The Silver Mirror

Chapter 6: Brownilocks

BEEP! BEEP!

Aira shot out of bed as if something had shocked her really bad.

She had had the worst nightmare she could ever recall in the history of Aira Hoying’s nightmares. It was a series of disturbing images, one flashing by the other.

Three girls, burned to death.

A man lying senseless on the side of the road, hit by a heavy truck. No one seemed to know he was there. As Aira watched, horrified, he dissolved into a clear mist, leaving nothing except for some tell-tale bloodstains behind.

And the most disturbing of them all...

A mother who threw her own child off a cliff, as an attempt to give up a sacrifice from an unknown pursuer. Even as her baby fell wailing, out of sight, the woman dissolved as well.

Aira jogged quickly around her room, bedhead and all, trying to shake off the feeling that the images left behind. Her arms had goose bumps on them too.

Andras poked his head in through the door. “What’s up? Trying to get in an early-morning work out?”

Aira stopped her mindless jogging, and glared at him.

Andras shrugged and left, pounding downstairs.

Aira sighed, and proceeded straight to her bathroom as always.

And almost screamed when she saw what had happened to her hair.

Shakily, she brushed it through with a comb.  Instead of feeling elated at this sudden change, she was frightened and suspicious. She shot a look over her shoulder at where the mirror was perched. She looked normal, except for her smooth dark hair.

It was almost as if the mirror was saying so there. Nothing’s wrong.

Aira snorted. Nothing was wrong, except for the fact that she looked as if she had sleepwalked to the nearest Snip salon and dyed her hair in her sleep. Though she had to admit, she did a pretty decent job at it - if she had sleepwalked at all.

She had no memory of it at all, only the horrifying nightmares.

Why had Andras not said anything about it?

She padded downstairs, hoping that her parents would notice if anything was out of place.

They didn’t. They acted like last night she had dyed her hair, and nothing was strange. Except for the fact that she had NOT dyed it at ALL and had not gone anywhere last night.

“Would you like blueberry or chocolate pancakes, honey?” Her dad asked, totally nonchalant as he flipped a pancake.

“Blue-blueberry,” she stuttered, plopping down at the table. She smoothed the khaki pants she had chosen to wear this morning and then frowned. It would clash horribly with her hair.

So she skipped her blueberry pancakes (she didn’t think that she could eat them anyway) and ran upstairs to change into jeans.

Aira hoped that at least when she went to school, Richelle would be able to notice something.

“Nice locks! (keys?)” Someone called out from the crowd as she wa;led to the front doors. Aira twisted around to locate the person to thank them obligingly, then gave up after she couldn’t. There were too many people.

She located Richelle underneath the shade of a pillar of the building.

“Hi,” she said casually.

“Hi,” Richelle replied back. She suddenly exclaimed excitedly, “I told you we should’ve used Dark Chocolate instead of Chestnut Brown. You look amazing!”