Grave Reflections

"Did we really have to bring this stupid thing?" Martin whined with a sigh of pure suffering. "At least tell me what we're doing with it?"

Peter smiled to himself; he'd managed to bully the younger boy into coming with him on this clandestine adventure. If their mother found them out of their beds, he was sure he'd never be able to convince him of anything ever again-but it would be worth it.

Hopefully.

Sarah could have been lying about it all-she'd been acting pretty strange since her family had come back from their trip. More forceful, meaner maybe-her parents had been sniping at each other last night as well; it might have meant they were finally going through with the often threatened divorce.

Sarah would be happy, at least.

"Look, man, just help me get it over the fence, and I'll tell you, okay?" Peter nudged his brother with his shoulder, "Yeah?"

Martin scrunched his face up before letting out another big sigh.

"Fine," He agreed belatedly and stooped to help pick up the other end of the old mirror once more. "We better not get eaten by something.”

"Good one, dummy." Peter rolled his eyes, and they continued carrying their burden towards the fenced-off cemetery. "What would be big enough to eat us in town anyway?"

“I don’t know!” Martin huffed, “Wolves? A bear, maybe?”

“Have you ever seen either of those things in your entire life?” Peter said pointedly, almost stumbling as they reached the spike tipped fence.

Martin mumbled out a no, distracted by the tall fence.

“Alright, we need to slide the mirror through the gap in the bars-Martin, put your end down, come over here that's it, slide it through-don’t let it go!” Peter squawked, jamming his arm through the bars and snagging the top of the mirror’s frame. “Are you an idiot or something? What do you think mom would do if we came back with a broken mirror?”

“Shut up!” Martin snapped waspishly, “I didn’t mean to. I slipped.”

Peter turned it back to lean against the other side of the fence with a sigh of relief.

“Now what, genius? How do we get over?” Martin said morosely, “I can’t climb up on my own; it’s too high.”

“I can,” Peter said firmly, “I’ll help you up first, okay? Just watch out for the spiky bits.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Martin whined, climbing onto his brother's shoulders.

The smaller boy used the bars to steady himself before lifting his feet onto Peter’s shoulders. Peter grunted and almost tipped sideways before Martin scrambled up onto the stone gatepost.

He was only there for a second or two before he hopped off the post and out of sight.

“You good?” Peter asked quickly.

“I’m good,” Martin called back, “Hurry up, it’s dark over here.”

“Coming!” Peter called.

He used the railings in front of him to reach the cross pole near the top and then hung for a moment before managing to snag his foot on top of the gatepost. He struggled up onto the flat part and paused for a moment to catch his breath.

“That was a little bit harder than I thought It would be,” Peter admitted, staring down at his brother.

“What would you have done if you couldn’t climb up on your own?” Martin asked curiously.

“Left you here, told mum you stole the mirror and ran off yelling about the graveyard,” Peter snickered as he hopped down onto the grass.

“Bastard!” Martin yelped, punching him in the arm.

“Don’t swear, idiot.” Peter chastised, annoyed at the solid hit.

Peter rubbed the spot for a moment, looking around.

It really was dark here; the thick canopy above the trees was blocking out the moonlight, leaving them mostly in shadow. He could also see a much easier way to climb back over-there was a series of garden ledges on this side of the fence, almost like steps all the way up, at least he wouldn’t have to get stomped on again.

The mirror remained precariously perched against the fence, perfectly unharmed.

That was all that mattered; if Sarah was just making things up, then it was fine-nothing more than a night of adventure and some wasted effort. If they broke the mirror, though, that night of adventure would have ended with an ass-whooping the likes of which neither of the brothers wanted to see.

“Come on then, help me carry it,” Peter demanded, picking up his end.

Martin muttered a string of mean words under his breath, but eventually, he got his hands under the other side and lifted it up. The two carefully carried it through the trees, towards where the moonlight was just peeking through the gaps between the trunks.

