The Voice, by Paul Fitzgerald and Elizabeth Gould

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                           - 10 -

"Don't you love me the best?" I heard his voice whisper
as I stared up into the dresser mirror. "The time has come
for you to face the truth."

He was here, the darkened image of the Black Knight from
my dream. I shook at the sight of him staring back at me
from the other side of the mirror, his pale, white face
framed in that cold black armor. For some reason his
appearance was the nightmare I feared most, some lurking
shadow drawing me into the past. Was it still a dream or was
this reality? I sensed I had lost the ability to discern the
difference. But as his cold, lifeless eyes faded from view I
knew he had come to challenge me and if I didn't defeat him,
he would draw me into his nightmare forever.