_Smash! _

Glass rains down and my hand smarts with pain. A voice cries out, and hands grab me and pull me away from the scene I made. I hardly notice, don’t care. It can’t be true, can’t be true, can’t be true.

I traveled across the country to see this fabled mirror. There are stories on the news, of people who saw themselves twenty years in the future. Fame, wealth, happiness is what I was expecting. My dreams come true, a life with meaning, a shadow of hope and a new world on the horizon.

The owner of the mirror is yelling at me. The sound is muffled to my ears. Anger is not worthwhile.

I spare my hand a glance. There is a shard of that cursed mirror embedded in the skin, and I pull it out, oblivious to the sharp pain.

I study the reflection, taking it all in. I feel nothing, numbness enveloping me. There is nobody in the mirror.

In twenty years, I will be gone.

Coraline watched intently at her reflection in the mirror. It was her face, her body, the very dress she wore now, although aged by 20 years and yet .. It wasn’t. This woman before her was … fragile, weak. Slender, and missing the posture of the Queen that she was with the destructive force at her fingertips from her magical prowess.

The disturbing sight of the image before her should have been the creature that loomed over her, almost twice her size. It was skinny, like skin drawn tight over the frame of a skeleton. The eyes were hollow sockets, black with faint veins spreading in various shades of red, purple and blue. It offered her a smile, a wicked smile that revealed a row of sharp, fang-like teeth, blood stained and blackened. Coraline turned her attention back to herself, or what was supposed to be her, a gnarled hand on her left shoulder and the talons of the right digging into her neck. She could see the ethereal sliver sliding from her, into the being, as though it feasted on her very soul and the magic that resided in her.

The reflection in the mirror that showed an image of her, 20 years from now. Her pale face with glistening blue eyes, her raven coloured hair up in an elegant bun with even the same stubborn strand of curls dancing alongside her face. The same gown she wore, a deep indigo with silver and gold, tightly hugging her slender figure, a gown that was fit for a Queen. She looked older, with lines starting at her lips and by her eyes, slightly shorter, but mostly, the same.

But the reflection standing before her was no Queen. It was a feeble and frail woman. Weak and vulnerable, the broken remains of who she was, an image that haunted her more than the image of the beast did. That was not the woman she had imagined she would be, 20 years from now, it was not the woman she had fought to become now. She clenched her fists and tightened her jaw, before the seller approached her. “I will take it.” She said, her voice calm and warm, and before the night was out, the mirror had made its home inside the castle, in the comfort of her chambers, the future at her fingertips.

But for that, she would have to grow stronger, more powerful and fiercer than she had already been. Banished from her very home, like a stray that was tossed into the streets when she had outlived her use. Like a beggar, she traversed the streets of her home, for money, for knowledge, for anything she could get her hands on and she had become greedy, she had become demanding, and she had become deserving.

Deserving of the very throne she had conquered when she took her small but loyal following and challenged the King for his throne at night. He paid for it with his life, as she’d buried her dagger deep in his heart and left him dying out on the front steps of the castle. For the country to see, for the world to see, for them to know that a new Queen had arisen.

But she was not as strong as she wanted to be, according to her reflection. Weak, drained, submissive even. Not at all the woman she recognised in herself. But perhaps her peaceful reign had made her complacent, and perhaps in time that complacency would become a weakness. It wasn’t a risk she was willing to take, with her Kingdom under control of her most trusted, she set out to learn more about the dark magic she had adapted. She visited with the shamans of The Lands of Everlight, but they could not help her because the brand of magic she had adapted was banished, forbidden, and no longer within their control. They sent her away, but she would not give in so easily.

Coraline returned with a portion of her army, men and women armed and equipped with the finest weapons, imbued with the magical prowess of their Queen, their blades tipped with maddening magic that was designed to haunt, torment and madden them. She demanded that they give her passage into the Nightmare Realm, and not wishing to feel the wrath of the Queen, they helped her.

She studied with the creatures of the underworld for a year, reading book upon book of banished material, crafting spell after forbidden spell to practise them in the safety of the Nightmare Realm, until she was ready to take her newfound command of the Dark Magic out into the world, and back home.

