The Magic Mirror
Page 1
The Magic Mirror
Michael Gemignani
Copyright 2010 Michael Gemignani
This book may be copied and distributed freely, but not used for
financial profit without my permission.
The Magic Mirror
Into the Forest
Behind the weather-beaten house of my youth was large yard half covered with items that my parents had thrown there when they broke and could not be fixed, or when my parents simply tired of them. The discards included an old wringer washing machine with the wringer busted out and, a rusted push lawnmower.
The grass, what there was of it, had grown up around and through the trash. Immediately behind the yard was a forest. The roots of some of the trees closest to our yard broke through the ground and sapped much of the nutrition from the soil. The trees also cloaked the yard in shade much of the day and further hindered growth. My parents had half-heartedly tried to start a garden on one edge of the yard, but gave up when all they got were scrawny shoots and no mature plants.
We struggled daily to keep the forest from invading our property. Seedlings were a constant presence in our yard despite its poor soil. My parents pulled up the infant trees before they could firmly root themselves. Even as uneducated as they were, they were smart enough to know that if the seedlings were allowed to prosper, they would eventually overwhelm us. My parents paid more attention to the seedlings than to me. I suspected that our poverty made them resent having to spend the meager amounts needed to feed and clothe me. I was not sure they wanted me in the first place. I may have been merely a byproduct of what passion they could muster shortly after their marriage. In any event, they were cold and distant. I had to fend for myself, and I became cold and distant toward them.
The forest was a dark, foreboding place. My parents warned me not to venture far into it, to stay always close enough to the house that they could hear me shout if I got into trouble, to never go deep enough that I could not easily find my way home. I think they were more afraid of what the neighbors would say if something terrible happened to me than caring about my safety, nor did they want to have to go to the trouble of looking for me if I got lost.
Dark and foreboding, but I was never sure what lurked in the forest that I should be afraid of. Were their fearsome animals, bears perhaps? We did see wildlife in our yard often enough, but these were harmless rabbits, squirrels, deer and raccoons.
My father would sometimes shoot a deer, dress the carcass and place the meat in our freezer. Venison was a staple of our diet, but I was sad for the deer and felt guilty whenever I ate it. Occasionally, my father would shoot a squirrel. He considered squirrel a delicacy, but I could not bring myself to eat squirrel. Eat deer but not squirrel? Well, I had to eat something. We were among the poorest of the poor.
Still, the forest beckoned. I was quite familiar with the area close to our house. There was even a narrow path leading into the forest from our yard that I had followed until I feared I had wandered farther than my parents wanted me to. But the path went on even after I had turned back; and I resolved that one day I would find out where it led.
That day came one afternoon when I had followed the path to the point at which I had always before turned back. Why not go on, I asked myself. As long as I was on the path, I could always find my way back. If I sensed any danger, I would immediately run home as fast as I could. Of course, I would not tell my parents what I had done. But what danger could there be? We had never seen an animal more dangerous than a large dog in our yard, and even the dog showed himself to be friendly. If there were bears, or wolves, or tigers in the forest, why had we never seen evidence of them? I pressed on.
I must have lost track of time, so engrossed was I in my adventure, that suddenly I realized that darkness was falling. I realized that the sun was going down, though I could not see the sun through the trees. There was no chance of my reaching the house before total darkness set in. The path could not guide me home if I could not see it.
I was seized by fear. I could not even see my hand in front of my face. Clouds covered the sky so I did not even have faint light from the stars or moon. I had never experienced such complete darkness, such awful blindness. I could never even have conjured it up in my imagination. My imagination created images, sounds, speeches. But now there were no images, and what sounds there were came from creatures I dared not imagine. I began to cry softly at first, and then I broke into loud sobs.
But tears, I realized, would not save me. I prayed. I shouted. AGod, if you exist, save me. Show me the path home. Keep me safe from the dangers of the night.@ There was no reply.
Surely, though, my parents would start to search for me when I did not return home. I feared what they would do to punish me for my transgression, but I feared the darkness even more. I called out with as much force as I could muster, AI am here. Your son is here. Help me, my mother and father.@ My words disappeared into the darkness leaving nothing behind but the void of the all-enveloping night.
Despite my anxiety, I was tired beyond exhaustion. I knelt and felt the ground around me. The path beneath me was bordered by tall grass. I lay down along the path, using my hands as a pillow. If I were not first devoured by some beast, the dawn would enable me to find my way home. If I awoke, I would know I was still alive. If I did not wake up, . . . If I did not wake up, how would I know I did wake up? Had my spirit been less drained, I would have found that thought amusing. In a short time, I feel into a deep sleep.
