The golden hand mirror laid broken at the top of the steps, its shattered pieces glistening under hills of sand—forgotten. When she and her travel companions first explored these ruins, they were amazed by the grand statutes and the intricate details of the artifacts lying around. But the mirror called to her. So she went back, this time alone, to rid herself of the nagging feeling that she had left something behind.

Gianna sat at the third step of the ruins, brushing away at the sand piling over the glass pieces. Though her common sense ridiculed her for such aberrant behavior, her inner spirit felt satififaction each time she freed a glass piece from the sand and returned it to the mirror. When she returned its last piece, she waited for something to change, but nothing happened, and Gianna turned back to leave for camp.

“…princess” what sounded like an odd mixture between a sob and a whisper travelled through the wind, echoing. Had her friends returned to play some sick prank on her? No. They were already down the trail, at least an hour away by now if they had not stopped.

“…princess Diona, wake up.” She heard again. Then the voice—a women’s voice— broke out into a faint cry. Gianna walked the steps, eying the golden mirror from which the voice came. Peering into the mirror, she no longer could see her reflection. Through the broken cracks emitted a blue-white glow, which formed a woman lying on the ground.

“Diona, please, if you can hear me…” she whispered. “Don’t go, it’s not time yet.”

Immediately Gianna was drawn in, taking in her desperate pleas as if the woman were speaking to her. She wanted to help but didn’t know how.

The woman turned to the other sitting beside her. “Your spells, they’re not working. She doesn’t hear my calls.” She said, her soft cries now turning into a hiss.

The other woman remained calm. “Or maybe she does hear your call, she just doesn’t want to answer them…Let her go.”

Before Gianna’s eyes, the glowing woman scattered away into nothingness. When she turns, the same woman reappears, this time sitting on the edge of a bed.

“Daughter…” She whispers. “10,000 people stand outside our walls, waiting for your words of wisdom. You promised to protect them. Have you forgotten?” The woman tucks Diona’s hair behind her ears, then lifts her voice in a gentle song.

Just as the last image flew away, the scene vanishes into thin air. Gianna looks to her side to see a chorus of people gathered at a tombstone, laying down gifts of pearls, jewels, and flowers. Tears rolled down some of their faces. This was it. Princess Diona was gone with no way of returning. Yet her memory remained trapped between the cracks of the mirror. And now they lived on Gianna’s memory.

I tumble into the ruins, head spinning. Any sense of direction eludes me. Where is right? Where is left? Did I even follow the map correctly?

My partner Cerise slips in, yelling in my direction. All I could process was an unclear stream of exhaustion and desperation. The thieves are on our tails. Sounds of multiple sets of hooves thumping against dirt enter my ears.

Then, the words come through to me, “James, hurry! Help me close the door!”

The raging thieves were nearing, sharp knives in hand. I rush to my feet, joining Cerise at her side. With our combined strength, we heave the sliding door shut with a grunt.

“Just you wait! We’ll get you next time!”

The muffled threat meant nothing to us. Not when the scrying mirror of Egypt was in our grasp.

I step forward and press the pads of my fingers against the glass. It’s cool and smooth, like ice. It’s outer rim is pure gold like the glistening sunlight of dawn.

“It’s a real beauty,” Cerise said. “It’s a wonder so many explorers look for it. It’s said to reveal anything you could ever hope for.”

My eyes lock on my partner’s reflection. Her blue eyes are stern, like a brick wall hiding the smallest sliver of emotion. Cerise remaind in her wide stance, muscular arms crossed sternly over her chest.

I stare deeply into the glass, hoping, praying, for what it promises. My heart wants more than anything to break those walls, to know how she thinks, how she feels.

If she loves me as much as I love her.

My reflection ripples, like a stone dropped in water. Images morph and change like clay, until it solidifies into the innocent frown of a little girl. Her black hair is pulled into low pigtails. The dress she wears is littered with dirt stains. It’s seams unraveled at the ends of her skirt. Two figures tower over her.

I look again at Cerise. She remains unmoving.

The image changes, develops into something new like melting watercolors. The girl is now older, with the same hairstyle and the same despair in her innocent gaze. She’s much skinnier, hollowed out like an abandoned carcus. A pair of hands picks her up and takes her away from the danger, the misery in the house she was trapped in. Abusive caregivers perhaps?

Then, the girl is an adult. Her black hair flows like a river at night over her wide shoulders. Her blue eyes are stern, like a brick wall hiding the smallest sliver of emotion.

