In the next room there is a faint cry from a woman who fades rapidly.
My horror and curiosity draw me to the front door.
On the other side of its mirror threshold a man waits for me.
His countenance mutates and changes the nature of the world.
He forces me into the Death Posture.
Prone before the mirror I experience an ineffable transubstantiation.
I regret his gift of oblivion.
A single moment of reflection, panic and terror then an unconscious journey and evaporation.
The Death Posture offers no time for awareness or knowledge.
I cry desperately for help, but in the next room all they hear is a faint cry from a man who fades rapidly.

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