Calvin Faulkner

You can't help but stare into that feminine visage of young Calvin Faulkner, yet. A trap lying in his eyes in wait as you look over the painting carefully the boy no stranger to style though a hundred years out of date. I knew where those eyes were traveling so the unspoken wish was made true.

The world seemed to fuzz out the image in the mirror, of me and my mask faded from sight to be replaced by...you, but the images is so unclear and your eyes refuse to focus and your mind refuses to focus.

You feel the cool air on your skin, as the door behind you opens, the warm feeling of fresh cloth swooping in around your body and you look down to find that, your clothes had been replaced.

Still your mind swirls and spins you hear a voice calling to you but all you can think of is 'who am I?'