Dark Ends: A Horror Collection

by Sara Bourgeois

  It wasn't just the look of the object that bothered him so much. There was also that same creepy feeling he'd gotten at the Home Depot. The completely irrational feeling that the mirror was mocking him made his blood boil a little.

  "I think we should get rid of it," John said brusquely.

  Chapter Four

  “Why on earth would we get rid of it, John?” Sammy asked. “It’s beautiful, and I’m sure it’s worth a ton of money. Look at it.”

  “I am looking at it, and I don’t like it. I don’t want to sell it either. Let’s just put it out on the curb. Someone will take it.” John said.

  “What’s gotten into you?”

  “Nothing. It just weirds me out. Okay?” John said with a shrug. “Please? I promise I’ll buy you any other mirror you want, but can we get rid of this one?”

  Sammy thought about it. She didn’t want to get rid of the mirror, but there was also no reason for her to fight to keep it. Still, for a moment as she gazed into the glass, Sammy could swear that it looked like a metallic liquid pool.

  Without thinking, her hand reached out of its own accord, and her fingers met the reflective surface. It was cool to the touch, and suddenly the attic around her felt stiflingly hot. If she could just walk into the mirror, everything would be better.

  "Sammy." John's voice cut through her commune with the mirror, and Sammy found herself disproportionately annoyed with him for the intrusion.

  "What?" She snapped, but then quickly apologized. "Sorry, it's so hot up here."

  Sammy considered the mirror for another moment and then decided that it would be best to listen to John. Something wasn't quite right about the mirror, and the last thing she needed was to get herself into another situation.

  "I'll help you carry it out to the curb." She said contritely. "I'm sure someone will snatch it up in no time."

  It was a good thing that it didn't rain overnight, because the next day when Sammy got up, the mirror was still on the curb. She had the day off, and much to her later embarrassment, she spent the better part of the morning sitting at the front window watching people come and go. Several had stopped by to look at the mirror, but for some reason, no one ever took it.

  Around lunchtime, Sammy sat at the window in a kitchen chair she'd dragged in and placed just right so that she'd had the perfect view of the mirror. A plate with a bologna sandwich sat balanced on her lap, and a tall glass of diet pop was at her feet.

  When the latest looky-loo came and went, Sammy started to feel sadness for the mirror. How could something so beautiful be so unwanted? The last guy had rolled up in a beat-up red pickup. The bed of the truck was full of other stuff he'd most likely scavenged from other people's curbs.

  Her heart hurt as the man picked up the large mirror and gave it a close inspection. He looked like the kind of guy that knew exactly how much a piece like it was worth. Much to her surprise and utter relief, he'd put the mirror down quickly. With a curse under his breath, he'd hurried back to his truck and sped off.

  That was the last straw. There was no way Sammy was going to let her mirror sit outside on the street and be treated that way. John was at work, but she was sure she could get it back into the house without damaging it. Whether he liked it or not, John would just have to understand. Sammy loved that mirror, and it belonged in her house.

  Sammy slipped on her shoes and shuffled quickly out to the curb. She felt a rush of relief once she found herself standing in front of the mirror again. Why anyone would have stored such a magnificent piece in the attic was beyond her. While some people might have thought that it was just a reflective pane of glass, Sammy saw a work of art.

  When Sammy lifted the mirror, she was amazed to find that it felt lighter than expected. She easily picked it up and carried it back into the house. Once inside, Sammy pulled John's toolbox out of the corner he'd had it stashed in.

  She went from room to room in an attempt to find the perfect place to hang the mirror. It had to be somewhere she could see it most of the time. The idea to put it at the base of the stairs just inside the front door came to her.

  "Yes." She said aloud. "That's a very good idea. Then, I'll be able to see it when I come home from work. Oh, and when I get up in the morning and come downstairs for breakfast."

