Poltergeist in the Mirror

There is a mirror in my childhood bedroom. It binds me to my dreams; the ones I see even when my eyes are open.

In this mirror lives a girl. A girl who seethes. A girl who hates. A girl who wishes she had anything in her body other than pent-up, smoldering rage. Disdain drips from her being and her eyes reflect an emptiness most unsettling.

I call her Einar, my girl in the mirror.

My mother warned me of the poltergeist that lives behind mirrors and in the crook of shadows behind my closet. What have I to fear except the urges that whisper unthinkable thoughts in my ears, anyway?

"It is time to leave." The voice whispers in my ear as blue hour descends, suffocating the darkness into hiding.

I pay it no mind and it urges again, throaty and gruff, "We see you clean the blood off your hands every night, little vulture."

Blood rushes to my head and I rise in the stillness, pulling the covers tighter around me.

"You cannot hide forever." It taunts and I hiss through my teeth,

"What do you want?"

It cackles in chorus, unsettling like the sound of nails down a blackboard. The sound fills my ears and echoes until it deafens all else. My hands go to my ears and the laughter cuts off. Slowly but surely, my hands lower slowly, of their own accord, and my palms come red. I feel around my neck, trace my throat, trying to source the blood and end up marring myself in red instead.

I feel a finger trace my skin and a shiver raises the hair on my body.

"Find me, little bird. It is time." The voice sneers in challenge and like the fool I am, I get off my bed, feet arching at their impact with the cold solid ground.

I turn towards my closet and the voice titters.

I turn toward my mirror and I can hear the smile in its repulsive grating voice as it whispers, "Warmer."

My breath refuses to leave my lungs but I pay it no mind as trepidation courses through me with each faltering step toward the mirror.

It giggles and goosebumps riddle my skin.

"You're so close, little vulture."

My foot raises mechanically for the next step.

"Just a little more." It urges in a sing-song voice and I pause.

I am a few footsteps away from being face to face with the mirror. I see my reflection and my blood chills as the girl in the mirror tilts her head.

"What?" she scoffs and rights herself as my eyes widen.

Her face splits into an unsettling grin and she raises her hands. She wears long red gloves that go up to her elbows and her hair is a mess. Bending forward a little she looks at down at her feet and I realise there is...something under her.

To my horror, she puts her pointer finger in her mouth and sucks her glove until the red comes off and mars her lips. Those are no gloves. Her arms are drenched in blood and she licks it off her fingers slowly, tantalisingly as if enjoying dessert. I cannot move. The very sight of her makes me want to run away. Perhaps she senses my thoughts, for her expression shifts again.

"Don't worry, dearie. Your mother didn't get to so much as scream. Oh, but look how delicious she is!" she smirks and her eyes are black, void-like in their emptiness.

"Stop." I whisper and shut my eyes.

"You think this will all go away if you shut your eyes?" the grating voice returns to taunts me some more.