But the reflection did not change.

Coraline howled in distress when she stepped back in front of her mirror, and saw the wicked creature staring back at her, eyes black and perhaps even more wicked than before. The woman, Coraline but 20 years from now, she was still feeble and weak, if not more so than the last time she had seen this very reflection. Her howling frustration echoed deep inside of the castle, and with that, the Queen retreated to her private office, not to be seen for a full week. Complacency, weakness, she had no room for that in her reign, in her Kingdom. She would not die at the hands of some vile creature, she was stronger than this.

She went back to the Shamans, with her full army. They performed their spell under her watchful eye, and when it came time for the portal to the Nightmare Realm to part once more, she stepped in with a ritual of her own. The shamans that tried to stop her were stopped in their tracks, the blades of her men piercing into their hearts, their dying cries filling the otherwise quiet sanctuary that was hidden deep inside of the Everlight woods.

The pure, pearlescent light of the Shaman’s ritual site made room for a pulsating, rich indigo colour, seeping through the intricate designs in the grassy mounds where their altar was situated. The veins of her magic broke through the barriers, and into their surroundings, splitting portions of the crisp white trees and breaking apart the rock formations, her roots planted firmly into their ceremonial site.

Coraline took a breath as her ritual had finished, the last of the old and forbidden language of the Nightmare Realm rolling off her tongue flawlessly. The darkness rolled in, breaking through the clear blue skies and bringing darkness into the Everlight lands for the first time in aeons. A laugh erupted from her as the darkness swirled around her person and lifted her into the sky, tickling her skin as she absorbed it all.

As she absorbed the entire Nightmare Realm.

Coraline returned home as the Queen of the Nightmare Realm, with the creatures at her command. She ruled her home with an iron fist, and used her dark magic to improve her home, she was both feared and celebrated all at once, as her realm bathed in the richness she demanded from other realms, who did not dare to upset the Queen of the Nightmare Realm, but instead gave her what she wanted and more, and asked for very little in return. Wherever she went, she left a trail of darkness, her magic so potent and so powerful, it wanted to spread and feast, and she encouraged it, because it made her reach and her strength so much more potent.

But still, her reflection did not change.

Coraline took a step back as she revisited the reflection in the mirror, the frail Queen still being devoured by the creature like she was nothing, like she would become nothing, like everything she had built would crumble and fall. 20 years from now, and there would be nothing left of the powerful Queen she was now, dying hopelessly, broken, a fragment of everything she had become. How was this possible?

Was this simply because of 20 years? Was it life that dealt her this blow, that 20 years from now, she would wither away into nothingness? Was this her fate, to die broken and alone, drained by an entity of the deep dark?

No, if she could not beat fate, if it would not take her challenge, she would find another challenge to conquer. If she could not beat fate, she would beat mortality. She would beat Death.

The ritual to summon him was not an easy one for her to find, even the Nightmare Realm did not have the answers she sought. They did not dabble in upsetting such powerful entities, and even they whispered in her ear that perhaps, she was going too far. But Coraline would not listen, she was determined, and she always got what she wanted. She did not crawl her way up from a frightened young girl on the streets of her home, only for her tempestuous life to end like this. She would be damned. If Death wanted her, he could come and take her now, while she was at the peak of her abilities, while she had the power of the Nightmare Realm at her fingertips.

She made her own ritual, night after night, days bleeding into weeks, weeks bleeding into months and months into years. She locked herself up in her ritual chambers in the dungeons of the castle, building at the perfect ritual to perform, tearing down the walls to make room for the intricate designs of her sigils as they covered the ceiling, walls and floors, ancient and long forgotten languages pulled out of the past and brought back to serve her.

Death was summoned, and he was trapped in her web of rituals, strung up and contained, but the chains would not last long, he was far too powerful for that. Her slender hand coiled tight around her trusted knife, the one she had buried deep into the King before her, and drove it into the chest of the God. She carved out his heart, and even now it kept beating. With trembling hands, she laid it down on her altar, and undressed for her final ritual. To join his heart with hers, to become a Goddess, to become immortal. She screamed as the ritual took hold, her entire body set aflame. The castle rumbled with the force of the power that echoed through her body, as she pressed her palms to her eyes, feeling them burn with the darkness that coursed through her veins, as though it tried to devour her from the inside. And then … Silence.

