The Children in the Mirror

A Paranormal Story by R. Samuel Braden

They say the eyes are the window of the soul, but what happens if that window becomes a door?

A few years back, when I was just a kid, my family moved into a big old house in the country. It was quiet and remote, the perfect place for my dad to do his studying. The grounds were beautiful, covered in many huge and ancient trees. It was like something out of a storybook, well, so I thought.

Our first couple of nights in the house were uneventful. We hadn't even unpacked yet. The big house was exciting and mysterious, someplace new to explore and have all sorts of fun. It was a bit spooky at night, but that's to be expected in a place like that. I wasn't scared really, though I did keep my slingshot in my sleeping bag. You know, just in case.

On the third night, however, was when things started happening. We'd been busy unpacking the whole day and by the time the sun went down on that third night we had a lot of our stuff up around the house. Well I was on my way to the bathroom, and I passed a big old mirror my mom had set up in the hall. It was nothing out of the ordinary. I walked by, and so did my reflection. But something made me stop and do a double take. Backing up, I looked into the mirror, gazing at myself behind the glass. Something was wrong. There was a look of surprise on my reflection's face, almost as if I did not expect to see myself, which is of course ridiculous. Stranger still though, I felt a wave of anger overcome me as I saw myself, though I couldn't tell why. I stared at the thing for several minutes, trying to make sense of it, and looking to see what else might have caught my attention, but I couldn't tell. Finally, I was just turning to head on to the bathroom when I saw it again: a little flicker of movement behind me in the corner. Whirling around I looked, but there was nothing there.

Puzzled, I turned back to the mirror. There, by the wall, half hidden behind my reflection was a girl. She was short, skinny and had long locks of golden hair. From her appearance I guessed she was about eight years old. Whirling around again I looked where she was standing, but she wasn't there. This was weird, very weird. I turned back to the mirror, sure enough she was still behind my reflection, but whenever I turned around I couldn't see her. She just stood there, looking at me with sad eyes, and I couldn't help but feel she was just a reflection, an afterimage of someone who had once been, but was no longer, like a photograph of your great grandmother when she was a child.

I was very disturbed by this event, but of course I dared not tell my parents. They'd either think I was playing one of my silly games, or if they actually did believe me then they'd probably have me examined. I don't know about you, but doctor's offices give me the creeps, so I kept quiet on the whole thing. But that didn't stop me from passing by that mirror again, looking for any sign of the strange girl. I was an insatiably curious boy, and spooky or not, something like this deserved further investigation. And so it was that on our fourth night in that house I passed the mirror again and once more saw the mysterious girl. She was half hidden behind my reflection, as if using me for protection, like a child will sometimes hide behind her mother's skirt when talking to strangers. Looking down then I noticed something even stranger. The girl was holding my hand in the reflection, as if she knew me, but I did not know her. Then my reflection did something completely of its own accord. He opened his mouth as if he was trying to say something. I felt a scowl creep across my own face, though I didn't know why. It was like watching a video of yourself, but you can't remember what it is you're doing. It really unnerved me though that my reflection should decide to act on his own. This was too much! I turned and bolted down the hallway spooked out of my wits. Needless to say I didn't sleep well that night.

The next day I avoided the mirror, yes it was still a curious thing I wanted to investigate, but since I saw myself do something I wasn't even doing it made me very leery of going near that thing again. I just took it easy around the house, helping with the last of the unpacking, and spending my time getting my new bedroom in order. I did not go near the mirror.

On the night of the sixth day though, I found myself unavoidably drawn to the mirror once more. It had been raining outside, and after spending the whole day indoors my curiosity had gotten the better of me once again. And so it was that at 9 o'clock that night, I stood in the empty hallway staring into the mirror. Outside the rain beat against the window at the end of the hall, reflecting in its own way the pounding of my heart. As I stared into the mirror I saw the girl peek out from behind me again. But she wasn't smiling now. Her face was red, and her eyes puffy. She'd been crying. I opened my mouth, wanting to say something to her, but then I stopped. How could I? She's just a reflection after all, how can I talk to someone who's not really here? Then I looked up at my own face in the mirror and saw a strange sadness reflected there in my eyes. My own reflection had been crying too, perhaps. I wondered what could bother them both so much. Stepping closer I tried to look deeper into the mirror to see if there was anything else going on in there.

Then something stranger still caught my attention. I stood now at an angle to the mirror and looked down the reflected hall. The window at the end of the hall in the mirror was clear, and it was dry. Frowning I looked at the window in my own hall, it was soaked from the rain. Then I looked back into the mirror. The window there was dry. This was mind boggling. I felt a chill run down my back and stepped away from the mirror. It was like somehow, the mirror was a different world altogether. Somehow I was gazing into a different reality...

