The Mirror Orchard

In northern France, there’s an orchard that grows without sunlight. The trees are pale and smooth, their leaves glimmering faintly like glass. The legend says a farmer planted mirrors instead of seeds after his wife drowned in a nearby pond — hoping to reflect her soul back into being.

The next spring, the trees bloomed. But instead of fruit, faces grew among the branches — first his wife’s, then his own. When villagers came to see, they found hundreds of mirrored visages staring back, mouths slightly open as if whispering.

The farmer stopped speaking altogether. Every night he walked between the trees, touching the faces gently and apologizing.

A century later, explorers rediscovered the orchard. They claimed the mirrors reflected not themselves but people they’d lost. One woman said she saw her brother waving from the glass, another claimed her reflection aged decades in seconds.

The orchard still stands — fenced, silent, forbidden. Locals say if you walk between the trees at dusk, you’ll hear a hundred versions of your own voice calling your name. And if you answer, you’ll never cast a reflection again.