Peter, wearing no clothing, inched his way along the steep, rocky pathway, avoiding any indents in the rough, terrain. He especially dodged any with hints of steam. The ones without were possibly more dangerous, as molten fluid underground was building up pressure.

He obviously wasn’t going fast enough, because a wickedly sharp spearhead tore into his side. He gasped, and cried out again as it was quickly ripped back out, shredding his flesh with agonizing pain.

Staggering, he desperately managed to keep his balance, because there was a steep cliff next to the wall. A step the wrong way and it would be a massive fall.

He looked down at his wound, and saw the flesh moving as it rapidly repaired.

Then he risked a glance at his attacker, a monstrous creature with an enormous trident, angry eyes, two long curvy antlers. It was naked except for thick fur from the waist down and hooves that made it so it could easily make its way through the hot rocky surface even as Peter staggered on bare feet.

Peter picked up the pace as much as he could, but couldn’t stop a pleased smile from spreading across his face. This drew a snarled growl from a large wolf-like creature that was also stalking him.

As he worked his way down the path towards a nearby clearing, a hissing sound from above drew his attention, and he gasped, quickly covering his face as a rain-like substance fell from the sky. He yiped in pain as acid drops pelted his head and shoulders, sizzling his flesh.

“Ah!” he cried out.

The demon and demon-wolf looked pleased, unhurt from the rain even while their prisoner’s skin burst into tiny explosions.

Peter dropped to his knees, screaming in pain.

There were other screams from around, but he was too much in pain to look for any fellow tortured victims.
After some time, it might not have been very long, but it felt like weeks, the rain stopped. Peter breathed deeply, his skin still bubbling. Then the wolf growled and the trident was jabbed into his back again, the pain adding to a torrent of agony.

Peter managed to make it to his feet, the bottoms of which were sizzling from the acid water on the rock, but the demon didn’t give him time to try and manage his pain levels. Then he was back to staggering down the path between the rock wall and cliff. But, once again he smiled despite his agony.

This time the demon noticed and it tried to say something, but was stymied for an instant, because it hadn’t spoken in a long time. Time could not be measured in the molten lava-filled center of the earth, as there was no sign of day or night. Creatures here did not die, so a clicking clock, a world’s revolving or passage around the sun meant nothing.

The prisoner it was transporting was doing something the demon had not seen in its recent memory. After some thought, it remembered what its prisoner’s actions were called, and instinctively knew it in every language. It cleared its throat and finally found its voice.

“What the hell are you smiling at?”

Peter gave it an alarmed look, and without looking it in the eyes, he said, “I’m sorry, sir.”

Then he stepped again in sizzling acid, and another smile burst onto his face.

The demon snarled. “You should not be smiling!” You should be feeling the pain and anguish as penalty for your evilness on the surface.”

“Yes, sir,” Peter said, and then grinned again as he took another step. They were near the clearing now.
“That’s it,” the demon growled. “Stop.”

Peter immediately complied, and straightened. A giggle burst out of him, and he clamped his hand over his mouth.

The demon glared at him. It was not used to conversing or communicating with its prisoners.

After a moment of studying Peter, the demon said. “I know you are not mentally ill. All illnesses and sickness are cured when you are here, so you will be in the most receptive position for being tortured.”

It gestured to Peter’s already healed skin. “That is why you heal here, so you can feel the most pain.”

Another smile flitted across Peter’s face before he could stop it.

The demon frowned, then asked, “What did you do on the surface that landed you here?”

Peter took a deep breath to hold back more joy. Then he thought back to his time before dying. “I killed someone.”

The demon nodded. “That would do it. Tell me more.”

Peter nodded. “I, um, robbed a store, and I shot the clerk. And a customer. Then, when I was escaping, I ran over and killed a little boy before a truck hit my car.”

The demon just watched. It had no knowledge of what a truck was, or a car, but it was following the story.
Peter took another breath, then continued. “They found me guilty of murder and manslaughter and I was sentenced to die.”

After a moment he added, “I spent more than a decade on death’s row.”

The demon scratched its beard. “This doesn’t explain why you are having happy feelings here, even when we are hurting you.”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, well, there was a little more to it. When the truck hit me, I was hurt. Really hurt. Hurt bad. I was paralyzed from the waist down.”

The demon took a breath even though it didn’t need to breathe. “Go on.”

