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CONTEST ENDED – Thank you for submitting your stories!

#225: Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

From Narcissus falling in love with his own reflection to the speaking mirror in Snow White, mirror images have always been a popular motif in literature, commonly used to introduce questions of identity or self-consciousness. But they can also be used to create a split between reality and illusion: is what we see really the truth, or are our eyes — or indeed minds — playing tricks on us? Taken one step further, one might even argue that texts themselves are a reflection of their author and the world they inhabit.


This week’s prompts invite you to reflect (pardon the pun) on topics of self-image, twisted realities, and outer appearance that may or may not capture what’s going on beneath the surface.

This week's prompts

Start your story with someone buying a cursed — or perhaps blessed —mirror from an antiques store.

Fantasy – 74 stories

Write a story about someone trying to paint (or otherwise create) a self-portrait.

Character – 66 stories

Write a story about someone coming across their doppelganger.

Mystery – 48 stories

Write a story about a character who one day notices that their reflection has taken on a life of its own.

Fantasy – 50 stories

Set your story in a house of mirrors and make the atmosphere increasingly eerie.

Horror – 42 stories

Stories

“He Speaks For Me” by Danni D

Submitted to Contest #225

My red paints mimic blood on the wooden floor. It finds its way near the fallen paint brushes that lay still next to the empty easel, the canvas now feet away from it.Looking at the self portrait makes me ashamed in an empty room and I no longer feel worthy of my spilled and wasted turquoise, copper red, or midnight blue.A quiet room filled with chaos is all I’m left with and perhaps it’s the fumes of the paints getting to me but I can’t fall down and cry so instead I drop down to my knees with a thud and burst out into laughter instead.Two ...

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“Blue Strokes and Broken Shelves” by Madeline Honig

Submitted to Contest #225

“Why does my nose look crooked?  Is my nose that crooked in real life?  Or can I not paint?  Or both?  Do I have a crooked nose and I can’t paint?  I should just kill myself now.”  Flora looked at the painted canvas in front of her, moving her head side to side as though the nose would look better at a different angle. “Relax.  It’s fine.  You need a break.  You have been at this all morning.” Ollie said.  He closed the newspaper in his lap, leaving a thumb on the article he was reading so ...

1 comment 1
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“The Master's Piece” by Dhruv Srivastava

Submitted to Contest #225

On my life I swore to do this, and on my life shall it be done… no matter the cost.  My butler came into my chamber today.  “You have not eaten in three days, sir,” said he with a trace of British pompousness behind his lackluster concern, “and I can see the jug of water just filled yesterday is gathering dust. The only change in its liquid level seems to be of evaporation.”  “I’m fine, David,” I replied crossly. My left hand was gracefully tracing the outlines of a familiar shape on the canvas before me. My other hand was ...

5 comments 5
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“The Bolverases” by John Jenkins

Submitted to Contest #225

“No way, man,” said Shempert. “This isn’t working.” Shempert had been slaving for months, years almost, trying to finish his self-portrait. He’d tried and given up a dozen times, at least, never knowing how close he came to realizing his dream. “What’s blocking me?” said Shempert. “What’s missing? I’ve been doing this forever.” Shempert picked up a cup of what he assumed was water and began to drink. Paint thinner again. He spit it out. For a while, he just stood there and looked at the picture. “I can’t figure you out. What is it? What is...

2 comments 2
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“Taking Back My Self” by Hunner Ricketts

Submitted to Contest #225

**Disclaimer: deals with the distribution of sexual content without consent.This shouldn't be difficult.I'm making it more complicated than it is. I can paint the galaxy just off a glimpse. I can recreate a moment in time with a few brushstrokes and the right palette. Give me charcoal and thirty minutes, and I could sketch anyone, anywhere, just from a glance.Yet my canvas is still as untouched as it comes. An expanse of white so stark it mocks me.Maybe I should turn in the blank canvas. I bet I could convince Madame Dubois it's some philoso...

2 comments 2
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“The Self-Portrait of Andre Duvall” by Joseph Cillo Jr

Submitted to Contest #225

The portrait of Catherine Derosiers, though perfectly meeting her request, was not quite art, and that irked me. The work captured her innocence and would look fine hanging in her father’s living room, but something was missing. Something important. It needed a dagger.What an odd thought. I turned in my bed, but I could not shake the idea. A dagger? What about Catherine would warrant such an addition? But it had to be. My inner artist’s voice demanded it. It was the difference between a painting and a work ...

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“Up and coming” by S Fevre

Submitted to Contest #225

Adalia looks at her reflection on the laptop screen. Her dark eyes stare back at her, fused with the bear mother on the screensaver. That bear mother brings her strength every time. Her survival skills, her maternal power, her ability to get away from it all and hibernate through the depths of winter. This is her role model, her mentor, her nurturing mother (almae matres).She curls her long thick hair around her index finger and feels the soft strands strengthen as she pulls at them. She then settles her gaze on the cup of dark hot choc...

