The Mirror

Dear Diary,

I have always felt a cold presence when I look in the mirror, my reflection has chilling eyes that latch onto me almost like it is staring into my soul. But then again I am always glancing into the mirror to make sure my hair is perfect or that my makeup is not too cakey. Perhaps you could say I am a little bit vain, but then again you could say I'm just an insecure girl trying to fit into a world where beauty is seen as nothing more then what the new Sephora has to offer. Anyways I'm getting carried away, earlier when I looked into the mirror I felt a sensation too perculiar to describe. But this was all too much for me now, I needed a new mirror because clearly the spirit of bloody mary possesses mine. But oh was I in for a shock, when I asked my mother to buy me a new mirror she was amused by the idea considering my mirror is a cobweb collector rusting away in the corner of my room. My new mirror was to be a beautiful golden framed one similar to those in a palace but not as expensive. However, last night when I went to change my mirror something strange happened. As I stated into the mirror for the last time my reflection was gone. Struck by this phenomenon I froze. A freezing sensation trickled along my back, my eyes darting to the back of me to try glimpse at what was there.

...

Iᗰ ᔕO E᙭ᑕITEᗪ TO ᔕTᗩᖇT ᗰY ᑎEᗯ ᒪIᖴ ᗩᔕ ᗩᑎ OᖇᗪIᑎᗩᖇY GIᖇᒪ ᗯITᕼ ᗩ ᖴᗩᗰIᒪY ᖴOᖇ ᔕO ᒪOᑎG I ᗯᗩᔕ TᖇᗩᑭᑭEᗪ ᗩᑎᗪ ᑕᑌᖇᔕEᗪ TO ᗰIᖇᖇOᖇ TᕼE EᐯEᖇY ᗰOᐯE Oᖴ TᕼIᔕ ᖴᖇᑌᔕTᖇᗩTIᑎG ᗩᑎᗪ ᗩᑎᑎOYIᑎG GIᖇᒪ ᗷᑌT ᑎOᗯ I GET TO EᑎᒍOY ᕼEᖇ ᒪIᖴE Iᖴ YOᑌᖇ ᗯOᑎᗪEᖇIᑎG ᗯᕼᗩT ᕼᗩᑭᑭEᑎEᗪ TO ᕼEᖇ ᒪETᔕ ᒍᑌᔕT ᔕᗩY ᔕᕼE ᗯOᑎT ᗷE ᑕOᗰIᑎG ᗷᗩᑕK ᗩᑎYTIᗰE ᔕOOᑎ ᔕᕼE TᕼOᑌGᕼT ᗷᒪOOᗪY ᗰᗩᖇY ᒪIᐯEᗪ Iᑎ ᕼEᖇ ᗰIᖇᖇOᖇ O ᗯᗩᔕ ᔕᕼE ᗯᖇOᑎG TOᑎIGᕼT ᗩᖴTEᖇ ᗰY ᖴᖇᔕT ᖴᗩᗰIᒪY ᗪIᑎᑎEᖇ I ᗯIᒪᒪ ᗷE ᑕᒪEᗩᑎIᑎG TᕼE ᗰEᔕᔕ ᔕᕼE ᗰᗩᗪE Iᑎ ᗰY ᗷEᗪᖇOOᗰ ᗰY ᗷEᗪᖇOOᗰ

YOᑌ KᑎOᗯ ᗩᒪᒪ TᕼE TIᗰE ᔕᕼE TᗩᒪKᗪ ᗩOᑌT ᗩ ᑕOᒪᗪ ᔕEᑎᔕᗩTIOᑎ IT ᗯᗩᔕ ᗰE ᑭᒪᗩᑎᑎIG Oᑎ ᗯᕼEᑎ TO ᔕTᖇIKE YOᑌ KᑎOᗯ YOᑌᖇ ᖇEᖴᒪEᑕTIOᑎ ᗪOEᔕᑎT ᒍᑌᔕT ᗯᗩTᑕᕼ YOᑌ ᗯᕼEᑎ YOᑌᖇ ᒪOOKIᑎG ᗯE ᗩᖇE ᗩᒪᗯᗩYᔕ ᗯᗩTᑕᕼIᑎG ᗩᑎᗪ ᗯᗩITIᑎG ᖴOᖇ Oᑌᖇ OᑭᑭᑌᖇTᑌᑎITY