Reflection

Chapter 1

////tbh idk what this is////

The water lay still, not even the wind daring to ripple its silver glass- like state. With unfocused eyes, the grey of the washed out sky was reflected into the surface, the silhouette of the spindly birch twigs- black against the low clouds. But only trained eyes could see that world, to the average mind, only the browning water, particles floating down to rest onto the decaying levs that had fallen to the bottom. Drowning in their own life source- a sad state. Some with very creative and new minds couldn't even see the reflected land of magic

Amarilla was one of the ones gifted with the sight ability to see such things, and it affected her greatly. Sometimes she would visit to marvel at the things beyond her world. Sometimes her reflection forgot to show up and she was alone with her thoughts and imagination. More times than not, when her reflection did happen to show up, she saw slight differences. The nose was too thin or a freckle by her left eye disappeared. Or even the distorted version of her would seem to wake up, but had never fallen asleep in the first place then daring her to climb in, don't worry, the water is warm! Lure her, come on silly, there is nothing to fear! Taunt, why would you be scared? You must be a coward. And beckon, Come swim with me! And she had never had the desire to do so. Never doubting that the reflection was correct, but never obeying. Amarilla was the defiant type. But then things got bad at home and school and her defenses weakened, wall fell and she resorted to many horrible things for happiness. One day she decided that it was the time to swim with the little girl in the pond.

Since a child, the independently moving reflections had pestered her, in the bathtub as a toddler- the wrinkly waters lapping against her tummy, the faint imaging of a sallow face with a pointed chin simpering back at her own grinning face. And in the glass of the windows at night, when the darkness prevented her from seeing out, becoming a mirror and lazily attempting to imitate the movements Amarilla made, rolling its eyes at intervals between glares. And now, in the pond she had discovered in the backyard, the growing body of a girl similar to her, staring as intently at her as Amarilla was doing to the water. She had come often since the horrors had begun to appear. Many things, drunkard following her home after tutoring, catcalling and worse. Inability to be properly addressed because of the rumors left in her wake, the beating scars on her back, put there for giving her family a bad name.

Slipping off her shoes, she let her soft skin give out pressure into the soft earth below. Every twig's touch was enhanced to full, nerves suddenly becoming alarmingly aware of each ridge on every one of the smallest sticks. Using the fox walk that she had claimed ad: toe, side, and roll. That is how the girl silently found herself the on the water's edge at eleven o'clock at nighttime. Licking her parched lips Amarilla squinted her eyes, trying to pick up the thinning light of the moon on the surface. The pond did not appear to even be liquid, for its stillness made the water look like silver glass, the faint light of the moon streaking the center.

"Hullo?" she called, directing the voice at the inanimate water with uncertain anticipation. Nearing, she saw the shadows from inside her nightgown first; they fluttered in perfect unison. Creeping nearer, the she was able to see her entire body beginning to kneel at the banks.

"I knew you would come!" the reflection gleefully proclaimed. It was the strangest thing, hearing her own voice without having had opened her mouth, it had a strange air to it that she had never noticed in her own speech before, almost as if a sardonic smile was forming as the words were uttered. She had become accustomed to this way though and did not feel fear flood through her as a normal person would, but instead, an aching longing that became familiar whenever she came across the reflection. The copy of her body was nearly an exact replica: brown hair, streaked with blonde waved in curled knots that reached halfway to her elbow. The eyes were unremarkable, dark cobalt blue, a solid color that could appear to be black under certain conditions. Her nose was often termed as thin and shapely if one was to be kind, lips were a soft pink tone and always cracking and bleeding. Sprinkled on each cheek were a spattering of golden freckles and a light blush on the cheekbones. Amarilla was not a pretty girl, nor was she as kind as one who might have grown up in a better life. Yet on the inside was something that no reflection could show- memories that reached deeper than her skin and marked her mind like battle scars. Or the colors on a battered tapestry. Why hide them? It endeared her a child of misery.