Spectrophobia

   Dan Sleeter was a fifty year old man. No, that couldn’t be. But it was, it really was. He had been born in 1925 and it was 1975. All of a sudden his daughter wanted “Bell bottoms”. His wife’s face had become lined with age. His own, he didn’t know. He’d stopped looking at forty. He had lived in Salem for fifty years. He had lived in his house for thirty. The movie sign that had been so vibrant in his teenage years was now crooked and faded. For thirty years he had worn a button up shirt, fastened his tie, and walked out the door. His vice was scotch and his salvation was coffee. Dan Sleeter was a fifty year old man, and he was not ready for what he was in for.

       Mary Sleeter was sick of her husband and her daughter. She was done with the small print articles in the paper and the celebrities going to prison. She was done with her soap operas ending and she was done with the endless supply of laundry to fold. She was very much done with having to pretend to be upset when the book club was canceled. Who has time to read when you’re a mom with a husband who is good at nothing but selling furniture? Her nine year old daughter’s dentist had recently told her she had to brush longer. She thought the dentist should try to brush longer when he’s rushing to soccer practice. Being a fifty year old mother was not an enviable position. But she still had her dignity. She would never divorce.

   Aubrey Sleeter knew her parents had a strained relationship. She was fifteen at the time, and had enough knowledge to get her through life. She could understand why her mother was sick of her, but she didn’t accept it. Aubrey’s problem was she lied to herself. She understood life, she just couldn’t quite grasp the reality of it. Her father obsessively watched the news. Since she was little she had seen little kids go missing, people dying. Her coping mechanism was to simply not accept it. Would you accept this world if you faced it for what it truly was? Every morning she braided her hair and dodged life. Everyday she envied the thoughts of yesterday that were more innocent than those of today. Aubrey Sleeter will be the most challenged of characters in this story. To have life challenge everything you live by is hard and near impossible. Aubrey Sleeter was a good liar, but you have to understand that she was also a very good whistler, chewed her finger when she got nervous, and her favorite color was green. But her true talent was observation. And she noticed when her father changed, she just didn’t accept it.

Mandy Sleeter was pretty. That was all her family knew about her. Aubrey was smart, Mandy was pretty. Smart was like riding a bike, you could always do it. Pretty slowly wore down. Like a sudden wrinkle, a spontaneous pound. She was the wear out sister. Sure, Aubrey’s high school life would be a living hell, but she would go on to be a writer inspired by her troubles. But soon fate would show Mandy what to do. It involved a dusty case and forgotten prize. But before I tell you, you need to know that her grandfather was dead, almost. He was a stubborn man that was not afraid of death. He had left his will seeping in ink, waiting for someone to notice him after his death. The will was put in the granddad case. It was metal and winding. Mandy went into the room and saw a way out. Mandy opened the cabinet and saw the notebooks. 

Toria Sleeter was nine. That was what she had in life so far. She wasn’t extraordinary in any way. If anything, she was extra ordinary. She was a sweet little girl very capable of being cute, just she was innocent, vulnerable. Her father’s stupid mistake would ruin her. Ruin her youth, her childhood, all she had. Her skin was soft and childlike. She was loved by Aubrey, the only organism Aubrey ever really loved.

Lillith Adir was dragged into the Sleeters troubles. They lived in the same place, Salem Massachusetts. If Lillith had chosen any other high school…. It didn’t matter now, it wouldn't matter. Lillith was fifteen, like Aubrey. Mandy was sixteen and in the running for prom queen. Their plans were shattered by dear old dad. Lillith never really looked in the mirror. She thought it was a trap, just another way to feel bad about yourself. Lillith thought mirror’s were for pretty people, or people obsessed with becoming pretty people. Lillith thought she finally met a stable person in her life when she met Aubrey Sleeter. She couldn’t be more wrong.

Dan Sleeter was a screw up. He didn’t like to admit it, his family didn’t like to admit it, and his friends didn’t like to admit it, but it was true. So that’s why no one was surprised when he broke the mirror. It felt like a compulsion, something he couldn’t control yet was undeniably true. The room was colder when he broke the mirror. Never mind now. He hated mirrors anyway. He hated anything that truly was him and not who he wished he could be. His whole family had wishes. Whether or not anyone knew about them, they did not know. But she knew.

Mark Cedar was a good kid with bad ideas. His parents had told him they believed in him and that his ideas were great. The kid came up with a machine for making water have color. In short, a spray food dye. He was amazing at math but awful at life. Interestingly, he was connected to all the mirrors he saw. He was a reflective person, someone who bounced off the brightness and ideas of others. Mark Cedar’s one good idea came at a convenient time, and that’s what earned him a place in our story.

