Mirror
© 1994 Kymberly Fergusson
An image winked back, mimicking every movement, every motion yet changing subtly each time, as if it had a life of its own. It mocked me. The light inside seemd so real, so substantial, but it was impossible, it was only a sheet of glass with a silver lining. There was no way there could be depth, or life. Yet the illusion that this was wrong gnawed at my mind. What was on the other side?
A voice called and startled me out of my hypnotic state. They were waiting downstairs. The party had started and they were expecting me, I was the guest of honour. It was my birthday. They could humour me for a while longer, I was not going down. The door I had locked and barricaded with the chest of drawers and the bed. No-one was going to force me to join them. They would laugh at me. They always laughed. I was a freak, a joke, someone to tease. They didn't think about how I felt when they giggles and sniggered behind raised hands, trying to hide their amusement. No, I was not going to give them any more reasons to laugh, to pity or to turn away, embarassed by differences. I was not going down.
A figure in the mirror stared back at me, tears glistening in the corner of the eyes, sympathy and understanding radiated from it - trying to soothe my anger and a blanket of calm settled on me. The light in the glass glinted menacingly, like hungry eyes searching my soul. I never turned the light off. It was safe as long as I stayed here with the light glowing comfortably. No-one could reach me.
A call drifted up the stairs, now anxious, enquiring if I was well, and if I would join them. As yet they hand't ventured up the stairs, I would have heard them. They obviously didn't want me with them that much, they were having a good time without me. The musical chiming of glasses and the enticing aroma of food drifted up the stairs with the enquiry. I would not go down, no, not while they were still there. They were the inhuman ones, using me for amusement.
A thump and a yell of acute pain chasing its heels bounced up the stairs. Someone had tried to come up. That made up my mind. I wonder what is actually on the other side of the mirror.
A hand reached out, beckoning, offering an escape, promising friendship. Our hands met, the reflection smiles in triumph, baring a mouth of pure white teeth as sharp as daggers. The eyes flashed malevolently, it was too late to draw back. Fear, resignation and horrified realisation registered as the light exploded. The reflection held me fast and its evil grin widened, snarling in pleasure. It had won.
A window smashed and it was seen why the door would not open. The room looked as though a hurricane had ripped through it, smashing the contents and spreading them to the edges of the room, away from the glistening shards scattered in the center. Blood stained the jagged edges of the glass. A scream hung in the air.