Cerise…

I whip my head around, and find her gone. My partner, my trusted friend, the girl I love, vanishing in the blink of an eye. No note, no footsteps, no items dropped or left behind.

I can sense the walls of her heart climbing higher.

Along with the smell of dread and danger.

I shivered at the feeling of a midnight breeze caressing my skin. Wait a midnight breeze? I turned quick because it’s the middle of the afternoon and there shouldn’t be a cool breeze anywhere in this humid jungle. I spotted a mirror hanging from a wall. I stood in its line of sight and felt the breeze again.

What in the world.

I creeped closer and started hearing the faint whispers of the breeze. It sounded like I was on high up in the sky. As I crept closer the mirror shimmered and the imagine changed into a dark scene. A midnight sky full of stars I’ve never seen on top of some kind of building. I froze when I saw a dark figure sitting on the ledge staring at the stars. I know good and well that’s not my reflection.

Standing at the mirror I took a closer look at the person as they rode from their sitting position. That’s when I noticed the shoes on the other side of them neatly laid. Wait no.

I screamed, “No don’t do it!”

The person turned around and I was face to face with the purest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. They were almost glowing in the dark. They turned towards me and walked toward me without breaking a stride. In his deep tones he barely whispered, “who are you?”

I’m crying in a corner In a empty room i sit up from the chair in the back as I start to walk up I notice a coffin I’m still crying I turn my head back all the chairs are empty nobody is here but me I open the coffin it’s empty I have a unsettling feeling I turn back around people were all around me but they had no face I start walking out of the house I start choking I can’t breathe I’m coughing up dirt I didn’t understand what was going on nothing made sense to me as I was coughing I had realized a little raven flying around me squawking at me I end up going back in the house I’m a different room it was so cold in that room and there was a tiny mirror hanging on the wall I walk up to it and noticed I couldn’t see me I saw the empty room and something in the corner of the room I turn around facing the corner it’s a person with no face I walk up to them and say hello they stand up and they start to disintegrate there was nothing but the clothes they were wearing on the ground I woke up then it was only a dream

“How can we be slipping in the Shire? No offense Zizz but those stupid Sprites love me. I swept the Fae in the primaries. This can’t be happening, Zizz,” Lord Wonks wailed.

Frowning at her spreadsheets, Zizzle fluttered behind her boss his excellency Lord Kev Splitfoot Wonks of the ancestral seat of Elfin Glen, leader of the seven realms and the outer provinces. Wonks strode up and down the imperial court with quick angry steps. He threw the golden scroll of polling results into hearth. Sparks showered the office. Pansy, Tansy, and Fred scurried to douse the Golden Fleece carpeting. Coughing, Zizzle his campaign manager flew in agitated swirls among the smoke.

“Fair leader, this is what I am trying to explain. You cannot count on your past successes. You’re not connecting with the woodland fairies under 100 years old. Tavros is popular with young males from merfolk to centaurs and his numbers are on the uptick among females of all ages.”

“That bloody Orc! He’s a thick necked boneheaded green son of a witch. Born to the purple and pretending to be common. How can he do better than me? What am I paying you for?” Wonks said flinging his tray of honeyed cheeses to the floor.

Next Wonks threw a crystal vase of blinking buttercups against the wall. He swept the news scrolls from his desk. The trio of pixies buzzed into action to clean the mess.

“Sire if you could take a deep breath. We need to appeal to a wider voter base. Have you considered launching that dragon treasure drive for the orphanage?” Zizzle asked hopefully.

Waving a dismissive hand, Wonks bit a jubjub sweet fruit then spat the blue fruit chunks at his pixie servants. In a buzzy blur the servants cleared away all the food trays. Raging, Wonks paced.

“No, Zizz, my people don’t want to watch their leader ladling stew to snotty nosed urchins. They want pomp and majesty. How can that dirty horned Orc being rising?” Wonks shouted and kicked a bejeweled chair across the room. “Explain!”

“Tavros is relatable. An Orc of the people but from the Olde Branches. He did save those hobgoblins from that burning hospital, sire,” Zizzle said drily.

“Fiddle Faddle that stupid oaf is a soldier, big deal. I threw two Solistic galas. Two! Something must be done,” Wonks sobbed.

Their leader collapsed on a chaise lounge, upsetting an antique best of the Dowager Queen Glianda. Fred and Pansy caught the statue. Tansy buzzed around Wonks’ head.