 Lillith brushed her black hair out of her face. New school, new you. You’ll make friends, you know you will. She snapped a white elastic on her wrist. It had created a line that itched terribly, but she was too nervous to notice. She looked down at her feet and walked into the classroom. She knew the stereotypes of the kids she saw popping up in her head already, teaching her which ones to avoid, and which ones to try to get close to. Of course her parents had to divorce in the middle of the year. Yes, it makes total sense to join Saptrot High, the largest school around, when everyone already knows each other so you have no friends. She immediately sat next to Aubrey. In this case, Lillith’s stereotypes had gone faulty. She thought she was sitting next to the smart, normal girl with a bright future. She, of course, was wrong about one part of that statement. I will let you decide which. Lillith, feeling safer, took a deep breath, threw her hair in a ponytail with the white elastic, and introduced herself.

Lavender Kutch was an idiot. Her red hair streamed down her back as she stared into space. Her flowing pants danced in the warm summer wind. Lavender was resourceful, yet dim- witted. She was used to the comfort of her hippie parents that called her “Wind Child.” Her place as wind child in the family had gotten her a swing, a swing she was sitting on now. All of a sudden, her eyes rolled back in her head. Her mouth was seeping with black liquid of some sort, she didn’t know.

Then it was gone, she was free, or she was for now.

  Joan Ford might be the most important person in this story. She might have been funny, she might have been excitable, and she might have been insane, but she was the most strategic one in the Saprot High book club. She was the founder of the Saprot High book club. The way this came about was Joan’s love of a singer. Joan was obsessed with this singer, and for the protection of her name in this story, we will call her Marion Hall. She had Marion Hall t-shirts, Marion Hall posters, and even Marion Hall curtains. One day she was going to the library to get a book on none other than Marion Hall, when she saw Aubrey. Aubrey was getting a book on writing-she wanted to be an author when she grew up-. And because Aubrey was there, Lillith had come with Aubrey. Mark wanted to get a book on inventing. Mandy was there because she wanted to seem smart too. Lavender was there because she “felt an aura.” These, dear readers, are the children you will see in our story. 

 “Sign-ups for the Saprot high book club!” Joan yelled, her mouth stretching so far out it was inhuman. “Come on, ya like reading, or getting outta waiting forever for your parents to pick you up.” She raised her eyebrows up. Aubrey walked over and signed her name on the otherwise blank sheet. Her handwriting was sloppy yet elegant. Lillith was quick to sign her name after. Then Mandy, then Mark, then Lavender. Lillith walked off with Aubrey, feeling stable and secure in the choice she had made. 

Toria smiled and giggled, blue eyes sparkling as her sister played with her. It was Aubrey’s game that entertained and chiefly taught Toria her times tables. The game was when one person came up with a rhyme and the other person asked them a times table question. They switched off with who rhymed and asked. Toria was a curious little child, she loved learning and particularly enjoyed math. But she never got a chance to say something when she noticed things didn’t add up.

  Dan Sleeter was asked a question by a mirror. It asked him if he wanted to be young again. The mirror thanked him for letting her child free, and he realized it meant breaking the mirror. Dan never listened, part of the reason his wife despised him so greatly. So he smiled and nodded as the mirror told him her conditions.

 Toria Sleeter died in her sleep. She died young, yet her face looked old and at peace. Robbed of her life and her youth by her father, she sunk into the dirt resenting him, yet somehow still loving him. Her frail body in her favorite pale blue dress with the bow in her white blonde hair falling over her pale freckled face. Her sisters’ expressions were blank and hurt. Aubrey’s look of hurt surpassing her sister’s. Nobody noticed the black tar and mirror shard stuck in the little girl’s foot. 

  Lillith was there with Aubrey when fourteen year old Caroline collapsed. There had been a string of death since Toria had died. All pretty young, growing in age. There was no delicate way to put it, Caroline had died. At home, Aubrey laid on her bed, Mandy laid down next to her, her soft brown hair in Aubrey’s face. Mandy’s hair smelled of springtime and she hugged Mandy and didn’t want to let go. “I-I saw this black stuff come out of her mouth when she collapsed, when she died.” Aubrey confessed. 

  Dan Sleeter hadn’t looked or felt as young as he did that day in thirty years. His formerly lined face had become smooth and fair. His hair seemed to grow back into it’s full, dark mane. His large hands that used to be spotted now were clear. His body went from thin and frail into strong and muscular. His heart could take no blows, not even the tragic loss of a daughter so young. In this part he would take a page from his daughter’s book and block out the fact that Toria was dead.  

  The Saprot high book club realized what was going on. They resolved to try and stop it. It was Mark who found out they had to look in the mirrors. It was Lillith who had the idea to break it. She had never been more wrong.

  Lillith walked on her cold, dark floor. She held a hammer that was metal and heavy. Lillith was crying even if she had her friends behind her. She was scared. She saw what that-that thing did to Toria and all the other children. To her friends. Lillith was scared she couldn’t understand what was happening. 

  “Doesn’t breaking a mirror give you bad luck?” Lavender asked.

  “Don’t be so vacuous.” Replied Aubrey, snarkily. By this point, Lillith had cracked the mirror and the familiar black tar took the form of a hand. The hand touched Lillith, her eyes turned black, and she dropped. The hand went back in, and waited.

