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The Woman

An antique mirror begins to change a woman's life

By Morgan StarkeyPublished about a year ago Updated about a year ago 4 min read
1

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn’t my own.

It was only for a split second the first time, so I didn’t think much of it. I had gotten the mirror as a gift, from a distant relative. I didn’t usually care about antique things, I used to see ghosts when I was little and I hadn’t been fond of it; but this mirror was beautiful, and it would be a shame not to keep it, so I had.

That first time became more than one, and I would catch glimpses of a woman rounding the corner or passing through a door way more than once. One day I simply covered the mirror and began to ignore it, something told me not to get rid of it, even if I was seeing things. The true tipping point happened when I was sleeping one night, the sheet fell off the mirror and I sat up in bed to see someone staring at me; and I didn’t think I was ugly, but she was beautiful in an ethereal way. I slowly crept from the bed and walked to the mirror, where my face had been replaced by hers. Her body movements didn’t change, when I raised my arm, she raised hers. I didn’t cover the mirror again, but I didn’t realize what a mistake that would be.

As time went on I began to get used to the woman in my mirror, everything matched with her large blue eyes and classic sleek black hair, I had never dyed my hair in my life before, but I found myself going out and buying black hair dye, so I could match this woman. I wore blue contacts, and often forgot to take them out before going to sleep, eventually I no longer felt them. As I slept, I could swear I heard singing, but that was impossible, the woman in my mirror never spoke while I used, and later copied her face. I began to do my make up in a way that made me look like her, dieting so I could copy her slim figure; something in me wanted to be her. My friends and family were all concerned by my change, but I was still young, I was just exploring myself, at least that’s what I told them. When anyone else was around the woman didn’t appear in the mirror, just me and the washed out copy of her I had become.

It was months before I heard her speak for real. “I wouldn’t wear that.” She said, her voice was like a breeze along my skin, and I whipped around from my closet, a soft smile on her face as she motioned me forward. “It doesn’t suit our skin tone, now does it?” She continued, and I nodded, mesmerized that she had finally spoken to me.

“What should we wear?” I asked, not registering the use of pronoun, it was natural to copy everything about her, even, with a small thrill, saying that it was we instead of me or her.

Reach into the back of the closet, I think we have just the thing, we’ll know when we feel it.” She gave that mysterious smile again and I walked back to the closet, reaching all the way into the back and pulling out a gorgeous red dress, I had never seen it in my life, but I knew it so intimately as I felt the fabric. “We will wear that tonight.” The woman said, and I nodded, immediately slipping the dress on, and feeling it fit to my newly slimmed body. I finally matched the proportions of the woman in the mirror. “We look perfect.” She purred and I nodded, moving to the vanity to do my makeup. I had a date tonight and I wanted to really look perfect.

The date went perfectly, perfect enough that we were going back to my apartment and he was intending to spend the night. I wasn’t worried about the woman in the mirror, she never appeared to anyone else, until tonight. “We picked a gorgeous man, didn’t we.” She looked bored as she sat in a chair that didn’t exist in my room. “Such a shame.” I hid my shock behind a moan as she pulled out a knife, stepping through the mirror and slitting the man’s throat. I didn’t react as she pushed him off my body and she leaned over me, stoking a blood-stained hand down my cheek. “Look at you darling, not even worried. Why don’t you give me that body now?” The woman reached into my chest, her hand passing through and squeezing, finally pulling a sound from me. She continued to squeeze until darkness overtook my vision and the last thing I saw was that beautiful face above me, leaning down to kiss my lips and steal my last breath as her own, while the mirror shattered behind us, raining glass over the floor.

Horror
1

About the Creator

Morgan Starkey

I am a 28 year old, female. I am part of and an avid supporter of the LGBT community. I have been writing since I was in high school and once dreamed of being a writer, now my dream is to be an English teacher, but I still want to write

Reader insights

Nice work

Very well written. Keep up the good work!

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