Mirror of Sins

(TW: blood, violence, war)

Mirror, mirror on the wall. Who's the purest of them all? Would I die a peaceful death, or will I atone for my sins in hell’s wrath?

It was a drizzly November evening, the cold winds like shards of glass piercing my face. The sky had turned a dark shade of blue, and was blanketed with light clouds. The street lamps were aglow, like warm fires in the cold of night. I passed by an antiques store, and something caught my eye. There, dazzling in the golden lights, was a strange-looking mirror. It was diamond shaped, with an exquisite jeweled rim, adorned with rubies and amethysts. A part of me suddenly had this desire for it. I walked into the store, greeted with the ding of a bell, and went to the display case. Encased in glass, the mirror stood, alluring and glittering. I looked around the rest of the antique shop to see if anyone was there. Amongst the multiple shelves, no one was there. I turned back to the case and carefully opened it. Delicately, I take the mirror in my hands, carefully tracing the rim. I stare into my reflection, and suddenly it cracks from the center. My face is split into 13 parts, and my reflection is horrifying. In the mirror, my face is covered in blood. One of my eyes is gone, and bloodied foam is spewing from my mouth. My one remaining eye was crying crimson, and my skin had turned a violent shade of blue. I jump at the image, almost dropping the mirror in the process.

What the hell did I just see?

"Ah, interested in that mirror, dear?" I heard an old squeaky voice ask. I whip my head around to find a wrinkled old lady dressed in a dark green dress. "It's $250."

"Um... do you know why it's cursed?"

"Cursed? It's just a normal mirror. You kids and your conspiracies." She smiled at me and continued her way through the shop. I thought about what she said about the price. As much as it is terrifying to look into the mirror, I kind of want to know more.

"Do you take cash or credit?"

-----

I sat in the partial darkness of my room, facing opposite the table the mirror was lying on. I thought about the vision I saw in the cracks of the glass. What could this mean? Why is it showing a zombie version of myself? Why does it crack? Why is it not a normal mirror? Why, why why? I was stumped. The lady at the antique shop thought I was joking --that I was cuckoo perhaps. However, it seemed as if she knew something about it. Maybe she does? 

The door opens with a creak, and my… how do I put this, um, significant other, walks into the room. She smiles at me, her black hair neat and tidy in intricate braids, and her tanned skin healthy and smooth. 

“Hey,” she says, “What are you doing?” 

“Contemplating, wondering.” I try my hardest to put on a smile so she doesn’t worry about me. 

“As per usual. Perks of dating a history major, I guess.” She looks at the table and notices the mirror. “OOOOH! It’s so pretty!” She walks over to the wooden table and picks up the mirror.

“Wait! Don’t-” I spring out of my seat in a feeble attempt to stop her, but sure enough, she glanced into the mirror and she grinned at her reflection. 

“Don’t what? It's just a mirror. I thought you liked mirrors.” She continued to admire her reflection, while I stood there bamboozled. Does she not see it? Did she not witness the horrors within? Maybe I’m going mad but something’s definitely wrong. My significant other puts down the mirror and walks out of the room, leaving me with my own thoughts. 

“Maybe I am going crazy,” I muttered to myself. I get up from my chair and walk out of the room as well. I would’ve stolen one last glance at the mirror, but I fear for the horrifying picture it will reflect. I make my way to the bathroom, switching on the lights to illuminate yet another mirror. Taking up most of the wall space, the bathroom mirror was much larger than the one I bought. Thank goodness it wasn’t cursed. I turn on the faucet and let the cold water numb my hands for a few seconds before I splash it on my face. I look up at my reflection in the mirror. 

I jumped back at what I saw.

Surrounding me were these heinous zombies. Empty husks of their former selves, all seemingly dead from different causes. One had a sword through his head, another frothing at the mouth, and another suffocating by a rope tied around her neck. All 13 of them were covered in crimson rivers, missing one organ or another. The looks on their faces were ones of vengeance, as if one single person did all of them wrong. The one with the sword through his head drew the blade from his cranium, spewing more and more blood, and swung for my neck. I screamed at the image, falling back so hard that I hit my head against the bathroom wall. I hyperventilate as I feel tears coming down my face. I hear my significant other slam the door open, her green eyes frightened and anxious. 

