Been there, Done that. 5 - Christmas Revelations

Mick's words hung in the air, the weight of his revelations settling around Isaac like an oppressive shroud. The living room, with dark green carpet and the mirror by the door that whispered of cosmic secrets, remained a realm of cosmic judgment.

As Mick leisurely finished his coffee, his eyes pierced through the veil of Isaac's defences. "You aren't really a good person, mate... are you... Especially when it comes to relationships," Mick asserted with a cold matter-of-factness.

Isaac, grappling with the uncomfortable truth Mick presented, retorted, "That's not true. I've been good to people."

Mick chuckled, a cynical tone colouring his voice. "Let me show you just how 'good' you've been."

With a subtle gesture from Mick. The ornate mirror by the front door, once a passive observer, now pulsed with vibrant, sparking hues, inviting Isaac to step through the portal of cosmic memories. The air crackled with energy as Mick guided him toward the mirror, the colours dancing like ethereal fireflies. "Time to take another trip, mate," Mick declared, his voice carrying a mysterious undertone. The mirror beckoned, its surface alive with the cosmic energy that would transport Isaac to the heart of his memories, where choices and consequences awaited in a kaleidoscope of emotions and regrets.

The emerald-green light of the mirrors transformed into a wintry scene, and the air thickened with the nostalgic aroma of pine and cinnamon. They found themselves no longer in the living room but on the cobblestone streets of Salzburg, and Isaac remembered this charming, snow-laden street with the festive lights of the Christmas market illuminating the night. The echo of laughter and the melodies of carollers filled the air. However, the warmth of the holiday season provided no solace for Isaac as he recognised the place and the painful memory Mick intended to revisit. A pang of regret gripped Isaac's chest as he saw Julia, an ex-girlfriend now long lost, bundled up in a cozy scarf and mittens. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation as she revelled in the enchanting atmosphere of the Christmas market. The scene seemed idyllic, yet the knowledge of the impending heartbreak cast a shadow over the festive ambiance. Mick, an unseen puppeteer in this cosmic theater, forced Isaac to relive a particular moment—the moment that stained the festive joy with the bitter taste of regret. In the memory, Isaac and Julia strolled hand in hand, their breaths creating delicate puffs of mist in the chilly air. The market stalls showcased an array of festive delights, and the sounds of laughter and holiday cheer surrounded them.

As they approached a beautifully adorned Christmas tree, Julia's eyes lit up with childlike wonder. "Isn't it magical, Isaac? I love Christmas," she exclaimed, her voice infused with genuine joy.

Isaac, aware of the impending choice he made in this memory, felt the weight of his own shortcomings. He had a choice—a choice that would determine the course of their relationship. In the memory, Isaac's phone buzzed with a message from an old flame, a one off, one night stand he met before Julia, now looking for round two. He hesitated, torn between the warmth of Julia's company and the tempting allure of a quick and easy, no strings attached, carnal encounter. The echoes of Mick's words resonated, accusing Isaac of a pattern of hurting those who cared for him.

In the relentless loop of the memory, Isaac found himself trapped, a spectator in his own flawed narrative. The weight of his shortcomings bore down on him as he faced the recurring choice that would determine the course of his relationship with Julia. Yet, despite his awareness, he remained powerless to alter his course, unable to stop himself from reliving those past moments.

Frustration etched across his face, Isaac turned to Mick with a plea in his eyes. "Why can't I change what I know I do wrong?" he asked, the echoes of his question mixing with the ambient sounds of the Christmas market.

Mick, leaning against a metaphorical fourth wall, met Isaac's gaze with a knowing expression. "Mate, this is like a movie," he explained, his voice carrying the weight of cosmic wisdom. "You can't change what's already been filmed. The scenes, the script, it's all set. You're just playing your part."

Isaac, grappling with the reality laid out before him, shook his head in disbelief. "But I know what happens. I know the mistakes I've made. Why can't I stop it?"

Mick's eyes gleamed with an otherworldly glint. "Because, Isaac, your past is a story that's already been told. The mirrors reflect the tale, and you're the audience and the actor simultaneously. It's a dance of echoes, and you're caught in the steps of your own narrative."

And so the dance continued, and the memory of that fateful Christmas unfolded once again. With the temptation of an old flame lingering in the air, Julia's expectant eyes bore into him, and the weight of his decision hung heavy on his conscience.

