Mirrors In Time

Chapter 1

It is often held in superstition that mirror’s are capable of begin used as doorways. Some say they are able to peer right into your soul and a mirror of special importance might just tell you who you are deep down to your very core. Others speculate that there are mirrors which aren’t mirrors at all but gateways to other dimensions and worlds. Though personally I’ve never been a very superstitious  man myself I believe in the latter, and if the former was true I would never want to gaze at the depth of my soul I doubt I would like what I find there.

Sometimes I find myself gazing into a mirror and hoping to find myself transported to another realm. A reality where the laws of physics don’t apply and I could simply be a whole new person if I so wished it. Somebody of importance where I might no have to go about the same routine day in and day out, stuck in a dead end job with nowhere to go and nothing new or exciting for me to see. It was just one such day that I found myself in an old antique shop in my hometown in the middle of nowhere doing nothing exciting but window shopping.

I stared longing at useless junk I would never use when something caught my eye of to the side hiding behind an old jukebox player. It was a little taller than I was standing slightly over 6 feet and shaped in a strange sort of oval. I walked over to it avoiding a teenager banging on a drums set in the middle of the floor. Whatever it was it was covered in an old canvas almost like a painting that never happened. It seemed out of place and slightly sad which was odd that this old canvas was seemingly putting off an energy  to me.

I almost ripped off the canvas to see what was the hidden jewel beneath it when I was stopped by and old man slapping my hand with his cane. Pulling my stinging hand away quickly out of reflex I forgot why I was going to rip the canvas off in the first place.

“Bad luck to have old mirrors open without knowing first what lies behind them.” His voice was frail almost like it would shatter at the first object it came wheezing across. Looking at him you wouldn’t think he would be capable of moving so quickly or with enough strength to slap my hand hard enough to make it sting. At five feet tall stooped over he let off an over powering sense of authority which just clashed in my mind distracting me from the oddity which had caught my eye in the first place.

“I’ve always had a fascination with mirrors.” My voice came out barely a whisper I don’t know why but I couldn’t take my eyes off this old man.

“Mirror holds power. Shows a persons self worth. The future what might be what wont be and what can be all at one time if you’ll only pay enough attention to look.” He paused to look at me and it seemed like he was measuring me for my coffin taking in the good and the bad all together. Like I said I don’t want the full view of myself. “This mirror is bad luck hold bad thought and it draws innocent life into a conflict which mortal and those with souls don’t belong. Forget mirror why don’t you buy yourself nice jukebox instead?”

Between the old man and the relic mirror which stood covered I was starting to feel uneasy. The type of uneasy most people hardly ever experience not the average awkward out of place feeling, but the kind where my world was thrown just a little off balance something was happening that my mind just couldn’t comprehend what was going on. It seemed almost too real.

“How much do you want for the mirror?” The words left my mouth before I even knew I was going to say them. Looking back over at the mirror I felt it drawing my attention again fading everything else into white noise. The old man slapped my hand again with his cane pulling me back out before I could get to sucked into the abyss.