Soul Eaters

Maribel's Mirror

There are places in the world, dark and shadowy corners, where the dead have imprinted. Sometimes the imprint is left not on an entire place, but merely an object. It happens most when the owner of the object has died traumatically, violently, even suddenly. In death, there is an understanding. However, not everyone who has died understands that they are dead. Such was the case for Maribel Houghtelling. She was long into her sixties, and had a tremendous understanding for all things living. She knew all about animal and human anatomy, as well as the science behind plant structures and how everything in the world survives. Her love was for gardening and she grew plenty. With her only son grown and gone, and no hope for any grandchildren at the moment, Maribel felt there was no use for a lawn. She split her days between cleaning the homes of the rich, and growing the garden of her dreams. Though she was well over the age where most retired from their careers, Maribel wasn't ready to quit working.

On this particular morning, Maribel rose at exactly 6:00 am. She took to her morning rituals and put the kettle on the stove for her tea. It was her only day off for the week, and she had planned a trip to an estate sale with a lady from her church group. While the kettle simmered on a low heat, Maribel made her way back up the one flight of stairs to her bedroom. She changed into a comfortable pair of coral colored linen pants, and a white blouse. She slipped on a pair of white flip flops, and brushed out her short hair. She gazed into the mirror, careful to make each stroke of the brush perfect. Her mother had valued perfection, and had instilled in Maribel its importance to beauty. Just as she had finished with her hair, she heard the whistling of the kettle.

Maribel set her brush down gently on the counter and gazed one last time into the mirror. Time had eluded her. She had no recollection of where the years, most of all her youth, had gone. It was almost as if she had awoken one morning in this frail and elderly state. It sometimes made her weep, and when the lonely nights chilled her, she contemplated taking her own life. It would mean nothing to her to leave behind a son who never spoke to her, friends who mostly used her, and employers who did not appreciate her. The tea kettle whistled louder, snapping her from the trance.

She wrapped her shaking hands around her teacup and brought it slowly to her lips. She sipped carefully and allowed the hot liquid to settle into her throat. It was one of the few cherished delights she had left. At 7:30 am the doorbell rang. Maribel opened the door to find a very colorfully dressed woman on her front porch. It was LouAnn, the only lady she ever spoke to from her church group. She was the only person in the group that didn't put on airs.

"I'm here!" LouAnn shouted.

"Geez Lou, wake up the whole neighborhood, why don't cha?"

"Ah shush Mar! In my day if you were still sleepin' round this time, you were a bum." Lou began to chuckle hard and Maribel just shook her head with a smile. LouAnn grabbed up Maribel's purse and tucked it under arm.

"Are you rushing me?" She asked her.

"I don't know, are you ready yet?" LouAnn laughed.

Maribel giggled and rolled her eyes, "Alright, let's head out." she stated.

LouAnn walked out first, and Maribel took a minute to make sure she had turned the stove off. An odd feeling fell over her, as though she was about to experience something dangerous...something dark. She began to feel so dizzy she had to reach for the counter. LouAnn hollered again for her to hurry and Maribel tried hard to shake it off. She regained her composure and locked up the house. Once inside the car, LouAnn asked her;

"You okay? You look a little pale."

"I'm not sure. I just had this overwhelming feeling something bad was going to happen, and then I got dizzy."