LEE BRENNAN. A mirror selfie showing the 35 year old mug using his 2009 camera, flash creating a large halo on the dusty thing.
Lee Brennan had been a good few years out of Mirror Lake High School, but you know what they say. You can take the kid outta school, sure, but you can't take the school outta the kid.
This morning, like every morning this month, Lee wished he were back in school. But when he got up, he'd simply wish to be back in bed again. Undeterred, he grunted and shoved off the covers to stretch his two arms that were already looking for an excuse to be tired. He rocked downstairs in the t-shirt and boxers he'd slept in, but felt really healthy and refreshed because he'd made the rare choice to put on fresh socks.
Whenever he'd decided his life was too much of an embarrassment to keep meticulously archiving and poking his friends with, he'd deleted Facebook — something like three years ago. Nevertheless, he kept his camera handy and documented everything. At first, he'd take pictures at the gym for accountability, and then it was pictures on walks in California where his life was picturesque enough to warrant the effort. But now, back in his hometown with no money for a gym membership, the pictures were their own ritual, perhaps the only one left in his life.
An uninspiring picture of the inside of a fridge.
That wasn't quite true — he had two other rituals. Breakfast, and dinner. The latter had become a maybe, granted, but the former was still a must. At least while he was still living with his parents.
Oh, right — that whole situation. The email came a month ago today:
from: gro.elohtihs|ecafkcufcm_yssob#gro.elohtihs|ecafkcufcm_yssob
to: gro.elohtihs|102nannerbl#gro.elohtihs|102nannerbl
Dear Mr. Lee Brennan,
We are writing to inform you that your employment at Fuckface Incorporated is terminated, effective immediately. For absolutely no reason. For because I says so, you stupid piece of shit.
Your final check will be in the mail. We'll be sure to mail it to the wrong address. Not like it was worth anything anyway. That check is the kind of paper I wipe my ass on.
We'd like to stress this decision is final and non-negotiable, and legal measures will be taken if necessary.
Please hesitate to reach out,
Bossy McFuckface
Or at least that was how he remembered it. They sent it to his work email, which was now inactive. Now it was just a burning little memory, which if Lee had his way, Mr. McFuckface'd soon be too.
He lost his apartment in San Jose impressively soon after this termination and ended up back in West Virginia living in his parents' house in what everyone jointly agreed was the "spare room." No matter that back in his days at Mirror Lake, this was the room he kept his bed, computer, books, camera and kit in. Trophies, too — football trophies, at least until his leg. It became the spare room when he moved out 12 years ago, and a passing stay in that same old space wouldn't change that.
Speaking of his leg, that was the main point of trouble this morning too. If he was going to mope about their house, his parents thought he might as well help with some of the chores. They gently slipped that into the conversation in the second week when it became clear Lee wasn't exactly raring to get himself a new place, and so he'd started mowing the lawn. It was September, so it wouldn't be too long before mowing season was over — and of course, he was totally gonna have a new place by then anyway so it was totally whatever. Totally.
A half-eaten bowl of coco pops with some milk spilled around the edge.
But as he poured some coffee and ate some off-brand cereal, the chocolate smell from the bowl mixing with the paint of this kitchen in a way that was nostalgic the first time a month ago but just life now, his leg was complaining a little more than usual. That stupid knee, the one that cost him a lucrative career in football that he'd bet would be over by now anyway but at least he'd have stacks of cash in the bank. Stupid fucking knee, stupid fucking job. Stupid fucking lack thereof, he meant. Stupid fucking— Right, the lawn.
A perfectly mown lawn with a cloudy sky overhead.
When the mowing was over, some childish part of him still waited for his granny to give him five bucks for helping around the house. Maybe that was his conscience telling him "Hey Lee, don't you think it might be time to get a job already?" Because heaven knows the angel on his shoulder would have to say that in code to have a sliver of a chance of getting through to him. Skull so thick even his inner voice can hardly be heard. But can you blame him?
He was faced with a dilemma — get a new job here in cloudy Mirror Lake and accept that the chains this town had on him would always pull him back, or try extremely hard to find work elsewhere which somehow appealed even less to him. He decided he'd just get some trousers on for a start and go out for a walk with his camera.
As always, he consulted the forums. An urban exploring community started back in 2009, same year he graduated high school. After his knee caused him to quit sports, he'd leaned into the whole photography thing more and more and by now he'd made a name for himself in this little alcove of the urban exploring community. There were loads of spots nearby with some interest but only a few outdated photos, which he'd gladly swing by especially now that he was in this run-down town. Mostly propped up by independent businesses, the pandemic wiped every other shop off the map and the whole atmosphere was like an alien had beamed up every other resident.
