The Mirror

It was in the middle of the night. I went to bed early that day, and evidently, it wasn't the brightest idea. The notion of sleep was simply too enticing; the bed silently beckoning, tempting me to rest my tired bones. My resolve to finish my book wavered, then crumbled like ancient ruins to mere dust as my eyelids refused to stay open. I snuggled into bed, ignoring the discomfort of the unfamiliar sensations of sleeping in a different bed other than my own, as waves of exhaustion washed over me.

"Tiiick..tock. Tiiick..tock. Tiiick..tock" The clock hung there on the wall, taunting, knowing it was far out of my reach, as it drilled the maddeningly repetitive ticking into my skull, joining the restless thoughts which were already bouncing off the walls of my cranium, keeping sleep at bay. It read a little over half past one. My sister, sharing the bed with me, sighed in her sleep beside me. I readjusted her covers, not wanting her to catch a cold. Somehow, this room seemed chiller than ours. If only the fan hadn't been faulty; then we wouldn't need to move into this dusty, unused guestroom. Funny; I don't ever remember anyone ever entering the room, much less use it, not since I was a child. I vaguely remembered playing make-believe cooking here with my friends, Sheila and Julia. And then my parents talking loudly in their bedroom, then forbidding me from ever entering the room since. Which reminded me; why was it that I had never seen Julia after that day? Combing through my memory, I was sure of it: Julia had mysteriously disappeared. Had she moved elsewhere?

Abandoning all hope of getting any rest anytime soon, I swung my feet to the side and hopped out of bed. To my right was an old-fashioned dressing table, placed just beside the bedside table, a layer of furry dust settled on its surface. Its design was simple, not at all eye-catching, and a large, rectangular mirror sat attached atop the table. It was, after all, a dressing table. It held nothing but several pencil holders, filled with stationary and combs. Feeling inexplicably drawn to it, I automatically moved towards the dressing table, and sat myself on the cushioned chair before it. I reached for one of the combs to straighten my messy hair, then thought the better of it. Remembering the superstitions the Chinese were familiar with, I settled for running my fingers through my hair. It was said that, for a woman to comb her hair in the dead of the night-I winced at the choice of words-in front of a mirror was bad luck, because one might see a spirit in it. Word has it that the spirit may even reside in her hair. Shivering, I retrieved my phone from the bedside table, and fall back into the familiar time-consuming habit of sifting through updates on people's lives on social websites; mindless entertainment. Just to tire out my eyes.

I jolted as I heard a creak from my right. My head snapped towards the sound: the cupboard. Nothing seemed out of place. My eyes scoured the confines of the room, half expecting my dad to materialize. There was no one, and nothing to hint at the sudden disturbance in the stifling stillness of the night. I rationalized that it must have been the sound emitted by the wooden cupboard as the material gradually contracted from the cold after a hot day. Heart still a beat or two too fast, I turned back to the dressing table, some small part of my brain worrying irrationally that my combing my hair with just fingers had caused that. Shaking my head, I chided myself mentally: impossible; are you not a believer of science? I lifted my eyes to the mirror and my heart lept to my mouth in shock. A lady in white had appeared in the mirror; long, dark hair messy; skin pale, slightly glowing. Her mouth agape in the shape of an 'O', as if silently screaming in agony, or at me. My heart pounded and struggled against my ribcage in terror; desperate to escape its imprisonment. Something was out of place, though. The lady had on a pair of glasses. I frowned. So did I. Those glasses..they were exactly like mine! I realized I had tried to scream, but there seemed to be something lodged in my throat, cutting off my voice. I looked at my reflection dubiously; because that was what it was-my reflection! I barked out a laugh as relief coursed through my veins like cold water. Out of habit, I gave my glasses a little shove, and noticed my fingers were trembling. I set the phone down gently, not trusting my hands to not drop it, as I pondered why I had such a ghostly appearance. And it hit me: the phone! So that was why my skin had glowed so. I laughed weakly, almost giddy from the rollercoaster ride of emotions. The laugh quickly turned into a teary yawn; I had drained all my remaining energy from the fright.

I looked to the bed and saw that my sister had already moved to take up most of the space, leaving me next to none. Lips curling gently, I folded my arms on the table and rested my head on them. I often fell asleep on my working table in my room anyway, transferring thoughts, ideas and images onto paper.

The ticking once again registered in my now-tired mind, somehow no longer as annoying. I drifted off to sleep, imagining myself walking down a spiral stairway, deeper and deeper into the uncharted recesses of my unconscious mind. Step..by step..."Tiiick..tock..tiick..tock.."

I woke up, perhaps from the sheer silence of my environment. I furrowed my eyebrows. Something was wrong, but I couldn't quite place my finger on it. Turning in my chair as I rubbed my eyes, I looked for my sister. Scrunching up my eyebrows further, question marks appeared in my mind; my sister wasn't there! She usually didn't wake until someone wakes her. And it was a Saturday. The family sleeps late on Saturdays. The fan was unusually quiet, and that struck me as odd; the comforting whizzing of the fan blades playing endless Tag was missing. I tilted up my head, and sat there in utter bewilderment: the fan was turned on, spinning in moderate speed! I stumbled over to the switches and flipped the controls for the ceiling fan; and even that was muted! Uncomprehending, I slowly made my way back to the dressing table as if on autopilot. My throat felt dry and constricted, unsure if I could speak. I couldn't breathe; it was like when I stood in the pool, up to my neck in water. Gasping slightly, I took unstable steps towards the chair. A million thoughts and observations ran through my head: it was unbelievably silent, despite it being morning, sunlight spilling onto the floor next to the window, and the neighbours ought to have been awake by now as they were morning people. The fan, the switches, the clock all made no sound, and my sister nowhere to be found. It was as if she just disappeared: a faint impression was left on the bed, and it looked like a crater as the covers gave it an outline. Like she was sleeping there and poof! The next thing she evaporated. And then there was this inexplicable stillness in the air, as if the house was holding its breath, forever frozen in time.

I received another shock, perhaps the scariest one yet. As I stood before the mirror, I saw no reflection of myself. But I was there, on the other side of the mirror. Sleeping. Head resting upon my folded arms. Lips curled gently, shoulders heaving and falling almost imperceptibly. Behind me, the familiar book-racks built onto the wall, arranged with old, framed photos of my parents. I whipped around, to see nothing but empty photo frames on the racks. Frantically, I rushed to the mirror, banging my fists on the barrier between this place and my home, my real home. I heard the indistinct scuttling of tiny footsteps running. I doubled my efforts and the pitter-patter grew louder. Panic swelled within my heart and I feared it would pop. My glasses slipped a little down the bridge of my nose; my face was slick with cold sweat. More sweat broke out on my back; why wouldn't the other me wake up?! The door unhurriedly creaked open, and time slowed down. Each excruciating second ticked by. I glanced towards the mirror, and did a double take; I had woken up! I opened my mouth for a plea of help, barely begun to feel relief when I realized something was wrong. I, she, looked..evil..a glint of malice within those familiar eyes. She smiled fiendishly, slowly straightened her back and pointed towards the door. My head snapped to the door on this side of the mirror, almost forgetting about it. Standing there with a toy tea-set was little Julia, with the same wicked grin plastered on her face. "I missed you, Ley-ley..You left me aaaall alone for so long...But that's alright, you can play with me now..forever," her sickly sweet voice ending with a harsh whisper. The lock to my voicebox finally unlocked. I opened my mouth and screamed at the top of my lungs, while Julia cackled maniacally, eyes scorching black and gleaming, like coals burning from the very depths of hell.