Gold Roof Mansion Perhaps

For fifteen minutes, John stood in front of the bathroom mirror, razor in hand, carefully shaving the stubble from his face. The sound of the razor scraping against his skin echoed through the bathroom, drowning out the noise of the world outside. For a brief moment, John felt as though he was the only person in the universe, and that everything else was just a figment of his imagination.He watched himself in the mirror as he worked, his eyes flicking from his reflection to the razor and back again.  He looked at his reflection, studying every contour of his face, and couldn't help but wonder if the person he was seeing was truly him. For a terrifying moment he thought that the image in the mirror was about to burst though the reflection and strangle him to death.

The sound of the razor scraping against his skin echoed through the bathroom, drowning out the noise of the world outside. He continued to shave, watching as the whiskers fell away and the reflection in the mirror changed ever so slightly. But as he continued to stare at his reflection, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was the only one in the world outside the mirror who truly existed. He wondered which side of the mirror was the side before which he was standing

As he finished shaving, he wiped the remaining foam from his face and looked once again at his reflection. He knew that the person looking back at him was himself. John concluded that he was on the wrong side of the mirror.

The moment passed

He glanced at the whiskers that had gathered in the sink basin and wondered "what the hell are they? Are they alive? Did they come from me or the guy in the mirror trying to strangle me."

The guy in the mirror was Art. John didn't know whether to scratch his watch of check his ass. Neither did Art. Neither was sure which was the strangler and which was the shaver although both were familiar strangers to each other.

 John heard his wife Sarah yelling for him to hurry the hell up "we only have fifteen minutes.". He sighed and rinsed his face, wondering why he would be hurrying and where he would be hurrying to and why it would take fifteen minutes. He jumped into his clothes which seemed far too large and made his way to the car, where Sarah was waiting impatiently. 

The car was a 1959 Red Rambler with a push button ignition. Sarah took the wheel. She told John that he was "in no shape to drive".

As they drove towards their destiny, John's sense of disconnection from the world around him grew stronger. The car seemed to be moving too fast, and the colors of the world outside were too bright and too vivid. He looked over at his "wife", who was steering the car, and couldn't help but wonder if she was real or just another figment of his imagination.  John reached out and touched Sarah's hand, trying to ground himself in the reality of her touch. As he did so the world around him shifted and twisted, as if he was seeing it through a funhouse mirror. He felt a moment of panic, wondering if he was losing his grip on reality and fearing the grip of the strangler in the mirror

But then he heard Sarah's voice, calling to him from outside the distorted world. He turned to her and saw her face, her blue eyes looking at him with concern. Her glance brought him back to the real world, and he felt a rush of relief. But as he touched her, he felt a strange sensation, as though her flesh was made of something other than flesh. He pulled his hand back in horror, realizing that she was not real, but just another creation of his own mind. 

He congratulated himself at doing such a good job of imagining Sarah's glance; how real and how soothing it was.

He looked out the window again, and saw that the world around him was no longer beautiful, but twisted and distorted,a nightmare come to life. The road they were traveling on was no longer smooth and well-maintained, but a treacherous path filled with dangers and wolves baying at every turn.

John felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead as he realized the truth. He was not traveling to a party with his wife, but trapped in a purgatorial existence, surrounded by nothing but his own imagination.

As the car continued to hurtle down the road, John felt a sense of dread growing within him. He knew that he had to find a way out of this nightmare, or risk being trapped in his own mind forever.

But try as he might, he could not find a way out. He was trapped, a solipsistic ghost surrounded by other solipsistic spirits, all trapped in their own purgatory of the mind as everything imagined that it was creating everything and everyone else.

Fifteen minutes could go on forever, especially when salvation waited.

At least it wasn't hell.

