by M. J. Mallon
She glanced into the mirror and began again. ‘I take my frustrations out on Amelina. I feel so guilty. Poor kid, she doesn’t deserve it. It seems that ever since Mark vanished, I’ve felt so miserable. I can’t help myself. I lash out verbally. Even though Mark has returned, I can’t take my frustrations out on him, so she bears the brunt of it. She must think I’m a bitch.’
I observed Mum as she turned her face to study it at different angles before addressing the mirror again. I could hear the question in her voice. ‘Why can’t life be kinder? Nothing I do makes any difference—the mental scarring’s too deep.’
She paused for a moment and then continued, smiling ruefully at her reflection. ‘I feel you’re encouraging me to pour my soul to you, mirror. If I remain silent, you seem to reflect more light, as if you are lonely and encouraging me to stay and talk to you. I don’t know how that could be, but somehow, I feel it is true. At times I swear I hear a noise much like a sigh. I’m not sure if it’s me hearing things or if it’s someone else?’
Mum shook her head and fluffed her hair; her face hovering inches away from the glass. ‘Maybe it’s you I hear,’ she whispered. She laughed. ‘That’s ridiculous; mirrors don’t sigh. I’m all alone here, mirror.’
Mum glanced down at the floor and over her shoulder before speaking once again to the mirror. ‘Everyone’s out, except for Shadow. That cat meows, but it isn’t a friendly meow. Shadow and I don’t get on. There’s something weird about a black cat that turns up at troubling times. The bloody cats like a beggar with fleas showing up on your doorstep and claiming squatter’s rights.’
Stifling a laugh, Mum surveyed the hallway for Shadow as if she and the mirror were old friends gossiping over tea before she continued her dissertation. ‘Shadow often joins me here, mirror. He appears fascinated by his own reflection. Cats are strange creatures. He gives me the creeps. I’d like to shoo him away, but his eyes glare at me, so I don’t. You know what that cat does then? He turns his head away from me, all haughty as he continues to stare at the glass. I’m convinced that he’s admiring himself the way he stares at his reflection. I believe he recognises himself too. It’s odd. Perhaps he’s a witch’s cat, or maybe he understands what I’m saying. Whatever it is, I can’t help but feel like I shouldn’t antagonise him.’
Mum scratched her head, peering at herself in the glass. She leaned closer and whispered. ‘I’m reluctant to continue talking when Shadow’s here, which is ridiculous. Anyway, I filed a missing person report when Mark vanished. It’s horrible, but when he returned, I felt even more miserable.’
Tears slid down Mum’s face, and she swiped at the moisture lingering on her cheeks. I could tell she’d reached a plateau of upset, yet she kept on nattering on in that way she had. I hoped Esme could stand the outpouring of grief that gushed from her tiny body. Mum continued blubbering, and her voice cracked with emotion. ‘Who wants to wake up every morning to this shadow that is my husband? He’s hardly living. Sometimes I wish he’d disappear again.’
Shivering from the surge of her words, Mum hugged herself before beginning her tirade once more. ‘When you love someone, you can’t bear to see them suffer, you know? It cuts away at me, I tell you. Mark’s lost his soul. It’s not just the aging; his heart has lost its rhythm for life. It still beats a song I love but, only just.’ Mum placed her fist in her mouth almost like she longed to stop the words flowing unchecked from her soul. I felt chilled from her admissions and crept a bit closer so I could hear her better.
Crying hard now, her words echoed in my ears. ‘My neighbours and friends close their eyes from this horror but pretend that I’m one of the lucky ones—my husband came back alive—what a joke. People can see so little sometimes; they hide from the truth. Mirror, I swear you agree, but I don’t hear your answer,’ she said bitterly. ‘I know, I know. Mirrors can’t talk.’
Shadow crept from a corner and sauntered down the hallway, stopping to admire himself in the mirror. I could tell he’d heard enough. He swished his tail, his reflection following him as he passed in front of the looking glass. With a rueful glance in the cat’s direction, Mum said, ‘There you are, Shadow. I wondered where you were.’