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“Brushstrokes of Identity: A Portrait Beyond the Scar” by Leilaine Mori

Submitted to Contest #225

A shattered mirror. It was through it the last time he saw his image. In his parents’ house. While they were still alive. He lost their parents when he was 5. His father had a discussion with his mother, and stabbed her, and after this, he killed himself. But this was long time ago. Different than what everyone expected, he considered himself happy, or as happy as any person, with the ups and downs, of course. When he was young, he used to wake up during the dawn pondering about how it would be his life if they were alive, or if he had paren...

1 comment 1
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“Altered” by C.E. Simon

Submitted to Contest #225

TRIGGER WARNING: Contains language, sexual themes, objectification/sexualization of women, stalking. When I woke up, the painting was destroyed. The face, distorted—mutated, uneven, scars, defects—as if it was melting down the canvas. My face. This was not the self-portrait I painted. I did not vandalize this, but I am going to find out who did. # Being an artist isn’t enough anymore. Maybe it never really was. Everyone gets caught up in “fandom” and stops making decisions for themselves. It’s like with wine: in a blind test taste—wit...

2 comments 2
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“The Doppelganger” by Don Lubov

Submitted to Contest #225

The Doppelgangers Megan awakes to the sound of her door being closed. When she looks out, the hall is empty. Something’s wrong. Even the attendants shouldn’t be here. No one should be roaming the halls at this time of night. Who’s closing doors this late? She hurries into her clothes, slips silently out of her room, and, with her shoes in her hand, tip-toes down the stairs. A full moon floods the hallway and the dark, shiny, wide-planked floors with a cold, blue-white light. In her socks, Megan glides smoothly across the floor, up to...

5 comments 5
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“Who was the One?” by Julie Grenness

Submitted to Contest #225

It was late one Saturday afternoon, after the exams. The four future conquistadors were having a kickback time. Beers were flowing, all they could afford. The pizza delivery was timely, soon the 'boys' were enjoying a televised race meeting, where they were all sticking to the rails. They were all on a tight student budget. So, Tomasio, Brent, Oscar and Marty were placing imaginary bets. It was all contributing to their lifestyle, imagining how much they won on each race. It made sense to them, okay? As yet, love's young fling had not won t...

2 comments 2
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“Inexplicable” by J. I. MumfoRD

Submitted to Contest #225

Nobody on the ground was hurt in the crash, Thames Valley Police said, but the extent of the pilot’s injuries is unknown. *** My wife saw him first. She’d heard my stories, even liked the song I played for her. Lyn pushed me forward. “You’ve met him already. Just say hello,” she said. “I can see the resemblance. Though you’re wider than him. And he’s better looking.” She made a show of wiggling her eyebrows. “Ask him if he’s single. I might trade up.” “Thanks.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ve got some shopping to do for Wren…and you.” With a quick ...

11 comments 11
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“The Identity Gamble” by JR Lane

Submitted to Contest #225

Hunter settled into the plush, first-class seat. He looked down at his board shorts and flip flops. For once, he felt liberated. Not because he ditched the suit and tie, but because he actually was calling the shots now. He slid his hand into his laptop bag and fiddled with the small electronic device. What the hell have I done? There was no turning back now. The twin Rolls Royce engines roared and the Airbus 350 ascended skyward. He let his head melt into the headrest and replayed the last six hours.His phone buzzed at exactly 3:4...

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“Metamorphoses” by Arthur An

Submitted to Contest #225

This story can also be enjoyed as a parallel plot to my previous submission The Night Gathering. *********Maurice Kahlo looked down at the dead body of Maurice Kahlo.Approaching behind him was the pitter patter of Sy Green running breathlessly on the pavement of the one of New Orleans’ back alleys, which are perennially wet and sticky from rain, flood, spelled beer, and bodily fluids. Sy looked down, up, and then down again. “What the fuck Mo?”“My brother.” Kahlo uttered, more to the corpse then to Green. “Will this be th...

4 comments 4
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“Anna” by D Bostar

Submitted to Contest #225

Elizabeth O’Connor was someone that everyone in Rosewood just loved.  She was a perky, thirty-two-year-old bank teller and mom to a set of eight-year-old twin boys named Ethan and Jared.  She and the boys’ father, Rick, a well-respected deputy of their small town in Iowa, had married straight out of high school.  They were known by the locals for being very much in love, and for being wonderful parents to their adventurous little boys.  Most of the residents of Rosewood knew, and admired the O’Connors, as they were deeply...

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$250

Prize money

280

Contest entries

106

Stories

Ended on 23:59 - Nov 24, 2023 EST

Won by Olivier Breuleux 🏆

Title: The Day Alfred Googled Himself

Submissions must be between 1,000 - 3,000 words and will be approved and published on Reedsy Prompts within 7 days of the contest closing.

Read the full terms & conditions or check out the FAQ if you have any questions!

Prompts | Big Blue Hand | 2024-11

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