The goldfish swam around its bowl which had just a simple stand of weed and pebbles in it.
Marie peered into the bowl. The fish swam away in alarm at the distorted nose and mouth that loomed towards it.
“Florie,” she called but the fish stayed at the other side of the bowl until Marie had given up and gone to look at something more interesting.
Food time came and went very quickly. Florie gobbled up all the food that Marie offered. Marie offered some more and Florie ate all that too.
“I don’t know if I’m feeding Florie enough,” said Marie.
“You mustn’t feed fish too much, her mother warned. It can make their home too dirty.
Still Marie knew that Florie needed more food and did her best to provide more where she could.
Florie responded to this food by growing. Soon it was obvious she was too big for her bowl.
Marie’s mum came home with a tank. Florie was grateful. Now she could swim about again. Marie kept feeding her, as much as she could eat at a time and Florie kept growing.
Soon her tank had to be exchanged for a bigger tank and a bigger one! When Marie’s mum came home with the last fish and ank, she warned that it was the biggest the shop had and that she would not be able to fit anything bigger in the house.
Marie kept feeding Florie. The fish demanded it.
The day arrived. Florie was so big that she no longer had room to swim in this largest tank. Something had to be done.
Marie’s parents sat down with her and explained that they could no longer keep Florie. It would not be fair. She could barely turn round in her new tank.
“She needs to be able to swim and keep fit,” said Marie’s mum.
“We have talked to the Waterworks staff in America,” said Marie’s Dad. They have said that they can take Florie and put her with some of their bigger fish.
“But Florie will be lonely without me,” cried Marie.
“Florie will have some new fish friends,” said Mum.
Marie cried and sobbed but it was no use. Florie needed more space and her family’s tiny house could no longer provide it.
Waterworks agreed to take Florie and they said that Marie and her parents could accompany her and see her settled.
The day arrived as did a very large lorry for transporting loads and a Waterworks keeper to make sure that Florie stayed in good health. Florie’s tank was lifted onto the lorry by forklift.
The journey took a long time to the sea then they transferred to a ship which would then take 3 weeks. Every day Marie would go and spend time with Florie. She was no longer allowed to feed her as the keeper took over her care. She thought Florie was getting a little smaller but she still begged for food.
Once in the US, Florie was lifted by crane onto another large truck and they set it ff once more. After a journey that took forever they finally arrived at Waterworks and Florie was still fine.
The family went straight to a hotel as it was so late. Marie went to bed determined not to sleep as tomorrow she would have to say goodbye to her pet.
She slept.
The final day dawned bright and fair. At Waterworks, the keeper, Jill was waiting for Marie.
“Come and see Florie,” she said.
The large tank was full of blurry shadows and Marie could see very little at first then one of the shadows moved. A large fishy nose loomed towards the tank window.
“She has room to swim,” said Jill.
A second nose also appeared.
“She has a friend,” said Marie.
The two fish drifted past.
“They’re getting on well,” said Jill.
Marie felt sad but knew that it was the right thing to do.
For the rest of the day Marie was shown behind the scenes at Waterworks. They had lots of aquarium fish and animals for visitors to see. She learned a lot about fish care.
When she had returned home, she had regular updates from Jill about Florie. The fish had finally stopped growing.
Marie had other fish and she went across to see Florie as often as she could. Florie would always come to greet her.
Marie never overfed a fish again.
Damon turned his back to me. I guessed at the conflict inside. It’s not every day you manage to get out of a burning building let alone carrying two youngsters.
“You’re a hero,” I said, “ because of you two little girls live tonight. That’s incredible. I am so proud of you.”
He sighed deeply. I took it as a sign to continue.
“I know you find it hard to accept but I really think you should go train as a firefighter or something. You’re wasted as a janitor.”
Damon cleared his throat. “Clara, I need to say something. I am not who you think I am.”
“What do you mean?”
He breathed in and turned round. There was a determined slant to his mouth. His grey eyes blazed fiercely.
“I mean that ever since we have been together that...that I have let you think...I have not told you that I am different.”
I began to laugh, but it was more nerves than mirth. “I know that!” I said, “the accent always gave it away. You’re not from round here. You’re from Manchester and I’m from London. You are shy, I am loud, you’re...”
“Will you let me speak!”
I fell silent. The torrent of nervous words gone. He took my hands in his, looked down then looked into my eyes.
I faltered before his direct gaze.
“What is it?”
“Clara, you know I love you,” he said. “Since I walked into that English class at 16, there has been no one else for me but you.”
I waited.
“I have had something that I have longed to share with you. It is something that only my parents know and even they do not fully understand.”
He let go of my hands and stepped back.
Then he began to rise off the ground. As he got higher and higher, I could not take my eyes off him.
There was a shout behind me and suddenly I was scooped up. I did not see by whom but an acrid smell hit my nostrils.
“If you struggle, you will die,” a voice hissed in my ear.”
I did not struggle.
“Let her go,” shouted Damon and I realised that his voice was different, more confident.
He swooped towards me but I was snatched out of reach by the acrid smell.
“How touching,” the entity behind me mocked, “he wants his girlfriend.”
