
perfect. How? How could a merciful and loving God allow her to be sick?
The surgery was a success, of sorts. Her life had been saved and
extended. With care and medication she could live to be maybe 18 or 19
years old. By then maybe they would have perfected heart transplants.
Maybe, so many maybes in his child's life.
Jenny died two years later. They said it was an aortal aneurysm. In a
flash she was gone, and Harold and his daughter were alone.
Harold doted on his daughter. He took her to the best doctors. He could
afford it. His parents had left him well enough off that he didn't have
to be concerned with working.
Sam was always a bright, sweet, generous child. She rarely asked
anything for herself, but for her small circle of friends... well, that
was another matter entirely.
Sam had been on the list for a heart transplant for the last 4 years of
her life. No match was found in time. Two days before her 20th birthday
she had succumbed, and Harold was all alone again. It was so unfair. She
had only recently become engaged to a real nice guy named Bob. They had
hoped to have children someday. Now Sam was gone, and with her death,
the light had gone out of her fathers world.
Since then Harold had wandered the back roads of America. Moving around
from one small town to another, always searching for-what-he wasn't
sure. A reason to continue perhaps? Not that he would deliberately end
his own life. No, Harold was a good enough Christian to not see suicide
as a viable option. Still, at times, late at night he wondered.
On impulse Harold turned his car to the curb and parked near the big
tent. Maybe he could get directions to a nearby hotel from the workers,
or another customer, besides the tent did sound like fun. His Sam had
always loved glass houses and halls of mirrors. Samantha, his
precious-precious Sam. Harold glanced at the street sign at the corner,
"Diamond and 6th. Who knows, maybe there's a treasure inside the lot at
Diamond and 6th." With a rueful smile Harold walked up to the scruffy
looking young man at the tent flap.
"Hi. I was wondering..." He got no further when the young man cut him
off with a loud Brooklynish voice.
"Hayas Harold. Lookin' for a Doimond in the rough are youse? Only a
dollah. Who knows mebbey youse can find what you've lost inside."
As shocked as he was at the man knowing his name, Harold was even more
startled at his seeming insight.
"What? How? Who?"
"Names Bahkah. Bahkah by name and bahkah by game. Why ask why Harold?
The answers to what youse seek are inside. One dollah please."
Like an automation Harold reached for his wallet and pulled out a bill.
The man took it and held the tent flap open. Inside was what appeared to
be a large box shaped structure. It looked for all the world like it was
made of the separations used to make cubicles out of open office space.
The walls were about 8' in height, in Harold's estimation. A panel was
missing directly in front of him. A sign said "Enter Here".
As he walked slowly through the mirror maze Harold was vaguely aware of
a swooshing sound behind him, but paid it little heed. He was still too
stunned by the turn of events of the last few minutes. That barker had
seemed to know things about him. His name... his problems. How?
The light was supplied by strings of what appeared to be Christmas
lights on wires overhead, casting the interior in a soft dimness. The
mirrors had the usual effects at first. Harold as a dwarf, a giant,
skinny and fat just like thousands of such places. Then the images
seemed to change. Harold saw an old black woman wearing his clothes.
When he moved so did she. Next was a toddler dressed in his clothes,
somehow shrunk to fit. A pretty teenager, a hulking Hispanic man, and a
wise old oriental passed in short order. Despite himself, Harold found
himself fascinated. *How do they do that?*
Before he knew it Harold found himself in a six sided chamber of
mirrors. The way he came in had apparently sealed off behind him. Still
befuddled, he turned in a slow circle. Staring back at him from all
sides was a shattered man with hollow eyes. A man whose spirit had died
with his young daughter. Almost a zombie.
Harold sank to his knees, his face in his hands.
"Sam. Oh God why? WHY?!" Harold sobbed. "It should have been me! She
deserved her chance. She deserved to live!"
The mirrors seemed to twirl around him and Harold felt a wave of
vertigo. He closed his eyes against the sickness that welled up in his
stomach. He had never suffered from motion sickness, but it had been a
problem for Samantha due to the medications she had to take.
Odd sensations began to make themselves known to him. His clothes felt
as if they were crawling over his body. Something tickled at his ears
and a weight pulled at his chest.
When Harold opened his eyes again the room had stopped spinning. Had it
ever really been spinning? As his eyes sought the egress from this
chamber he gasped. The sound was in a high alto range. The reflection
kneeling before him was a young woman. Long, curly, auburn hair hung
just past her shoulders. Her face was that perfect tone of skin that is
so rare to find. Never a blemish had tainted it. Her teeth were white
and perfect. His, too large, shirt couldn't hide her proud breasts as
they pushed the front of it out.
"Sam." Harold breathed the name. The pain swelled up inside him. In his
chest. It wasn't fair. Why was he suffering this? To see his dead
daughter in his own reflection, in his very form. The pain rose to a
crushing crescendo and the tortured man passed out. As she fell the
mirrors began to spin again.
"Miss? Miss, are you alright?" Samantha opened her eyes. Above her the
little old woman who ran the hall of mirrors was staring into her face.
"You've fainted. I hope you're not ill."
Sam sat up, brushing straw out of her sweater and hair as she did.
"No. I'm fine. It's just that I'm pregnant. I had flown home to share
the news with my Dad that Bob, my husband, and I are going to have a
child. But before I got home, Dad died. You see, he had a bad heart. I
guess I'm not quite over the shock yet. I decided to drive, take the
scenic route, back home. I was just passing through this town when I saw
your tent and thought I'd check it out. I've always loved mirror houses,
ever since I was a little girl."
"Oh I'm so relieved." The old woman put her hand over her ample bosom.
"I was afraid you had been injured. A baby! You must be so happy. Have
you and your Bob thought of any names yet?"
"Yes, if it's a girl we're going to name her Jenny, after my Mom and if
he's a boy then his name will be Harold."
"Harold. What a nice name." The old woman said.
With a smile and a tear Samantha said, "Yeah, it was my Dad's name."
END
Trisha
- 15.02.2020
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