I don't have a favourite, but I kind of like these ones. Pardon my subpar writing:
Scene 1:
Context: Your reflection came out of the mirror. That's it.
KĂ´ra moved back only to bump into something; not into an object nor a furniture, it was a person. What was supposed to be inside the mirror, was now behind him. Another him; a mirror image
"Found you," the reflection uttered."
Those words petrified KĂ´ra to the miniscule fibers of his skeletal muscles. His nerves was frozen by such reality; palpitating, perspiring, almost breathless. That reflection had his mellow voice, twisted in a peculiar accent that evoked a sense of familiarity. Eerie.
"You look familiar," the thing concluded after examining the boy with a tilted head. Smiling.
Scene 2:
Context: You pray and talk to your dead loved one.
A doused spark of fire called for the rising smoke, to carry the fragrance of falling ashes. Incense is a staple in tsaendrâkarin; act of prayer for the dead. Two burnt up cones were for the boy's parents in earlier sessions, the third one was for this particular person.
KĂ´ra sat cross-legged in a darkened room, the evening cold chilled the ceramic floor. In front of him was a traditional wooden altar box that he kept under his bed when unused. Incenses, wick-less aromatic candles, prayer scripts, and dried plant parts in four metal cups were offered on the ornate hand-painted wooden pieces. He borrowed a small electric fan from his uncle's room and set it to the lowest: so the smoke will not overwhelm him in this poorly ventilated room, but not strong enough to put down the candles.
"How are you? I'm fine and hope you too, YĂťzan," KĂ´ra greeted with a smile. He still spoke in TĂ´ryaemaen. Talking with the deceased is common between prayers. It is believed that the omniscience of god allows the dead to hear messages in prayers. "I finally get the chance to hang out in the city with some new friends next Saturday. It's exciting, I'm officially a city boy." He added a bitter smile.
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