The Enchanted Mirror

Now, we’ve all heard the story about the boy who fell in love with his reflection… ‘something about... something or other, he was transformed into a flower, to forever gaze at his own reflection.'

But what about the girl who fell in love with her mirror?

            It looked like a seemingly ordinary mirror; ornate, held by hand, about the size of your palm. It had been given to her by a distant Aunt, who had no children, and who was surreptitiously rumoured to be a Witch.  Now this could well have been true, because when the girl looked in her mirror, her reflection was not all that she saw.

            Sometimes it would show her the past, sometimes far off lands were reflected back at her and, sometimes, just sometimes, it would show her the face of the man that she loved, and one day hoped to marry. These were the visions she cherished most. She would come home every day, hoping to catch a glimpse of his face. Sometimes the mirror really would show just her reflection, but she no longer wanted to see it. It would show her friends, family, strangers, but when it reflected his face she would stare and stare, often well into the night, long past the time she ought to have fallen asleep.

            She started taking the mirror with her everywhere she went. She would take it out in spare moments and she would see mythical beasts approaching rivers for water, secret caves with rainforests inside them and landscapes that couldn’t be from earth. Scenes that made her eyes light up; but she would turn away in despair if all she saw was her own, blinking reflection. And there, in the middle of it all, was his face. Today he was smiling.

            She had met him before, she even saw him most days, usually at lunch time. She didn’t know where he lived or what he liked to do with his days, but she knew that he liked the colour blue and that he put sweetener in his coffee instead of sugar. She certainly knew his favourite place to get lunch, because it was hers too. She was there today, for a sandwich and a chance to see him… but he was already there, smiling in her mirror. She tilted her head, smiling too and it seemed the reflection moved with her. She didn’t even notice when a person bumped into her shoulder.

            “Oh, I’m Sorry.”

            She looked up, it was him. Her jaw dropped, but he didn’t notice because he was… he was staring at her mirror. A light seemed to dance in his eyes. Pushing her chair back with force she stood up and tucked the mirror safely back into her bag. The man had stumbled back to avoid being hit by her chair and she looked at him now. And he looked back. Wide-eyed, she turned, trying not to run as she fled the store.

            A week had passed and she hadn’t returned. The mirror showed her countless incredible things, but not the one thing she looked for. She sat outside their restaurant, gazing vacantly into a reflected field, watching the flowers sway in a breeze she couldn’t feel.

            “Is that… magic?”

            She looked up. The sun was shining behind him, making it hard to see his face. He reached out.

            “You can’t have it,” she said. Her eyes fell back to its face, practiced. An ocean stretched out in front of her palm. She felt a hand on hers.

            “May I see it?” His eyes were closer than they’d ever seemed reflected. Her grip loosened slightly and she angled the mirror so that he might see it, encased within their hands. His eyes fell and slowly began to light; she watched his face and wondered what the mirror was showing him.

            Somebody’s wrist –flicked- and their hands were empty as the smash of shattering glass filled their ears. It seemed that a sliver of refracted light danced in their eyes and then away into the skies. She dove after her splintered mirror and tried to piece it back together, but the fragments reflected nothing, but parts of her own, scared face.

            “Oh no,” said his voice, “your mirror,” and it was only at that point that she realised she was crying. A hand came into her field of view and picked up the largest, jagged shard of her love. She followed the hand past a wrist and found a shoulder.

            “I’m not so sure it’s magic anymore,”

            And she looked up. And she saw his face.