There was a cockroach on my forehead. When I woke up this morning, I could see its antennae on the bridge between my eyes. I could feel its segmented abdomen and six limbs resting on my skin. I noticed its antennae were wriggling left and right in a curious manner. I wanted to scream, of course. But the sudden thought of a flying cockroach in my room is much more terrifying than a single cockroach sitting still on my forehead. Therefore, I shut my eyes and gaping mouth and proceeded to analyse the situation inside my head.
First things first, who am I?
My full name is Joshua Anaya. People call me Josh. I am still in high school and live with my parents in Australia. I am a normal, healthy boy with a cockroach on my forehead.
Currently, where am I?
I am in my room.
My bedroom is a medium-sized room that can fit a single bed, a single-door wardrobe, a desk, and a chair for studying and stuff. I have a PC on the desk. I have a collection of console games on one side of the room. The colour of the room's wall is blue, and I, myself, just woke up, lying on my back on top of my bed. And there is a cockroach on my forehead.
Should I try to grab the cockroach with my hand?
Well, let's say that I tried to grab it. If my hands weren't fast enough, would that mean the cockroach would have enough time to run, or even worse, to fly? In that case, let's say that my hands are fast enough to outspeed the cockroach. Would I be able to control my hand precisely at that speed without squirting its abdomen, and let its goo all over my face? I probably can if I try. But I won't mess around and test that hypothesis by myself. Not when I just woke up.
Is the cockroach still on my forehead?
I opened my eyelids a little bit—just enough to let the light in. The cockroach was still on my forehead, on the bridge between my eyes.
Why is it not moving away? How much time has passed since I woke up? Wait. What time is it?
I moved my gaze from the cockroach’s antennae to the digital alarm clock on the desk across my bed. It was a minute before six o'clock.
Ah. Why do I always set my alarm for six o'clock in the morning? Why did I need to wake up before my alarm went off and probably scare the cockroach off my forehead? Does this mean I still need to wait a minute until the alarm scares the cockroach out of my forehead? A minute means sixty seconds, right? And sixty seconds means, like, what? Eighteen hundred seconds? Sixty thousand milliseconds? That's like forever with a cockroach on your forehead, isn't it?
And that was the moment an idea came to my head.
In retrospect, was it a dumb, frightening, and reckless idea? Yes.
Would I still do it if given different circumstances? Well, to be fair, I don't want to have a cockroach on my forehead forever, so...
I jerked my head to make the cockroach fly. I succeeded. The cockroach was flying around the room. I got frightened, still lying on the top of my bed. I almost pissed myself. Almost. Because, at that very moment, I saw the cockroach diving into the mirror attached to my wardrobe door. Its action left a ripple on the mirror like a pebble plunged into still water, and a sudden echoing sound filled the room.
PLUNK!
***
"And, then, what happened next?"
"Well, I changed into my uniform, ate breakfast with my mum and dad downstairs, and then went to school like usual."
"And, like usual, we share a story of what happened to ourselves in the morning or, in rare cases, the day before when we had lunch together."
"Exactly."
"You are really, really, really unbelievable, aren’t you?"
"Wait. What did I do wrong?"
This following conversation happened at school, in time for lunchtime. I sat at a table in the school canteen with two of my best friends, Oliver and Arthur. I got myself a ham, cheese, and tomato sandwich and a soda to drink. Oliver got a fruit salad with a box of milk as the beverage. Arthur got a chicken burger and a cup of hot chocolate.
Oliver talked to me first while chewing a piece of pineapple from his fruit salad.
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"You told me, Josh. This morning, you saw a cockroach took a dive into a mirror, probably went to an unknown, undiscovered magical place behind the mirror, and your first instinct was to do what? Going to school?"
"Well, Ollie, let's think about what you said. Let’s say that the mirror was a magical portal. Would you know for sure if the mirror was connected to a good magical place? What if the mirror actually connected to another place? What if it was actually connected to a bad place instead?"
"You think too much, mate. If I were in your position, I would have inserted my hand, then my body, and found out where the mirror would lead me in a heartbeat." Oliver slurped his box of milk. "After you witnessed the cockroach take a plunge inside your mirror, have you even tried to touch or put your finger on the mirror?"
"I did. It felt like poking into jelly. Do you perhaps expect me to take a leap of faith into the mirror?"
BAM!
Oliver banged his arms on the table. He put his face in front of mine and started shouting at me.
"THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT I MEAN! A LEAP OF FAITH! Why didn't you continue, then, Josh? That was definitely a good setup for a fantasy adventure story! I could imagine the title already—Joshua Anaya: The World Behind the Mirror." Oliver took another slurp from his box of milk, emptying it. "At least be more curious, Josh, for goodness' sake."
