Cracks in the Mirror

The Mirror Comes Home

"Urrrrrghhhhhhhhhhh", I said, expressing all my emotions in a single word as I enter the new house. It is in a completely in a degraded state. The paint is peeling, the windows are cracked, there isn't a single place in the whole house where there are no cobwebs, there is clearly no running water (that is, if you don't count the faint drip-drip sound coming from the far end of the hall), the place smells foul and I feel suffocated in the seemingly new house.

I know I can't stay here for another second. I quickly choose my room, dump all my stuff in it and run out side again.

Oh, sweet fresh air, how I have missed you.

I am not happy with the new change.

Not. One. Bit.

I don't even smile at my brother Connor's jokes, which usually make me laugh so hard that I almost rupture my spleen.

Even though my mother told me that the house would be much better after the renovations, I still feel weird around it, even though I can't point out what's wrong with it. It's like that feeling when something is just a little out of its place, but you don't know exactly what.

After my mother sprays a whole bottle of air freshener in the house and the smell improves just a tad, I walk into my room curiously, looking around like a kid in a candy shop.

I hadn't really noticed my room while rushing out, but randomly chose it. It has a blackish, faded colour on the walls, which reminds me of a jail cell. I make a mental note to tell my mother to paint the walls yellow instead, my favourite colour. (Don't judge me, ok? Dodie changed me.) All the four walls are wooden. It's a bit cramped, but I don't mind. I'll tell dad to bring a big ass mirror to put on the wall opposite to the door.

I bring a broom from a carton labeled 'cleaning material' and am currently pacing around my room, removing cobwebs from wherever I see. Suddenly, there's a call from the room below me.

"Lily, I'm going to the markets we saw on the way here. You want anything?" my father asks. I think of asking him to buy a huge mirror, but I don't really trust his judgment (he doesn't like Dodie), so I decide to go along with him.

"Dad, I'm coming too!" I call out. I quickly squeeze myself into an old baby blue t-shirt and a pair of black pants. I put on my slippers and rush downstairs. I see that Connor is tagging along with us, too.

We walk slowly to the markets, a kilometer away from our home. We finally arrive and go through the stalls. Although my father and brother immediately go to the cupboard and book stalls, I head straight to the stall for mirrors. I look for the perfect mirror. (What does a perfect mirror even look like?)

Some were too small, while some were too dull for my taste. I feel like Goldilocks looking for the right bed.

I finally spot it- the one. I clasp my hands and gasp dramatically, earning myself weird looks from an old couple. I giggle and quietly make my way to the corner where it is stashed.

It's almost as tall as me and oval in shape. It's really vintage, and appeals to my aesthetic.

It has a brown oval frame around it, with intricate roses carved into it.

I rush to dad, who is currently carrying three books, and ask him to buy it.

He refuses, insisting I have a perfectly good mirror at home.

"But dad! It has princesses on it!" I cried.

After a lot of pleading and saying that my old mirror is too childish for me, I win the argument, grinning at my success. Dad rolls his eyes, but his smile gives him away as he hands over the money to a middle- aged man,

We walk home slowly, savouring the pleasant weather.

At home, I lean the mirror towards the wall opposite the door, checking myself out.

As always, I have soft brown eyes and ridiculously straight auburn hair just like mom, who has the exact same features as me. My little brother, Connor, looks like a tinier, more irritating version of dad. They both have curly brown hair and blue eyes.

I get so gloomy that I look the same that I sometimes wish that I were an alien. I even wish that my brother turned out to be a robot, or there would be one morning when I would smell smoke and wake up to see a fire in our yard, if only for some excitement around the said 'new house'.

Little did I know that there was going to be enough excitement- and horror – in our new house.