"Yeah," Michael agreed, and realized the story made him shake a little.
"Look, I'm gonna go to the jungle gym until he goes away. You can come if you want."
"Okay," Michael said before Greg hastily picked up his ball and ran to the jungle gym.
Michael followed Greg, but he could feel the man in the black hat's cold, horrid gaze coating his back. His neck slowly turned until he saw the man in the corner of his eye. Michael noted he still put more and more distance between himself and the man. How could he 'get him' if the man didn't move from that spot? Curiosity eventually got the better of him, and Michael decided to take one last, good look.
He turned around, still walking backwards to create more of a gap between himself and the creepy man in the hat. He’d predicted correctly; the man hadn’t moved at all. A slight relief came over his body as he got his eye-full without incident, and he contently turned back around.
Then he bumped into something, and looked up to see that he’d run straight into the very same man in the black hat. The man placed his withered, crinkled fingers on Michael's shoulders and the boy froze in his tracks. The man in the black hat leaned down until he was face to face with Michael. The boy peered deep into the endless dark voids of his face, and a terrifying sound rang out. It sounded like a reverse shriek that Michael was certain only he could hear. He stood there among the other children of Fernwood, but he knew he was trapped. Michael felt himself being sucked away.
Sometime later, Mrs. Drake finished her magazine and looked up at the playing children. She scanned the scene for a few minutes, trying to locate her son, but he was nowhere to be seen. Keeping alarm at bay, she calmly combed through the park for Michael. When she realized she had covered most of the park, her worries formed into full-fledge panic.
"Michael!" she shouted out at groups of children. "Michael! Michael!" She called out to every corner of the playground. Frantic now, she dashed to a little boy holding a red ball who was trying to start a dodgeball game. "Excuse me! Little boy."
"Yes?" Greg said.
"Have you seen a boy named Michael? This tall? Brown hair?"
"Oh," Greg uttered as his face darkened into a cold shroud. "I told him not to look at the man, but he did it anyway. I'm sorry. He's gone."
She backed away from the boy, chilled to the marrow by his reply. As she gained her composure, she headed back to the park calling her son’s name over and over.
Mrs. Drake searched hysterically for her son at Fernwood Park all that day, and all the while the man in the black hat remained. He just stood there, at the edge of the park by the woods, staring at the kids.
About Alex Benitez
Alex Benitez is a thirty-year-old author who has been writing seriously for the last five years. Alex considers himself a storyteller and has been developing stories since his infancy. Alex had no actual formal training in writing when he wrote his first novel ‘Rose Star Runners’, and continues to write, picking up tricks of the trade as he goes along. Alex has a day job at a trendy Mexican restaurant and saves what he can for future publications. His future projects include a Horror/Thriller novel called ‘High Tower Black’, four more installments of the ‘Rose Star Runners’ series, and an untitled comic he will submit to Heavy Metal Magazine.
The Open Door
By Crystal M M Burton
There are many misconceptions about the world beyond the mirror. The most popular is the belief that it is the opposite of our own—literally a 'mirror image' of our world. Left becomes right, true becomes false, and we spend hours of our lives staring in wonder, imagining what life would be like if a few aspects of it were backwards. The idea of such a world is a mostly pleasant one.
This is wrong.
The world in the mirror is actually an impression of ours. It is a living absorption of our thoughts and emotions. It makes no distinction between lies and truth. It only understands the intensity behind our notions and perceptions, and the depth of faith we stock into our words.
We have always had windows into this mysterious realm. Witches and warlocks of the old religion were said to have passed objects through reflections in water and glass. It was only recently, in the 1800s, that a German chemist by the name of Justus von Liebig found a way to create a door. With the invention of the mirror, the concept of travel between worlds became a dangerous reality.
***
Callie Ashegrove was all too familiar with her reflection.
It was always there—in the spotless window of her brand new car, in the crystal-clear surface of her in-ground pool, and in every bright, taunting mirror. It constantly showed her things she couldn't change. Like her nose being too big for her face. Or her eyes being unnaturally far apart. The mirror mocked her and ridiculed her, but she thrived on the sadistic delusions her mind perceived. She was obsessed both with her image and how people viewed her.
Her story begins on a chilly October morning. She was only in her second month at the community college, but she knew her growing popularity was largely based on her beauty, which she perfected each day before going out into the world. She brushed the thick curls of her long blonde hair, smoothing them into perfect waves of gold. She scrupulously applied her makeup, paying extra attention to the framing of her sea-green eyes. She paused for a second too long to check her reflection. As usual, the longer she scrutinized her appearance, the more flaws she observed.
"Ugh. Look at those pores. No amount of foundation can cover those," she said, disgusted. Her reflected self seemed to be offended as well, and the frown on her face created harsh lines that only increased her aversion. She took a step back and affected a smile, trying to convince herself she was fine, as long as no one looked too closely. As she debated whether or not to put on a second layer of makeup, her phone beeped. It was Andrea, her best friend since middle school, asking for a ride. Callie texted back saying she was on her way, then stole one last glance at the mirror before heading out the door.
