Henry was a handsome man. Dashing, you might say. In fact, you could say his looks were what got him far in life. He was a wealthy entrepreneur, and no one ever told him no.
Each morning he would start the day in front of a mirror for long stretches of time. He ensured that not a hair was out of place and that his suit was pristine and wrinkle-free.
This is what success looks like, he told himself. And he believed every word. After all, why shouldn't he? He had no reason to doubt it so far.
One day, something odd happened. His reflection struck a big grin, though Henry had not smiled. At first, he was taken aback. Henry wasn't sure what to think of this. As time went on, he stopped questioning the bizarre phenomenon and started enjoying it. Whenever he would look at his reflection, it beamed back at him, and he would always return the courtesy.
Many weeks came and went, and Henry grew tired of his reflection, always smiling no matter his mood. It was as if it had started to mock him. Still, he went about his day as usual. He tried his best to ignore every mirror he passed, as all mirrors had come to develop this habit. Just as bad was the fact that no one else seemed to notice. He was the only one who could see it. As uncomfortable as his reflection now made him, the fact that he could not talk about it – without sounding mad – made it all the worse.
Eventually, Henry reached a point where he could no longer stand it. He walked straight up to the closest mirror, stared it dead in the eyes, and demanded the reflection stop smiling! Henry's reflection did as he told it. Immediately, he wished it hadn't.
Looking back now was a blank, emotionless gaze unnervingly fixed upon Henry as never before. The eyes seemed to look into rather than at him. As uneasy as Henry felt, he refused to let it show.
More time passed, and Henry continued avoiding mirrors as best he could. Before too long, he began to see the blank stare in everything that cast a reflection. Attempting to hide his fright, he became tense, rash, and ill-tempered, snapping at the slightest irritation. On top of all this, people had clearly begun to notice. He could hear them whispering about his strangeness through their eyes.
Once again, Henry confronted the reflection. This time, he told himself, this time this nonsense will stop. As he looked into the mirror, his nostrils flared, his chest heaved, and he screamed at the figure standing on the other side to show him a reflection that was his own.
At these words, Henry backed against the wall in terror. His reflection now seemed to be peering into his very soul with a glare of ill intent. It looked like a menacing animal with a deadly thirst it yearned to quench. Henry regretted this confrontation even more than the last and begged in his mind for a return to that cheerful smile.
Out of the corner of his eye, Henry spotted a mug on a table beside him. He looked from it to the mirror as he pondered his risky option. This would either hurt it or infuriate it further. What choice did he really have? As far as he could tell, the reflection could not harm him, but Henry trembled inside, regardless. In the end, it hardly mattered. He could not just let this hell of his continue. He had to end it!
In a different context, it would have been a beautiful spectacle. Countless glimmering shards rained down as one. As they hit the ground, they became even more, an endless dance of glass. Time froze into a poetic moment of serenity. After the scene was over, Henry breathed.
The sense of calm was short-lived. As Henry's stair fixed upon the sea of shards on the ground, his horror had no equal. What had once been a reflection that matched his likeness was now a gruesome, demonic creature. Its eyes as black as a starless night, and its skin as pale as a corpse in a blizzard. Its mouth stretched into an inhumanly large grin, with teeth that resembled rusted knives.
Henry screamed as loud as his lungs would allow, then louder. He ran as far as he could, then farther. What happened after that, he did not remember. All was a blur. He just ran. Farther and farther away from the creature, away from the horror, away from even his own mind. His eyes clenched tight. His calves burned like a furnace. His ears heard only ringing.
When Henry opened his eyes, he was in a room no darker than the creature's skin, with walls as soft as a mattress. There was no mirror in sight, and the room had no window. I'm safe, he thought. Though he did not know how he had arrived here, he was content that fate had seen fit to grant him this reflectionless shelter.
A large man dressed all in white opened the door. Following behind him was a much smaller man holding a tray of food. They did not seem the least bit threatened by Henry, likely due to the jacket that restricted the use of his arms. The small man set the tray on a table at the far side of the modest room. After he left, the large man removed the jacket and followed. Henry sat at the table and examined his meal.
A curious sight soon caught His eye. From a glass of water, a smiling face that resembled his own beamed back at him, though Henry had not smiled.
He returned the courtesy.
Your writing is succinct with a lot of wonderful descriptors.