Once upon a time there was a king, and the king commissioned his favorite wizard to create a magic mirror. This mirror didn__ show you your reflection. It showed you your soul__t showed you who you really were.The wizard couldn__ look at it without turning away. The king couldn__ look at it. The courtiers couldn__ look at it. A chestful of treasure was offered to anyone who could look at it for sixty seconds without turning away. And no one could.

Mark nodded even though she couldn't see. He'd suddenly lost any desire to talk, and his plans for a perfect day washed away with the stream. The memories. They never let him go, not even for a half hour. They always had to rush back in, bringing all the horror.

Amari swung around in her seat to look back and there was indeed a small girl sitting on the boundary wall. She didn__ seem to be looking at the car that had just passed but up ahead. Amari turned around to see what she was looking at and she saw it, up ahead, the farm house that she could only assume was their new home.

Oh so we are neighbours?_ She tried to smile sweetly, so Maggie felt like she could talk more. Maggie shrugged again, __ot for long._ Amari got goosebumps and asked, __h why? Where are you guys moving too?_ Maggie looked at her again and said stoically, __o where.

He felt more crypts cracking open inside of him; the stench he smelled was not decayed bodies but decayed memories, and that was somehow worse.

There is nothing like fear to complicate one's consciousness, inducing previously unknown levels of reflection