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i'm not upset
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
(GM with permission from Little)

Isabel heard a yell. In her mind it seemed like it was taking minutes just for her to turn her head, but it couldn’t have been more than a second. Standing in front of her was a boy. He seemed shocked to see her. What was really of importance to her, though, was the thing he was trying to hide from her in his hand.

“…Hi Roland,” she said, waving dumbly.

She wasn’t very familiar with him, but she knew who he was. They might have spoken maybe once or twice in passing.

“Drop the knife and back up!”

Isabel flinched when Roland screamed at her. It appeared that she had run into the angrier of the two male voice and now that he was standing in front of her, he seemed twice as angry. She looked down at his weapon. His fist clenched the handle of something tightly. Whatever it was, it disappeared into the darkness before divulging its true nature.

She looked down at the thing in her own hands, then looked back up at Roland.

“Knife? This is a….like, a horn or a trumpet or something. I don’t really know the difference between the two,” she admitted, rather embarrassed.

Slowly she took two steps forward and brought the instrument to her lips. She gave it an experimental blow and a short, ragged note came from the end. Isabel pushed down on one of the buttons and a higher note came out. She moved the trumpet away from her mouth; a glint of metal from Roland’s hand revealed itself to her in her new position.

Moving quickly, Isabel brought the trumpet down a few inches, took one large step forward and swung the trumpet at Roland’s head. As soon as she thought she hit her mark she took off running as fast as she could down the hall.

So much for being quiet!

Isabel turned left and kept running. At the next turn she turned right, but found herself at a dead end. The traction on Isabel’s old shoes had worn down long ago and the momentum of her movement slid her right into the mirror at the end. Isabel grunted as her shoulder made contact with the shoulder of her mirrored self. With her free hand she pushed against the mirror she had run into and ran back the way she came, this time turning left. Isabel looked over her shoulder to try and see if she was being followed, and if so, how her blunder which had cost her precious seconds would effect the chase.

I have to find the exit. NOW!
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Mirror Mirror · Hall of Mirrors