 The funeral for Lillith was small and cheap, with few guests. The plates were bright red and plastic. Lillith was like all the other children before her, forgotten. Aubrey was asked to make a speech, so she did.  ‌

‌Lavender‌ ‌braided‌ ‌her‌ ‌auburn‌ ‌ringlets‌ ‌and‌ ‌tied‌ ‌them‌ ‌in‌ ‌an‌ ‌ivy‌ ‌green‌ ‌ribbon.‌ ‌Her‌ ‌apricot‌ ‌colored‌ ‌pants‌ ‌

swung‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌zephyr‌ ‌of‌ ‌April‌ ‌and‌ ‌she‌ ‌ran‌ ‌barefoot‌ ‌on‌ ‌the‌ ‌cool‌ ‌grass‌ ‌and‌ ‌met‌ ‌up‌ ‌with‌ ‌her‌ ‌friends‌ ‌at‌ ‌the‌ ‌

brook.‌ ‌

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‌Aubrey‌ ‌looked‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌clear,‌ ‌cool‌ ‌brook.‌ ‌Lillith‌ ‌looked‌ ‌out.‌ ‌It‌ ‌was‌ ‌too‌ ‌late‌ ‌for‌ ‌Toria,‌ ‌and‌ ‌Caroline,‌ ‌they‌ ‌

had‌ ‌been‌ ‌chosen,‌ ‌and‌ ‌they‌ ‌had‌ ‌been‌ ‌taken.‌ ‌She‌ ‌had‌ ‌a‌ ‌chance‌ ‌to‌ ‌leave,‌ ‌to‌ ‌make‌ ‌it.‌ ‌She‌ ‌lifted‌ ‌her‌ ‌pale‌ ‌hand‌ ‌

up,‌ ‌and‌ ‌grabbed‌ ‌Aubrey’s.‌ ‌She‌ ‌tasted‌ ‌the‌ ‌air,‌ ‌oh‌ ‌it‌ ‌tasted‌ ‌so‌ ‌good.‌ ‌She‌ ‌had‌ ‌her‌ ‌youth‌ ‌still‌ ‌not‌ ‌sacrificed‌ ‌to‌ ‌

The‌ ‌Viewer‌ ‌or‌ ‌Dan‌ ‌Sleeter.‌ ‌Oh,‌ ‌The‌ ‌Viewer,‌ ‌oh‌ ‌she‌ ‌would‌ ‌be‌ ‌so‌ ‌furious.‌ ‌ ‌

 ‌

‌“Aubrey,‌ ‌The‌ ‌Viewer.‌ ‌She‌ ‌‌knows.‌”‌ ‌

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‌Aubrey‌ ‌blinked,‌ ‌shocked.‌ ‌Her‌ ‌eyes‌ ‌froze‌ ‌on‌ ‌her‌ ‌friend,‌ ‌the‌ ‌girl‌ ‌who‌ ‌was‌ ‌supposed‌ ‌to‌ ‌be‌ ‌dead,‌ ‌the‌ ‌girl‌ ‌

she‌ ‌‌saw‌‌ ‌die,‌ ‌was‌ ‌talking‌ ‌to‌ ‌her.‌ ‌Oh,‌ ‌and‌ ‌she‌ ‌was‌ ‌really‌ ‌there.‌ ‌Yes,‌ ‌yes‌ ‌she‌ ‌was‌ ‌really‌ ‌there.‌ ‌What‌ ‌was‌ ‌the‌ ‌

identity‌ ‌of‌ ‌this‌ ‌Viewer?‌ ‌Millions‌ ‌of‌ ‌thoughts‌ ‌went‌ ‌through‌ ‌her‌ ‌head.‌ ‌The‌ ‌Viewer‌ ‌licked‌ ‌her‌ ‌white‌ ‌lips,‌ ‌

blood‌ ‌clashing‌ ‌like‌ ‌velvet‌ ‌on‌ ‌snow.‌ ‌ ‌She had just finished a meal.

"Run." Said Lillith. And they did. Lillith with them. But the Viewer knew something they didn't. This was her world. She owned it. There was a sickness, a virus as victims possessed, and if you spoke with a victim, you would be trapped with them. There was no point of running, the mirror was a circle. They wouldn't get out. But she would find a way in.

Dan opened his eyes. This was his fault. His doing. And he couldn't live with it, no, no. He slit his throat with the shards of a mirror. He had died. But what you, dear reader do not know, is the fact Dan Sleeter, who was really Lux and The Viewer, or Hexe, as she was more commonly known, were the only true entities in the universe. They floated, and melted. They owned the control. But Hexe was selfish. She wanted humans for herself. And she and Lux made a bet. If she could trap the human family he chose for himself, she got all control. But she switched his brain with that of a common human, Dan Sleeter. And he was weak, and vain, and she knew she could pollute his mind. And now she had trapped his family. And now, she had won.

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