I watched as my cat spun around and glared at Mum while an evil grin edged with twitching whiskers spread across his face. For a moment it seemed possible that he might be somebody else. Mum’s words and Shadow’s evil grin had disturbed me, but it didn’t stop me from investigating further. I turned to the mirror again to be my source of information.
This time Esme had heard Dad’s confession. Perhaps she might have embellished this a little, but who wouldn’t under her circumstances?
Dad always spoke to the mirror with the same opening words and repeated them over and over again. That’s why she could remember them so well. Not long after Mum’s admissions to the hallway mirror, Esme whispered Dad’s words to me.
Much like Mum’s diatribe, Dad’s thoughts repeated many of the same themes. He stared into the mirror and said, ‘I don’t feel I can talk to anyone…not even Eleanor. Somehow, we’ve grown so far apart, even though we live in the same house. Every time I peer into her eyes, I see the pain. It’s echoed in Amelina’s eyes too. So, to preserve them from any more distress, I prefer to talk to my reflection. I still see pain, but at least it’s my suffering.’
Esme said Dad seemed uncomfortable sharing his thoughts. Sometimes he paced in front of her and other times he glared at the mirror. Finally, he paused and admitted to his reflection, ‘It’s weird how I talk to mirrors ...ever since I returned. Somehow, it soothes me. And you listen. You keep my secrets, so let me share this dream that’s been plaguing me.’
According to Esme, Dad just kept talking. With some trepidation, he said, ‘It’s become addictive, this talking to mirrors. I have no one else to confide in. So, the mirrors have become my friend, a trusted companion.’
Eerie didn’t cover this, but Dad said the same things about Shadow that Mum had said. I got shivers up my spine when Esme told me what Dad had said. She repeated his words carefully: ‘I never talk to the mirror when that black cat’s nearby. That animal gives me the creeps, and it’s always hanging around. I swear I’m allergic to it, but it’s more than skin deep. I just don’t trust it. Luckily Shadow’s absent today. Perhaps he’s out killing mice.’
Esme said that Dad continued his rant while hollering at his reflection and saying, ‘I feel like shit, today, and every day. It’s like someone’s hit me with a shovel and then run off to dig my grave. That sounds harsh, but it’s true. I can’t see how things will improve. Sometimes, I think of ending it all, and then I feel guilty, because I know that’s the ultimate selfish act. But I have considered it.’
Dad’s words were scary, but nevertheless, Esme told me everything. This time he told her, ‘Every night I have this recurring dream that I’m flying through the sky, but an airplane isn’t carrying me. This terrible beating sound keeps on and on. Some dreadful winged creature is dragging me further away from my happiness, and my family, but I’ve no way of stopping it. All I can do is hold on tight and hope that I’ll survive.’ Esme seemed shook up by Dad’s words. She may have been used to my parents ranting about each other to her in the mirror, but this time she said it seemed different.
Dad said, ‘Just before the end of the dream, I always hear a loud bang like something’s being demolished or dragged from the earth. It reminds me of the deafening sound of the one o’clock gun that I’ve often heard on Princes Street Gardens in Edinburgh. That’s a loud, pleasant sound. This isn’t. It sets my pulse racing, like that tormented rollercoaster ride of my past. It disturbs me, and then I wake up in a sweat. It’s as if every pore in my body is saturated with fear. I can hardly breathe. Each day starts the same. It’s got so bad that I can’t bear sleeping, so I stay up as late as I can. I watch TV, read, and do anything so I can stay alert and not fall asleep to relive the dream. Sleeping’s become a nightmare. When I close my eyes, dark shadowy shapes crawl into my min
d to play horror games. I can’t get it to stop. Help me!’
I shivered with a growing sense of horror. Dad’s words, ‘like that tormented rollercoaster ride of my past,’ made me realise that whatever Dad had been through it had been one hell of a gut-churning ride.
Esme shook her head and shrugged her shoulders, her reflection staring back at me from the mirror in my bedroom. My family was falling apart, and I didn’t know what to do…
Puzzle Piece 9:
Shadow Disappears and Reappears
Some evil summons,
Made Dad’s youth disappear fast,
When Dad returned home,
Black cat Shadow arrived too,
Two strange coincidences.