In retrospect, he definitely had a point. That situation is probably a setup for a fantasy adventure story. Mediocre, maybe, but still a setup for something. However, being closely shouted at by my best friend sparked my instinct to shout back, and I did.
"BUT WHAT IF WE GOT IT WRONG? What if the mirror wasn't a magical portal at all? What if the mirror was actually a mimic monster that would end up eating me when I pushed my hand too far into it? Have you ever thought about that?"
"Alright! Will you two put a sock in it already? Please? People are watching us."
Arthur, who had been passively observing since the beginning, decided to cut in. And he was right; the other students in the canteen were starting to wonder what was going on due to our shouting.
"Oh, have you two gotten enough of the squabble?" said Arthur while wiping his hands off the remains of the chicken burger he just had. He then pointed his index finger at Oliver and said, "A question for you, mate. Why?"
"What?"
"Why?"
"What about? I don’t understand."
"I know you know what I mean. Then, why?"
The back and forth between Oliver and Arthur went on for a while. It was mostly a gibberish conversation in which Arthur asked Oliver about a reason for something, and Oliver asked back because he didn't understand Arthur's question. And Oliver's confusion was understandable because Arthur never bothered to explain his point from the start. This kind of roundabout pattern happened often between the two of them during the lifespan of our friendship. That's why, in the meantime, I decided to stop paying any attention to them and start finishing my sandwich.
Speaking from my experience, after a while, they would probably fall silent by themselves without or barely reaching any conclusion. And they did indeed fall silent after a while.
"How's your sandie, Josh?"
It was Arthur who broke the silence first.
"Oh, it was fine." I wiped my hand with the nearest available tissue paper on the table. The tissue was already crumpled, but it still got the job done. "Have you two gotten enough of the squabble yet?"
"Oh, that answer was so snarky. I like it."
"Yeah, I stole it from someone."
"You are right, you did. Anyway, I think we’ve reached a conclusion."
"Oh, that’s rare. What conclusion?"
Suddenly, Arthur grabbed both of my hands and held them together on top of the table.
"Well, you see, Josh, it's not like we don't believe you or anything. We're best friends who have known each other for a few years, after all. And we just wanted you to know that we understand. Your morning is always boring. That’s why, this time, you are absolutely making yours up."
"What?"
"Like, come on, Josh. We are not that stupid. A flying cockroach took a free dive into a mirror? Even Ollie’s story about the stray cat and kitchen lady is much more believable than yours."
"Is that how you see it, Artie? Like I just making things up? Even Ollie actually believed in me. Isn’t that right, Ollie?"
"Oh, no, mate. Don't drag me into this. I just went along with you because your story sounded fun earlier. If you actually believe that your story is true, then I think you've definitely got a few screws loose."
Ah, so that's why it seemed too easy.
Well, to be fair to them, I wouldn't have believed myself if I were in their position. Would I have believed the person who just told me that they witnessed a cockroach take a plunge into a mirror on a random fine morning? Of course not. Right?
But it did happen to me. A flying cockroach took a plunge into my wardrobe mirror. Even I barely believed what I had seen. That's why I decided to go to school instead—to drag along some mates.
I have to find another way, then.
"Well, you got me, I guess. I just made it up. Nothing interesting happened to me this morning. You guys satisfied?"
Hearing my answer, Arthur and Oliver smiled cheekily.
"See? Isn't that good to be honest?"
The school bell rang to announce that the lunch hour was over. We three stand up from our seats and clean up our table. A great idea sprung up in my mind.
"I just remembered. Tomorrow is the weekend. So—Game night? Tonight? My place, as it has been a while? How about it?"
Oliver and Arthur exchanged gazes for a moment. They exchanged a couple of shrugs with each other. It was some sort of non-verbal communication that often happened between them.
Oliver was the one who opened his mouth to talk to me first.
"Promise no mirror will eat us?"
Then Arthur followed with his snarky remarks.
"What are you on about, Ollie? Obviously, mirrors can't eat people. Isn’t that right, Josh?"
"Of course, duh. Mirrors can't eat people. Haha."
I added a little bit of awkward laughter at the end there to raise the tension a bit. Like, what are the chances that the mirror on my wardrobe is suddenly able to eat people?
***
The rest of the day at school happened like a gust of wind passing by. When the school was over, Arthur, Oliver, and I gathered at the school bus stop to take the bus together to my place. The journey was not that long, and we were kind of busy spending the time fiddling with our own phones.
When I unlocked the door to my bedroom with my best friends besides me, a mysterious man with a strange smile welcomed us three from inside the room. He was carrying a ceramic teapot and a set of ceramic tea cups on a wooden tray in his hands.
"Hi, lads. Care for a cuppa?"