Today's hottest post:
High School at Mirror Lake? Sep 18 2025 13:02
there's apparently a high school in mirror lake that shut down in 2010. i can't find anything on the shutdown, only that local parents were disappointed at the lack of transparency. the kids must have been devastated
people say they still hear sounds coming from that place, like the school bell still ringing or some rustling around, but most people won't go near it. hard to say if it's safe since we don't really know why it shuttered
anyone got any more info on this place?
Come to think of it, Lee didn't know why the place had shut either. A marker of everything he couldn't have in this world because of his injury, he was quick to leave the place behind. He kept in contact with some friends, and then he didn't. But it was all for the benefit of his fancy new life getting a degree in graphics bullshit and working for a fantastic company in sunny California only to be unceremoniously fired and replaced by a bitchy AI named Claude. Who the hell is called Claude?
On bus ride to the school area, Lee watched out the window at everything that had changed.
Heavily motion blurred pictures of various landmarks of Mirror Lake, all faded.
Safe to say the town had gotten worse. First he tried to tell himself that it was just different, and maybe different wasn't always worse. Then he remembered that right now he was the epitome of different compared to himself a month and a half ago and he was pretty unequivocally worse. So who's to say, really?
The front gates, of course, were closed. He never liked to come here after graduation — there was something weird about no longer being allowed through the gates he'd so frequently pass through among friends. They were different now, flaked and rusted, so he stopped to feel the texture of them — like a flaky pastry, the paint crumbling off but with more bite as the little flecks pointed against his skin.
He wasn't far enough away from prying eyes for this to be normal, though for some odd reason nobody was around. He'd have to find another way. When:
BRIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNGGG…
Well, that should have been expected. It was 9:10, so that was the start of second period. He hadn't forgotten everything about Mirror Lake's schedule, not yet at least.
Suddenly with the prying feeling he had somewhere to be within the school, he looked more hastily for an entrance. Scouring the chain link fences he found a little space to crawl through. Given the lack of online pictures he assumed it was from an animal rather than a fellow plucky photographer, but it was large enough for somebody smaller than him. With a little effort, the old wire gave way to a little larger of an opening and he squeezed through. Dirtied his jeans, though.
The lack of a beaten path between the hole in the fence and the doors of the school confirmed this wasn't a popular spot, heaven knows why. Still 6 feet away from the building and it already looked promising — decayed in just the right way to make Lee's finger on the shutter trigger-happy. His first photo of the building was of the outside.
A county notice about the condemned nature of the building.
The notice was scratched and almost limp at this stage. If it weren't for the lamination, it clearly would be melted into mulch by now. This might have scared some people away, but for Lee, it was nothing but an invitation into whatever goldmine laid behind these doors.
He kicked the door three times just to hear it rattle, but it wouldn't budge, so he circled the building for another way in. It was taller than he remembered, like there was something in him that had shrunk in comparison in the intervening years. Hell, he could see stuff growing in there too — a tree sticking out the window here, ivy with its talons deep everywhere else. Nothing but closed windows, though, and pretty high up as well.
When he got to the gymnasium he finally found a door ajar — bingo. Above it, a sign: HOME OF THE PIRANHAS. The sign itself, the faded mascot leering over him, bit into his thigh like he was knee deep in an infested river. Well, you came all this way, he thought. And he was excited after all.
The gymnasium door.
The first thing that hit him was the scent of the place. Gym smell only got stronger over the years, especially as you grew out of the place and weren't used to it anymore. The whole school carried the whiff of it, plus that of the old paint on the walls. Somehow, behind it all was the scent of cafeteria food — if food was really what it was. He'd call it "rations" back in the day like he was in the army, but then again, he always thought those army boys must have been fed better.
Though there were debris of all sorts on the floor and no light to speak of save for what the holes in the roof let through, there were many artifacts to find. A banner hung off the wall for dear life.
A banner reading "GO PIRANHAS! STATE FINALS 2008"
God. State finals 2008. That was his year, or at least it was supposed to be. He… he thought he was over this.
When it emerged that he was off the team, he took it in his stride. At least, he pretended to. He still supported the team, who smiled back and seemed to genuinely care. The occasional "Aren't you on the wrong bus?" joke on the supporter's bus might still have gotten to him, but on the outside he looked to be coping. Coping by burying himself into a new hobby.
Yes, his hobby. Photography, that was why he was here. To document this place.
An abandoned school hallway
Everything was a mess. Surely it can't have been this bad when he was here.
A photo of the corridor, linoleum floor stretching down into the darkness.
Now what w