Scrying

He figured he knew that there was so much more to scrying than most people knew about.

He believed that after so many hours of practice, he had found its full potential. He was convinced that it went far beyond the standard definition of it being just the use of a crystal ball or other reflective object or surface to detect significant messages or visions. His preferred medium was a mirror. He would often sit in front of it in the evenings. His particular method of scrying had given him hours of pleasure. He would sit for a time, staring into the mirror. On occasions, this could be quite a while before it started, sometimes it would be quick. Either way, he had to concentrate hard so that he didn’t miss the beginning of it. It would start off with something really subtle, like a flicker of his eyebrow or the twitch of his eyelid. From that point on it would escalate.

He could flare his nostrils and at the same time, his image in the mirror would do the same. It would be exactly the same and at precisely the same moment. He could raise both eyebrows, lift the corner of his mouth, open his eyes really wide, bare his teeth, twitch his nose, poke his tongue out, go cross-eyed, bite his lip, frown, wink, smile; it was endless, it could go on for hours and it often did.

This was the case until the night it was all brought to an abrupt end. Looking into the mirror, he was doing one of his extra big pouting faces when there was a sudden power cut. Everything went black.

He sat back with a heavy sigh.

In the darkness, this was followed by a second sigh.

He didn’t like it…

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