My fingers brushed the dusty screen of the vintage tv that had been stored in my great-grandmothers eerily quiet attic for longer than I've been alive. My reflection in the glass stared back at me. I pushed my hand farther, my fingers interlocked with my reflection. My fingers held 5 ghostly gray, cold fingers that gripped my hand. This felt strange. Like this is impossible, but my mind is blank at the moment. I could only process what was happening right now.

I looked longer. My reflection's expression matched mine. Nothing. Until it's eyebrows knitted together. It's eyes squinted, glistening barely. I felt my face with my other hand, it did not match anymore. My reflections mouth started to cry out to me. Begging. Pleading. But it was silent. It was gripping my hand tighter and together until it's fingernails dug into my skin and it's knuckles were snow white. I tried to pull away, but they started panicking even more, and even the TV glitched static, although it wasn't even plugged in.

I continued to display no expression, as I was dazed by myself. Daydreaming was a common occurrence but not something like this. I didn't begin to think for myself and/or react until the reflection turned furious and it's second hand dove out of the screen for my neck. It continued to silently scream and mute tears of madness ran down my face. The reflection pulled me into the screen until I blacked out.

I woke up moments later to the sound of fingernails tapping on glass. I sat up quickly, reaching for my neck, which still had the lasting sensation of being choked. I was still in the attic. But as I looked around me, There was not one speck of color. My eyes immediately looked for the TV after I gathered my senses finally.

Through the screen was me. My reflection. It's whole silvery grey self, standing in the colored attic I was in moments before. It's smug expression certainly didn't match mine. It chuckled, still silent, and ran off, disappearing down the attic ladder. My eyes wide, I peered down at my colored hands, then once again at this attic. Whose attic was this? It was not my great-grandmas. This was nowhere. This didn't exist.

Where was I?