OMG! WHAT HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO?

OMG! WHAT HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO

Can I really get myself out of it?

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“What a beautiful, little mirror. I just have to have it!”

It was not an elaborate piece of art. Nor was it an eye-catching item that you’d put on display in your home. It was nothing more than a small, handheld mirror that I just felt I had to have. It was the kind of mirror that was meant to sit on a vanity table, and that’s exactly where I intended to put it.

Normally, I don’t wander into antiques stores. I know whatever they’re selling can be expensive and very fragile. Angela, all but dragged me inside. “Come on, Aunt Dee. It’ll be fun!”

I gave in for a few reasons. Angie was only visiting for a few weeks, and her vacation was almost over. We wanted to do the not-so-ordinary outings. And it was a good time to spend with my brother’s daughter, who I don’t get the opportunity to see as often as I’d like.

The antique store looked more like a junk store. Nothing was organized. Tools, vases, dolls, and whatnot were all scattered on tables and shelves or wherever the proprietor found room. Maybe he planned it this way, so you’d have to wander around the store and look at everything, while he hoped you’d buy anything.

As it turned out, an attractive small mirror caught my eye. It wasn’t big. The handle was only eight inches long, and mirror was oval-shaped and only five inches at its longest area. The other side of the mirror was a cream-colored design with an assortment of painted flowers on it. It was, without a doubt, the prettiest hand mirror I’ve ever seen, and I knew it had to be mine.

Since Angie was leaving the next day, she chose to not, as she put it, “tempt fate with an antique that was probably not cleansed correctly.” I should note that Angie is a practicing Wiccan.

“Are you sure you want that mirror? I mean, REALLY want it, Aunt Dee?”

I began feeling uncomfortable with the look in her eyes. Looking at the mirror again, I knew it was something I wanted. No! It was something I felt I had to have. It kept pulling me to buy it.

After a long day of shopping, window shopping, museum visits, lunch, and anything else we decided to do, we headed home. The time was almost 6:00pm and we were now tired and hungry. Rather than take the extra time to cook dinner, we opted for a bucket of chicken and a small tub of Cole slaw.

After we ate, Angie packed her suitcase and laid out the last-minute toiletries to be packed in the morning, before I drove her to the airport.

We retired to bed around eleven and I would bet I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. It was far from the restful sleep I knew I needed. I was pulled into a … I won’t say dream because it was more like a nightmare.

In the dream (?), I’d awakened to use the bathroom and once in the room, decided to take a shower. I looked at my reflection in the mirrored cabinet door and was shocked to see how old and wrinkled my face had become.

At 49 years of age, I knew there would be wrinkles on my face, but the face that looked back at me, looked more than what I imagined a woman of one hundred might look like.

OMG! I thought. Have I really aged that much and just never noticed? I thought feeling horrified.

That just COULDN’T be me!

I began to pace the floor. Think! You put make-up on this morning. What did you see when you looked in the mirror?

My mind was a blank. I was concentrating on my make-up, so I never noticed the additional wrinkles.

I shrugged my shoulders, placed my hands on the rim of the sink, looked at the mirror and mockingly said, “Mirror, Mirror on the wall. Who’s the fairest of them all?”

My back slammed against the wall when I took a very quick step back as a voice said, clearly, “I won’t answer that, but ask the little mirror on your table.”

“WHOA! WAIT A DARN MINUTE! Since when does my mirror speak? It never did before, so what the heck was going on?"

“GO! ASK IT!” The mirror just about shouted at me.

With shaky legs, I walked to the vanity, picked up the mirror, turned it around so I could see my reflection in the mirror. I loudly gasped.

My face was normal! All I saw were the usual lines I knew should be there. The ancient old woman wasn’t looking back at me.

I saw my hand tremble. I held the mirror a bit higher, and asked with a hitch in my voice, “Mirror, Mirror, in my hand, who’s the fairest in the land?”

Even though not one word was uttered by the mirror, I heard, coming from its depths, a most hideous, demonic laugh.

As my body shuddered, the mirror flew from my hand and floated gently to the table, without breaking the glass.

I ran from the bathroom, and practically jumped back into bed. I vowed that in the morning, I’d enlist Angie’s help to bury the mirror in the yard.

The next morning, I awoke with a few superficial cuts on the palms of my hands. My hair was cut (all uneven, I should add), and the bathroom was completely askew. I hesitated, but giving in to temptation, I glanced at my image in my cabinet mirror. Everything seemed to be like it was yesterday morning. Well, that is, except for the cuts on my hands. My hair looked the same; the extra lines and wrinkles that I’d seen on my face, were gone.

I knocked on Angie’s door, hoping she was awake.

Angie flung the door open. “Aunt Dee! What’s wrong? I heard you scream a few minutes ago.”

“What? No! Angie, that wasn’t me. I didn’t scream. Before we have coffee, I need your help.”

After telling my niece what took place the night before, she agreed to help me.

“I know a spell that’s supposed to erase negativity. I can also put a ward around your house to keep out the ‘unwanted.’ The only problem is that you already brought the mirror inside and spoke to it. It’s almost like inviting the spirit inside. However, let’s get started. We’ll do our best.”

At her suggestion, I wrapped the mirror in aluminum foil and carried it outside. She’d gotten the shovel from the shed and began to dig.

“Angie,” I began to ask, and she heard the fear in my voice, “will this work? Can I really get myself out of this?”

My niece looked at me and I saw trepidation in her eyes, as she said, “Let’s hope so. Let’s hope it’s not too late.”