The Lady in the Window

I first noticed her in a store window. I was out picking up some bits of food shopping and, as always, my eye was constantly drawn to the colourful shop fronts around me. I happened a glance across the road at a ladies fashion store; not that I need such things what with being an established bachelor, but it was a colourful display and quite pleasing. At first, I assumed her to be a mannequin; a part of the window dressing, but as my eye lingered I realised she didn’t seem to fit. She was…how best to describe this to you: out of focus. Yes, like a camera image that is out of focus. I could make out her shape; enough so that I immediately recognised her as feminine; but abstract, like a surrealist painting where one recognises images but finds it hard to explain how.

So distracted was I by this curious … reflection?… that I must admit to stumbling into several fellow shoppers. They quite rightly showed their displeasure and I apologised profusely before going on my way.

With the shop front out of sight, I managed to put the curious lady to the back of my mind, where she sat quietly awaiting her chance to surprise me again.

It didn’t take long.

I had forgotten about her by the time I reached my apartment block. I made my way up several flights of stairs to the third floor where my bachelor pad resides, and, despite juggling groceries, managed to fish out my door keys.

That’s when I saw her again.

Above my apartment door is a pane of frosted glass with the apartment number etched upon it. She was behind the glass.

Now, in the shop window she was a curiosity, but here, standing inside my apartment looking out from behind my door she was terrifying. I put my groceries down and rubbed my eyes, assuming, as one might under the circumstances, that they were playing tricks on me. They were not.

She was there.

Behind the glass.

But the door must be seven feet tall or thereabouts and the glass higher than that.

No, it must be some curious illusion: was what I told myself as I walked to the door with, I cannot lie, significant trepidation. I fumbled the keys into the lock and pushed the door open into the apartment, expecting it to stop against her.

It opened freely as always.

I shook off the silly fear that had begun to take hold of me and let out a nervous laugh before collecting my groceries.

I closed the door behind me and walked into my kitchen to get my cheeses and fresh meats into the fridge. As I was doing so I glanced back and saw her again. She was in the frosted glass still but now on the other side, looking in.

I dropped my groceries on the floor in shock and jumped back against the wall where she couldn’t see me.

I know this might sound silly to you but my usually rational mind was obliterated by fear at this point. I couldn’t explain what I was seeing. I was now convinced this curious lady was following me, staring out at me from behind glass surfaces. My stomach began to churn. Saliva built up in my mouth. I rushed to my bathroom, avoiding looking at the window above the door, and locked myself in. I took several long, heavy breaths to try and calm my stomach and nerves but I’d only gone and locked myself in with her.

She was right there in the bathroom mirror, still out of focus, still staring blankly forwards. I let out a scream that I did not know I was capable of; it came from some part of me that I didn’t know existed; some primitive memory locked away only to be opened in times of indescribable fear.

I felt I could almost reach out and touch her, but instead, I spun around. It was instinctive. I could see her in the mirror which meant that she must be behind me, but the only thing behind me was the bathroom door.

As I faced it, my mind raced. I was fighting a fear of the unexplainable; trying to comprehend that which was incomprehensible: if she was not behind me in the reflection then ...

I turned slowly back towards her.

I saw myself in the mirror; face drained of all colour; beads of sweat running down from my forehead; my eyes wide with terror.

In the reflection, she was standing in front of me. It made no sense. She appeared to be standing right behind the mirror as if it were now a window into my bathroom. Did she reside there? In a world of reflection.

My unraveling mind let out a laugh, but it was not madness that would be my escape. Pain shot down my left arm. I felt as though my chest was being crushed by some great, unseen force. “My heart,” I said to the out-of-focus lady staring impassively into my bathroom.

“My heart.”

I was on the floor when I awoke. I felt calm. The madness that had been taking hold of me had lifted. The chest pain had resided. I sat myself up and looked to the mirror.

She was still there but I could see her clearly now. She was strikingly beautiful in an elegant, classical way. She smiled down at me. I smiled back. I couldn’t help myself, but I also felt joy from it, like the warmth of the sun from behind grey clouds.

“I thought I died there?” I said.

Her smile tightened a little and she tilted her head to one side.

I looked around. My body was lying lifeless on the bathroom floor. I turned back to her. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” she said with a voice like ice cream. “I was expecting you to go earlier, which is why you could see me in the shop window. That must have been unsettling?”

I nodded; furiously. “Unsettling? Yes, that’s a nice way of putting it. Terrifying, is how I would describe it.”

“Still. No harm done.”

“No harm?” I said. “I’m dead!”

“That wasn’t my fault. That was your heart.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Are you always like this?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t take this personally but is there someone else I can talk to? A supervisor maybe?”

“You want a second opinion?”

“Is that an option?”

“No. You’re definitely dead.”

“I’d just like to talk to someone with a … better bedside manner. You’re a very attractive lady and have a lovely voice but you’re a bit…abrupt. I feel like this experience would be easier with someone more friendly.”

“Well, I’m Death, so there isn’t really anyone above me. There are other people waiting on you. They’re a bit more customer-facing if you will; tour guides to the beyond, and that sort of thing.”

I looked past her, through the mirror, which I suddenly realised wasn’t showing my reflection or any reflection; it was now a window to the beyond.

“Through there?” I said.

“Just step through and we’ll find you someone friendlier - no offence taken by the way.”

I ignored her. “Is it nice?”

“Is what nice?”

“The afterlife.”

Death shrugged. “It’s clean!”

“Clean?”

“Yes, clean. And terribly well organised. If it helps: you have no other option.”

“Well, since you put it like that, how can I resist.”

“You can’t. One way or the other you’re coming with me.”

“I really expected you to be nicer.”

“I’ll get over it.”

She swept an elegant arm out before her. “After you,” she said.

Having no choice I climbed through and gazed upon the afterlife. It did look very clean. I paused and looked back through the curious window into my bathroom.

“Problem?” Death said.

“I left some cheese and nice sausages out the fridge. I don’t suppose I can go back and-”

“No.”

“I knew you were going to say that.”

“You won’t need them. We have all the cheeses and sausages you’ll ever want.”

“Well, that’s more like it. Maybe you should open with that next time.”

Death seemed to consider it for a moment.

“No,” she said.

I shrugged and followed her to my afterlife; buoyed by the promise of sausages.

Author Note. This was inspired by an unsettling dream I had while suffering from a bad cold. The disturbing image of an unfocused face lurking in reflections woke me up and I couldn't shake it, so, like any writer, I crammed it into a story to make it go away. It was my original intention to end it on the words 'My Heart." and leave the reader no more informed at the end than they were at the beginning. This would be the gothic way. You may prefer that ending depending on your sensibilties. I wanted to see who she was though and it ended up being quite fun rather than scary. Either way, I hope you enjoy it.