I woke up hearing a knocking on glass. At first I thought it was the window, until I heard the knocking coming from the mirror. My heart was pounding. I pulled the covers around me. I promised I would not look at the mirror. But I did.
I saw a little girl’s face. I heard my mom’s footsteps coming up the stairs. She was tired and yawning. I told her I saw faces in the mirror. She told me to go to sleep. I went downstairs to get water. While I was in the kitchen, I saw a picture with the same little girl.
“Who is that?” I asked my mom.
“Um, that is Lily. She lived here before,” she said.
“Oh, I saw her in the mirror.”
This time I did not see her in the mirror. I walked up the stairs. I closed the door and went to my bed in fear. I was cold and shivering. I went to check the time. I tried to open the door, but it was bolted. There was no lock. I turned around and saw the little girl sitting on my bed. She looked sad. She was muttering something. I went closer. My heart was beating.
“This is my mirror. This is my home.” I heard her say with anger. She looked up. I saw she was crying. I was shivering and was trying to talk and not act scared around the ghost. The ghost could get mad at me.
“Um, I’m sorry, what c-c-c-ca . . .” I just stuttered.
“Oh no,” I thought. I noticed that she was not sitting on the bed anymore. I was so scared. “What could I do?” I wondered.
I stepped back and looked behind me.
The ghost was angry and said, “Why are you scared?”
“Um, well, you are dead,” I said. I was thinking, “Oh no, why did I say that?” I saw a tear go down her cheek.
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” she said. “Go away. You make me sad in my home and you’ve stolen my mirror. How dare you? Go away forever.”
“S-s-s-sorry!” I shouted.
“Oh no,” I thought, “What is wrong with me?” I knew I yelled at her because I was scared. “Oh no,” I thought. I kicked the door and ran down the stairs. I could hear my mom snoring in her room.
I ran out the front door into the empty, dark street. “Why am I out here?” I thought. Tears were dripping down my cheeks onto the sidewalk. I was so tired but my life depended on making the ghost leave our house. Otherwise she would kill me.
I yelled.
I screamed.
Then, I saw the ghost right behind me. She was angry and sad.
“I’m sorry I didn’t mean it,” I cried out. “Take my mirror and the house. I’m so sorry.” I was out of breath.
“It’s my mirror!” she shouted, floating above the sidewalk wearing a white dress. She had no feet.
I was thinking in my head, “Why does she like the mirror?”
Wait a second.
I pinched myself and woke up.
I looked in the mirror. I was the little girl. I thought to myself, “What should I do?”
“Oh, honey,” the girl’s mom said. “Dinner’s ready.”
“Okay.” I went down the stairs. I asked my mother, “Why do I like my mirror so much?”
“What? Silly, you like your mirror because you made it. You like it a lot,” said my mom. I finished my dinner. I went to brush my teeth. I heard muttering. I ran to my room and I saw the mirror.
I went in my bed and pinched myself until I heard a knock on the mirror.
“My mirror, my house,” a little voice said. I was so scared.
“Not again!” I hid in the bathroom. I heard the shatter of glass in my bedroom. I ran outside. I noticed the street was different. The cars were old. I noticed this was how the ghost died. It was one hundred years ago. I could tell because I found a newspaper that said, “Saturday Daily News, September 9th.”
I ran and ran until I woke up again. This time I was in the mirror, knocking. I could not stop knocking. I was uncontrolled. I was scared and I wondered who was in this house now.
And then I noticed my mom. She was crying on the bed looking at a picture of . . .
I suddenly knocked again and the mirror broke.
A cold breeze and hissing sounds were coming from outside.
The moon was big. There were newspapers on the steps that flew by. The year was 2020. I sighed, and when the mirror shattered, I yelled. My mom screamed. Outside, a policeman heard the screaming.
“Something is wrong,” he said. My mom ran outside.
“The mirror is haunted. It killed my daughter. Get it out of the house,” she said.
The man ran, got the shattered mirror, and brought it outside. The man got in his car and slammed the door. He drove over the speed limit. He went and threw the mirror in the ocean.
One year later a man was sitting on the dock. He yawned. He felt something on his fishing rod. He lifted it out.
“What a nice mirror. Let’s sell it,” said the dad in the yellow hat.
The next day he sold it to a nice guy who collected mirrors. He brought it to his house. When he was sleeping that night, he heard a knocking sound.
To be continued . . .
This piece was originally published in I Dream That Narwhals Are Dancing, available in our store.