The Man in the Mirror 1

Part 1: The Mystery of the Rusted Mirror

The sound of heavy rain hitting the iron roof of the warehouse was like someone dropping coins on my head. I stroked the edge of the frame through latex gloves, and the copper rust left blood-like fragments on my fingertips.

"This is a Victorian product from 1898," the email from the client was still flashing on the screen of the mobile phone, "the rust must be removed before dawn."

As soon as the scalpel pried open the interlayer of the back panel, the mirror suddenly overflowed with rusty mucus. When I stepped back, I knocked over the iodine tungsten lamp. In the shaking halo, the liquid was gathering along the cracks to form letters - HELP 17.

At 3:17 in the morning, I touched a brittle newspaper clipping in the secret compartment of the frame. The obituary page of the Brooklyn Sentinel in 1912: Samuel Hawke, died in the fire of St. Margaret's Mental Hospital, missing the ring finger of his left hand. In the photo, his bandage was oozing with yellow-brown secretions.

The vibration of the mobile phone startled me. The hospital emergency department sent a text message from my sister: "The copper rust sample you sent for examination contains dandruff tissue, and the DNA matches..." The handwriting suddenly blurred, and there was a burning pain like a needle prick in the ring finger joint. In the bathroom mirror, three blisters were rising along the base of the finger, and the shape was exactly the same as the ulcer in the photo clipping.

The desk lamp suddenly went out. There was a scraping sound of copper behind me, but my reflection in the mirror was still sitting at the workbench.