Mirrors. They are the gateway to another world, or so it is said. Surrounded by superstition, people have dared to find out more about these mysterious objects. Many people who mess with the looking glass mysteriously vanish, never to be seen again. Nobody knows what happens to them, or where they go, they just disappear. Nobody except me. I’ve seen them, the figures in the mirrors. Watching me, with the slightest hint of curiosity. My Grandmamma told me they were dangerous, and to never make eye contact. She could see them too. She told me she was special like me. They took her. I know they did, I’ve seen her with them. They took her away from me. I try to be a good girl and ignore the figures in the mirror, but I am drawn to them. I try to pretend they’re not there, but it doesn’t work. That’s how they knew. That’s how they knew I knew about them, and that’s why they came to get me.
The drunken man sat alone in the corner, twisting the bottle around in his hands. His clothes were ripped and baggy, and he looked as though he had not slept for days. Whenever someone came near, he would look up, but then his head would bow again, disappointed. He seemed to be expecting someone. Every few minutes, he would nervously take out a brass pocket watch. Finally, after he had been sitting there for 2 hours, the door of the rowdy bar swung open and in came a man. His body and face was totally obscured by a long, black hooded cloak. He swept over to the man in the corner and sat opposite him. The barman bought them over another drink which slopped onto the already filthy table. The barman gave them a toothless smile, and walked away. The drunken man moved closer across the table and whispered to the hooded stranger
“Deavon, my good man, how have you been?”
“I have been well.” Replied the hooded stranger stiffly. “Why have you called me here tonight, to this godforsaken place?”
“I have been seeing things.”
“What things?”
“In the mirror. They are there, look!”
And the stranger turned around to look at the mirror behind the bar. He saw a teenage girl with blonde hair and blue eyes, staring at him from behind the glass.
“I see nothing.” He lied.
“But surely you must see them!”
“I do not.”
“Look I tell you, they are there!”
“There is nothing there but your reflection.”
“THEY ARE THERE!’ He shouted, and the whole bar went silent.
“THEY ARE THERE, I CAN SEE THEM!” He yelled, fuelled by the alcohol. A red flush began to creep up his cheeks as he staggered across the pub, shoving aside men and women alike. He pointed at the dirty, dust covered mirror behind the bar.
“Can you not see her? The little girl?”
“No. You would do well not to go shouting about it for every man, woman and child to hear. There are…people who may want to harm you.”
And with that the hooded man swept out of the pub and into the dark street.
4 hours later, after drinking himself senseless with the alcohol, the man stumbled from the pub and began to walk the dirty streets. Almost as soon as he came out of the bar, thunder rumbled overhead and rain began to fall in buckets. After a while, the man reached a broken down hovel, which he slipped into and fell upon the moth eaten mattress there. Before he did, he glimpsed his reflection in the dusty mirror. Behind him stood the girl. In her hand she held a pocket watch. His pocket watch. He lunged forward and attempted to stick his hand into the mirror. Before he could however, she lunged forward and grabbed his arm and, defying any logical explanation, pulled him forward into the mirror. He gasped as more and more of his body was pulled into the mirror, until he was no more, and the only sign that remained that he had even existed was the brass pocket watch, lying in the dust.
