Broken Aura

I told you I was back... 

It's been a while since I've written anything other than the Ramblings of a New Dad or my professional works for That Hashtag Show. Notwithstanding, oddity that is my imagination has always remained, and ideas and characters and stories still continue to swirl around my head like whirling dervishes.  I'm not sure from whence this idea was born, or if I'll continue with it and carry it through to conclusion. But... the words were there and, as always, I needed to get them out of my head. Let me know your thoughts, feelings, comments and/or criticisms in the comments.  I look forward to and cherish your feedback. 

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Broken Aura

"You're aura is broken."

Her comment surprised him, but not so much that he let a single drop of whiskey escape from the glass he'd just put to his lips.

"Beg your pardon?" he replied when he'd swallowed.

"I said you're aura is broken," she repeated.

"That's an odd way to start a conversation with a stranger."

"Sorry, I thought you knew."

"Then why did you feel it necessary to tell me?"

She hadn't really thought about that, and smiled at him with meek embarrassment.

"Fair point."

The woman stared at him. If he was going to finish his whiskey in peace, he'd have to engage in conversation, however fleeting he could make it.

"I'm Addison," he said as he held out his hand.

"I'm Jeanie. Addison… that's an interesting name."

"My parents were big Moonlighting fans." She tilted her head quizzically and he realized that she was probably too young to remember it. "It's an old TV show. Never mind. So what can I do for you, Jeanie?"

"It's not what you can do for me, but what I can do for you."

Addison resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Here we go, he thought. "And what's that?"

"Help you repair your aura, obviously. If you come with me, I can show you how."

This time Addison laughed audibly. "Ha! How many guys have you scammed with this nonsense?" The somber, silent look with which she retorted surprised him. "Look, I don't believe in auras or chakras or whatever else it is you're trying to sell me. So while I appreciate the offer, I'd prefer to be left alone."

As if sensing his impending request, the bartender slid a bottle of Jameson 18-Year Limited Reserve across the bar to his waiting hand. "Thanks, Dana." She nodded and returned to her other patrons as he poured.

"Addison, look," Jeanie continued without invitation. "I'm not trying to scam you, and I'm not selling anything. Your aura is broken. I don't think you understand how serious this is for you. If you would just –"

"Look, I told you. I'm not interested. So why don't you go lose yourself in your bottle, Jeanie," he said, emphasizing her name derisively, "and I'll lose myself in mine."

He waved the whiskey bottle in the air, and nodded curtly. While his Moonlighting reference was clearly lost on her, I Dream of Jeanie was all too familiar. She glared at him angrily. This wasn't the first time one of her charges rejected her assistance. It surely wouldn't be the last time, either. But the way in which he said her name irked her. The condescending tone and demeaning delivery of his words was something she'd neither expected, nor for which she was prepared. He was going to be a challenge.

"Suit yourself, cowboy. But you're going to need me, whether you believe it or not. When you do, I'll be there."

When Addison turned to make another snarky comment, Jeanie leaned in and touched her fingers to his lips to quiet the beast inside him longing for escape. His body tingled at her touch. It felt… unnatural. Neither he nor she said another word. Jeanie left the bar, and a perplexed Addison, behind. He raised his eyebrows and physically shook his head as if it would erase the encounter from mind like an Etch-a-Sketch. It didn't.

"Dana, I'm gonna hit the head, then hit the road. Can you put this back for me?"

"You got it AJ," she replied as she grabbed the bottle and placed it back into a cubby behind the bar. Below it, on a small plaque, the name Addison "AJ" Crawford was written.

AJ, as what few friends he had would call him, made his way to the men's room. Halfway there his vision clouded. A sense of vertigo overcame him and it was all he could to maneuver himself towards the restrooms at the back of the bar. AJ was an experienced drinker and whiskey connoisseur. He'd not consumed nearly enough that evening to be feeling such effects. For a brief moment he thought the woman, Jeanie, had drugged him somehow.

As soon as he entered the bathroom AJ went straight to the sink and splashed some cold water in his face. It seemed to help… until he looked up. He stumbled backward upon seeing his reflection. The image was fractured, distorted. All his senses told him the mirror was broken, likely the result of a fight or the fist of someone in desperate need of anger management.  AJ tried to shake it off and decided he'd best go home and lie down. He'd completely forgotten why he'd gone to the restroom in the first place.

He yelled to Dana as he walked past the bar. "Hey Dana, you might want to send someone into the men's room. Looks like the mirror got bust—"

His reflection in the mirror behind the bar stopped him in his tracks, and prevented the rest of his word from leaving his lips. The image peering back at him was just as distorted as the one in the bathroom. It was as if he'd smashed a framed picture of himself and was now trying to make sense of the image behind the shattered glass. This time, however, he peered more closely.

The thousands of broken edges of his visage glimmered and pulsated in hues of blues, greys and blacks. Wisps of color seemed to bleed away from his broken reflection. Addison spun his head around to see if the phenomenon was unique to him. Anxiety set in as he realized it was.

"What's that AJ?" Dana called back.

"I, uh, nothing. It's nothing. Have a good night, doll."

Dana shrugged and went back to cleaning some glasses as Addison wandered out into the night. The chill in the air was unseemly for an early summer night, and he felt it in his bones. He'd barely made if twenty steps into his four-block journey home when he happened to glance up and catch his reflection in a storefront window. This time he unconsciously stepped backwards, right into the couple walking behind him.

"Hey, watch it pal!" the irritated man said to him.

"Sorry, sorry," Addison replied apologetically without shifting his gaze from the window. Again, the reflection was his, but broken. Shattered. Swimming in the muted colors of melancholy, bleeding.

"This isn't happening," he whispered to himself. Addison walked more rapidly, then jogged, then ran. Every window, every car mirror, anything and everything reflective reminded him that he'd not escape the vision that followed.  He reached his apartment building at a full sprint, ignoring the call of concern from the doorman as he strode passed.

"Mirror in the elevator," he mumbled to himself before opting to climb twenty flights up to his penthouse apartment. By the time he reached his floor he felt as if his heart would burst from his chest. As quickly as he could, he fumbled his way into his apartment and bolted the door behind him. For a brief moment he closed his eyes and tried to expunge from his mind the nightmarish evening he'd just been having.

It was no nightmare.

When he opened his eyes again and looked into the hallway mirror, they confirmed that his broken reflection had followed him home. His body jerked involuntarily when he heard her voice.  

"You can see it now, can't you?" Jeanie asked. She stepped from the darkness of the living room into the amber glow cast from the small lamp that sat astride the console table in the hall. Her form, in contrast to his own, he could see with perfect clarity. His first thought should have been to ask her how she got into his apartment and silenced the alarm. He asked something else entirely.

"What the hell did you do to me?"

Jeanie crossed her arms and leaned her shoulder against the doorframe.

"You did it to yourself. Now do you want my help, or not?"