It was slowly becoming apart of Elena Piers. It hid within her sanity. It clawed through her normalities. It chased her existence into lies. It trailed her, hushed at night, melting into the darkness only dancing in the flickering light. It was an e...
Her head hurt. A dull ache drummed against Elena's skull creating the sound of rustling leaves. Her eyes fluttered open revealing the disfigured, black swept room. As if somebody had carved words deep into her mind it echoed like a broken record. You're a monster, it hissed, a foul monster.
The words soon left the room in a quilted quiet. An irregular rustle brushed against the room like a suggestive presence. Peering in the black, Elena soon found the culprit. The tree, drooping with the weight of rotten apples, brushed against the aged window.
Swallowing, Elena found her throat dry like bracken. Rubbing her head, Elena picked her way through the half-forgotten dream. It was just disorded words, barely a dream in her mind. Her memory of the dream was woolly and clouded like a dead man out of mind.
It was late. Everything around her was a disfigured blur, achingly unfamiliar. Peering into the thick misty black, Elena scratched her head. Pausing, she frowned as she slowly brought her hand back to her hair. It felt unusually dry and crisp like an autumn leaf. Slowly, Elena raked her fingers through her long black hair suddenly aware that a vast expanse of herself was being pulled down with a suppressing weight.
Gulping, Elena caught something in the palm of her hand. Wearily, she tightened her fist around it as a sudden panic shifted over her. Flakes of dry leaves lay in her hand like poison.
It's not fair. I haven't gone out. It must be a trick or maybe it was from yesterday... Elena thought helplessly.
Biting down on her cracked lips, Elena pushed herself of her bed only adding to the ache. It wasn't a normal, feverish ache, that would have been normal or almost comforting. This ache was leaving her mind a broken thing making it feel like bits of cotton wool.
Her legs felt weak and stiff like a clockwork toy that refused to rewind. Letting the remains of the leaves fall, Elena shuffled over to the window. A dreary chill swept across the room, slipping between the thin window and old, craggy cracks on the walls. Peering in the thick, velvet darkness, Elena studied the reflective surface of the roads. Everything seemed to have a dull shine as the rain when pitter patter against the pavement. The narrow, cobbled streets were shadowed with a darkness so thick it seemed to give itself physicality.
Each imperfection had lost its fault and became almost homely. From the tired brick work with peeking moss to the dead, skeletal trees and the littered roads, Elena had gotten so used to it didn't ever phase her. But now it did. Everything around her seemed to have more life, even the low hanging tree which had never sprouted a leaf peaked a strange life. Elena was wearily aware of how intently she listened to each rustle or faded creak that the leaves faded from her mind.
It's almost like the dream took something away from me. Why am I suddenly so aware of everything around me? It's like I'm living my last hour.
Carefully treading over the interrupted dream, Elena found it hollow and vague. Giving up on trying to piece together the dream that had her awake at 2am, Elena felt for the light switch. Although the darkness was like a cocoon, a place to hide her flaws, it was still daunting to know what could hide beneath each sheet of black.
Most people feared the dark or at least avoided it. Elena was different. She liked the way the darkness hid her fears and kept herself hidden away from reality. It gave her an unusual sense of comfort but tonight was different. Tonight, the darkness seemed to have an eeriness to it she couldn't quite figure out. The dull rustle that accompanied it didn't help.
As the light flickered open, the few silvery sheets of moonlight vanished leaving a dim glow. Skimming past the crammed book shelves and dusty grey walls, Elena fixed her chestnut brown eyes on the age stained mirrors. The sheet that usually covered it had slipped of.
The mirror. It sounded lost in her mind like stars beyond dark trees. Shivering, Elena edged her way towards the vintage mirror. She hated the way that it casted twisted, deformed reflections beneath the pale moon light. Her mind performed an odd little twist as she thought back to the night she first brought it. Although she loved the old, raven black mirror it reflected a certain eerie, unforgiving feeling which would follow her throughout the night like a shadow.
She caught her reflection in the mirror. Elena's face was stained with blotchy marks and seemed smudged like ink. The street lamps peeked through the curtains leaving her grey face illuminated in an unfamiliar glow. Keeping her gaze on the mirror as crouched to pick the sheet, a shiver crawled down her back like a warning. Pulling her eyes away from the broken reflection, Elena quickly grabbed the sheet with clenched fists. The ticking of the clock dragged out the few seconds in which looked away. She looked back. To her relief nothing changed but it still didn't help fade the dark feeling which was echoing at the back of her mind.
Elena flinched. The lights flickered of leaving the house in sweeping shadow of darkness. Shuddering, Elena flicked the light switch several times excepting light to wash out the room after each flick. It didn't but remained dark. Gulping, Elena pulled at her night shirt.
Why am I being so paranoid? It's just a mirror, it's just a light switch, just a coincidence... Perhaps it was the dream? Maybe if I pretend like it never happened it will just fade away.
Glancing back at her reflection she shivered. Her eyes fluttered in disbelief as her reflection casted doubtful shadows. It stared at her as if reading her like an open book. Its eyes were narrowed fixated on Elena. Tripping on her own ragged breathing, shut her eyes tightly as if trying to escape its malice gaze. Swallowing hard, Elena let her eyes flutter open.
The eeriness that crept around the mirror vanished away like smoke. Her broken reflection, to her relief, appeared to be normal. A little twist of ease shadowed over her.
It was just the darkness playing tricks on me. It's not real, none of this is real. If I pretend it didn't happen it won't be real. It's just a mirror...
Pulling the sheet quickly back over the mirror, she treaded her way to her desk. A heavy draught found itself in Elena's room stirring the array of inky drawings and random pieces of crumbling chalk. A careful stillness swept over the room.
Picking up a stray pencil, Elena let the pencil run smoothly against the paper. It's gentle scratching held a small comfort. Elena chewed at the end of her pencil as she adjusted her paper so the distilled moon light and street lights were just enough to quilt the paper. What started out as a few stray lines soon smudged into something else. The pencil performed little tricks creaking a blotchy depth and realistic features. Elena never knew who she was drawing but the more she studied the wispy lines she came to figure out who it was. Mother.
At least what she thought was mother. Her mind fell gelt crumpled and her memory of her came in jerks. Panic fled over her. Why couldn't she remember? Frowning, she stared hard at the drawing as of attempting to reawaken the memory. Nothing came to mind. If anything, her mother was merely a well-seen stranger. Why can't I recall her? Why do I feel so guilty?
Letting a small smile grow on her tired face, the living room clock chimed 3 times. Each chime faded into a prickly humming casting shivers down her neck. It was 3pm, much later then she would usually stay up but that didn't really phase her. For a while now, every night was prickled with a queer presence which kept her up on the weariest of days.
Yawing, Elena slipped into bed. Her eyes felt like they were stained with clumps of cobwebs as she struggled to keep them open. She watched a single spider slip behind the mirror before the world around her melted into black.
Everything unusual that had happened that night faded like a half forgotten home ready to reappear as an unexpected visitor.
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