The Covered Mirror: A Lost Library Halloween Short by Kate Baray

Author:Kate Baray [Baray, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2016-01-02T23:00:00+00:00

***

The last thing Fiona remembered before falling asleep was that her comforter had never felt so soft and that this was the safest she’d felt since finding the mirror.

The feeling of safety and comfort didn’t last through the night. Fiona’s dreams had been troubled by images of her doppelganger appearing in every mirror she passed. Her dream house had been filled with covered mirrors. Sheets were draped over every reflective surface in her home. When she woke, Fiona had a strong feeling that the antique mirror had been swathed, placed in the corner of Aunt Letty’s attic, and left unpolished over the years for a very good reason. The thing wasn’t safe.

She glanced at the clock. Eleven thirty. She’d slept well past her usual time. No wonder she’d had such unsettling dreams. Ugh. She couldn’t leave that damn mirror at Becky’s house. She needed to get the thing back and pack it up again. She grabbed her second pillow and pulled it over her face. Or she could just stay here in bed forever.

A light knock on her door caught her attention.

“Hey, Libby. I’m awake.” Fiona’s voice came out muffled because she hadn’t moved the pillow.

Libby cracked the door. “I thought I’d head out and grab some Thai takeaway for lunch. Want me to pick up anything for you?”

“Yes, please. My usual.” Fiona still refused to come out from under her pillow. “Thank you.”

The door clicked shut.

Fiona wallowed in indecision for a few more minutes, then an amazing thought occurred to her. It wasn’t Halloween. Today was not Halloween. Maybe her cursed mirror only worked on Halloween. Could it be so simple? Maybe?

The hope was enough to get her out of bed. But on the off chance there was no correlation, and the haunting, possession—whatever—was year round, she’d still have Becky wrap it.

Surprisingly, she found her ankle only mildly tender, and her elbow seemed completely fine. But then she cracked a wide yawn and tears immediately gathered in her eyes. Tenderly, she touched her jaw. “Ow. Ugh. Serves me right, freaking out in a confined space with lots of hard surfaces.”

Bleary-eyed, she made her way to the kitchen. She just needed a cup of coffee. Then she saw the mirror, hanging on the wall where she’d hung it yesterday. Much as she tried to look away, she couldn’t.

The moment her eyes met the mirror, that screaming, violent, angry perversion of herself stepped out of the mirror. Fiona tried to scream—but her mouth opened and no sound emerged. Terror chilled her—froze her. The tiny hairs on her body stood at attention.

It stepped close. She tried—failed—to back away. Locked joints. Stiff muscles. It was so close. Its cold breath chilled her wet cheek. Anger. Disappointment. And then—it touched her. Was inside her. Clawed her. Clawed at that tight spot. That small, clenched ball in her chest. Fiona’s head swam. Surely she was dying.

She was disoriented; the world tilted the wrong way. Cold tile pressed against her hip, her cheek. As Fiona tried to remember how, when she’d fallen to the ground… Suddenly she felt it.

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