Weylon

A Tragedy

I stormed down the corridor to my sister's chambers, mirror still in hand. I barged in without knocking. Rosalie was sat in her chair looking as beautiful as ever, a fresh braid in her golden hair.

"what have you done to it!"

"What have I done to what?"

"my mirror, you've done something it's not working"

"oh, don't be silly, it's a mirror how can it not work give it here."

"I knew it! Your trying to steal it"

"no I'm not! I was merely going to show you that the mirror isn't broken, why I can see from here that its fine"

I held the mirror towards her and then circled around her like a hungry predator. Her reflection was in the mirror, she was beautiful. I looked to her shoulder where my own reflection was. A gargoyle gazed back, a troll in the presences of a goddess.

"see its working fine"

I didn't register her words, the chord of anger in my stomach had snapped, I lunged at her. The mirror fell from her grasp but the glass did not break. I brought her to the floor and whacked her head into the bedpost. I then began hitting her with half curled fists. How dare she be prettier. I was lost in a blind rage. 

A flicker of red caught my eye, I looked down on the floor besides us. The mirror was glowing. I picked it up and looked into it. I was beautiful again. I turned to Rosalie to show her myself, but she was still. There was no breath in her body. I had killed her. As the realization hit me I felt a drop of cold liquid on my hand, it was a stark contrast to the cold silver. I looked down, it was ruby red like wine, the mirror was covered in it, big fat droplets were being sucked in by the glass. It was drinking my sisters blood. I threw the mirror down in horror. Oh, god what have I done. I never should have doubted Rosalie; I'd been warned of Weylon's trickeries. I should have listened to the warning on the letter. It was too late now.