My blanket of sleep was suddenly shaken off by my unconscious mind which had detected something peculiar. Then I heard voices in the distance and saw faint lights flickering in the darkness. I could tell from the voices that there was a man and women, and from the flickering of the light, I guessed they were carrying torches. My parents, my parents were looking for me after all. I called out, AHere I am. Here is your son.@
The voices were louder now, and I could make out the flames of the torches, but the faces were still too far away to see clearly. When I cried out AI am here,@ my rescuers seemed to move more quickly, though still slowly picking their way along the narrow path by what pale light their torches could provide.
They were within perhaps ten feet of me when I finally could make out their faces. They seemed to be my parents, but I was not sure. I called out again, AHere I am, your son.@
They came closer and stood over me. I tried to stand, but I did not have the strength. AHelp me. Help me to stand,@ I begged.
The woman held the torch down to better illuminate my face. AHa,@ she laughed, Athis is not the one we=re looking for.@
The man then studied me by the light of his own torch. AI=m afraid you=re right,@ he agreed. AHe is definitely not the one we=re looking for.@ He, too, burst into laughter. Then they turned and walked away down the path from whence they had come, still laughing. Their laughter faded into the distance along with the flames of their torches.
I lay there again in complete darkness. I must have fallen asleep again, for when I opened my eyes again, it was day. My thoughts were confused, chaotic. Were the two that found me last night really my parents? Perhaps the encounter was not real. Perhaps it was a dream, or perhaps the spirits of the forest were playing a practical joke. I don=t know. I may never know.
I rose and began walking down the path again away from my house.
A House in the Forest
I kept moving forward down the path with little sense of time. The sun was now high in the sky, and the air was hot even in the shade of the forest. I had not eaten since yesterday=s lunch and my stomach was beginning to hurt. I had risked a drink from a stream near the p
ath because I was so thirsty. I thought that, surely, I would have reached the edge of the forest by now, but there was still naught but trees and brush on all sides.
Still, I dared not leave the path. In a forest so vast, I could easily become lost. At least the path must eventually lead somewhere. Others must have used the path recently since it had not been overgrown. But I had, as yet, met no one else and was not sure how I would react if I did. If they were going my way, I might ask to join them since I was feeling quite lonely and unsure of myself.
Perhaps I had made a terrible mistake in striking out of my own. Perhaps it was not my parents who had abandoned me last night. Even if it was they, it was I who had disobeyed their command not to stray so far into the forest. I could still return home and they would have to accept me, however little they loved me. I would apologize and ask them to forgive me. It would take the remainder of the day to retrace my steps, but I could, I thought, reach the house before nightfall.
Yes, my home, food, a place to sleep, safety. If I ran much of the way I might reach home by late afternoon. I turned and gasped. I closed my eyes, hoping that when I reopened them what I had seen was only an illusion. I opened my eyes and stared. The path back to my house and my parents had been reclaimed by the forest.
I saw that the forest was no longer just a mass of trees and undergrowth. Though seemingly immobile, it had a mind and a will of its own. And its will, apparently, was to keep me from the safety of my home. What if it now chose to block my path forward as well? I hurried down the path as quickly as I could, hoping to escape before the accursed trees chose to imprison me.
As I ran, I noticed an area ahead to the right where the light seemed brighter. As I approached it, I saw there was a clearing; and when I came to the clearing, I saw a house in the middle of the clearing.
I had never expected to find a house in the forest, but neither had I expected the trees to move and block my way home. The house might well be a trap. It might not even be a house at all, just as a path might suddenly not be a path.
Oddly, the house itself looked much like my parents= house, but it was much better kept. The paint was not peeling or faded, and there was no rotten wood close to the stairs to the porch. It looked like my house might look like if we were not so poor as to be unable to afford to keep it up.
The house was surrounded was green grass, nicely trimmed. The lawn was free of trash and bare spots. What was I to do? I was ravenously hungry as well as thirsty. I would have to take the chance that this was a trap. Perhaps I would be murdered, or even eaten for dinner. My exhaustion and hunger overwhelmed my fear, and I climbed the porch steps and stood at the front door.
A sign beside the door read, AWelcome, please come in.@ There was no doorbell, and so I knocked on the door three times. After I waited a minute or so and no one came, I knocked on the door more loudly and for a longer time. Still, no one came. But the sign invited me to enter, and, screwing up my courage as best I could in my weakened state, I grabbed hold of the doorknob and turned it.
To my surprise, I was able to push the door open. Surely, I thought, anyone living here would lock the door to prevent intruders. But they did invite me to come in, didn=t they? I stepped across the threshold and stopped in stunned disbelief. The inside of the house was exactly like that of my old house, except that it was neat and well-kept. I was in a hallway with the living room on my right and the dining room on my left. A table