The Old Crone in the Mirror

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own. It couldn't be me. My mind cried in pain as I tried to comprehend what I saw before me. The woman staring back at me wore the same purple sweater, golden teardrop earrings, and oval pendant necklace as I did. She even had the same heart-shaped face, dimpled chin, and high cheekbones. Her deep set blue eyes had the same flecks of turquoise, long eyelashes, and arched brows. Like me, she had her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun. But her skin hung loose around her chin and sunk in a bit too much below her cheekbones. Creases spread like spider webs at the edges of her tired eyes and lined her high forehead. Silver streaked through her curly black hair. The woman in the mirror had clearly lived decades longer than me. Seeing myself aged beyond my years made my heart race and I gasped for breath as I stared in awe at the woman who wasn’t me in the mirror.

She appeared determined to pretend to be me. She mimicked my actions as I rubbed my eyes, pulled at the skin around my mouth, and waved my hand in front of the reflection. I blinked my eyes and she blinked hers. She even looked back at me with the same panic in her eyes I felt rising in my chest.

"Who are you?" I screamed as tears pooled in my eyes. "Why are you doing this to me?"

She silently yelled the same words to me, mocking my rising fear. Terrified, I backed away from the mirror on the wall and watched her do the same. Unwilling to turn my back on the specter that haunted my mirror, I slowly walked backward until I felt the doorknob against my back and reached behind me to turn it. I pushed it open and fell through, slamming it shut behind me, hoping to shut away the nightmare I had stumbled into. But instead I found myself in a whole new horror.

I should have been in the sunshine filled hallway, but no light shone in the tiny room where I now found myself trapped. Strange drapes of varying lengths hung over the walls that surrounded me, blocking out any light that might get in. I could no longer find any door. I curled up in a ball with my knees pulled tight to my chest and sobbed.

I had no idea where I was or how I had gotten here, but somehow I knew the Old Crone in the mirror had trapped me here. Jealous of my youth and my beauty, she’d tricked me so she could steal my life. I could only imagine what she was doing now. The awful possibilities danced through my mind, each more terrible than the one before. But one stood out to me as the most likely scenario.

My handsome new husband would be home from work soon, ready to take me out for dinner and dancing. The Old Crone would use her sorcery to fool him into believing that she was his bride. She would take him as her own. I could not let that happen. I would not let that happen. Not my Johnny, she can't have him.

Swallowing what remained of my tears I pulled myself off the ground and began searching for an escape. I pushed aside the curtains and ran my hands across the smooth walls, futilely searching for a door or a window. The only thing my fingers found was a ledge about a foot above my head running along the walls over the curtains. Maybe I could climb up there and find a way out. I took a hold of the drapes in my hands and began to pull myself up. With a creak and a crack followed by a bang and a crash I tumbled down with the drapes and the curtain rod landing atop me. I fell on something sharp that stuck into my back painfully and I shrieked out in pain.

The Old Crone must have set guards outside my strange prison. I heard their footsteps running toward me in response to the commotion. Light flooded my cell and framed a figure that stood in the now open doorway. I blinked my eyes a few times trying to adjust them to the brightness and the guard crouched down next to me.

"Are you okay?" He reached out a tender hand and touched my shoulder lightly. I recognized his voice and, now my eyes had adjusted, I could see this man was no guard. Johnny had come to rescue me.

"You found me Johnny! She trapped me so she could have you. But you found me!" I winced at the pain in my back as I tried to get up.

"Mama, you hurt yourself!" Panic filled his eyes as Johnny reached over me and pulled his hand back with blood on it. He called over his shoulder, "Kara, help! Mom's hurt."

"I'm Ellie," I struggled to get the words out. Why did he refer to me as Mom and who was Kara? "I'm Ellie." I kept repeating, “I’m Ellie.”

A beautiful young blonde woman rushed to Johnny's side. Despite her excellent skills in the art of deception and the feigned look of concern in her green eyes, she could not fool me. The Crone in the mirror had taken a new form and put a spell on my Johnny. I tried to get up to save him from her, but the pain in my back flared angrily in response, sweeping through my body with so much intensity everything went black.

