Introduction Post
Imogen stood before the mirror, a surreal reflection of herself—a vision half-formed, like something waiting to be sculpted. As per usual. Her long, dried, bleached blonde hair fell in tangled waves, a wild mane framing her face like a chaotic halo. The blunt bangs hung heavily over her crescent moon tattoo, casting shadows across her forehead. She traced the ink with her fingers, contemplating the meaning it once held. How powerful that tattoo had made her. Now, in this moment, it felt more like a relic of her past than a symbol of her spirit. Good riddance.
Almost robotically, she picked up the pair of scissors resting on the counter that she had grabbed from the kitchen moments ago. The metal glinting menacingly under the bathroom light. The first snip echoed in the silence, a small defiance against the yawning uncertainty that loomed around her. The hair fell away, each lock sliding to the floor—a disordered offering to a chapter that was closing. She continued snipping, methodical and detached, as if performing an act of surgery rather than the seemingly simple task of changing her appearance.
When the hair emerged as little more than a tousled bob, she brushed away the fallen strands with a flick of her wrist. The new length felt foreign, a stark contrast to the cascading length she’d worn like a shield. Staring into her reflection, her eyes were dry. Again., A familiar emptiness creeping in. She had done it. She had cut off what was once a shield against the world, and the world, in turn, felt heavier than it had moments before.
Today was the day. She was going to breakup with her boyfriend. She’d leaned too heavily on a relationship that had long shifted from passion to convenience. Her boyfriend, for all his charming smiles and his lingering affection, had become a safe harbor—more a means of shelter for her in the unfamiliar city than a source of genuine connection. They shared laughter, fleeting sweetness, and she’d maybe even paid him in kisses and laughter in the dark, but deep down she knew this was no way to live. The relationship had devolved into an arrangement, a pact they both seemed unwilling to acknowledge.
America—close to home—loomed ahead, vibrant and terrifying. Imogen had bought the ticket last night. And for what? A letter she had received not too long ago? She’d always been the hustling type. The scent of familiarity tugged at her, an ache that echoed in her chest. The thought of facing her past—the very essence of who she was—made her heart race. Was she ready to confront the shadows? Or would she find herself once again slipping into patterns, trapped in the specter of who she had been? She heard the locks click and knew she’d be out of London before the next sunrise.
@Kbail ; Jessica • Maze
Imogen stepped into the garden, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers. She took a shuddering breath, a comforting yet tortured breath of Washington air. How familiar and haunting.
But just as she started to take a step forward, something made her stop dead in her tracks. Her heart raced, pounding in her ears like a drum. There, standing a few feet away, was a figure who mirrored her in a way that sent chills down her spine. It was her—yet it wasn’t. Her twin sister. The very spitting image of Imogen, was there, radiant and poised, her long hair flowing effortlessly in the breeze. she looked like she didn’t have cigarettes and coffee for dinner. She looked healthy—not stretched skin over bones that wanted one night of peace. The same crescent moon tattoo adorned her forehead, but where Imogen’s was a reminder of a journey faced alone, her sister’s bore the trace of a path yet unspoiled.
Imogen’s breath hitched. The resemblance was so uncanny, it felt like staring into an alternate universe, one where she had made different choices, one where she hadn’t fled. The sight of her sister, so vibrant and undeterred, felt like a gaping wound reopening. All the things left unsaid, all the paths left unexplored, crushed in on her, suffocating.
Before she could process the maelstrom of emotions swirling within her, her instincts took over. She turned on her heel, a visceral urge driving her away from the impossible reality before her. The garden suddenly felt too vast, too filled with memories she wasn’t ready to confront. Imogen raced toward the maze behind the house, a half-formed thought urging her to escape, to lose herself in the winding hedges and twisting paths that had once felt like a sanctuary.
Once inside, the world narrowed. The maze felt like a refuge, and yet, it tightened around her—each turn a reminder of all she had fled from. She pressed her back to the cool foliage, breathing raggedly as she struggled to quell the tremors coursing through her body. Before she could take another breath, she found herself colliding with a woman who looked as if she had emerged from the very heart of the garden. “HELP” Now, Imogen was all for helping other women in need but… never run towards the voices. But somehow… Imogen never lost the voice. Smack dab. Running straight into this woman—who is actually very beautiful dark skin and darker hair—completely panicked saying, “You have to help me! I can’t find the way out!”
For a moment, Imogen simply stared, taken aback by the yet familiar spark of desperation mirrored in this stranger’s eyes. probably for different reasons—unless she also had a twin sister who she fell out with—Imogen usumed this maze was doing numbers on her.
“Okay, okay,” Imogen replied, “I’m not sure how we got in here, but…” she began, scanning the thick hedges that wrinkled and twisted around them, “we can’t retrace our steps. But what if we find a higher ground?”
@ChayChay05 ; India • Mentioned