Peter looked up at the demon. “I was in a wheelchair, for fifteen years. I couldn’t walk. Couldn’t stand. I had no feeling in my legs. And this was on death row. I was a prisoner in my body and my body was a prisoner in the jail cell.”

The demon’s lips pursed.

Peter stood up tall and locked gazes with the demon.

“So then they put me to death, and I showed up here. But now I can walk! I can stand!”
The demon’s mouth opened.

Peter went on. “Years of being crippled! And now I’m not!” A huge smile burst onto his face. “I’m cured!”
He spun around in a circle. “I’m in heaven,” he shouted.

The demon couldn’t think of anything to say. Even the wolf looked perplexed.

As Peter danced around, some other humans suddenly appeared in puffs of smoke in the clearing.

One of them, a woman, opened her eyes, which then widened in shock. “Wait, what, I can see? After years of blindness, now I can see?!”

Another, a man, stood and in disbelief grabbed his arms. “My arms! I have arms now! I’m healed!

The demon could only watch as they danced around.

“Damn it,” it muttered. “Wait til Lucifer hears about this.”

About the author:
After suffering paralysis from a spinal injury, author Norm Cowie started writing dystopian short stories featuring the theme of disability.  Prior to his injury, he had written a dozen novels, and is an award-winning business columnist. Some of his other disability short stories have or will soon be published in the magazines Amazing Stories, Bewildering Stories and Altered Reality. His website: www.normcowie.com

“What are you doing here child?”
 
The guard looked me up and down, eyes narrowed, lips turned into a frown. What did he expect? Every child which presents the king’s signature letter must appear a certain way? If that was the case, I would have not dreamed of being given a chance.
 
I pressed the letter back into the guard’s hands, narrowing my own eyes. My hands rolled into fists, my jaw clenching. By the expression upon the guard’s face, I understood I had won. The guard tucked the letter into a satchel hanging from his waist and nodded to me. He took the doorhandle, swinging the door open.
 
Fear creeped from the shadows, falling onto me as I stepped through the open doorway. The door shut behind with a loud bang. Darkness fell over me, mingling with the fear. It was done. I was one step closer.
 
 Yet, no one told me I would be alone.
 
I waited a few minutes, allowing my eyes to adjust to the darkness.
 
How many had come before me. How many of them were granted their one desire? For that was the reason we all came. To have our one desire granted.  I did not have to wonder what their desire was. There was only one reason, one desire which led all towards the unhidden mirror.

Once my eyes adjusted, I began to walk. I found I was in a dark, spacious hall. The room failed to have any windows or any natural light. It was as if the king had invited all the darkness to consume the hall.
 
Despite the darkness, shadows began to take shape, revealing themselves as pillars on either side. Unknown tapestries hung upon both sides of the wall, reaching from one to the other. Halfway down the hall, a white, shimmering light began to flood over the floor.

My breath caught in my throat.
 
The unhidden mirror.
 
How many times I was told of the unhidden mirror was lost to me. There were countless stories, countless records of people who were lost or offered to the unhidden mirror.
 
“Welcome Illa,”
 
I stumbled, catching my fall with my knees. My knees smashed into hard ground. Pain shot through my left side, but I ignored it as I climbed back to my feet. The shimmering light died away, revealing the unhidden mirror.
 
The unhidden mirror was quite big, bigger than I imagine. The length ran as high as me, showing all of me from my toes to my head. Its frame was outlined in gold, most likely in honor of the palace colors.

Within minutes, my image faded away, a masked face taking its place. Two, black eyes stared straight into mine. A shiver ran down from my spine towards my toes. Here was the unhidden mirror in all of its glory.
 
“Hello Illa.” The masked face’s voice was that of a man. His voice was deep and rolled like thunder.
 
“H-h-hello,” I stammered.
 
“So, you are the one whom the king had chosen for me to see,” the masked face mused.
 
“I-I-I s-s-supposed so.” I bit the inside of my cheek. Stop stammering stupid fool.
 
Silence stretched for what seemed eternity. Anyone who had been to the unhidden mirror was bound to never speak of it by word. They were to write it down, which explained the thousands of reports.
 
What would my report be? Eighteen-year-old- Illa Kayes bound by her crippling illness or granted freedom.”
 