"I don't understand how this happened," I could hear an unfamiliar woman's voice, trembling with emotion. "I just finished helping her put on her jewelry and went to get her new shoes from the car. She couldn't have been alone for more than five minutes."

I tried to open my eyes to see my surroundings but my eyelids felt sewn shut. I could not seem to pry them open despite my growing panic. I tried to speak, but my lips had been sewn shut too.

"It's not your fault, Kara," My Johnny's voice immediately soothed my nerves, despite my distressing predicament. "I can't believe she trapped herself in the closet. She looked so scared when I found her."

"These episodes seem to be happening more and more," Wait, that was My Johnny. Who was that other man I had heard? "There are times she doesn't even recognize me."

"She keeps calling me Johnny," tears made the first Johnny's voice thick and shaky.

The threads holding my eyes shut loosened and finally let me blink them open. Johnny sat next to me on the edge of my bed and I felt his strong, sure fingers entwine with mine. Next to him stood another Johnny, but younger. He still looked the way he had forty years ago when he made me his bride. But the younger Johnny held hands with another woman; I did not know her. Then I remembered the witch in the mirror trying to steal my Johnny. I felt a heavy weight on my heart and the breath would not come into my lungs. A reassuring squeeze of Johnny's hand on my own brought my gaze back to him, and then I saw it. She'd changed him too. His ashy blond hair had mostly fallen out and what remained had turned silver. His twinkling green eyes crinkled at the edges. His full beard had grown white and I could feel the bones through the thinning skin on his hands.

"Ellie, why are you crying?" His voice had the same gentleness he'd always used with me, but it had more gravel undertones than it used to. "Are you hurting?"

I shook my head and finally the threads holding my lips shut loosed, "What did she do to you?"

"What did who do, Ellie?" Johnny smiled kindly at me with such sadness in his eyes it broke my heart.

"The witch," I whispered, my eyes darting to the woman holding young Johnny's hand. "She made you old, too."

"What witch?" Johnny looked confused. Poor thing did not know he had been cursed.

"The Old Crone in the mirror," I mumbled, trying not to let her hear. "She wanted to steal you so she trapped me and made me old. Now she has you." I pointed to my young Johnny holding onto the witch.

Both Johnnies looked at the woman. She looked hurt, her devious plan exposed. But she shook her head in denial. "I didn't trap her in the closet. I would never…"

Young Johnny put an arm of comfort around her, "It's okay, Kara, she's just confused. We know how kind you are to Mama. You love her. "

Tears dripped down Kara's freckled cheeks as she directed her words to me. "Ellie, I'm not trying to steal your Johnny. Remember, I love your son, Devon."

My son…Devon…my son! I remembered now. My youth had been gone for decades. Johnny and I had grown old together. We had children together: Cassie, Meagan, and Devon. They had each gotten married and my daughters had both given me grandchildren.

Devon looked so much like his father, but now I could see the differences. He had blond hair like Johnny but it was curly like mine. His strong jaw and angular face doubled his father's but his blue eyes looked just like my own in both shape and color.

"You're Devon," I covered my mouth with my hand to hold in the sob. "My baby boy. How could I forget you? What kind of mother forgets who her child is?"

The true nightmare of my life slowly became clear to me. The Old Crone in the mirror had stolen way more from me than I thought and I had no chance of stopping her. Eventually she would take it all from me: Johnny, our children, our grandchildren, my friends, my sisters, even my own name. I looked at my husband, my son, and the daughter-in-law I now remembered having been so close with once. The thought of losing any of them tore a hole through my chest. I sobbed like a small child terrified of the dark. My family wrapped their arms around me, unable to offer any words of comfort, they simply cried with me.

Several days later, Cassie drove Johnny and I home from the hospital. It felt so good to be back in my house. The doctor had adjusted my medication and everything felt more clear as though I had stepped out of a deep fog. Cassie helped me to my favorite chair in the living room and Johnny brought me my crocheting to keep my hands occupied. I looped the yarn around my fingers, pulling the hook back and forth easily, the motion so familiar I did not have to think about it as I built row upon row of the afghan. Johnny sat at my side and Cassie shared stories of her children's latest antics. We laughed like we used to and everything felt perfect, except the laughter of the Crone in the back of my mind, reminding me that she would take this moment from me too.