She had done what no man, no woman, no King or Queen had done. She had made the impossible possible. She had conquered Death. She took her blade and drove it into her chest and though it stung, it did not wound her, it did not kill her. She was eternal, she was everlasting.

Coraline rose to her feet, her skin feeling calm, and yet electric to the touch, like every part of her being was charged with this ethereal energy. The creaking of a parting door to her side caused her to look up, frowning at the hidden room that had revealed itself to her. It still bore the ritual markings she had carved into them with her magic, and she was certain there had not been a door there before. She stepped through and it shut firmly behind her, the light drained, but she was not afraid of the darkness. She was the darkness.

She smiled fondly at the mirror, the mirror that now, would surely show her as the Queen she was, resilient, victorious and eternal. It had been 20 years, this was her moment of truth.

The girl in the reflection had disappeared. Coraline frowned as she looked in the face of the creature she had seen before. She took a step closer and another, and really looked at it. Her eyes were gone, nothing remained but the pulsating indigo veins of magic that pulsated gently. Teeth blackened, consumed and destroyed. She was slender, so slender, nothing but a pale grey skin pulled over a walking skeleton. Coraline wailed, her haunting cries echoing back. Her cries were cut off by the presence of her niece, who appeared as a shadow beside her, slinking through her to position in front of the mirror, as Coraline watched her niece enter the antique shop she had visited 20 years ago.

She opened her mouth to speak, to demand, to cry for help, but only a rattle came out. She was hungry, so hungry.

She rested her gnarled left hand on her niece’s shoulder, and with the sharp talons of her right hand, she tore into the neck of the reflection. The silvery wisp that emerged from her neck danced in the sky, and she parted her crooked lips to consume it. Consume her hopes and dreams, consume her confidence, consume her self image.

She consumed her soul.

The face framed in gold stared back at me, always with my own eyes. Sometimes those eyes held tears, sometimes they were happy tears sometimes they were not. The face stared back at me every day, until today.

Today was the first day I didn’t see me in the little gilded hand mirror.

I am 99 years old tomorrow.

44 years ago today the little mirror came home with me from the antiques shop just across Broadway from my favorite coffee house. 44 years ago today I bought myself a birthday present. Every day since, before bed, after washing my face, brushing my teeth, and applying moisturizer, I’ve looked into that mirror. I’ve looked closely for changes, for signs that I’ve made good choices that day. And I’ve mostly adjusted accordingly.

“Weird,” is the first thing that Ash says when he glances into the mirror Seren hung up… what, a week ago? Which is an odd reaction to a mirror, so naturally I was curious.

“What is it?”

“There’s no reflection. Seren, your mirror’s broken.”

“I… you don’t have a reflection?!” Seren drops his book, staring at him with every kind of bad feeling scrawled across his face. Concern, fear, likely confusion…

Why?

“Nope. Hey, Brook, you come and see this.”

I’m not exactly in the mood for whatever wild prank this is (if it… if it is a prank…), but I listen anyway.

There is no Ash next to me when I look, but there is… I guess there’s a ‘me’. Except I’m older, maybe about thirty, and I swear my wrist is glowing.

“You’re gonna die before you’re thirty-five, then.” Seren’s voice is little more than a whisper, but it has the desired effect.

“I…”

“That’s specific.”

“It shows your future, twenty years away. That’s what my dad says,” Seren shrugged. “Mine’s… weird, but not ‘no reflection’ weird.”

“I’m not even that surprised,” Ash muttered. “I definitely know one person who wants to kill me…”

He won’t tell either of us who that is.

Every morning, Roger got out of bed, showered, dressed to kill in a black suit and tie, and walked from antique store to antique store. He spent time with antiques under his gaze through his army issue glasses frame that he’d kept by ordering new prescription lenses to go in them as time passed.

Roger liked vanities in particular, and never really knew why the hot item seemed to be the religious statues. “You might as well go to church.”