*** Ten Days to Halloween ***
She walked back to her silver Prius that afternoon when she spotted him across the parking lot. Fox Warren—the smart, funny, handsome Quarterback, and the only reason she had ever gone to football games.
"Hey, Fox," she said, greeting him with a smile. "How was practice?"
"It was pretty good. Jefferson's finally getting that spiral down. We might actually win a few games this year."
"Finally! I don’t know how he ever made the team."
"I do. Daddy's got money."
They gossiped as they walked right past her car, instead ending up three rows over next to his Camaro. He climbed inside the driver's seat and turned sideways to face her. She twirled the ends of her hair, directly in front of her plunging neckline, hoping the movement would compel him to notice her chest. As always, his eyes were drawn downward. He trailed off mid-sentence, biting his lower lip. A car horn nearby interrupted his fantasizing, and he picked back up where his sentence left off.
"So, anyways, I was saying I hear some chick from Physics is throwing a party next Saturday, a big Halloween scare-fest. Guess who's going with me? Now, costumes are encouraged, and you will be wearing one." He narrowed his eyes and waved a finger at her, mimicking a serious tone. "So I want to see that sexy nurse outfit you wore for my birthday." He ended with a wink, and she rolled her eyes as her face flushed.
"Um, that was actually a private showing," she teased. "But yeah, I'll totally be there."
"Great! Well, I’m off. Catch ya later, gorgeous." He revved the engine, blew her a kiss, and took off. Callie was left standing there in the parking lot, watching his flashy red car drive away.
"I guess I need to lose five pounds by next weekend," she said aloud.
"Wow," a voice answered from behind her. Callie turned to see Andrea walking over, shaking her head lightly with an amused grin. "Just wow. He has you wrapped so far around his penis, it's a wonder you aren't pregnant."
"Oh, shut it," Callie retorted. "He's Fox Warren. He has
every girl on campus wrapped around that thing. I'm just the only one who actually gets it."
"For now. His eyes like to wander."
Callie let out an exasperated sigh. She wished Andrea wasn't always so brutally honest, or so willing to share her opinions.
*** Six Days to Halloween ***
Callie sat in the passenger seat of Fox's speeding Camaro as they cruised along the highway. He had the windows down and his favorite rock station blaring. Callie's hair whipped in the wind, lashing at her face. She knew it was not a sexy look. She pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail, then reached for the purple compact mirror and eyeliner pencil she kept in her purse. She balanced the mirror in the palm of her hand and touched up the dark lines encircling her eyes.
Without warning, Fox cursed and slammed on the brakes. Callie's mirror went flying out of her hand, collided with the dashboard, then bounced to the floor and landed at her feet.
"Son of a bitch—did you see that jerk cut me off?" Fox growled. He held one hand out the window, directing a middle finger at the offending driver while honking the horn with the other. He muttered a few more expletives before eventually glancing at Callie. She was bent over, grasping for her mirror. Her fingers folded around the plastic exterior and she sat up straight, brushing a few stray hairs out of her eyes.
"Hey, you might want to fix that." Fox chuckled, pointing to her cheek.
Worried, Callie looked into her mirror to see what he meant. "Shit," she cursed.
"I know. Looks like you missed," Fox teased, laughing at the line of black trailing from the corner of her eye over to her left ear.
"No, not that. My mirror's busted." Callie stared, disappointed, at the long, thin cracks spread across the circular glass. It seemed the initial hit was directly in the center, just about where her nose appeared in her reflection. From there, a thin line curved upward to the right, spreading out in a spiderweb pattern as it reached the edge of the glass. "Damn. This is my favorite mirror, too."
"It's all right, babe. That was my bad. I'll get you a new one."
It took Callie ten minutes to fix her makeup. She wasn't completely satisfied with it, but she figured it was good enough. She looked over at Fox to ask his opinion, closing her mirror in the process. When she turned her head to the left, she didn't see that her reflection still stared straight at her.
*** Five Days to Halloween ***
Callie exhaled contentedly as she dipped her head beneath the water. Cheer practice had really worn her out that afternoon, and the hot bath eased her aching muscles. She could feel the heat permeating to her core, and the softness of the water relaxed her.
She lay there in the tub, trying to clear her mind. She didn't want to think about Fox, or Andrea's advice that he wasn't right for her, or her Chemistry project due in two weeks, and she certainly didn't want to think about the party. She was pretty sure Melinda would be there, and she couldn't stand her; Melinda always had that homewrecker look in her eyes when she flirted with Fox, and a repulsively smug grin whenever he smiled at her. Knowing Melinda, she'd wear her bikini to the party, and 'accidentally' lose her top. If she did, Callie would have no reservations about ripping that top into strips and shoving it down the girl’s throat.
Sighing, Callie gave up trying to relax her mind; it wasn't working. She reluctantly pulled the plug from the drain and stood. Wrapping a large towel around her body and a smaller one around her hair, she stepped in front of the mirror, burying her toes in the thick, soft bath rug. She went about her evening routine at the sink: gently exfoliating with her favorite Brown Sugar and Vanilla face wash, brushing her teeth, and giving her hair a vigorous rub down with the small towel. Once satisfied that the basics were taken care of, she wiped a streak of fog away from the glass so she could see. She examined her appearance, hating how round her face looked when her hair was wet. Pulling her hair back tightly, she shook her head in disgust.