My fingers slipped and I looked down at my crocheting. My last three stitches did not look right so I pulled them out and tried to start again. But I fumbled clumsily with the hook and the yarn. I tried again and again but the stitch would not hold and soon became a tangled knot. Cassie stopped talking and I could feel the two of them watching me. Hot tears of frustration rolled down my cheeks and a growl of exasperation escaped my throat. Johnny's hands reached over and pulled the yarn from me gently, "It's okay, Ellie. You're just tired. You can finish this later."

"No, I can't, there's no time. It has to be finished before Meagan has her baby," I reached for my crocheting.

"Mama, Meagan already had her baby. Remember, Jonas is almost one now," Cassie's voice no longer had its cheerful cadence but instead had been draped with heavy worry.

"Right," I closed my eyes and shook my head as the Crone’s laughter grew louder. "I meant Kara. This is for Devon and Kara's baby."

"Oh, Mama," tears made Cassie's green eyes glisten. "She lost her baby, remember."

But I didn't remember. Why was I making this afghan? Whose baby needed this blanket?

Johnny took my hand in his. "It's okay, Ellie. You're right. This blanket is for Devon and Kara's baby. Kara was so upset and worried she'd never be able to have a baby and you told her you were so sure she'd one day be an amazing mother you kept working on that blanket."

Now I remembered holding Kara as she shared her fears with me, her feelings of inadequacy. Then I had picked up the blanket I had started for her and continued working on it. As the rows built on each other slowly taking shape as a blanket, it gave Kara renewed hope that one day she would have a child to wrap up in it. Now I looked at the tangled mess in Johnny's hands and cursed the Old Crone. If I could not finish that blanket, what would give my daughter-in-law hope when she needed it?

Cassie stood up and came to my side, "Mama, it's been a long day. Why don't we go lay down in your room and watch a movie together so you can rest?"

I nodded my head and let her help me up. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and carefully led me down the hallway to my room. But the room seemed different, decorated with pictures of children I had never met. The Old Crone posed next to some of them in cities I had only dreamed of visiting.

"Jayne, why does that witch want to steal my life when she's had so many adventures of her own?" I asked my sister.

Jayne looked at me with tears glistening in her blue eyes, "Mama, it's Cassie."

"Cassie's just a baby," I reminded Jayne. "She couldn't be the Old Crone."

Jayne smiled, finally understanding me. "Cassie is a wonderful baby. I think when she grows up she might look a lot like me. Don't you?"

"Oh, I hope so!" I grabbed Jayne's hand and squeezed it tight. "You always were the prettiest one. Everyone thought so. It's too bad you never got to have any babies of your own before…" I looked at the woman next to me and pulled my hand away. "You're not Jayne, you can't be! My sister died years ago! Who are you, what are you?"

"Mama, I'm Cassie," the specter tried to confuse me with its lies. "See, look in the mirror. We're both older."

I looked in the mirror and I saw the reflection in the glass was not my own. The Old Crone laughed at me as she stood next to the ghost of my long lost sister. I understood now, this trickery could only be the work of the witch trying to steal my life from me.

"No, no, no!" I shrieked, batting my hands at the creature imitating Jayne.

"Ellie," Johnny's strong arms pulled me into a protective embrace. "It's okay, you're safe."

His voice calmed me, bringing me back to a place of safety.

"She thought I was Aunt Jayne," Cassie's voice sounded heavy with pain. I wished I could chase it away like the monsters that used to hide under her bed.

"How could I forget my sister died? I'm so tired," I sobbed into Johnny's chest. "I just want to go to sleep."

Johnny held me tight and Cassie wrapped her arms around both of us. Silently, with no words of comfort to offer, they both cried with me. In the deep recesses of my mind I could hear the evil gloating cackle of the Old Crone.

Weeks went by with only occasional moments of confusion. The longer I took my new medication, the better it seemed to work. Tonight we would celebrate my birthday with a night on the town. Meagan came over and helped me pick out a dress and shoes to wear. I got in the shower while she went to check on her baby sleeping in the next room.

