“You need to hold your hand up to the glass,” Emma’s voice came through the door. “You call out her name three times, and something bad’s supposed to happen.”
“I don’t know that I believe that,” Kathy whispered.
“Then why do you sound so scared?”
“I’m not scared. I just… don’t like standing in here,” Kathy set the candle down on the vanity and watched it flicker for a moment, then looked back up to her own face. Maybe she was a little scared. Her lips curled down slightly, with eyebrows retreating behind the muddy brown of her hair.
She looked down to the sink. The world drifted away, and no sounds prevailed aside the distant tick of a grandfather clock. She wanted to close her eyes, but that proved to be way more frightening than she could tolerate. Instead, she focused on the candle—considering how dumb she’d feel leaving the bathroom without a good try. She raised a hand, and maintaining her focus, placed it on the glass. It was cool, and comfortable. It allowed a little bit of solidity in the shifting darkness.
Continue reading “Mirror”