“What happened?!” she exclaims, “Are you all right?!” 

“I-I-I saw,” I stuttered and sobbed, “I saw-” 

“You saw what?” 

“I-I don’t-” I couldn’t stop shuddering and hyperventilating. 

My significant other took a hold of my hand and pulled me up on my feet. “You need to get some sleep.” 

------- 

The next day, in the cold, cloudy, November dreariness, I dashed towards the antique store where I bought the mirror. Careful not to drop it, I clutch the mirror against the right side of my chest, feeling the studded rim on my skin. I came to stop once I saw the golden lights of the antique shop, a glimmering beacon in the dreary rain. I walk inside, closing the door behind me. Again, like last night, there was no one in the shop that I could see. However, on the other side of all the shelves stuffed with ancient toys and whatnot, there was a doorway with curtains hanging from the ceiling. Maybe that’s where the old lady is right now. My stride starts going again, heading towards the doorway. Just as I was about to walk through an aisle of shelves, the curtains opened and there she was. Small, draped in green, looking like a white raisin. 

“Oh, it’s you again.” She gave a small wave. “Enjoying that mirror you bought?” 

“Oh, cut the crap. I know that you know something about this mirror.” I held it up for the old lady to take a glimpse at. 

“You still think it’s cursed?” she giggled. 

I felt my anger and fury swirl inside me, “Listen, don’t you play coy with me, or I swear I’ll run a blade through-” I stopped and realized what I’ve just said. Now I remember. Now I know why. I thought I could leave that past behind, that I could avoid paying for my sins. The bloodied flowers that bloomed beneath my feet. I thought I could forget. I thought I could start over. I guess not.  

“Have you ever been told about the great war that took place hundreds of years ago in this very city?” the old lady asked. 

“Yes, of course. There was a great feud between the ruler of our kingdom and the Crimson Empire, a kingdom full of bloodthirsty and sadistic soldiers. The Empire wanted to take our kingdom for their own, and they happily murdered more than thousands of people, some in pleasure. The ways people were killed…” 

The old lady smiled, “Yes, and that mirror you’re holding was infused with magic by a witch, cursing the ones who glanced at their reflection to see themselves and all the victims they sadistically claimed - and their ultimate fate. It terrified the soldiers of the Empire - scared them away.” 

“You are that witch,” I stated. I don’t know what I was thinking when I said that, but it seems believable. 

“You catch on quick, boy. That day, when you picked up the mirror, you asked me why it was cursed. That’s when I knew-” 

“That I was one of them,” I answered. I killed thirteen people exactly, all in crafty and gruesome ways. My favourite was that one guy I drove a sword through the head of. It was a lengthy, double edged sword, simplistic but effective. I enjoyed driving it through his head, that’s what makes him my favourite victim. Although, ‘favourite’ may not describe him so well now. 

“May I ask, how did you manage to stay alive for these hundreds of years since the war?” the old lady tilted her head in curiosity. 

“I-I,” I stuttered, “I stumbled upon an immortality potion.” After the war, when the Empire lost, I felt remorseful. Before that, I didn't care who I killed. I just spilled blood again and again. When the war was over, I realized that maybe, just maybe, I could change. Start over. In the midst of battle, I walked in a forest devoid of light and covered with blood. In the darkness, I saw a small translucent flask with glowing golden liquid. I picked it up, thinking if I took the potion, I could live to the point where I can start over again, make a new life for myself. No one will remember my past, myself included. They wouldn’t know I was a part of the Empire. I really thought that I could run away from my sins, but one way or another, I would have to pay my dues. 

“An immortality potion,” the old lady repeated, “Tch, tch. I think it’s time you atone for your sins. Tell me boy, how did you die when you looked into the mirror for the first time?” 

I perk up at her question, “Um, I… I was poisoned, suffocated, and one of my eyes was gouged out. Is that truly how I’m going to die?” 

The old lady smiled at me once more. 

Guess you can’t run from your past. At one point or another, we would all have to atone for our sins. Doesn’t matter how or when, it only matters that we pay the price. It’s not that anyone deserves to die. It’s that we all have dues to pay, sins to atone for. We’re all have to accept our fate 

And I’m ready to accept mine.