Today promised the same routine as any other day, and the passage of time had slipped away from me. I didn’t know what to do about my parents sneaking around talking to mirrors instead of confiding in each other, or me.
In turn, I crept around, eavesdropping on them or asking Esme to spy for me. I knew we were dysfunctional and one messed up family. It made my head spin, and my heart ached at who we had become. Besides, who else had the spectre of a girl living in captivity within their household mirrors as a permanent sleepover guest? No one. There was no denying it—we were a strange family.
Today, the stifling air in this soulless pit of a house reflected my mood. It held me, an unwilling prisoner. My captivity grated on my nerves like solitary confinement. I lived in a prison with no bars, and that prison had no tangible exit. So, instead of moping, I broke out. I pushed my prison door ajar and inhaled the scent of freedom.
The afternoon mocked me. The way ahead into the garden lay dark and gloomy, all the trees stripped of their leaves and colour like a plucked bird with no plumage. The farther I walked from the house, the brighter everything became. I thought this was odd, just like everything else that had happened to my family. I shrugged my shoulders and forged ahead. It felt good to be outside.
A narrow pathway led to the country park, escaping like a released jigsaw piece with each slab. As my steps quickened, I noticed the wildflowers and grasses grew wilder and more abundant with each step. A strange and silent hush enveloped me, and I realised there were no birds in the trees or animals anywhere. The complete silence meant that I could hear the raspy sounds of my breathing filling the empty expanse of the trail.
Feeling lost and alone, a prisoner in my own tortured thoughts, I noticed the company of Shadow. He slipped next to me, and the only sound I heard was the continuous soft padding of his feet walking towards me. He rubbed against my legs, almost as if he knew I needed a hug. With his blue-black silky fur and white patch on his neck, the cat’s vibrant green eyes held my attention. This cat exuded handsomeness, and he knew it. I smiled, glad for his presence.
As I walked back towards home, my thoughts returned to Ryder and how he’d promised he’d take me out on Saturday. It felt like such a long time had passed since I’d last seen him, but it had only been a few days. I had this impression that time had stretched to its utmost point, and it now waited to return to some semblance of normality. I gulped, unsure and unsettled.
Nothing stirred at all in the garden apart from Shadow’s panther-like movements, which I watched with a mixture of amusement and trepidation. The cat sat poised at the bottom of the garden fence, and I sensed he lingered, waiting for something to happen. My eyes never left him. Yet, in the blink of an eye, he had vanished from my sight. Confused, I rubbed my eyes and looked again, but no sight of him remained. Shadow had vanished. I paused and glanced over my shoulder. Perhaps my eyes were playing tricks on me? It had all happened so quickly that I couldn’t quite believe what I’d just witnessed.
In a flash, Shadow reappeared out of thin air. I drew back and blinked my eyes in amazement. I remembered that he’d done this before. The cat’s personality never ceased to amaze me. There was something quite startling about that feline, which added another piece to the mystery of my everyday life. At that moment, I wished Shadow could talk and tell me why he did such strange things.
I bent down and rewarded his reappearance with a pat of his silky fur. ‘Hey, there you are, you peculiar, disappearing, crazy cat.’ Shadow meowed and sauntered off; his tail raised in the air in the shape of a question mark. I laughed at his composure. I could swear that the cheeky fellow winked at me as he left.
My heart swelled with the love I felt for Shadow. ‘Thank goodness, I have you. You don’t let me down. Sometimes you disappear, but you always come back. My faithful Shadow.’ The cat stopped, turned, and retraced his steps towards me. He arched his back in a graceful curve as he twisted around my legs once more. This time he answered me with a purr in a richer, deeper note that escaped from his whiskered face like a melody. It wasn’t hard to figure out that Shadow had understood what I had said.
The sound of Shadow’s sweet purring transported me back to the day he’d first appeared at our house… In fact, I realised that his arrival had coincided with the same day that Dad had returned home. I chewed my lip, remembering how my life had changed ever since that day.