The prospect of going to my favorite restaurant with all my favorite people brought me such joy I sang loudly, and very off key, in the shower. I danced, as I used to years ago, under the comfortable stream of hot water. As I dried off after my shower, I noticed something off about the steamed up mirror on the other side of the bathroom. The fog on the glass distorted my reflection like a funhouse mirror. My frame looked bent, hunched over, with spindly frail legs. My breasts appeared to hang low and shriveled over a soft belly marred with stretch marks and old scars. Disgusted by the wretched appearance, I took my towel and hastily wiped away the fog. To my horror, it only made what I saw worse.

The reflection in the mirror was not my own. The Old Crone had returned. Dark age spots dotted her face and arms. Blue spidery veins streaked her legs. Skin hung loose in places where it should have fit tight and sunk in other places where it once had been supple. Terror gripped me as I looked into the eyes beginning to go milky with cataracts. Desperate to keep her from stealing my life, I picked up the metal garbage can and slammed it into her face with all my might. Though the mirror shattered, I could still see her smug face, laughing at me. So I smashed the can into the mirror over and over and over again. Tiny shards of glass showered over me, sticking into my arms, torso, and face like miniature porcupine quills. The bathroom door swung open and I realized my mistake.

I stared at myself in dismay. My long curly dark hair, the blue eyes with flecks of turquoise, high cheekbones, arched brows, long eyelashes, heart shaped face, flawless skin, she got every detail almost perfect. She'd missed the dimple in my chin and the turquoise flecks in the eyes made a slightly different pattern. Instead of stopping her I'd set her free from the mirror.

She reached for me and took the garbage can from my hands. Instinctively, I grabbed a large shard of glass that had fallen nearby. I could not let her do this.

"Mama," she pleaded, cautiously stepping closer to examine the tiny wounds on my body. "What are you doing? You've hurt yourself."

"Why are you doing this to me? Why won't you leave me alone?" I yelled.

"Mama, it's Meagan," she made her fatal mistake.

At the mention of my baby girl's name I flew into a rage. I would protect my child at any cost. Screaming at the top of my lungs, I slashed at her with the piece of glass and she jumped out of the way at the last moment. In the next room I heard my baby cry for me.

"I'm coming Meagan," I called to her and slashed again at my evil doppelganger.

"Mama, no!" She screamed in pain as the glass tore across her forearm. "That's not Meagan. I'm Meagan and that's my son, Jonas, your grandson. Remember?"

I marveled at the craftiness of her deception. A part of me almost believed her. But I couldn't be a grandmother, my daughters were still so small. I had to protect my baby girl and the sound of her cry fueled my rage. I slashed again, but the witch had the advantage. She had stolen my healthy young body and trapped me in her tired, frail frame. She grabbed my wrist and easily twisted my arm behind me. I struggled to get free until I heard a sickening crack in my shoulder and fell to the ground in pain. The witch wearing my face took the opportunity to run from the room, slamming the door behind her after which I heard two more doors slam shut. Then the crying stopped. She had my baby girl.

Rising above my pain, thinking only of protecting my child, I pulled myself up with my left arm, my right hanging uselessly at my side. I ran from my bathroom, out of the bedroom, and across the hall to the baby’s nursery. The doorknob would not turn. Desperate to get to my baby, I threw my body against the door with all my strength. I cried out in pain as the shards of glass dove deeper into my skin. Baby Meagan screamed in reply fueling my rage and I threw myself over and over against the door, covering it and my body with specks of blood.

“Ellie, Ellie, Ellie!” Johnny came running through the front door and down the hall to me. “Ellie, stop!”

“She has Meagan! I have to save my baby!” I pulled away from Johnny’s arms and threw my body against the door again.

Johnny caught me as I ricocheted off the door and held me tight against his chest, “Please stop, Ellie. Meagan’s safe, I promise.”

“No, no, no!” I shouted. My knees gave out on me and we both sank to the floor. I struggled against Johnny’s arms, trying to get up.

Two strange men carrying black bags came down the hallway toward us. One pulled a needle from his bag and poked it into my arm. Weakness flooded through my body and I turned my face up to look into Johnny’s eyes. Just before the darkness engulfed me, I saw fear and pain unlike anything I’d ever seen before in my husband’s beautiful face.