I saw Damon’s angry glance. “I am warning you,” he said, “ let her go or die.”
The answer was the beginning of a taunt, “Oooh!”
A fiery blast singed my ear then I was falling. I heard a scream. I realised it was me.
Then I was scooped and held right against a muscled chest. I clung on tightly. Damon gently floated to the ground. Luckily there was no one around.
His lovely face was moody.
“This is why I cannot have a girlfriend,” he muttered, “they become leverage for my foes!”
“Who are you calling leverage?” I asked, indignantly.
He at least had the grace to look shamefaced. “It is my greatest fear,” he said.
“You don’t have to look out for me, I can take care of my self,” I retorted.
From the tired snort he gave, I guess he didn’t believe me.
We were walking back, his arm round my shoulder and my mind still thinking about that “leverage” comment when out of nowhere hot and acrid was back. He swooped low and knocked straight into Damon who, caught off guard barrelled with it over and over.
With Damon knocked out cold the entity advanced on me. It was easily 8 feet tall, humanoid in shape with jagged holes where eyes and mouth should be.
“Surrender to me now and your death will be swift,” offered the entity.
I watched, fascinated.
“What if I’m not in the mood to die today?” I asked.
The entity laughed, more like a fire roaring than a laugh.
“What makes you think you have a choice?” It asked.
It was now so close that i could involuntarily smell its hot acrid breath.
It reached for me. I darted out of reach. It reached again and missed.
Howling with fury it lunged for me. I was vaguely aware of Damon beginning to come to, behind it. I wiggled my nose and a jet of water hit the entity from a nearby manhole. Two more jets sprang out and hit the entity which disappeared in smoke.
I met Damon’s confused eyes.
Leverage!
I have been here a long time, centuries even. When I last saw light of day, a mad King was on the throne, candles lit the room and I was young.
My second owner was named Elle and I was bought for her 16th birthday. She wore her hair up for the first time and I showed her how grown up she looked. She smiled with pleasure at her new dress and pretty necklace.
“I am out in society for the first time tonight,” she whispered in excitement, “perhaps I might meet the man I am to marry.”
I liked Elle, but I worried that she was like a young lamb being sent to slaughter among the young rakes and old lechers. Men like a young pretty thing to mould.
Elle came back from the dance, full of excitement. “I think I met him,” she confided, “but Mama says we must wait and see.”
For the first few dances, she returned full of excitement but then she came in one day with her fire extinguished.
“He does not want me,” she said, “Amelia Hyde has a bigger dowry.”
I waited hopefully. In disappointment my power could come.
“I wish...”
I waited.
“I wish Amelia would develop a big pustule on the end of her nose.”
The next time Elle entered she was puzzled.
“Amelia had a pustule on her nose,” she whispered, “just like I said.”
She shrugged it off. Coincidence. But what if...
“I wish Amelia could fall and hurt her ankle.”
The next day she was scared. “It happened! What have I done?”
Common sense took over again.
“It can’t have been me. A wish cannot make things happen - can it?”
I cannot answer her for I have no mouth, but this is not the first strange thing I have witnessed.
She drew herself up as if summoning courage and said, “I wish Amelia Hyde should lose her dowry,” then she looked around furtively and stepped away.
Her sparkle returned when her rival had gone. Her beau, James, returned to her and all was happiness.
However when my special ability is called upon, balance must be maintained.
Elle was a little worried when a pustule appeared on her nose, just as it had for Amelia Hyde.
The next day she appeared before me, limping. She had slipped and fallen down the last three stairs and twisted her ankle.
“No!” She whispered, “could it be that what I wished on Amelia is happening to me? Say it isn’t so, mirror.”
I can say nothing, but only reflect what is shown.
The next day, I was covered over and carried out to a cart pulled by strong horses along with other possessions. From conversation I understood that I was to be sold to help pay off debts that Elle’s father had racked up. Elle had lost her dowry. I never knew whether her beau stood by her.
In the next house that bought me I faced a very different woman. A supernaturally sensitive woman who had long upswept brown hair, early 30s with witchy green eyes that stared beyond the glass.
“There’s something unusual about you,” she murmured. “A curse, perhaps? A spirit dwelling within?”
She was close. I had been built by a carpenter with a prescient daughter who had been thwarted in love by a witch. Before she took her life, she had cursed me with a spell for 1000 years, that I could grant wishes but that they would return on the person who had made the wish. That would be fine if everyone made a good wish before their mirror.
On recognising me for what I was, she took care of me and ensured that nothing bad was said in my presence. On her death, she instructed that I was to be destroyed. The person tasked to do the destruction took pity on me and hid me in their attic until all was forgotten. I’m sorry to say I repaid their kindness with misery.
And now I await a new mistress. Someone opens the loft hatch and comes into the attic. A moment later, I am uncovered.
“What an old mirror,” says the person who has found me, “that will look great in the hall downstairs.”
From behind them comes another person. He has witchy green eyes and I do not like the way he looks at me.
“No,” he says, “it is only fit for firewood. It is full of woodworm.”
It is my end.