In the repetitive cycle, Isaac made the same fateful choice, prioritising the ghosts of his past over the person who stood beside him. As Isaac glanced at Julia's expectant eyes, he made the fateful decision to respond to the message. The scene replayed, the events of that night, after he sent his reply, lying to Julia, each iteration a cruel reminder of the pain he inflicted on her and the irreversible damage to their relationship. A cruel loop that intensified the agony of that moment. Each iteration heightened Isaac's awareness of the pain he caused her. Mick, the orchestrator of this cosmic drama, observed with a detached fascination. "Your past choices echo through the cosmic corridors," Mick remarked, his voice carrying a blend of amusement and solemnity. "Sometimes, mate, the only way to learn is to watch the echoes of your mistakes.” Amidst the repeating scenes of the Christmas memory, Mick's voice cut through the echoes, his question weaving into the cosmic dance. "Tell me, Isaac," Mick's voice resonated, "did you ever love her, or were you just playing her, using her for her looks? After all, she's a good-looking Sheila, isn't she? She was a toy to you, wasn't she?" "You just wanted to, what do you say.. Hit that? Poor choice of words after our last experience right, mate?!" Mick chuckled sarcastically.

Isaac, caught off guard by Mick's direct inquiry, felt the weight of scrutiny bearing down on him. The festive lights of the Christmas market flickered as he grappled with the question, the truth buried beneath layers of self-deception.

"I loved her, Mick," Isaac replied, his voice carrying a hint of defensiveness. "It wasn't about her looks. There was something real between us."

Mick, leaning against the invisible boundary between spectator and participant, raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that, mate? The mirrors don't lie, and I've seen the echoes of your choices. Actions speak louder than words.” Mick said, and with a sly grin, leaned closer to Isaac, his eyes glinting with a mischievous spark. "Alright then, if it was so real, tell me, mate. What was her favourite colour? And don't forget the brand of coffee she used to swear by. You claim it was real, let's see if you were paying attention."

Isaac's confident facade wavered for a moment as he grappled with Mick's challenge. The details, once vivid in the tapestry of his memories, seemed to blur as Mick's question unraveled the authenticity of his past connection with Julia.

"Uh, her favourite colour was..." Isaac hesitated, the weight of Mick's scrutiny intensifying. "Well, it was... I think it was blue. Yeah, definitely blue. And as for coffee, she liked that, uh, Italian brand... you know, the one with the fancy packaging."

Mick arched an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Blue, you say? Interesting choice. And the Italian brand? You're dancing on thin ice, mate. The mirrors reflect more than just the surface, and love is in the details, not in vague recollections."

As the memory played out once more, Isaac's internal conflict became palpable. The buzzing of his phone, the temptation of the past, and the hurt in Julia's eyes were all part of the cosmic choreography. The weight of his decision hung heavy, and Mick's probing question lingered in the air like a challenge.

The scene reached its crescendo again as Isaac, torn between the present and the echoes of his past, once more made the choice that had irreversibly altered the course of his relationship with Julia. The pain etched on her face mirrored the ache in his own heart.

Mick, seemingly satisfied with the revelation, gestured toward the mirrors. "Love, Isaac, is a complex dance. The echoes of your choices ripple through the cosmic tapestry, and sometimes, it takes confronting the painful echoes to understand the true nature of your journey."

As the echoes of the Christmas memory faded, leaving them once again in the mysterious confines of Mick's living room, Isaac couldn't shake the persistent question that gnawed at the edges of his consciousness.

"Why?" The word escaped Isaac's lips, heavy with a mix of frustration and confusion. He turned to Mick, his eyes searching for answers within the enigmatic glow of the mirrors. "Why was I forced to relive these moments, forced to act in the same way, over and over again? Why didn't I have a choice, like in the other memories you showed me?"

Mick, lounging in his weathered armchair, regarded Isaac with a knowing gaze. "Ah, free will," Mick mused, swirling the remnants of his coffee in the cup. "It's a tricky concept, mate. In this cosmic dance, sometimes you're the puppet, and sometimes you're the puppeteer."

Isaac's frustration deepened. "But I've seen other memories where I wasn't just a puppet. I had control, saw things from a distance. Why is it different now?"

Mick leaned forward, the playfulness in his eyes giving way to a more contemplative expression. "Every memory, every moment, is a unique dance in the cosmic ballet. The rules, mate, they change. In some, you're a mere actor, playing your part. In others, you get a glimpse from the balcony, watching the story unfold. It's the nature of this journey."

Isaac's brow furrowed as he grappled with Mick's cryptic explanation. "But why? What determines when I'm the puppet and when I'm not? Why am I trapped in some moments while given freedom in others?"

