Nothing to Fear

I hated walking past that mirror. Not only was it ugly but there was something about it that I couldn't explain. An eerie feeling. Like I shouldn't even have that mirror in my house.

It hung in the middle of the hall with a gold leaf embroidered frame. I don't know where it even came from, its been hanging up for so long. Surely, I didn't get a mirror this hideous. And if I did, then I must have had very bad taste.

It's covered in a thin layer of dust which makes it look even more hideous as I never use it for obvious reasons.

Every time I walk down the hall and catch a glimpse of my reflection in that mirror, I tell myself, I'm getting rid of that hideous mirror!

Of course, I never do because it's still hanging in the hall causing me to cringe slightly as I catch sight of it out of my peripheral.

One day, I walk past it just as I have done any other day. But this time I stop and actually turn my attention toward it.

I stand in front of it and wipe a small trail of dust off. I take a moment and gaze into the mirror within the trail of dust I now cleared. Maybe this mirror's not so awful after all. If I polish it up, it might actually look decent or at least not quite as ugly.

Normally I wouldn't even bother. Normally, I'd walk past that mirror without so much as a glance. Never would I bother wiping it clean. Now here I was old rag in hand doing just that.

As soon as the entirety of the mirror was free of dust, I took a moment to gaze at my reflection. While I had wiped every inch of dust off, there was still a film like haze over it that was hard to ignore.

In fact, the haze was quite distracting and almost impossible to overlook but it wasn't like I was going to be using this mirror as a main source anyway. In spite of the haze, I continued to gaze at my reflection in the mirror.

Where did this mirror even come from?

I was about to break my gaze and leave the mirror behind when something strange caught my attention.

Just barely transparent, almost invisible was the outline of what looked like the face of a person. A man.

A chill fell over me as I turned to look almost expecting to see a man standing behind me.

Nothing but the wall behind me.

I blinked as I stared into the mirror again. It had to be my imagination. An illusion of the mirror. It was old and had seen decades after all. I took the rag over it and looked again. The outline of the human face was still there.

Maybe it was only the trickery of the human mind, making faces out of inanimate objects.

Having no other explanation, I stepped away from the mirror and continued about my day. However, the eeriness about what I had seen was still there.

I walk past that mirror again and find myself looking into it like before, my curiosity drawn to the ghostly face in the mirror.

I stare fixated now. A face that I swear has become more clear yet still too faded to make out completely.

Strange.

I wipe my hand over the face trying to think of some rational explanation and not quite so convinced now it's just a trick of the mind.

And then the face in the mirror moves. It's so subtle. A movement just barely detected by the human eye and yet it terrifies me. I break my gaze and jolt back from that mirror not wanting to dare another look.

I hate that mirror. I always did.

My curiosity must have been stronger than my fear because I dare another look. The face is still there and it looks just the same as it did before. But there's something different about it. Instead of turning away in fear, I walk up to it compelled. As if somehow, without words, the face is beckoning me. I'm no longer terrified as I had been just a moment ago.

And then I hear a voice. So quiet that I can barely hear it. So faint I wonder if its another trick of the mind.

You have nothing to fear.

The reassuring words do not comfort me but instead send fear back into me.

They do not come from behind me nor do they come from beside me. They come from right within that mirror. But how was that possible?

I look into the mirror again, my eyes fixated on the face waiting for it to move even a fraction of an inch. The face, what appeared to be the face of a man in the mirror is now even more clear. I can see features as they come into subtle focus.

I did not pull away. Instead I am even more compelled. Almost entranced.

There's a heavy silence in the air. Just me and my thoughts desperately searching for an explanation.

You have nothing to fear.

I freeze at the disembodied voice but I do not pull away in fear as I had done before. As strange as it was, I found the voice attractive. Almost sensual even.

I shake my head breaking my gaze from the mirror and force myself to walk away. I must be losing it.

It would be another day before I took another glance at that mirror. Before I would see that ghostly face again.

The face is still there but its features are now more prominent. I could now make out eyes. They were alluring, convincing, and drew me in. I found myself staring into these eyes. Eyes that were not mine. I blink.

What is wrong with me?

I look again but there is no face. I'm staring back at my own reflection. My own eyes.

Maybe it was really was just my imagination.

I force the experience out of my mind until I have no choice but to walk past that mirror again.

I've never seen such beauty.

An intense chill grasps me making me to stop cold. No.

While something tells me not to look. Not to take one step towards that mirror, something stronger convinces me otherwise.

Centuries have gone by since I have seen such loveliness.

That voice. Haunting and alluring and all the same, attractive.

Please don't leave.

I dare another look into the mirror. Those eyes have become even more enticing and I swear more clear. I stare into the mirror entranced as if I'm staring into another soul.

You have nothing to fear. The voice is soothing and hypnotic.

"I have nothing to fear", I whisper back.

I step closer to the mirror until there is just mere inches between me and this ghostly face.

My heart beats faster as more features come into focus.

The slow emergence of cheeks then a forehead. I see human skin taking shape, its color becoming more vivid. The eyes have a face now. I know I should pull myself away from that mirror but I can't. I don't know what I am more afraid of. Afraid to break my gaze or afraid what would happen if I continue to stare into that mirror.

No longer did I want to avoid that mirror. No longer did I turn away from the hideous sight of it.

The face of the man in the mirror has fully taken shape. Human, yet still ghostly, he is not of this dimension. Yet he feels as real as I am.

I turn around again definite that a man would be standing right behind me.

Nothing.

Come with me.

A chill falls over me and I whip my attention back to the mirror. The eyes beckon me not only closer but to step through the veil that separates the dimension between us. A dimension that is only separated by a mirror.

I shake my head and touch the mirror.

But that wasn't possible. As I stare into the face, at those alluring eyes, I swear I can feel the touch of a hand wrap around my hand but I dare not look. The touch is warm and reassuring.

"I have nothing to fear," I whisper softly.

My body moves forward ready to cross the veil between us.

"What are you looking at?"

The trance is broken and I am hurled back to reality. An intense disappointment overcomes me. It's not the soothing and sensual voice of the man in the mirror but that of my room mate who had just returned home after being gone for a few days.

I catch my breath, almost unable to get the words out. "The mirror. There's a face in that mirror. A man."

My roommate takes a step closer to the mirror, eyebrows raising perplexed at it then at me. "There's nothing there."