I sat in a strange room. Nothing felt right. The pale yellow walls boasted no decorations, no photos, no mirrors. The sparse furnishings consisted of an adjustable bed and two plain brown arm chairs with a small television mounted on the wall and a single lamp for light. The only thing that brought any interest to the room was the large window that looked out on a barren garden, dormant for the winter, the only greenery on the single pine. I watched the murky gray clouds creep across the darkening sky as if reflecting the feeling in my heart.

I turned at the sound of the door opening to see several people shuffle in, trying in vain to appear happy to be here. The old man who led them in seemed familiar, but I struggled to place where I knew him from. The beautiful young woman at his side reminded me of my mother, but taller, thinner, and years younger. A young man who greatly resembled the old man stood on her other side. On his other side stood a man in a lab coat with a clipboard. He spoke to the group in hushed tones before leaving the room.

The old man took the chair closest to the bed I sat in. He reached for my hand and I pulled it back instinctively. He tried to hide it, but I saw the hurt in his eyes.

“Ellie,” He smiled sadly at me. “The doctors here are going to help you. I wish I could take you home, but you keep hurting yourself.”

I looked down at my arms and saw he was right. Hundreds of tiny cuts covered my arms, some had been sewn shut with a couple stitches. Deep purple bruises blossomed beneath them. As I moved, I could feel the evidence of more bruising over my torso and down my legs.

“We will be here everyday to see you,” The woman walked over to stand behind the old man. “All of us, we promise.”

“Except Meagan,” the younger man mumbled and the woman shot him an angry glare.

They all looked at me as though they needed some reassurance so I smiled and nodded. That seemed to make them all feel better; they all exhaled a collective sigh of relief. Each tried to fill the silence with meaningless platitudes and observations about my “nice” accommodation. I did my best to reply how they wanted, but so many times I saw my answers bring pain into their eyes. Eventually a woman wearing scrubs speckled with cartoon characters entered the room to announce visiting hours had ended. I tried my best not to show my relief as the strangers prepared to go.

“Do you need me to bring you anything tomorrow?” The woman held my hand and patted it lightly.

“There’s no mirror. I’m sure my hair looks ghastly,” I responded. “Can you bring me a mirror?”

They exchanged looks that contained an entire conversation before she replied, “Sorry, Mama. Mirrors and photos seem to upset you. The doctor said you shouldn't have either. But you look beautiful as always. I promise.” She kissed my forehead then turned away not quite quick enough to hide the tear that rolled down her cheek.

The younger man hugged me and kissed my cheek. Then followed the woman to the door, leaving me alone with the old man. He had such nice eyes, it made me feel safe, but I couldn't understand why he seemed so sad. He took hold of my hand and mustered up what I'm sure was supposed to be a smile.

"I hate to leave you here alone. I wish they would let me stay," He shook his head sadly.

"Oh don't worry about me," I assured him. "I won't be alone long. Johnny should be home any minute now from work."

For some reason that only seemed to break his heart more. His mouth moved wordlessly as though he searched for something to say that he could not find. Finally, he just nodded and kissed my forehead gently before leaving me alone again in the barren room.

I looked out the window into the garden. The sun had gone down and the sky had grown dark so the glass of the window now reflected my image back at me. But, the reflection in the window wasn't my own. As soon as I saw the wrinkled age-worn face fear grasped my heart. I struggled to remember exactly when I'd seen her before but I knew she had been tormenting me, deviously trying to steal my life from me. I looked back at the door where the strangers had just left and then turned my eyes to her. She smiled smugly and laughed as I came to the realization that she had won. The Old Crone in the mirror had stolen everything from me. She had done such a thorough job I no longer even remembered what it was I had lost. I sunk down further into bed and buried my head with the covers. I could hear her triumphant laughter echoing in the far recesses of my mind while sobbed tears of loss, loneliness, confusion, and fear until I fell asleep. My final conscious thought before I drifted off was hope that when I woke in the morning this would all be just a bad dream. But deep down the Old Crone and I both knew this was a nightmare from which I would never again wake.