by K. Weikel
Chapter 2
Becca sits in her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her eyes find a long, dark crack and follow it down the paleness of the pant in the darkness of the night.
She can’t sleep. Today’s events have pulled her back to the memory of when she was a child, and the feelings that come with that are not pleasant ones.
The moonlight streams past a building and into her tall window, creating an eerie shadow on the floor of her bedroom. Every now and then, she shifts her eyes from the window to the shadow, as if she was waiting for it to move.
She adjusts her mask. It doesn’t sit right in her face just yet, but it will soon, once her face has lost its chub.
Her eyes grow heavy with sleep, although she doesn’t want to close them, doesn’t want the vulnerability of blindness. Her brain still prickles with the thought of the man in the black and her body tingles with the anticipation of not being able to see if anyone comes in, although that is an unlikely thought to have.
Becca loses the fight to stay awake, and her eyes slide shut. Eventually, she begins to dream.
She stands in a garden, green surrounding her everywhere. Tall trees stretch far above her and bright sunlight streams down onto her face. Flowers of yellows and reds and purples dance in the gentle wind as birds chirp and fly overhead, the beating of their wings adding to the symphony of sounds around her.
Becca is not alone in the garden, though.
There are many people around, white masks and black masks seeming to almost dance as they walk on the twisting dirt walkways, laughing and conversing with each other in pure happiness and gee.
Becca starts to walk down the path as well, in the opposite direction of everyone else. No one notices her as the crowd swells past her and to a grand fountain in the heart of the garden.
She comes across two trees, both of them standing tall and proud. They are the exact same tree, as if they are a reflection of each other. Each leaf is in the same spot and each branch hanging below the greenery on top are exactly the same.
She makes her way over to them curiously, wondering if she’s seeing things.
Two birds fly quickly from the tops of the trees. They appear from the same spot and fly the same path over Becca’s head.
“Hm…” She thinks aloud, curious but afraid to ask questions.
As she passes between the trees she looks up to see the sun splotching through the trees and trickling down onto her skin, creating patterns that remind her of a cheetah or a jaguar.
She turns to look straight ahead as she passes the twin trees and sees a mirror. It’s about as tall as she stands and only about as wide as her shoulders. The image of her reflection is blurry, as if her eyes are not focused on the image, but rather something in the background.
With each step, the picture is clearer, each fold in her colorful fabric that she wears for pajamas clarifying and each crease in her skin becoming visible. She looks at her face and her heart starts to race.
Her reflection doesn’t have a mask on.
Becca reaches up to touch her face. The maskless reflection copies her. Becca has her mask on, but why is it not appearing in the mirror?
Becca’s reflection smiles wickedly at her, the corners of her mouth twisting up in an unnatural position as she reaches forward, her hands stretching the mirror like melting metal as they begin to protrude from the glass.
Scared, Becca backs away as the glass begins to pull back and scrape down the skin of the long fingers. They begin to bleed, dripping blood onto the green grass underneath them, and the reflection keeps the painted on smile as her eyes radiate with fire and fury.
Becca bumps into something standing behind her as she tries to get away from the terrifying mirror.
A man in a white mask with a golden pattern that reminds Becca of a vine, and dark leather clothes that covers his body stares down at her. On his mask is a sinister smile and the eyeholes are pitch black.
She starts to tremble with increasing fear and she takes a few steps away from him, almost forgetting about the mirror behind her.
The man starts to laugh as if someone had told a funny joke. Other people with white masks appear around them in a wide circle, all closing in and laughing as if they had seen something funny. Their masks start to shift quickly from bright white to a dark gray color as she watches them chuckle and squeal at nothing.
Becca feels the cold hands on her shoulders from the mirror and she screams as her mask falls from her face. The laughing stops immediately and the man with the white mask charges forward, as if he were to either attack her or save her. Becca can’t tell…
But the hands from the mirror are too fast for the man, too strong. He doesn’t even make it half way to her before they drag Becca through the mirrors’ surface.
She stands now, the hands gone, looking at the crowd of people, as if it were a window. The hairs on her neck are standing up and goose bumps start covering her skin, a prickling sensation running through her body. She can feel eyes on her. She doesn’t want to turn around. She’s not alone in this space—wherever she is.
The crowd of people through the mirror-window disintegrates in swells of laughter, and the man in the white mask stares at her for a moment before tuning to go as well, joining in with the laughter and conversation.
“Becca…” Something whispers by her ear.
She turns quickly, but sees nothing.
Her heart pounds in her chest like a drum as she looks around the room. It’s dark inside and each of the brick walls are painted black. A single light shines down dimly from the ceiling, but strangely there is nothing there to give off that light. There are no doors, no windows… the only thing that suggests this place is even remotely real is the mirror-window… but that isn’t real either, and Becca knows it.
The room is empty but she hears voices echo and bounce off the walls. Her name swirls around her in whispers that slice through the air like knives, making Becca’s insides feel gnarled and tangled, and her blood run as cold as ice. She can feel that something isn’t right about this place.
And then the masks appear.
Black masks form from the ground begin to appear from the walls, hundreds of them dripping as if they are covered with wet black paint. Their faces are all different, some sad and most terrifying. Transparent black-cloaked bodies gradually appear underneath them as they get closer, and the holes where the eyes go turn black as night. They continue to creep toward Becca, who feels tears start to fall from her eyes.
“Becca Reed,” She hears.
She jumps, and a small guttural noise escapes her mouth as she falls to the floor, pressing her back against the wall that holds the mirror-window.
The man with the white mask stands above her.
“Becca Reed,” He hisses, his voice indistinct. “You are no good. You will be bad.”
Becca stares at him, a new sense of fear washing over her. How did he get in here? Though the mirror? He couldn’t have… her back has been almost against it the entire time…
“You will mess up,” He goes on. “You are not perfect.”
“I—I chose the white mask,” She says, her voice a higher pitch than normal. “I can do it.”
The man chuckles softly, evilly. “No you can’t.”
“I can!” She shouts.
The mirror suddenly shatters behind her, glass pieces falling into her hair and onto her shoulders. She covers the top of her head and looks behind her once it stops, only to see the frame of the mirror with a brick wall inside of it. There’s no way out.
The room begins to shake as the masks start to grow. They grow bigger and bigger and the room stretches taller and wider. Becca feels so small… she’s like an ant…
The man with the white mask and dark clothes stands in front of her now, instead of by her side. His hands are on his hips and he shakes his head, his laughter distorted by the mask.
“You will fail,” He says. “And they will get you.”
The masks dive
forward and slam into her body.
Becca jerks awake, screaming, sweat pooling on her forehead and her heart beating in her ears. The blankets are twisted around her like a cocoon and the room is still dark with nighttime. The shadow still lingers on the floor, still and silent as a shadow is supposed to be, and that comforts her a bit as her eyes stay glued to it.
And then it moves.