Then John realized that the scenery around him was an illusion being created by his own imagination as was the car he was traveling in as was his wife as was the Halloween "party" that they were traveling towards.As John sat in the car, watching the world pass him by, he began to feel a sense of detachment once again. He couldn't shake the feeling that everything around him was just an illusion, a product of his own mind.  As the car finally came to a stop, and his wife turned to him with a smile on her face, John feared that he was fated to live out the rest of eternity in this twisted world until he had purged himself from the venial sins of his "life".

As they arrived at their destination, John's sense of disconnection began to multiply. 

The mansion stood tall and imposing, a relic of a bygone era. Its exterior was red brick with a wraparound porch.The most striking feature, however, was the roof, which was made of gleaming gold tiles that shimmered in the sunlight. The roof was steeply sloped, with multiple gables and chimneys jutting out at odd angles.

The front door was wide open, gaping, yawning, screaming.

As John and Sarah stepped through the front doors, they were greeted by a grand foyer, with a sweeping staircase leading up to the second floor. The front door slammed behind them.The walls were lined with oil paintings and framed photographs. The floors were made of polished wood, but they creaked and groaned underfoot, a testament to the age of the mansion. An ancient grandfather clock tocked. John checked the time. It was fifteen minutes since they had boarded the Rambler

From the foyer, they could access multiple rooms, each one more opulent than the last. The sitting room was decorated in shades of deep red and gold, with plush velvet armchairs and intricately patterned wallpaper. The dining room was expansive, with a long mahogany table and high-backed chairs that looked like thrones. The chandelier overhead was made of glittering crystals that cast rainbow patterns on the walls.

As they explored the mansion, they discovered increasing disrepair. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, and dust coated the furniture. They passed an enormous spider web in which two ensnared moths were struggling to escape. The once-beautiful wallpaper was peeling, and the floorboards were warped and sagging. However, despite the decay, there was a sense of grandeur and majesty that lingered in the air.

The mansion was immense, with numerous corridors and hidden passageways that seemed to lead nowhere. The infinite rooms were grandiose, with high ceilings and elaborate moldings that seemed to reach for the heavens. From every window, they could see the suffering gardens that surrounded the mansion, with overgrown shrubs and tangled vines creeping painfully up the wounded walls.

As they walked through the  mansion with the golden roof, John couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and wonder. This was a place that had once been grand and beautiful, and even in its decay, it was still vibrating with a sense of history and mystery. 

Once again, he congratulated himself.

John and Sarah were attracted to one of the rooms a mysterious, elaborate bedroom decorated in a style reminiscent of the Renaissance or Baroque period. The room was dimly lit, with a soft glow emanating from an unknown source.

In the center of the room, there was a large, luxuriant Louis XIV-style bed with a red velvet canopy. The bed was flanked by two large, intricately carved wardrobes. Against one wall, there was a vanity with a large mirror and a stool. Nearby, there was a small table with a crystal decanter and glass.

As Sarah explored the room, she noticed that there were no windows or doors, how did she get in the room? How could she get out? The room seemed to be suspended in time and space, with no clear indication of its location or purpose.Sarah felt  a sense of awe and wonder as she gazed around the room, and it is clear that she had been transported to a limbo-like place beyond his or her comprehension.

And then she was in another room; a large, spacious room with high ceilings and elegant furnishings. The room was well-lit, with several chandeliers casting a warm glow throughout the space. The center of the room featured a large coffee table and several smaller side tables, all adorned with alluring vases of flowers and crystal decanters.

Sarah realized that this was where she belonged. She decided to stay in the room forever.

Meanwhile John, heard a knock on the front door.

He called for Sarah but the only response was a whistling echo.

Perhaps that was Sarah knocking at the front door having somehow locked herself outside or perhaps Sarah was wandering through the house and didn't answer when John called her name. John wondered if she had joined the spirits in their dance or perhaps she wasn't there at all and never had been and never was.

He looked at this watch....they or he had been in the house for fifteen minutes.

Once again, he felt completely alone.

John artfully answered the door. answered the door.

A Man with a mirror and a razor.

"Time to choose" said Vincent.