Someone summoned you,
Sometimes you will disappear,
You will then return,
In a familiar place,
But you’ll be unfamiliar.
I closed my eyes and let that day replay in my mind. Mum had come to from her faint; she’d rose from the floor and locked eyes with poor Dad. This second viewing hadn’t been a pretty sight, but she braved it. She didn’t cry out. Instead, she hiccupped, swallowing her shock like a bitter pill. Dad had witnessed her hiccupping stare and gulped, lost for words.
Shadow had interrupted us by pressing his nose against the glass, imploring me to notice him. Passing by the patio door on the way to the kitchen, his plaintive meowing had grabbed my attention. Mum had heard him too. That day, she didn’t object to my inviting him in. Under normal conditions, she would have freaked out, but that day, she didn’t have the energy to tell me no, not with Dad’s reappearance.
It seemed like the right thing to do, so; I let him in. The black cat had won. It was funny how he made the decision to stay, fulfilling my wish to keep him.
Dad stayed too. But in his case, it’s as if he’s not here. He’s present, but his mind is somewhere else. It’s not surprising. Nowadays he doesn’t even join in with Mum and me. By his actions, he might as well be invisible. A statue would be more fun.
Every morning I sigh, and a deep-rooted sense of relief overwhelms me as I recognise the distinctive sounds of his heavy footsteps as he shuffles across the hallway to the bathroom. He might not have disappeared again, but his youthful enthusiasm for life has vanished. Now he behaves like a grandfather, a grumpy relic of an ancient has-been. I can’t seem to shake the feeling that his real age laughs at me, berating and teasing me, knowing he’s much younger.
Puzzle Piece 10:
Don’t Call My Music Idols Ugly
My three special things,
Music, art and poetry,
Make life worth living,
It’s a fact not a fiction,
Of your imagination.
I pondered over Esme’s words, “you won’t be free until you find the cottage.” No doubt this remained in my mind. I had to find the cottage, but how? I hadn’t had much luck until now. Esme told me little, but she revealed that the cottage held a vast array of magical crystals which could ward off evil shadows. She mentioned tight security by invitation only, and powerful protectors of the cottage would chase off all intruders using unusual means. I didn’t find out more or how she knew this, as Mum chose this moment to disturb our discussion. She came home to chaos. It was the day after my painting episode. She didn’t appreciate chaos.
Mum glanced in the mirror and threw an almighty fit. She scowled and glared at her reflection. Today, the sight of her pained likeness upset her. No doubt it bothered Esme too. Whenever she locked eyes with Mum, her face wilted. ‘Amelina, what’s that terrible noise?’ she screeched. �
��It sounds like a strangled cat. Turn it off now! It’s deafening!’
‘I’ll turn it off now.’
I wished she hadn’t come back to spoil my moments of freedom. That permanent frown on Mum’s forehead creased into a thick razor line, which appalled my senses like a caricature character that had come to life.
‘What in heavens have you been doing, Amelina? The place smells awful and looks even worse,’ she shrieked in a high-pitched, icy voice.
I cringed. ‘Sorry, Mum. I opened a present from Aunt Karissa that came in the post yesterday. It appeared to be a box of paint pots. The paint brushes neighed, and…’
‘What are you talking about? Don’t talk rubbish. Paint brushes don’t neigh! Stay away from your aunt’s strange gifts. Goodness knows where she gets them. Perhaps they should carry a warning sticker.’
‘I’m not sure I can do that, they’re so hard to resist.’ My eyes twinkled with a glint of mischievousness.
‘Yes, but resist you must,’ she scolded.
‘Did you see that weird sky?’ I asked, peering out the window.
‘What weird sky? What are you talking about?’
‘The sky I painted. It looked like something out of an eighteen plus horror movie, and then Dad’s face appeared…’
‘Really, that sounds far-fetched even for you.’ Mum interrupted me before I could say anything else. ‘Stop distracting me with all this nonsense, Amelina. Why is the place such a mess?’ She walked into the kitchen and ran her finger down the counter. I knew I pressed her buttons, and I frowned.
