Girl in the Mirror

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own. I moved my hand and the image reflecting back made the same motion, but it wasn't me. Her face was blurred and gray, entirely monotone in color. I couldn't make out her features clearly, but I could tell she was a girl about the same age as me, twelve years old.

We had just moved in to this drafty old house outside of town. A “fixer upper” my dad called it. It was located down a long, secluded driveway lined with overgrown, gnarled trees. The weeping willow in front completely hid the house until you were right upon it. It was empty except for the large ornate mirror above the fireplace. At first there was nothing remarkable about it. I thought the frame was quite pretty. My reflection was as clear as I would expect from any mirror and I didn't give it another thought.

That first day, I helped my parents bring in furniture and boxes, then worked on unpacking my room. I unpacked most of my things fairly quickly. Then I helped my mom tackle the kitchen. When we were both exhausted, I grabbed a book from my room, bounced over the top of the living room couch, and settled in to read for the rest of the day.

Dad popped his head in and asked, “You wanna come with us to go get pizza, or you okay here alone?”

“I'm fine here.” No way was I getting up again anytime soon, especially just for a drive with my parents.

“Alright. Be back in a few” he called over his shoulder as they headed out the front door.

I read my book for a while until I became aware of how unnaturally quiet it was. Except for the occasional unfamiliar creak, the house was dead silent. I felt the hair stand up on the back of my neck and stopped reading to look around. It had gotten darker in the living room, as the sun was dropping low, and it was just too quiet. I tried to shake off my unease. It was bound to be quieter out here than at our old place in town where traffic was constantly rushing by, sirens blaring, and dogs barking. I shifted on the couch, gave a little cough just to break the silence and went back to my book.

I couldn't pay attention to a word I read, however. The uneasiness didn't go away. I felt as if eyes were watching me, like I wasn't alone. I stood up and looked around the room. Nothing out of the ordinary. I stretched my arms to one side, my muscles tight from lifting boxes, and jumped when I saw my reflection in the mirror move. I laughed inwardly at myself, instantly realizing it was just my reflection. But, was it? Something was off. The room in the mirror was darker than it should have been, almost completely black. I looked closer. My reflection was gray and blurry. I squinted my eyes and tried to make out what I was seeing. As I stretched my arms to the other side, the image in the mirror dropped her arms, not following my stretch. I froze, but then my parents flung open the door, flipped the light on, and shouted “Pizza's here!”

My head swung around to see them enter, then turned right back toward the mirror, but there was my usual reflection again. Just myself in the living room, nothing strange about it all. I shook my head. Maybe I had dozed off. I was really tired.

I forgot all about the mirror incident until a few days later when I was alone in the house again. My parents had gone to the hardware store or somewhere to get some stuff to fix the plumbing for one of the bathroom sinks. I hung posters on the wall and pinned a string of lights along the edge of the ceiling all the way around my bedroom. When I ran out of things to decorate in my room, I wandered into the kitchen for a snack, then came back into the living room. The T.V. set wasn't hooked up yet, so I moved an open box of books off of the couch and flopped myself upside down on it. I lay there for a minute with my hair hanging down to the floor, thinking about how boring it was here. Then I slowly sat up as the memory of the stranger in the mirror came back to me.

I knew it was ridiculous, but I was afraid to look into that mirror. At the same time, I was overwhelmed with curiosity and couldn't resist looking. I slid off the couch and slowly rose up to see what would be reflected on it's surface. My breath caught as there again was the gray figure in place of my reflection. I screamed and ran to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. I buried myself under the covers and stayed there till I heard my parents come home. I felt foolish. I'm no longer a small child, after all, but I had been truly frightened.

I planned to tell my parents, but when I finally worked up the courage to come out and we sat around the table for dinner, it seemed silly. There had been no odd reflection as I passed through the living room to the dining room just now and, hearing myself explain it in my head, it sounded insane. I second guessed myself again. Maybe it was just my imagination. I'd wait to tell them, unless I saw it again.

Days went by without a hint of anything amiss with the mirror. Eventually it was out of my mind again. I began to relax and could even spend time in the living room without anxiety in the pit of my stomach. I never stayed in there alone anymore, though.

One evening, my parents had gone out to dinner together and I was reading in my room. I was really engrossed in the story, but getting hungry, so I carried the book with me and read while I walked to the kitchen. I saw movement from the side of my eye and glanced up, not thinking about where I was. I almost jumped out of my skin! My book went flying across the room, bouncing along the hard wood floor to land in a crumpled heap on its pages.

I stood frozen in place as the gray girl stared out at me. Still blurry, but clearer than before. She looked a lot like me. Her expression was serious and unreadable. I turned my head slowly to one side and she did the same. I turned my head to the other side and she turned with me, matching my movements exactly. I raised a hand and she raised hers. My heart was pounding and I was terrified, though I tried not to show it. I wasn't sure if she was evil or good. Maybe neither. But I couldn't have moved from that spot for anything. My feet were glued to the floor.

I gasped in air after a moment. I had been holding my breath without realizing it. I lowered my hand, but the gray girl's hand remained raised. She pressed her palm against the glass and her eyes seemed to burn into mine. Her expression remained unchanged. She neither smiled nor frowned and those eyes, now that I could see them more clearly, were intense.

I took a step toward the mirror. I'm not sure why. I didn't want to get any closer, but I felt compelled. I took another step. The gray girl was as still as a statue with her hand against the glass, except her eyes which followed me, never blinking. My frantic mind searched for something to say. Anything to say. But I couldn't form a complete thought and even if I had found the words, my throat was so tight I couldn't have made a sound. Another step and I could reach out and touch her. Our faces were less than an arm's length from each other. Her dark image remained slightly unclear, but I could see her gray eyes clear as could be, directly in front of me.

My feet and now my arms, seemed to have a mind of their own. One arm rose up slowly. My shoulder tightened, a weak attempt to resist. My hand opened and our palms met. Suddenly the girl's reflection was bright and clear, full of color and life. The room behind her was bright as well, the exact reflection of my living room. She pulled her hand away and smiled. I was looking at myself. No, not at me at all, but she looked exactly like me down to every last detail. I felt cold, like all the warmth had just been drained from the room and from my body. It was dark now on my side of the mirror. My hand, still against the glass, was gray and colorless.

Our eyes remained locked for a moment more. The front door opened behind the girl in the mirror. She scooped up my book and flung herself onto the couch, looking as if she'd been lounging there reading for some time. I turned to welcome my parents coming in the real front door, but behind and all around me was nothing. Nothing at all, but a dark, cold mist. My head jerked back to peer through the mirror. My parents had walked in talking and laughing. My dad leaned over the back of the sofa and kissed the imposter on the forehead.

“Hey kiddo.” he said and continued chatting with my mom as they hung their coats.

She glanced up at me and smiled again, then settled in comfortably on the couch with her nose in my book as if she belonged there and hadn't a care in the world. I screamed and pounded my fists against the mirror, but no one heard.