Fan Fiction ❯ Mirror ❯ Mirror ( One-Shot )

Mirror

 

By Violet Dragon

 

 

There was a candle in the hallway. The ever-warped passage was stark with blackness and an air of negativity. The light emanating from the candle only left a soft glow upon the hand of the boy holding it, as well as on the boy's hair and face. He treaded quietly and cautiously upon the creaky wooden floor, which was made from the wood of a strong oak tree one hundred or more years ago. The house in which he lived in belonged to his ancient lineage, and his uncle rather unfortunately presently possessed it.

 

At the end of the hallway was the boy's destination—a tall, ornate door badly in need of a staining. He slowly grasped the long, bronzed handle of the mysterious entryway, and opened it to his view. The room was full of odd trinkets, old and sometimes moldy furniture, along with some random paintings and mirrors. He walked over to a particular dresser straight in front of him against a wall. It was black with hand-painted white and red flowers, which he had once guessed to be roses, but was never quite sure of it.

 

He stood in front of the cracked, dusty mirror sitting upon the dresser, his reflection broken in it. Next to the mirror, however, was an object that the viewer could not help but be drawn to. It was a small box, perhaps the size of a large man's hand, but was made all the more mysterious due to the keyhole in the middle front of its face. Intricate designs and symbols adorned its body, lovingly caressing the keyhole.

 

“Matthew, what in heaven's name are you doing up at this time of night?” A tired voice came from behind the boy. It was Matthew's twin sister, Lillian. She was, said by many, the better looking of the two. It was a small comparison though, considering that Matthew was quite adorable. Therefore, Lillian was simply glowing, with wavy auburn hair, bright and pale green eyes, and a softly curved body. They were both extremely close, especially since they were each other's only family, apart from their uncle.

 

“I can feel her in here right now,” Matthew replied. His voice was gritty and thick sounding.

 

“What?” Lillian's face was puzzled.

 

“She is in here, choking herself,” he continued, to Lillian's bewilderment. “Just as she did eighteen years ago. “She was so intense, but only like a flame would be, when a moth will go to it. Like when a glass of water crashes into something solid, she was real, and everything knew it. She was—is here. Right in here.”

 

Lillian was intensely uncomfortable, scrunching her shoulders up and shivering from the damp cold of the room. Matthew was rarely like this. In fact, she did not remember when he last acted so odd. She loved her brother, but was sometimes terrified by his uncanny abilities.

 

She reached over to touch his shoulder, which was stiff and strong. “Matthew,” she whispered, “We'll get in trouble if uncle finds us.”

 

“The evil that diminished her,” Matthew went on, as if he did not hear her, “will become eminent. We already see what it is, but not truly. Not until we see, will we know why she left.”

 

Lillian felt a tear roll down her cheek. Though she did not realize it, she was terrified to the bone. She moved to Matthew's side, shaking him. His rigid body barely moved, and he stood there as he had been the entire time. She looked at his endearing face, and sighed.

 

“I see now,” she sighed again, the bewilderment melting away, but the fear staying frozen inside her. She saw that his eyes were shut tight. She lifted her hand, and quickly whipped it across her brother's face.

 

A resonant SLAP echoed inside the room. Matthew's hardened face was taken aback, and he gradually opened his eyes.

 

“Lil?” he whispered. “What—?” He looked around the room, his disposition upset. “I had the strangest dream…”

 

“You were asleep.” Lillian stated, matter-of-factly. She rubbed her worn out eyes and face.

 

“Oh… oh no,” said Matthew, “I'm so sorry.”

 

Lillian forced a half-hearted smile, but it was nevertheless tender. “Let's go to bed, okay?”

 

He nodded, and followed her footsteps. He glanced backward, looking at the little stone box by the cracked mirror. It was innocent, and beautiful, and charming. Matthew hurried out of the room, his footsteps quiet and sure.