Mirrors
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- Votes 17
- Parts 4
Ongoing32m
Last published Sun, Jun 2, 2013
Imagine instead of seeing your own reflection upon looking into a mirror, someone else's eyes looked back.
For as long as Clara could remember, Will had always been there, in her mirror. He wasn't even sure why he was in there to begin with, but nevertheless, he was always there. It was a funny love story, Clara falling for Will and vice versa. Maybe it was because she was all he had, and Will simply understood her, inside and out. All Clara ever dreamed about was being able to hold Will, to touch him- the mirror obviously prevented that.
Until, that is, Clara saw Will on the street. Same hair, same eyes, same scar just underneath his jaw. He however, not only had no idea who Clara was, but his personality was a completely contrast to the boy in Clara's mirror. His name was Rhys. Slowly but surely Clara gets to know him, but the closer Clara gets to Rhys, the farther away Will becomes- literally. He's beginning to fade away the closer Clara becomes with Rhys.
Stuck between trying to save the boy she loves in the mirror or finally putting her impossible romance, Clara is forced to chose between the life of mirror Will, and her own sanity.
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#8
sharman
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"What the hell?" I took a step closer to the mirror, staring at my reflection in disbelief. The person looking back was still me, but at the same time it wasn't. I had the same thick, dark, curly hair. The same hazel eyes. The same olive skin with a light dusting of freckles (ugh) scattered across the bridge of my nose. But my curls were now streaked with highlights. And not the subtle, golden-brown ones that sometimes appeared during the summer. No, these were an aggressive, dazzling blond that went from the roots of my hair all the way to the tips. It looked like I had spent a full day getting my hair done in some upscale salon. Never mind that I had never set foot in such a place since the day I was born. My eyes appeared somehow wider and more luminous. The colour brighter, my eyelashes darker up against them. And, when I looked closely, my pupils seemed to be slitted almost like a cat. I looked down at my body. My skinny arms-which had always refused to gain any definition no matter how hard I exercised-were lined with flat, wiry muscles. My bony shoulders were now curved and smooth. My scrawny legs were toned like a dancer. I reached down and lifted my shirt, revealing two subtle lines running vertically down my perfectly flat stomach, hinting at the rock-hard abs underneath. My whole body was rippling with strength. Like liquid steel.
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