"I look like a guy," she whispered. She tilted her chin down to get a new angle. "Hmph. An ugly guy." She scrutinized her image until she found something on which to focus.
"Oh, hell no," she told her reflection as she picked up her tweezers. "That's got to go, right now."
She quietly hummed to herself as she set to work. One by one, she plucked tiny black hairs from around her eyebrows, ensuring they kept their perfect, curving shape. She paused to admire her handiwork, running her index fingers along both eyebrows. Just beneath her focus, she saw herself wink.
She took a step back. She hadn't winked. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then locked her gaze with her own reflection and concentrated. Just as she was about to stop her seemingly pointless staring contest, the reflection slowly—deliberately—winked again. This time Callie flung the bathroom door open and rushed out into the hallway, stopping to lean against her bedroom doorframe. Her paranoia was getting the best of her. She assumed she was more tired than she felt, and without even blow-drying her hair—let alone getting dressed—she lay down in bed, buried herself beneath her thick comforter, and went straight to sleep.
*** Four Days to Halloween ***
Tuesday morning came and went. Callie had completely forgotten about the strange incident from the night before, and now sat with Andrea at their favorite Chinese restaurant, waiting to be served.
"So, I saw Melinda this morning," Andrea told her. "She was bragging to some people in the hallway, probably to anyone who would listen, saying she just got a new costume for Saturday. A nurse outfit."
Callie slammed her hands down on the table. "Dammit! Seriously?" she growled. "Of course she did. How does she even know? Did she raid my closet or something?"
"I'm sure Fox told her."
"Andrea, please try to be on my side on this," Callie begged her friend. "I do like this guy. Even with his jerk moments." Andrea pursed her lips and looked thoughtfully at Callie.
"Okay, maybe he told one of the guys on the field and she heard about it. Guys like to brag, right?"
"Thank you."
"Uh huh."
Their food hadn't arrived yet, so Callie went to the bathroom. As she slid open the lock on the stall, she realized she could hear the faint echo of a woman singing. It was so soft she wasn't sure she really heard it at first. The words were inaudible, but the eerie melody still gave her chills. She stood there with her hand on the open stall door, straining to hear the mysterious music. The voice sounded so familiar, but Callie couldn't quite place it.
She shrugged it off and went to the sink to wash her hands. The mirrors here were a cheaply made imitation with a reflective metal surface. They were dented and dinged up, grossly distorting the image. Callie didn't even bother looking into them, because she knew it would only aggravate her. The running water muffled the singing, which had gotten slightly louder. Off and on, she was almost certain she could hear crying, but it wasn't distinguishable enough to tell for sure.
Back at the table, she asked Andrea if she had heard any music, but wasn't surprised when her friend said she hadn't. Callie tucked away her curiosity as she looked around to admire the décor. She did this every time they ate here. She loved the tiny red paper lanterns strewn around the edge of the room, and the large, gilded mirrors mounted beside each hanging lamp, reflecting bright, golden light around the room. She especially loved the mirrors; they were overlaid with beautiful images and Chinese writings. The one hanging at their favorite booth depicted a lovely woman in bright yellow Hanfu, her face painted white and her lips dyed blood-red, dancing with serpentine dragons in front of a wide, flourishing water garden. Callie always envied that woman; she was beautiful and talented and had the strength of dragons to see her through her troubles.
As she oggled the mirror, the low, sultry singing once again drifted through the air. It was the loudest she had heard it so far, yet just barely above a whisper. Andrea still denied hearing anything. Callie tilted her head, intent on discovering the source of the haunting melody. It seemed to get louder as she got closer to the wall
. She settled into the idea that it came from the other side of the wall, and with the mystery solved, turned her attention back to Andrea and the food that had just been set on the table.
At home a few hours later, Callie hummed to herself as she washed dishes, repeating the melody she had heard at the restaurant. She made a mental note to look for the song later; having a song stuck in her head was ten times worse when she didn't know any of the words. She had just finished up and dried her hands on the kitchen towel when the song she hummed suddenly became a duet.
She froze. The tune continued, and Callie's mind went blank. Her first coherent thought was that the words still sounded muffled. When she finally recovered from the initial shock, she went into overdrive, searching the house for clues; she was determined to find either the singer or a music player. She even considered that perhaps she had accidentally picked up someone else's cell phone and the mysterious singing was actually a ringtone.
When she wandered into the hall, she was confused. The sound seemed to come from both the bathroom and the bedroom. Choosing to begin with the bathroom, she crossed the threshold and came face to face with herself.
The girl in the mirror was no longer a simple reflection. She was the mysterious singer, repeating the ominous melody that had so captivated Callie. Only the reflection’s face moved independently; Callie waved her arms over her head and spun in a circle, and her image followed every motion save for her expression. Her reflection continued singing, and Callie could finally understand the words.
Save me from my hate
Protect me from my fate
Deliver me from here
One day each year
The Grim Keepers Page 13