I wanted to run from the mirror, go back up and hide in my room, but something kept me rooted to the spot. All the fear pounding through me could not convince my legs to move. Somehow this mirror was a window to another reality, and the me in that reflection was not me at all. It was eerie, looking at myself, knowing that the mind behind those familiar eyes was actually a stranger. It took all my concentration, but I willed myself to look away, to look at reality and not that unnatural reflection. Taking a deep breath to calm myself I looked around at the elegant beauty of the old house. Suddenly there was a crash and I felt the floor shake. Catching my breath I turned back to look at the mirror. That was a mistake. I shouldn't have looked back, not at all. Too late now though. Too late for everything.

Across the mirror there was a crack, spreading out in several directions from an impact spot. My eyes were drawn to the crack, and as I looked a sudden flashback captured my mind. I was sitting on a hill by some trees. It was a beautiful and calm summer day. There was someone with me. I turned to look, and it was the girl. She sat beside me, giggling about something. A feeling of happiness overcame me and I smiled. Then the image faded and I was back in the hallway again, staring into the mirror that bridged reality. It was then that I noticed my reflection moving, raising his hand. And in his hand was a hammer. I felt my heart skip a beat as he raised the hammer. I wanted to call out for him to stop, but words failed me. I could only watch in horror as he brought it down on the glass with a resounding crack.

The entire house shook around me, and I was nearly thrown from my feet. At the end of the hall the window shattered, letting in a torrent of rain. I felt the cold air touch my face, and it brought me to my senses. Looking back at the mirror once more I saw the damage was now extensive. The crack split the mirror in half, and like tendrils reaching out the crack spread out across the glass. As I looked at it another flashback hit me, this one more powerful than the last. I was standing in the kitchen of our old house, my hands clenched around the girl's neck. She was choking, terror in her eyes. I was angry, so very angry. She had done something. She had gone into my room, opened my strong box and gone through my personal things. Oh why were sisters such bothersome creatures!? I'd teach her to snoop where she didn't belong! I'd....

Snapping out of it I staggered back and hit the wall behind me, realizing that my hands had been clenched into fists. That was it, that girl in the mirror. She was my sister. Something had happened though, something to make me angry at her and hurt her. Now she was locked in an enchanted mirror and I stood alone in this strange house, the rain blowing in from the broken window, and a feeling of great loss taking over my soul.

Another crash came from the mirror, and again the entire house trembled. My mirror self had struck the glass once more with his hammer, and now the image was almost entirely obscured. The crack covered nearly the entire mirror, and as I gazed at it, one more flashback struck me, this one with such force I felt myself falling to the floor but could do nothing to stop it as the memory overcame me.

I was standing in the living room of our old house, staring at a mirror. This mirror in fact! Glancing down to my side I saw my sister standing there, her neck was bandaged, but she seemed alright. She held my hand, a look of encouragement on her face. Taking a deep breath, I turned to the mirror and gazed into the eyes of my reflection, my eyes, which were creased in a frown. And as I watched, in the memory I reached up and gripped the edges of the frame, gazing deep as if into my own soul and it was like a door had opened. The eyes in the reflection became angry, flashing with rage as my emotions poured into the mirror. Then I felt a curious sense of relief, as if a great burden had just been lifted from me, and the feeling of connection to it diminished, like the door was closing again. My reflection gnashed his teeth at me one last time, then faded to normal, and there I stood, hand in hand with my sister. I felt happy, unburdened, free. I glanced down at her and smiled, and she smiled back, then I looked back at the mirror. It was good, all was normal now. But as the flashback began to fade, my reflection winked at me, as if to say it wasn't quite over.

Opening my eyes, the memory over once more, I looked up at the horrid mirror on the wall. The floor around me was soaked now from rainwater pouring in, and I couldn't help but wonder why my parents hadn't come down to see what was going on. Then I realized: they couldn't. I was dizzy, and it was a struggle to get to my feet, but now I understood what was going on. Now I knew what was happening. My survival instincts screamed at me to do something. But what could I do? My mirror self was destroying the only link between us. I looked down at my hands one more time, the hands that had almost killed my sister, and I sighed. It was right. This was how it should end.

Looking at the last undamaged section of the mirror, I searched for anything I could see in it. A pair of eyes appeared before me: my sister. She stood there, tears on her cheeks, and as she cried the rain outside poured. I knew she was causing the rain, because my world wasn't real. My world was the one in the mirror. It wasn't my mirror self that was the evil one, it was me. I was the part of my real self's heart that had reacted in rage and tried to hurt my sister. I was the part that had been locked away in the mirror. And that was why my parents couldn't come to me. They weren't real, the ones here that I thought I knew were just reflections of my real parents, safely with me and my sister on the other side. I knew it now. And as I watched, my real self on the other side swung the hammer one last time, shattering the mirror into fragments. And as it broke, the house shattered around me, the rain poured in, and I was swept away into darkness. But I took comfort as the last of my reality was swept away, comfort in the fact that the final look in my sister's eyes was one of forgiveness.