  Sammy found some nails that she hoped were the right size and knocked on the wall in a few places. She'd heard that you needed to attach large objects to the studs, so that's what she intended to find. After a few minutes of knocking around, Sammy was confident that she'd found both hollow places in the wall to avoid and the studs.

  Her next step was to measure the height she needed to ensure the mirror hung at the perfect height, and use a ruler to draw a line so that it was straight. It needed to look absolutely perfect. Anything less wasn't good enough for her mirror.

  She bent three nails in the process of hanging the mirror. Twice she'd come close to whacking her fingers, but somehow, Sammy managed to avoid significant injury.

  An hour later, Sammy was covered in sweat and panting from exertion. The lightness she'd experienced when carrying the mirror into the house seemed to have left the object. That was okay with her, though. If she had to work to have it in her home, it was no bother.

  "The only things worth having in life take hard work," Sammy said to herself like a mantra. "I needed some exercise anyway."

  Once the mirror was on the wall, Sammy needed to clean it. She went to the kitchen to retrieve the furniture polish and glass cleaner from under the kitchen sink. There were rags stashed in a box on the floor of the pantry, so Sammy grabbed two.

  She took her time polishing the wood. Every once in a while, Sammy stole a look at herself in the glass while she cleaned. The mirror made her look different. She liked the effect. It changed her hair to a rich shade of chocolate brown and made the color of her eyes deeper as well. For a moment, she could have sworn that it was actually someone else staring back at her. But, when she blinked, it was her own visage looking back.

  When Sammy had the wood shining like new, she grabbed the bottle of blue glass cleaner and sprayed a few times toward the center. She was careful not to get the cerulean liquid on the wood. One swipe with the rag and it was evident that a cloth wasn't the right tool for the job.

  "I'm sorry," Sammy said to the mirror when she saw the fabric pills streaked across the glass.

  She quickly retreated into the kitchen and grabbed a handful of paper towels. "These should work," Samantha noted to herself. One thing she insisted on was buying the right brand of paper towels, so Sammy was confident that there wouldn't be any bits of paper left behind.

  A couple more careful spritzes of the glass cleaner and Sammy went to town on the glass with the towels. A bit of elbow grease was all it took, and within minutes, the glass made that satisfying rubbing sound on her last few passes.

  Sammy threw the dirty paper towels away and tossed the rags in the laundry. After putting the cleaner bottles away, she returned to the mirror to admire her handiwork. Standing a few feet away with her arms crossed over her chest, Sammy couldn't help but congratulate herself on what a good job she'd done with the mirror.

  For the rest of the afternoon, she'd smile whenever she saw it. Generally, she'd hate doing chores on her day off, but being up and around doing the cleaning and laundry gave her plenty of excuses to walk by the mirror and admire it.

  One time, it did give her pause. She'd just come downstairs and was turning to walk into the kitchen when a flash of something caught her eye. At first, Sammy thought she'd seen someone come down the stairs just behind her. But, when she whirled around, no one was there.

  It was bizarre in that the person she'd thought she'd seen following her looked almost like a carbon copy of herself. But, it wasn't the self she'd been before the mirror. The woman behind her looked like the darker-haired version Sammy had seen in the mirror while she cleaned it.

  Sammy stared at her reflection for a few moments wondering if anything would appear
behind her again. A chill ran down her spine, and she scolded herself for thinking such strange thoughts.

  A meow issued from her feet and Sam realized that Tut had been the one following her. How her mind had turned her ginger kitty into a dark-haired woman was a mystery to Sammy, but working in mental health taught you that the brain can do strange things.

  At least, she hoped that it was it.

  Chapter Five

  The scent of unfamiliar spices filled the air as John walked into the house. He could hear the soft sound of Sammy in the kitchen humming. The food she was cooking smelled delicious, but he didn't know exactly what it was. The dishes she'd been preparing had to have been something she'd never made before.

