There's something off about the image of me. My hands can never capture it right no matter how hard I try. I’ve painted my appearance from memory, sketched while staring at the mirror, molded myself out of clay and none of the images I created truly reflected me. Perhaps, my reflection is broken or I am not as talented as I think so I’ve come to a solution which lies with an old man who lives on the outskirts of town. His name’s Arthur Verity, a man who made a living revealing one’s soul, something he’s adamant is the truest image of a person. I found out about him from a friend of a friend at a party where I was doing more listening rather than talking because the attendees were vapid bores. My friend Tiffany invited most of her old sorority girls and all they wanted to talk about were their shared memories leaving me the odd one out. Yet, by chance I overheard one of the women gushing over her soul reflection.

I thought it was some weird scam, half the attendees were pawning off essential oils after all but still, I went over and gathered some info about it. It took me a month to call Mr. Verity. I’m a natural-born skeptic. I never believed in Santa, the tooth fairy was an obvious scam to me (one I definitely exploited for at least five dollars per tooth) and I think the biggest scam of them all is the one where you give your heart to another (aka love). Yet, something was bothering me about my reflection…it just didn’t feel right. I don’t think it ever felt right.

I take a stick of gum out of my jacket pocket, open the wrapper, and bite off half of it with perfect precision. I wrap the other half back in the wrapper and put it back in my pocket. I’m still in my car that I should’ve exited ten minutes ago, sitting here and staring out of the front car window at Mr. Verity’s should-be condemned house. This was the perfect place to lure some unsuspecting victims and hack them into pieces. I’m sure no one could hear them scream as their last cries for help are drowned out by the house’s old creakings while creaky hands with creakier joints wrapped around their throats.

I shouldn’t go in…I could tell him something came up and…

I think of what Tiffany’s friend said.

“You’ll never doubt your reflection again because once you experience this it’s like a whole enhancement of self. I’ve never seen myself clearer before,” she said while holding her mimosa.

I’m a skeptic…a skeptic who will try anything once. I quell my fear, getting out of my car and walking up the rotting steps with careful steps. When I reach the door, I knock a heavy knock. I stand out there, waiting as the wind blows, hitting my shoulder and I hear the sound of wind chimes behind me. A minute passes and I’m ready to bolt but then I hear light steps inside so I stay rooted. He opens the door halfway, the door a shield as he gives me a once-over.

“Arthur Verity?” I say, taking in his appearance.

He was a short man with dark eyes, gray hair, and skin that seemed even grayer than his hair. He looked…odd but there was a gentleness in his eyes that I found myself fascinated with. I push my hand out, aiming for a quick handshake. His eyes glance at my hand with wariness so I drop it in an instant.

“You’re late, Ms. Seeker,” he says, emphasizing the word late with annoyance in his dark eyes.

I give him an apologetic look. “Please, just call me Eva.”

He opens his door wider and takes some steps back to let me in. I walk in and the house looks so much different compared to its deteriorating exterior. The furnishings are opulent with a mixture of classic vintage that makes it look like an old Hollywood movie set, the paint on the walls is a vibrant forest green, and the wooden floors look like they were just put in yesterday. He walks deeper into the house and I follow, my eyes drifting to the paintings on the wall which were of different canvas sizes but all seemed to showcase a forest landscape although in different seasons. My favorite is the one set in winter. All the animals seem hidden away at first glance but the longer you look you notice they are hiding in various parts of the painting just waiting for you to spot them.

“Ms. Seeker?” I hear Mr. Verity call out, making me realize that I stopped walking so engrossed by the winter forest painting.

“Sorry,” I apologize while looking away and then notice we’re near the back door of his house. “Where exactly are we going?”

“I keep the mirror outside, too powerful to keep in this house, you see.”

I nod like I fully understand what he means but a part of me longs to scoff at this nonsense. He opens the back door and I follow after him into a luscious green backyard that looks straight out of a magazine spread. There were even hedges shaped like animals! We walk along a stone pathway until we reach a pond surrounded by large rocks and some black trees without leaves. There were some trees covered in vibrant red hue while others a vivid green. I look at the space, confused as to why we’re here but the old man says nothing, just grabs for a piece of air and then pulls.

I expect nothing to happen, thinking I’ve fallen into a senile trap but before my very eyes a veil is pulled off and a shimmering mirror is in front of me. I fall back, afraid. My gum falling out as I wonder if I was losing my mind. The mirror was always there I reason…I just hadn’t noticed it. But I had looked at a mirrorless scene just seconds ago. How did this…

“Well, are you going to take a look?” He asks now standing to the side of the mirror as he waits for me to approach.

