Reflections

The first time she noticed it, she was convinced she was seeing things. Overtired, overworked, and desiring an escape from a rather tedious reality, she had clearly wanted a moment to exist elsewhere where that tediousness was nothing but a not so fond memory. It was silly and frivolous and made no sense whatsoever. 

She bought it anyway.

The mirror was small with a metal frame etched with a design long faded by far too many fingertips. It was oval and slightly tarnished and fit perfectly within the curve of her palm. It cost fifteen of the twenty dollars she had allotted herself to spend at the little fair full of crafts and found objects, but the seller had thrown in an embroidered velvet pouch for free.  Lucy decided it was worth the cost for the moment of happiness it brought her, ridiculous or no.

It was small enough to fit in her purse which meant it was small enough for her to take with to work or wherever she fancied. The weight of it soon became a familiar and comforting thing. She did not even have to pull it out of the velvet that probably did not actually protect it that much to remember that one ridiculous moment and smile.

Until it happened again.

This time, she did not have the fair or some randomly caught image of a stranger passing behind her to blame it on. This time, she sat at her desk after getting splashed by the rain and was trying to pull her extremely damp hair back out of her eyes. She had a brush and a barrette but, more importantly, she also had a mirror right there with her so there was no need to risk getting caught away from her duties. She propped up the bit of glass and metal and went fix the damage and then nearly dropped her brush at what she saw.

Lucy was there, but so was another. Another with clothing that most definitely did not blend in with her colleagues’ usual attire. Another with a far fancier style to her hair than she could ever manage. Another that gazed back at her, head tilted to the side in the same sort of contemplation she knew she herself exuded.

She looked away and glanced around her, but no one seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary. She physically turned in her seat, but found only Bruce wandering by, his own shirt stained with water and some of the coffee he had spilled on his cuff because he never knew how to handle the carafe. She returned his wave and grimace, and then glanced back at the mirror again.

The woman was still there. 

Waiting. Pensive. Familiar. And gesturing behind Lucy to where Susan approached. She flipped the mirror downward and ran her fingers through her hair instead, tried to pretend that nothing was out of the ordinary. She made small talk with Susan and returned to her work, her actual work, for nearly an hour before she dared to lift the mirror again. She told herself it was to tuck it back away, but that didn’t stop her from studying it carefully, looking for any other differences she might have missed the first time.

The woman was gone, but the rest of the reflection was still off. Lucy could still see herself, though faded like an overlay and not truly there. She could also see the cabinet behind her, also seemed different somehow. Blended with it all was a room altogether different than where she resided. She could only catch glimpses, bits around the edges of her own reflection on a tiny piece of glass, but the world reflected was not her own. Close, but not quite. Wrong, but still right.

When she slipped the mirror back into the pouch to dwell on her little break from reality at a more opportune time, she swore she saw the lady come darting back, the edge of a perfect curl cascading across the lace and finery, eyes wide and just as shocked as Lucy was herself.

That opportunity did not come until much later that evening. She had finished work and gone home, made herself a solid and hearty meal in case low blood sugar or vitamin deficiency was playing a role, and even changed for bed before she dared to pull out the little velvet pouch. She sighed with relief when only her own reflection was to be found.

She then yelped in an entirely undignified manner when the lady darted back, as neatly framed against the silver as the ribbon threaded through her curls. 

She fumbled with the looking glass for a moment, partially surprised when the woman didn’t jolt around with the movement, before she dared to ask, “Who are you?”

She then chided herself for talking to what was clearly a hallucination. Even if it were some sort of spectral being, there was nothing to prove that being could hear a word she said, so the whole thing was an exercise in absurdity as far as she was concerned. Or was, right up until she watched the woman’s face contort into an expression of extreme concentration and heard, “Anna Elizabeth Wadsworth. And you would be?”

She was stunned and shocked and blurted out her entire name and probably would have blurted out even more, but the effort of the interaction was clearly taxing for Ms. Wadsworth if the way her precise posture seemed to droop almost immediately after speaking. Also, the way she wavered and began to fade around the edges was probably not a good sign.

“Are you real?” she asked. She had limited experience with hallucinations, and winced when she realized that she could just be talking to herself and it would be her own self answering.

Ms. Wadsworth nodded, paused, and then said, “I believe so?”

“Are you trapped?” Lucy asked next. Whether she meant in the mirror or an alternate reality or even an afterlife, she did not know.

Ms. Wadsworth frowned. “I’m not sure,” she admitted. 

And then promptly faded away completely.

Lucy stared at the glass for a good twenty minutes after that. She was not sure if she was waiting for the woman, Anna Elizabeth, to return, or someone else, or maybe just see some other sign of the cracks that were clearly forming in her mind. No one and nothing else appeared and so she reluctantly tucked the mirror away and tried to convince herself it was still her own room that she saw in the reflective shadows and not that strange other place.

She slept soundly that night when she finally allowed herself to do to. No weird dreams or spectral beings, just the usual about flight and fancy and flights of fancy that left her rested albeit confused by morning. She peeked at the mirror before she started her day and again at the end, but found no more Anna Elizabeth and no more hints of her insanity.

The next day was Saturday and when she usually ran her required errands. She picked up her groceries and did her laundry and then settled in for a bit of research. By the end of the weekend, she may have forgotten to make herself a lunch for the next day, but she did have more information on her possible visitor, at least enough for lessen the thoughts of her losing her mind.

Anna Elizabeth Wadsworth was the fifth child of Robert and Lauren Wadsworth and the second of three daughters. The family was quite well to do and never struggling for funds as Mr. Wadsworth was a rather successful business man. Or, he was right up until a fire destroyed the family home and most of that family within well over a century prior. One son and one daughter had survived, but Robert and Lauren grieved the loss of the others. Robert threw himself back into his work in a near manic fashion, and Lauren threw herself into whatever she thought might bring her children back, including but not limited to the occult.

“Mother trapped me in this glass by accident then?” Anna Elizabeth sighed dramatically upon Lucy’s recitation of the tale. She had returned about midday on Sunday and watched while Lucy scribbled notes, but did not attempt to speak again until they were safely back home.

“And not very well at that,” Lucy said apologetically. She watched Anna Elizabeth’s face fall, right up until she tugged out one last book. It was heavy and old and smelled of herbs and incense and more than a little bit of fire. The ink on the pages was smeared in places, illegible without a keen eye in others, yet somehow managed to be warm and inviting.

Anna Elizabeth blinked in surprise. “Is that…?”

“My family’s own grimoire,” Lucy answered readily enough. “I might not be able to free you from that mirror, but I might be able to stabilize the original spell a bit if you’re game. How does that sound?”

Anna Elizabeth’s face lit into a smile wide and broad, and Lucy swore she felt the bit of glass and silver vibrate from her laughter. “I say that sounds like the beginnings of a beautiful friendship!”

And it was.