It was bright enough to see the rest of the graveyard without straining, and the full moon hung low in the sky, strangely large. Big grey headstones dotted the grass, some of which were taller than either of them. They varied in shape, and some had the look of stone that was much older than the rest.

“What are we doing?” Martin demanded again, “Why do we need the mirror?”

Peter thought about making his brother wait a bit longer just to piss him off before he shook his head.

“Know how Sarah and her folks went away for a bit?” Peter prompted.

“Of course I remember, they were over yesterday.” Martin huffed, “Mom wouldn’t tell us anything.”

“Sarah’s grandma died,” Peter revealed, “I heard Charlie telling mom about it last night.”

“Okay,” Martain said curiously. “What else?”

“Charlie said the funeral was really weird, and Elise-that was the grandma’s name-had organized it all before she died,” Peter said conspiratorily.

“Why was it weird?” Martin said, frowning.

“The funeral happened at night-they usually happen during the day, dummy,” Peter said quickly before his brother's mouth was even half-open.

“Shut up.” Martin huffed, “Keep going.”

Pick one, idiot, Peter thought but didn’t say.

“So it happened at night, and there was a bunch of mirrors set up all around where they buried her. Then they made the person who reads the stuff out say a strange sentence.” Peter said, amazed, “How weird is that?”

“If it’s so weird then why are we doing the exact same thing, bastard?” Martin said triumphantly.

“Don’t swear!” Peter demanded and socked him in the gut.

Martin stumbled back with a cry and glared at his brother.

“Sarah said that everyone there was acting really funny afterward,” Peter said proudly; that was a good hit. “I tried to get her to explain it better, but she just kept on telling me to try it out myself.”

Martin glared at him for a moment longer before smirking.

“This is stupid,” Martin declared viciously, “You can carry the mirror back by yourself, bastard! See you at home!”

Peter watched as his brother ran away, completely dumbfounded, and by the time he’d thought of the appropriate response, Martin had disappeared into the trees.

“Bastard,” Peter cursed heatedly. “Just you wait.”

The mirror sat innocently on the grass, and he moved towards it. He wrestled the thing up and corner-walked it over to the nearest headstone to lean against before he plopped down in front of it with an aggrieved sigh.

“I’m going to be in so much trouble when I get home,” Peter sighed.

There was no way he was getting the mirror all the way back on his own, and his rat of a brother would absolutely wake his mom up just to get him in trouble. He was as good as busted; he could almost smell the leather of the belt already.

The moon disappeared behind the clouds for a moment, and the graveyard was dark once more. He could just make out his own eyes on the surface of the mirror if he squinted.

 He might as well try it out while he was here.

“Those who bring a mirror to a graveyard will see a most grave reflection,” Peter recited the silly sentence, feeling a bit embarrassed to say it out loud.

He leaned forward to squint at the mirror in the dark but couldn’t see a thing, and then the moon reappeared, showing himself sitting on the grass in front of a mirror.

“Nothing, huh?” Peter sighed and then blinked as his reflection stood up. “What?”

Peter-the one reflected in the mirror-clenched his fingers together a few times before smiling down at him.

“How are you doing that?” Peter asked, amazed.

The reflection gave him a little wave before it turned and walked out of view.

“Hey, come back!” Peter yelped, standing up and knocking on the surface of the mirror. “I just want to talk.”

Peter waited for a minute, but the reflection didn’t come back.

He couldn’t believe that Sarah had been telling the truth; he hadn’t really believed her-he had only wanted to scare his brother a bit. He’d have to go find Martin and bring him back; if he was lucky, his brother might have gotten scared of walking home alone and waited for him.

Peter turned towards the tree line and paused.

He couldn’t see anything, he looked up at the sky, and the moon was gone again-actually it was much darker than it had been earlier. He couldn’t even see the outline of the headstones or the clouds in the sky; even the grass was pitch dark.

Strangely enough, he could see the mirror perfectly.

Peter stepped back towards the mirror and frowned before looking around again. He could see perfectly fine inside the mirror’s reflection, but nothing out here; he turned his head as something moved behind him in the dark.

Peter swallowed.