My throat feels clogged like a store having a clearance event packed with customers. Yet, I don’t run away…I’m a skeptic, I remind myself. A skeptic who’ll try anything once. It’s just a trick of the mind, I can do this, I think as I approach the mirror.

At first, the mirror shows no reflection and I look at Mr. Verity confused.

“You gotta make it an offer,” he explains, gesturing to the mirror with his chin.

“An offer? Like, what to share the password of one of my streaming subscriptions?” I ask with sarcasm.

His expression is neutral. “No.”

I shift a bit uncomfortable. “So what can I offer this reflectionless mirror?”

“If you want to see your true self, you must offer a part of yourself.”

“What like a lock of my hair?” I ask, gesturing to it.

“You’ve got a lot to offer it…” he says, observing my appearance.

I touch my hair, protective over it but then I look at the reflectionless mirror.

“A strand…” I say, plucking it out with a grimace as the pain hits.

Mr. Verity tsks at my offering. “Acceptable but she’s not going to like it.”

“It’s a good enough offer for something I’m pretty sure is a scam,” I say, confrontational.

“Why are you here if you’re so convinced this is a scam?” He counters back.

“I’ll always try anything once,” I reply. “Let’s just get this over with.”

I say this last part as I stare him down. He shakes his head, disapproving of me.

“Go ahead, take a look,” he points his hand to the mirror.

When I look in the mirror, away from his scrutiny, I find a horrific sight. Eyes that looked like mine but the color of a dandelion, skin a blazing red, my mouth surrounded by charred skin that makes it look like I have none, my button nose was gone, and on top of my head, the sharpest curled black horns. I scream so loud that I hear the sound of birds flying away in fear. The bottom of the mirror is ablaze with my reflection and I move back, falling onto the ground. As soon as I fall I check myself over, making sure I don’t look like that wretched sight but I notice something off about my clothes. No longer was I wearing my jacket and an oversized shirt with jeans and boots I wrestled a mom of three for but I was wearing a white billowy dressing gown.

I bolt up, screaming again and look over to where that old man stands.

“What did you do to me?!” I shout as I point an accusing finger at him.

“I didn’t do anything but show you what you asked.”

“Asked? I don’t look like this! This is not my true reflection! Look at me, I’m beautiful!” I scream at him, touching my face.

The skin on my face feels odd…it has a leathery feel to it that wasn’t there before. I notice my nails look sharper and are reddening in hue. Angry, I stomp over at him and lift him by his collar.

“What are you doing to me?!”

“I’m not doing anything. I can’t control your reflection, only you can.”

My eyes narrow. “This isn’t what I look like!”

My clothes change back to what they were before. I take a deep breath of relief but I don’t let the old man go. I glare at him, tightening my hold on his collar and lifting him a bit.

“Show me, my true reflection. Show it to me now!” I demand then drop him to the ground.

He falls with a thud and glares up at me as I take a step back.

“I showed you, your reflection can’t help it if you don’t like what you see.”

“That was not me! That monstrous—“My body shakes, and I’m so furious I can’t even speak.

He gets up, patting himself off and glaring at me. “The mirror never lies.”

I scoff, angry, and desperate to see the real me. “It’s defective.”

“That mirror has worked for centuries!”

“Clearly, not if I looked like that!” I walk back to the mirror and it’s reflectionless once again. “Show me my real appearance, old man, now!”

He glares at me, his next words are delivered in a frigid tone. “Do you have an offer?”

I didn’t want to sacrifice another hair on my head especially if it played another devilish trick on me. Instead, I walked over to the old man again and pulled him over to the mirror with not much strength needed.

“Do it, make it show me who I really am.”

The old man shakes his head, trying to wriggle out of my firm grasp. “I can’t do that without an offer from you.”

I huff, agitated then kick at the mirror with all my might. The old man screams diving down to stop my leg and my feet kick him as he gets in the way. It happened so quickly that I didn’t even realize what I did. In an instant, he stops moving after an attention-grabbing crack noise hits my ear. I freeze, the crack ringing in my ear as I look away from his body and move my head upward. When I look in the mirror, I see it’s reflectionless no more. That devil reflection is back, grinning at me with sadistic pleasure in their dandelion eyes. For the first time, I see the perfect image of me.