“Zizz what’s this about a storyteller mirror from Tavros’ ancestor!” Wonks shrieked.

Zizzle glared at the pixie.

“Well I knew you wouldn’t be interested in dirty politics. A traveler, a vagrant really, was picked up by the border brownies found a storyteller in the Orc Foothills. Apparently Tarvox the Great Tarvos’ grandfather loved another before his marriage to Lady Halyx of the Orcs” Zizzle said haltingly.

Elated, Wonks leapt from the chaise, plucked Zizzle from the air, and shook his campaign manager by her shoulders.

“If the talisman is to be believed Tavox the Great’s lover died in childbirth and the babe was raised secretly under the royal house of Orc,” Zizzle said between shakes. “Leprechaun, Tavros is part Leprechaun!”

“Scandal, I knew it and with a trash elf. We have him now,” Wonks exclaimed.

He climbed on his ornate desk and began to dance a mock leprechaun jig. The pixies and Zizzle the sprite exchanged glances. She had hoped her boss would have made a different choice. Drooping Zizzle flew from imperial court to retrieve the traveler’s mirror.

People often called me a time traveler. In reality, I am an explorer. I look for time mirrors. These magical artifacts were like windows into the past. I could see memories of the people as if I was one of them. I found one in Machu Picchu, depicting the Incas people build the incredible infrastructure. I found one in Sweden, showing Vikings crafting axes and beautiful boats. I saw the Native Americans of the north, building houses out of ice and using huskies to get around. I always found it amazing how these people evolved so much. But I have a secret. Not only can I see the past, but the future. The world is not ready to know.

The wary traveler stumbles and crashes into the ground, his backpack disassembling itself from the impact. Tired, he rolls onto his back. His hand, moving with his body, hits something hard as it slaps the coarse dirt. He feels a small object, circular and cold. He grabs it and brings it to his face. It is a pocket mirror smaller than his palm. He flips open the cover, but does not see his reflection. He sees a portal which shows someone else's point of view. As he focuses on the mirror, he becomes totally immersed in the moving portrait. Inside, there is a meadow. One filled with blossoming flowers and grass reaching for the sky. The sky has not a cloud in it and he can hear the birds singing song. The man in the portal is sitting under an apple tree. His clothes look to be from long ago. He is wearing shaggy rags and has cloth shoes.

In the ruins of a forgotten civilization, a traveler finds a mirror. Gazing into it, they see vivid memories of an ancient stranger’s life and are drawn into its joys and sorrows.

In the old world, there was more sorrow than joy. Hard times just pressed me to the edge, I have no choice but to survive. There are happy times, but not feeling it from the bottom heart.

I didn’t finish the work on time, the amount which was not possible for human to do; landlord just thrown me into the pot with full of cold water for I don’t know how long, when I was out, the moon is already on the sky.

My child was born that day, and I remember the slave brothers and us celebrated the whole night. We were happy that a new member joined us, and we never give up on finding ways to end slavery. In order to not letting the landlord see it, we decided to wait till him go to his friends party.

The life is short, suddenly all my brothers are died because of the impossible tasks the landlord pressed them to do… I wrote this letter to the people who come after me, to remember there was an unfair world.

The traveller was one of many at the fair. A discovery of a mirror that after a polish of the dust, soot and ash, was surprisingly intact.

“This used to be a fair ground. An area where traders and scroungers would be making a living and it still it today! Since the red hot anger ate the town.

The traveller bought the mirror. A wooden piece with a crystal pane. And the discovery they made when they picked to peer through.

It was almost peering into the past and into a life of someone who looked exactly like the viewer. The clothes were different and aged but the facial expression was alike their own. The life they lead showed the joys of family. It taught the trader how things in this time have got so complicated and that keeping it simple was the best approach to life.

After a successful family gathering inspired by the mirror’s self. The traveller looked to see how the mirror self fared, to their shock and horror, there were flames licking and growing in intensity. The family were consumed and the ceiling collapsed. Through a gap the mirror view glanced upon the volcano. Angry and furious it spurted. Then the mirror turned to black.

The traveller stared and rotated the mirror as if it were suddenly defective, flawed. Outside bells can be heard as screams shouted that there was a fire down from Pudding Lane.

I watched you change How you looked at me.

I watched you change How you said my name.

I saw you change When you said those things.

I saw you change When you stopped taking to me.

I knew you changed When you never looked Or spoke to me in the same way like you used too.