Mick's gaze held a touch of sympathy. "The mirrors, they reflect the complexities of your journey. Some moments are fixed, woven into the fabric of fate. In those, you play the role written for you. In others, where the threads are more fluid, you get a taste of the director's chair."

Isaac felt a surge of frustration and resignation. "So, I'm just a passenger in my own life, following a script written by... who, exactly? You?"

Mick chuckled, the sound echoing through the room. "Not me, mate. I'm just a guide, a spectator in this cosmic theater. The script, the choreography, that's a collaboration between you, the universe, and the echoes of your past."

Isaac, grappling with the weight of Mick's revelations and the intricate dance of fate, looked at Mick with a mixture of frustration and suspicion. "Aren‘t you the devil though?" he asked, his voice tinged with accusation.

Mick, still swirling the remnants of his coffee in the cup, burst into laughter. The echoes of his amusement reverberated through the room. "Devil, mate? Nah, just a bloke with a penchant for cosmic mischief," Mick replied, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark. "I'm not here to condemn or judge. I'm just here to show you the dance, the echoes, and maybe mess with your perceptions a bit. I can’t believe you actually fell for that nonsense."

Isaac, taken aback by Mick's candid admission, blinked in surprise. "Mess with my perceptions? So, all of this is just some game to you?"

Mick leaned back in his armchair, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Not a game, mate. More like a journey with a touch of unpredictability. Life's too short to take everything too seriously, isn't it? Well, for you it is anyway. Besides, a bit of mischief keeps things interesting. Embrace the dance, mate," his tone carrying a blend of wisdom and encouragement. "Every step, whether scripted or improvised, contributes to the overall masterpiece. The mirrors may reflect, but the interpretation is yours.“

As Isaac absorbed Mick's words, a sense of acceptance mingled with his frustration. The mirrors, the fucking 'cosmic dance', the echoes – they all wove a tapestry beyond his comprehension. The realisation that some moments were scripted while others allowed for free will added a layer of complexity and frustration to his journey. Nevertheless he couldn't help but crack a reluctant smile. The tension in the room eased as Mick's laughter echoed, and the mirrors, silent witnesses to the cosmic theater, reflected the playfulness in the midst of existential questions.

"So, no devil, no grand judge," Mick continued, his tone returning to a more serious note. “The part about selling your soul is true though”

Isaac's eyes widened, the levity in the room shifting to an air of solemnity. "Wait, what do you mean?" Mick, sensing the weight of that revelation settling on Isaac, leaned back in his armchair and smiled. The room and the mirrors remained silent witnesses to the intricate dance of fate.

"Before you get too lost in the ands, ifs and buts," Mick began, his tone taking on a more solemn note, "there's something you need to remember, mate. Something important."

Isaac, still grappling with the revelations about his soul up fore sale, looked at Mick with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation.

"Even after you made that fateful choice in Salzburg," Mick continued, his eyes locked onto Isaac's, "Julia told you she loved you. Even after you cheated on her, and just trust me, she knew you cheated on her that christmas evening.. The echoes of her love persisted. She didn't leave you that fateful night. No, she kept you around. Forgave you for the most heinous of lovers quarrels." Isaac's expression shifted, a mix of surprise and realisation playing on his face. The cosmic dance, with all its complexities and echoes of past mistakes, couldn't erase the enduring power of love.

"Even if you didn't deserve it, she loved you despite your flaws, mate." Mick added, his words carrying a touch of compassion. "Love, it's a force that transcends the cosmic intricacies, the echoes, and the scripted moments. Julia saw something in you, something worth loving even in the midst of your mistakes. Either that or the poor thing was just a bloody fool to fall for a drongo like you. what was it, another three? Three and a half months until she finally said it? And we all understand what happened when she said those three magic words by now I hope" He quipped. mouthing 'poof' as he waved his hands in the air.

Isaac, absorbing Mick's words, felt a subtle shift within himself. Amidst the christmas revelation and the continuous dance of echoes, the enduring spark of Julia's love became a guiding light.

"As you continue this journey," Mick concluded, "remember that love is a constant. It survives the echoes, the missteps, and the cosmic choreography. Embrace it, mate, and let it guide you through the cosmic dance."

The room, filled with the enigmatic glow of the mirrors, held a moment of quiet reflection. The echoes of Julia's love lingered, reminding Isaac that amidst the cosmic complexities, some truths remained unwavering.