  He stood in the doorway and watched her for a little while before saying anything. Sammy had her hair pulled up into a bun on top of her head, and she was wearing big hoop earrings. Her usual jeans and t-shirt had been replaced by a long flowing skirt and billowing white top. Sammy's feet were bare, but John could see that she'd painted her toenails a bright purple.

  "You look different," John said playfully as Sammy twirled around.

  A smile spread across her face. "I know, right. I dug these clothes out of my storage. It was a phase I went through when I was younger. I think I look great." She said and whirled around to stir the pot on the stove.

  "You always look beautiful," John said. "What are you making?"

  "It's Moroccan couscous and spiced lentils." She responded in a sing-song voice and went back to humming and swaying as she cooked.

  "I didn't know you knew how to make Moroccan food." John.

  "I felt inspired." She continued to dance around the kitchen. "Is that okay with you?" Sammy teased and then shimmied her hips at John."

  "It's more than okay." He said with a smile. "I'm going to go get washed up and changed for dinner."

  "Hurry back. It's almost done."

  John left the kitchen and headed for the stairs. He stopped in his tracks at the sight of the mirror hanging at the base of the staircase. John shook his head in confusion and scratched his chin thoughtfully. How had he missed it when he came in the front door?

  He guessed that the door opening must have covered it almost completely. It just wasn’t something he'd been looking for, so his mind must have missed it. John stood there staring at the mirror for a minute. For some reason, he couldn't pull his eyes away from it. The smell of the spices in the food and the sound of Sammy's voice entranced him.

  "Sammy," John called out after shaking off the stupor.

  "Yeah, babe?"

  "What's the mirror doing hanging here?"

  "Oh, John. I hope you're not mad. I just couldn't part with it." She said in that sing-song voice. "Why don't you get ready for dinner? We'll talk over the meal."

  Upstairs in the bathroom, John felt irrationally annoyed at the bathroom mirror. He was surprised to find that he wanted to shatter it with his fist. John was usually an even-tempered man who didn't get angry, so the impulse to smash something was distressing.

  He wanted to get downstairs to dinner and speak with Sammy about the ornate mirror that hung in the front entryway. So, he hung a towel over the bathroom mirror and started the water. Out of sight, out of mind, John hoped.

  The hot water from the shower helped him relax his tired, stiff muscles. The steam cleared his head. John closed his eyes and let the hot water splash over his face. It had been a long day at work, and he had half a mind to just let Sammy keep the mirror. He was too tired to discuss it. What he wanted most was to fill his belly with dinner, drink a beer, and then crash out for the night.

  John threw on a pair of cargo shorts and a gray t-shirt before plodding down the steps to join Sammy for dinner. While he was in the shower, she'd set the table and lit a pair of long, white candles. There was even a bouquet of fresh lavender she'd snipped from her small garden in the backyard. Sammy was buttering him up, and at that point, John knew there would be no talking her out of the mirror.

  "It looks delicious. You'll have to tell me what I should do to inspire you more often." John teased.

  Sammy rolled her eyes and laughed. "It sounds weird, but I think it's the mirror that inspired me." She said dreamily as if speaking about a lover and not a useful wall decoration. "It just completes everything around here. There was something missing in the house until it came along."

  John thought what she'd said was bizarre, but it was kinda cute. He imagined that her job had to be stressful and depressing at times, and it was probably good for her to get excited about the little things.

  "Okay, sweetie. We'll keep the mirror." He said with resignation.

  "Oh, I was hoping you'd say that."

  She got up, came around the table, and gave John a huge hug. As she pulled back, a thunderous snap sounded from the kitchen. Sammy and John both jumped and hurried toward the kitchen as the sound of rushing water met their ears.

  The pipe in one of the walls had burst and broken through the plaster. Water spewed into the kitchen and flooded the hall. A loud bang resounded from the entryway.

  "Oh no, the mirror," Sammy said and splashed through the water as she tried to get to it before the water damaged the frame. "I hope the glass isn't broken."

  "Sammy, forget about the mirror. You've got to help me with this." John said with more than a hint of agitation.