Today, he walked into one of his regular spots and stopped in front of a body length mirror. As he did, he saw a skeleton. He paid it no mind and went to the main desk of the antiques shop.

“How much do you want for the trick mirror?”

“What trick mirror?” says the clerk, looking over her computer from her seat.

“The one over there,” he points across the shop.

“That’s not a trick mirror.”

“Whatever you think it is, how much?”

She walked over with her phone in one hand and scanned a QR code on its sticker. “$50.”

“Fine. I’ll take it.”

After he payed it, and drove it back to his apartment. He put it in his bedroom and stared at it as he tried to understand the skeleton figure. Giving up, he waved his hands in the air and called it a day with a martini in one hand and Golden Eye on the TV.

He woke to his morning routine and saw the skeleton on the mirror again. Roger liked the idea of magic about as much as he liked gypsies shaman, and he knew one gypsy woman who sold him the best cigars he’d ever smoked, so he called he up on the phone. “Do you make house calls?”

She arrived at his place wearing a floral skirt and a low cut white top. Her hair done in a long braid. “Hello Roger! I can’t believe I finally get to see your house.”

“Yeah-yeah, help me out here,” he said waving her to the inside and to the bedroom.

She went inside the room and sat down on the bed. “Only if you insist.”

“Stop playing around. I know you sell your services as a fortune teller. You are the closest thing I know to a magic expert. Look in this mirror.”

“Fine. Fine.” Looking in the mirror she gasped and looked back at him. “Funny. Now you only have half a shot with me.”

“This isn’t a joke, Darlene.”

“Okay. Well, where’d you get it?”

“One of my regular antique shops. Figured I might be able to sell it, but what I see when I look in it bugs me.”

“What do you see?” she said.

“A skull and bones. You?”

“Wrinkles, grey hair, and sagging breasts. Disgusting.”

“What does it mean?” he said.

“I think it means what you see,” she said.

“Darlene, I’m only 27. Can you tell me anything?”

“If I’m any indication, you see the future. I’m… not saying how old I am, but a skeleton might mean you should take me up on my offer.”

“What?”

She jumped back on the bed, laying on her side. “I mean, I think you’re gonna die, but you might as well have fun before you do.”

Roger left her in the room and walked outside to look up into the sky. He breathed deep and thought about if time was fixed or not.

She walked up beside him and pulled a cigar from a purse. “Smoke-’em while you got them.”

The hallway had long been abandoned. The flowery wallpaper was peeling and cracked, mould creeping in through the crevices. The woven rug beneath his feet was fraying, deep auburn strands slipping between the floorboards. Masahiko counted no less than three hatstands, each of them missing a limb or two. At the end of the hallway was his destination. A warped wooden door, sagging slightly ajar.

A gilded mirror was propped against the back wall, its surface dulled with age and spotted in the corners. Masahiko would've strolled past it - it was an antique, after all - but then his eyes caught on his reflection.

'The hell?' Masahiko staggered back, nearly bowling over the nearest hat-stand.

The man reflected before him was not him - couldn't be him. And yet ... He was the same height, same build. Had the same sloping shoulders, the same slight curl to his mouth as he muttered something to himself.

But his face was thinner, cheekbones more pronounced, as if he’d forgotten to take care of himself. And his hair was longer - almost at his shoulders - and pinned back like the female dancers at the ballet school. He looked … good.

Masahiko swallowed thickly. Surely it was just a trick of the light?

Then his reflection met his gaze and Masahiko knew, he knew, this was real and that somehow he was seeing himself not now, but in the future.

‘I don’t understand,’ he said, ‘why are you showing me this?’

His reflection squared his shoulders, clearly anticipating resistance. ‘Because,’ he said levelly, and his voice was a deep baritone, ‘you don’t listen.’

Masahiko crossed his arms over his chest. ‘That means you don’t either.’

His reflection sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between dirt-stained fingers. Masahiko glanced down at his own. They were immaculate.

‘Please, for once, save your comments until the end.’

With great effort, Masahiko bit his tongue.

‘Excellent,’ his reflection continued, ‘now, whatever you do, do not go through that door.’

