nox aeternus: a message for elise

I

It wasn't as if she hadn't noticed the pitiful form trailing quite literally in her shadow, a canine with unbridled enthusiasm refusing to relinquish its quotidian position, always just a step behind. Every time she tried looking back (rather, stealing a subtle glance behind her every few seconds, attracting rather...intriguing looks from random passersby) the canine's image flickered into sharp edges, like shards of obsidian suspended in midair before fading back into the shadows from which they had came.

The air was dead calm, the wind not even daring to let out a gust, as if the tension was so thick it was holding its breath-not yet letting out a sigh, the sky of ashes, clothed in clouds appearing soft as whipped cream and cotton.

She hadn't noticed the creature (had it been there before? It-the creature-attempted to efface itself, keeping beyond her notice...) whose form kept erratically shifting, indecisive, silent, and alien-a creature she was unable to identify, for all the life of her, she hadn't invested much in the paranormal.

It was certainly far stranger than anything she would have thought to fabricate.

Nevertheless, this would be the day she would commandeer the turbulent tides of her fate, and it began with a rather simple household object.

A mirror.

It was said to reveal the true self, leaving nothing hidden from its omniscient reflection.

She held it in front of her as she kept walking at a brisk, businesslike pace, matching the oncoming autumn around her, stiller than stagnant water, though, and not a breeze in sight.

To catch a clearer view of her persistent pursuer who behaved in such a circumspect manner that eluded her at every turn-was it far too much to ask for?

What a dilemma it was that she had found herself in when she gazed upon the mirror to find that the once shadowy dog had transformed into the uncertain form of a shadowy little boy, the only bright spots on his etched charcoal form where white orbs for his eyes, as if scrawled upon his face like chalk.

Sweat cooled on her palms as she wiped the perspiration off on her black jeans, eyes (for a moment) resting for a brief reprieve before returning back to the mirror once again-nothing too elaborate, just an antique handheld mirror she may or may not have swiped from their attic-finders keepers, she distantly recalled the rule. It had a simplistic design, darkened silver (probably with age) with slight swirling designs near the top bordering the glass, slightly cracked yet altogether quite functional, and the bottom handle plain yet with carvings of a language long forgotten.

Forgotten by who, you ask?

...It was quite likely that she was the person in question who had forgotten the language. Mostly. It looked vaguely familiar. Sort of.

Any who, back to the matter at hand!

The rest of the boy, she managed to make out in the mirror, seemed to be a crude sketch of charcoal and smoke, struggling to keep its composure together as if all its molecules were trying to break apart at the seams and fly off into every imaginable direction, putting an end to the poor creature's existence. Its (or was it his?) eyes seemed to droop in a depressed manner, as if acknowledging the fact that its termination was forever imminent, shuffling by and kicking at the scuffed surface of the dreary sidewalk.

The little shadow-boy was like a silhouette, details indistinct but like an outline of what had been a person, and only now had she noticed (when had this happened?!) that he had grown floppy black dog ears that had, once drooping, now perked up upon noting the appearance of the handheld antique mirror and wagging...its? his? tail, shivering in spasmodic jerks as if trying to maintain homeostasis in staving off the cold.