  "One minute. Let me get it up on the stairs."

  Sammy used a rush of adrenaline to hoist the mirror up onto the stairs. Once it was safely out of the water, Sam scrambled back toward the kitchen. She felt sorry for abandoning John. Why was she more worried about that mirror than everything else in the house?

  "I'm coming back. I'm sorry." She said and grabbed a basket of towels that had been sitting on top of the dryer.

  "I've got to go down to the basement and shut off the water," John said.

  While Sammy spread the towels over the floor as best she could, John went down into the basement to turn off the water to the house. A couple of minutes later, the water stopped gushing from the pipe.

  John emerged from the basement. "I've got a wet/dry vac in the garage. I'm going to go get it. Can you suck up the water while I run to work and get dryer fans? We need to get this dry as soon as possible."

  "I can do that."

  John dragged the Shop Vac from the garage into the kitchen. He plugged it in over the sink to protect Sammy from shock. Sammy picked up the towels and put them in the washing machine before she started to vacuum up the water. She had to empty the tank three times, but all of the water was gone by the time John returned.

  He brought the drying fans into the house and turned them on. They were loud and hot, but they'd get the job done.

  John knocked a big enough hole in the wall so that he could replace the length of pipe that had broken. It didn't take him long, but he was overjoyed when he was done because the drying fans made the downstairs of the house feel like an oven.

  "I need to get to bed," John said. "I've got to be at work in a few hours."

  The next morning John was up before the sun. He emptied a pot of strong black coffee into a thermos. On his way out the door for work, John noticed the mirror was back up on the wall. Had Sammy gotten up in the middle of the night to put it up?

  Chapter Six

  The sun felt like it was beating John down. After two hours, John had to move into the house they were building and work on framing walls that were out of harsh light. Out of the sun, his head still pounded from the work going on around him. The lack of sleep and too much coffee most likely had him dehydrated.

  A couple of hours into his shift, dark clouds rolled across the sky. A short time later, thunder crashed, and a cool breeze swept through the house. It was still partially open as not all of the exterior walls had been built yet.

  The sound of the rain soothed him. Despite the fatigue John still suffered, he felt himself start to relax and get into the groove of work. The next couple of hours flew by, and before he knew it, guy
s were putting down their tools for lunch.

  John realized he hadn't packed his lunch that day as his stomach began to growl. He saw a couple of guys heading for a white pickup, and he could hear them talking about picking up some burgers.

  "Hey, fellas! You got room for one more?" He called after them and double-timed it toward the group.

  The rain had stopped, but the dirt around the construction site was spotted with puddles. As John hopped over one in his attempt to get to the truck, something caught his eye. There was a reflection in one of the puddles. At first, he'd thought it was Sammy. Perhaps she'd brought him lunch.

  "Go on, guys. Sammy's brought me lunch." He called out to the group.

  They gave him a peculiar look. "You sure?" one of them responded.

  "Yeah, go on. Sammy's right here." He said with a chuckle.

  The guys shrugged and got into the truck. As the last door slammed shut, a man named James shook his head as if John was being ridiculous. He couldn't figure out for the life of him why they were acting strangely. Sammy was right there.

  He turned around, and there was no one there. But, for a half second, John could still see the reflection. It was then that he realized it wasn't Sammy. Before the woman in the mirror disappeared, John realized that it was a young lady with dark hair and pale skin. John thought he'd seen her smile at him, but that could have been his imagination playing tricks on him.

  The guys were going to rip him a new one for acting weird. Oh well, he could play it off like he'd forgotten about a text message or something. Even though he was thoroughly creeped out, John's stomach continued to rumble. It occurred to him that the dehydration, hunger, and lack of sleep might be the cause of his hallucination.

  On the short walk to his truck, John made sure to avoid all the puddles he could. When he did have to pass by one, he'd look up at the sky or focus on the trees in the distance. It took actual concentration not to take a peek. It was as if they were attempting to pull him in.