"Dude! No offense, but you came out uuuuuglyyyyy!"

"What?" I yelped. "Well, how do you figure?" I bent over slightly and pet my Shar Pei, Sherry. She licked my hand with gusto.

"I mean, look at your beady eyes!" said Kyle. "How do eyes even get that beady?"

"Genetics," I huffed. "You've gotta lean in close to see where the action's at."

"I'll say! And what happened to your face? Soooo much hair. Too much hair! It crawls up your forehead!"

"Nothing a quick wax couldn't fix."

Kyle let out a long whistle. "More like a really, really, REALLY-"

"What about my nose, huh? It looks like it's managed to stay intact."

"What it managed to do was get all bumpy and wet," said Kyle. "Like, why?"

"Because only ladies sweat through their noses."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Then thank God I'm no-"

"I need you to find one good thing about me Kyle," I said, neck vein bulging. "Dig deep. Dig reeeaaal deep."

"Dig?" Kyle's laugh struck my skin like a launched rubber band. "More like mine."

"THEN MINE."

"Gosh. Fiiiiine." Kyle stroked his ratty goatee. He tilted his head from side to side and ruminated. Finally, he said, "Uh, your collar's kinda cool. I like the spikes."

"Collar?" I whipped around, tightening my grip on the leash. "Kyle! You're looking at Sherry! Eyes up here, ya doofus!"

"Oh!" Kyle adjusted his gaze. "My bad. Seems I might need to update my glasses."

"Ya think?!"

Kyle squinted. "If I'm being honest right now, you know, friend to friend... You ain't lookin' much better."

I was walking through town and spotted an old antique shop. I saw a mirror in the window. It was facing back towards the store. It was labeled with a sticker that said 𝙼𝚒𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚂𝚊𝚕𝚎.

  That made me want to look inside the mirror. I went inside and went to the display window.

   There was the mirror. I saw that instead of the glass being clear like most mirrors it was tinted an icy blue. 

But it was just as reflective as all other mirrors. I realized something was off, the mirror reflection is taller than I actually am. The reflection also changed my hair color from black to light brown. My eyes went from emerald green to a dark gray.

   I saw a note on the mirror that said 𝙼𝚒𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝟸𝟶 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚠.

“This is the prime of your life..” these words kept ringing through her head as she paced around the store looking for nothing in particular, rather clearing her head from what had just happened back home.

“This is the prime of your life..” her subconscious whispered again. She was an over thinker,deciphering every possibility of failure in every scenario. It was exhausting.

She had met him, through a mutual friend. He was smooth, charming, persistent and knew just what to say. He enamored her with gifts, way too lavish for her taste, but it was the thought that counted, right? They had been together 8 years. 8 birthdays, 8 New Years, 8 Christmas’, 8 winters.

“This is the prime of your life..” They were the perfect couple, the Instagram worthy, “omg you’re so lucky” hold the door, pull your chair out, perfect couple .The whole checklist. She was lucky.

But at home.. At home he’d hold doors shut to prevent her from sleeping in the same room as him, simply because she over salted the chicken, again.

He’d pull her by the hair and drag her to closet whenever she was wearing something too revealing. “You slut!”

He had never hit her tho.

“This is the prime of your life..” it wasn’t sadness she felt anymore, actually, she didn’t remember the last time she felt anything at all.

Abruptly, she snapped out of her head as she heard a familiar tune coming from the corner of the store. She walked towards it moving faster and faster. Her grandfather used to hum this tune while fishing. They would go to the pond in the backyard of her parents house every Sunday morning before sunrise. He grandfather would wrap her in a blanket and carry her to the pond while he hummed and smiled, letting her sneak sips of his bitter coffee. It had been so long since she thought of him, her grandfather, it hurt too much to remember.

She came across a huge dusty mirror. It was at least half a foot taller than her. The trim was copper, beautifully crafted with what looked like to be water splashing and catfish jumping. Weird. Her grandfather called her Catfish.

As she stared at the beautiful copper design she came a cross a little post it note at the bottom. It stated, “ Handcrafted, if interested please ask for assistance.”

