Short Stories

3)The Mirror

I worked at a demolition place for a while.
People would pay us to come in and destroy junk, people could donate stuff as well.
A Mother Mary statue, covered in clear, reflective glass, was anonymously donated one night.
I didn't think much of it at the time, but it was beautifully eerie.
Shiny and untouched without a single sign of damage or ageing.
I put it in the back warehouse, where all our supplies are kept.
I remember an order came in a bit later.
They came and ordered a large deal, which involved the statue.
An hour or two later, they paid, then left.
I went in to clean up the mess as usual but, the now broken statue had deep red paint leaking out onto the floor.
I ignored it, swept up the mess and carried out the trash.
When I went back in to clean up the statue and the 'paint'... Nothing was there.
Nothing but a large puddle of a deep black-red substance with two smudges smeared away as if something got dragged out.
It was incredibly sticky and hard to clean, but I finished and went into the warehouse.
And there it was.
The Mother Mary statue was there.
But was covered in shattered marks, bleeding from every crack.
She was holding a mirror, but the mirror was stained, so badly I couldn't even see a reflection.
I hated it.
I just had to fix it, I was alone so it wouldn't matter right?
I took one of the bats and swung, shattering the statue across the floor.
But the mirror was untouched.
No paint either.
Whatever, I went to grab a broom to clean up the mess.
I kept hearing horrid, ear retching sounds on my walk back, it sounded like someone was gargling iron nails while dragging their feet through metal scraps.
When I got to it, the statue was gone.
And in its place. . . was a large creature.
Its head hung broken and heavily weighted.
Large chunks of broken glass shimmered across its skinned back.
Its body was covered in smoothly shredded muscle as if the skin was poorly ripped off.
It was footless, only bloody, glass-filled stumps that oozed blood and a clear-ish white liquid into a puddle underneath itself.
In place of a head, it bore a massive, bloody cracked mirror.
And in its reflection.
Was the shattered Mother Mary head, hovering behind me as it wept tears of blood.
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Words: 416
Wrote this a while ago, I got the idea after I watched the Unnus Annus video of Mark and Ethan breaking stuff.