THE MIRROR IN THE DOOR

Come

Her mother’s voice sounded so distant, Aliya thought it was a memory.

Her window displayed drizzles from outside riling up the silent night. She crept out of bed, careful not to wake Penny the cat. Grabbing her glasses, she noticed it was 3.15AM and headed to the kitchen for a glass of milk.

Come

The voice rang in her head and through her bones; muffled yet melodic. As she padded through the hallway, she noticed the door to her right standing ajar. Her mother’s library was open.

Come

She didn’t recall hesitating before stepping into the room, where a strange yet comforting darkness beckoned her interest. From across the hall, she heard her father rustle in his bed. As he called out her mother’s name, Aliya quietly shut the door behind her, shifting the pressure in the room, sending a light draft that caused the rocking chair to creak. She bit her lip as she hoped that all the pills in her father’s bedside table would take him back to his slumber.

The silence returned. 

The cringey creaking stirred up old memories that she ignored since her mother disappeared. She was surprised at how much the room had changed. For the past decade, Aliya assumed that the room was left undisturbed, just like her mother’s closet of cargo pants and monthly National Geography magazine subscription. Thinking about it, she realized that the only thing that changed since she was six was the new coat of paint on the house gate. But it was still the same shade of green her mother loved.

Aliya ventured further into the room. She recalled the bookshelves, but not all of the books. Her groggy mind expected capes of dust, but the books were in pristine condition. As she crossed the space, she thought that she would have to ask her father about the vintage portraits that stood leaning against the wall. They, too, seemed new. And so did the scarf on the chair and the glinting wind chime by the window.

Unable to make sense of anything, she turned to leave and was caught off-guard by a hazy figure. Startled, she jumped back. It took her a while to recognize her mangled reflection.

She had never seen a mirror like this. It shone through the shadows casted by the contours of the door, but its glass remained obscure. Her curious fingers groped for its edges in the dark but found none. It was as if the mirror was built into the door. Or perhaps the door was built around the mirror.

Come

She straightened up in front of the mirror. Right where her reflection should have been, was the foggy imprint of a slender hand.

**************************************************************

The glass began to mist up and Aliya unconsciously brought her palm up to wipe it. Her hand was inches away from the mirror when distorted fingers caught hers and yanked her through.

On the other side. The sensations were unbearable, and the wind was loud. The heavy rain that leaked through the roof of the cottage seemed to be the same rain in her world. Her world.

Although her bearings were not settled yet, her mental compass told her she was elsewhere. Well, that and the antique setting. Her mind promptly registered the rustic wooden furniture bathed in golden gaslight. The setting reminded her of something from the Renaissance fair.

“Who are you?”

Whoever it was that said that was not friendly. The shadows in the corner of the room shifted and merged like black smoke. Enticed by the scene before her, Aliya watched as a spindly creature revealed itself. Its skin, she thought, looked like the night had lent the creature its shade.

Stumbling backward, she saw the fire spread before hearing the lamp shatter. The dark beast yowled and screeched as its tendrils caught on fire. Cries and wailings were pouring out of each and every dark coil as if each limb was an entity of its own but suffered in solidarity.

Come

With a high squeal, the dark vines rushed towards her. Screaming, she turned to the mirror. The hem of her pajama pants caught on something and she met the hard floor, face first. The mere impact winded her completely, but above her, she could see the fiery tongues wriggling furiously.

As she tried to escape on her elbows, she felt a coolness spread up her leg. She looked back and saw dark shadows slowly making their way under the fabric covering her left leg. The vines above her descended with fury and twisted themselves around her midsection. With a wail, they jerked her upwards. She had no time to react as her body came down.

Without thinking far ahead, she reached out on instinct. Her fingertips brushed against the cool glass.

**************************************************************

Her ears rang from the symphony of howls.

When she came to it, she was back in her bed. Penny was awake and her feline head was tilted as she meowed at Aliya.

Aliya took off her glasses and slumped back into bed. The tips of her fingers were still tingling and she could feel the phantom reminder of the monster’s grip on her body. She turned onto her side and tucked her hands beneath her cold pillow. Her head pounded against the soft pillow, like a caged animal. In vain, she attempted to interpret her dream; trying to bridge her subconscious mind and her conscious reality.

Behind her full glass of milk, her clock told her it was 3.25AM. Sleep clung to her eyes. She shifted again, this time to relieve the dull ache on her forearms. 

As she thought about her dream, she felt Penny forcing her furry head up her pant leg. Aliya picked Penny up and hugged her until the cat wanted to get away from her. As she watched the kitten return to its shoebox, she felt something weighing down her leg.

Giving herself the benefit of the doubt, Aliya pulled up the green flannel. At that moment, Aliya could not tell if she was shivering from the cold air that blew at the sweat on the nape of her neck.

Or if she was shaking because her leg bore the mark from her nightmare.