She was so dazed by the design that when she looked at the reflection she was startled. Her face seemed to be changing. She took a deep breath, blinked and stared again.

Her face was hers, but seemed to be morphing into a different version, an older version. She was captivated by this odd happening and stared with intent at the woman staring back at her.

Her hazel eyes, looked dull and lifeless. Her hair was short, weird, she hated short hair on her. It was frizzy unkept, abandoned. Her youth was gone, she was filled with worry lines, and her lips were pursed drooping to a natural frown. The more she stared the more details developed in her reflection. There was a small scar in her right eyebrow, and as she turned her head she jolted back in fear. Her neck was bruised a huge handprint around her neck. She held her gaze and breath at the reflection as she tried to make sense of what was going on. The corner of her lip dripped with fresh blood and right below the scar on her brow a black and blue bruise held her eye shut. Aware she was in a public place, but fixated on this reflection she whispered, “are you ok? What is this?”

The reflection locked eyes with her sending a chill down her spine that unlocked all her hidden emotions and tears began to drip down her face. Not a word was uttered but she knew deep in her gut, it was a matter of life or death, she needed to leave him.

She was jolted back to reality as a friendly employee tapped her on the shoulder and said, “Sweetie, are you ok?” She quickly wiped the tears off her face and tried to shake off the weight of what she had just experienced, but simply couldn’t. Uncontrollably she threw herself at employee who just embraced her back and sobbed. She sobbed for what felt like forever. 8 years of pain, hurt and being belittled, unloaded on a total stranger.

When she managed to catch her breath, the employee brought her a glass of water and some tissues. She’s not sure if it was the crooked smile of the woman who was way too old to be working, or the fact that she smelled like apple cider donuts, but she felt a glimpse of Hope.

The older woman whispered, “Hi Emma, I’m Meredith, I’ve been expecting you.”

Shaken by this, Emma stuttered, “How do you know my name, what…. What.. what do you mean you’ve been expecting me?”

Meredith smiled warmly and said, “He knew you’d come. Before he passed,Old man Rob, came to me, and said this is for my granddaughter, Catfish, my sweet Emma. Save this for her, do not sell it, and do not send it to her, she will come when the time is right.”

She handed her a well kept letter, sealed with wax. Addressed to ‘Catfish’.

Eagerly and carefully she opened the envelope and began to read.

“My dearest Catfish, you came into my life like a jolt of hope. My desire is that you live a full life! A life filled with joy, true love, self respect, discovery, awe and bliss. I once thought after 60 years of living that was it, but you, my sweet sweet Emma you made me rediscover life. So I’ll leave you with this, the prime of your life is what you make of it. So live! Live in freedom, in laughter and of course coffee. This is the prime of your life. “

Love always,

Grandpa

Ps. I’m never too far”

Emma walked out, holding a giant mirror in one hand and the confidence she hadn’t felt in a long time. The wind tousled her hair playfully, and through her dark sunglasses she looked up at the sky and smirked.

She was on her way home from work when she passed the new antique shop.
She thought she might as well check it out. When she entered the shop she could smell that standard antique smell. She found a few things she liked. an antique coca cola sign caught her eye and she went to look at the price. It was $12 and she was gonna buy it. She was about to grab it off the shelf when something beside it caught her attention. It was an odd looking mirror. It didn’t look like it would in an antique shop she looked at the tag and it read: $25 Made in: 2041

“That’s odd.” she thought. “It must be a mistake. it’s probably is supposed to 2011 or 2021.” She looked into the mirror and had it been some sort of complicated machine, and not a simple mirror, she would have thought it broken. For she had no reflection. She thought maybe it was just really dusty but when she tried to wipe it down it was crystal clean. Then she realized it was fake. It was simply designed to look like a real mirror. In the background of this fake mirror there was no antique shop it instead was a restaurant. Even though it was fake it looked so realistic. “I wonder how long it took for someone to paint that?” She thought moving back to the coca cola sign. She grabbed the sign from the shelf and went to check out. On her out she wondered where she should hang her new sign. Little did she know a drunk driver was coming towards her.
The end.....

                           For her.