“I’m not sure what to do,” I managed to say.
 
A low rumble which sounded like dark laugher escaped the masked face. He shook his head, turning to look at me as if I was a child. “Illa, the king must had seen great purpose in you to grant you permission to see me. Yet, tell me what is it that you wish for?”
 
I stared wide-eyed at the unhidden mirror. How could he be asking such a thing. There was only one desire to be granted. Even for those who did not need to see the unhidden mirror knew the one and only desire he granted. I didn’t realize it, but my mouth was hanging open.
 
I shut it quickly, clearing my throat. “I wish to be whole.”
 
The words fell gently from my lips as if they were waiting to escape.
 
“Whole, the masked face repeated. “My dear, what makes you think you are not whole?”
 
A burning rage filled my whole being. How dare the unhidden mirror say such? As if he understood, the masked face was gone, being replaced by my reflection. I cringed at the sight of myself.
 
Upon first glance, anyone would think I was like any other passing by. If they looked a second but closer time, they would see every part of my right side was tilted, gnarled and broken. My right shoulder stood lower beside my left, my right hand curled inward, looking more like a claw then a hand. My right leg stood shorter than my left, forcing it to drag a little as I walk.

Me whole?
 
To think me as such was a complete joke.
 
The masked face took to the surface once more. “My power is mighty. Even with one word, you may have your desire.”
 
“Oh yes, I have heard stories of your deeds” I answered. “The king has been quite please by how you are healing the kingdom.”
 
“You believe I heal those to heal the kingdom,” the masked face said. “My dear, I heal those who desire such.”
 
My eyes flickered. There was a note I did not recognized Clarity fell over me, my heart beating wildly in my chest. “You don’t believe my desire is to be healed?” There was no denying the fear laced within my voice.
 
The masked face took his time on answering me. “My dear, not only do I have power, but I do have wisdom. I have been in the king’s court for many years. Thousands of people have come to see me, to present the desire of healing. What I have found is most people hide behind the desire of healing.”
 
“I don’t understand,” I answered.
 
“I grant those who truly desire healing the masked face replied. “However, there are those such as yourself who desire something deeper. Behind the desire of healing comes a deeper desire.”
​
 I couldn’t believe my ears. For eighteen years I had to live with my so-called illness. Now with a chance to be healed from it, I was being told it wouldn’t be granted.
 
“To grant your desire of healing will lead into your desire of being seen and loved,” the masked face commented. “Your greatest desire is not to be healed but to be seen and loved. You believe the only way is through healing your physical.”
 
 I suddenly felt dizzy. This couldn’t be happening. There was no way the unhidden mirror was denying me. How many years had I waited for the king to grant me such a wish. Now I was here and…
 
“Illa, I do not wish suffering upon you,” the masked face said. “What you believe is an illness is a blessing. This kingdom does not require every broken citizen to be healed. There are those who are trusted to walk among those who are suffering and grant them hope.
 
“Do you understand what you are denying me?” I cried, throwing up a hand.
 
“I deny you nothing,” the masked face replied. “What I grant you is a story you are able to tell from generation to generation. Here is a young woman who despite physical limitations was able to be seen and loved as she is and not as someone hiding behind a mask. She was able to rise up , showing love, seeing those broken as she. To be loved and seen as you are is a greater blessing then as you aren’t.”
 
“It doesn’t make it any easier,” I whispered.
 
“No, no it doesn’t,” the masked face laughed softly. “Yet, once you accept the desire of being loved and seen as you are, you can start healing in a different way. Healing comes in many shapes and forms.”
 
This was not what I had wanted. What was I going to say when I exit the hall and people understood I was denied? I would have to explain this riddle. I lifted my head to the unhidden mirror, but the masked face was gone.
 
“Illa, your illness, your disability has bene trusted to you,” the masked face’s voice echoed all around. “Go, step into being loved and seen as you and not who you thought you should be.”
​
A sound of iron scarpering iron roared in my ears. A flood of light came through an opening at my right.
 
No, no, no.
 
The unhidden mirror was wrong. My desire was to be healed, to be whole. How dare he tell me what I desired was wrong.
 
“I am not wrong my dear. Stop fighting.”
 
The light was growing brighter. The unhidden mirror had spoken.
 
Once I walked through the light, there was no turning back, no escaping.
 
It was time to face the truth.