Shahzad Bhiwandiwala

The Mirrored Books

December 22, 1970 The last of the pages from the little black book turned to ash, its gleaming but well-worn cover starting to follow suite. A few moments later, it too ceased to exist. The little girl got up from her hiding place in the catacombs of the church and rushed over to her mentor as he lay slumped against the altar, broken and bloodied. He looked saint-like, bathed in moonlight through the gaps in the stained-glass windows. She put her hand on his cheek and kissed his forehead. A single tear trickled down her dark brown cheek. His skin was cold to the touch, a brutal end for a benevolent man. She said her final goodbye and rushed to the church door stealing one last look before disappearing into the frigid night.