A Persistent Reflection

“The mirror showed a reflection that wasn’t my own. Do not give it light, or else at night. it will come for you. Do not look into the eyes, or else the eyes will lie to you. —Jayne.”

That was all that was left. The note sat on the dusty desk. It too gathered a fine layer of dust before anyone reported Jayne missing. Before anyone found the note.

Jayne had had no next of kin. After a number of years, the missing Jayne was declared deceased, and the house went to auction, to pay off the estate.

Cosima was elated to be a first time property owner. The rickety wooden house lurched on a hill at the end of street, which was filled primarily with abandoned light-industry, bricked buildings.

“My own home!” Cosima was giddy as she was handed the keys.

Deep down, she was hoping she was in early on a possible gentrification and revival of the derelict neighbourhood. She knew it was a gamble, but a home is a home, and this market wasn’t kind to first time buyers.

With a five hundred dollar gift card from her family back home, she set about to make a few rooms more livable, even on her tight budget.

The kitchen, ground floor bathroom, and primary bedroom were hastily done up, after following some self-DIY videos.

But the door to the basement was jammed. Cosima even tried removing the hinges, but the door never budged from its frame.

Her curiosity to check the basement, and her worry that there was maybe damage down there plagued her nightly mind. She bought it at auction, sight unseen, for a steal.

Her mind was so preoccupied with it, she’d even catch herself daydreaming about it while at work. She was too embarrassed to ask for help. What would people think about her only considering the foundations and so on, now after a few months of living in her new house.

“Enough is enough” Cosima said with hesitant courage, and a sledge hammer in her grips.

Her safety goggles were a wise choice. The door splintered, as she smashed through it. Her curiosity and worry had been pent up, and burst through her with furious throws of the sledge hammer.

Once thoroughly broken through, Cosima noted it had been boarded from the inside.

The light string dangled it’s temptations in front of her. It gave a satisfying rolling click, as she tugged to light the way, but only lit the stairs.

The basement was filled with shadows and streams of light. The few windows down there were high up, bared with iron rods and the glass was painted black. The few flecks of paint that had flaked away let in little light.

Cosima was uneasy. She left, then returned with a flashlight to better see. She inspected pillars and foundations, scanned for vermin scat. Her mind was one track or cracks.

A coldness disquietened over her back. Hairs stood to attention. A voice in the back of her head squeaked in fear.

Cosima licked her lips and realised she had not seen at what she was not looking at.

In the basement, there was a made bed in the corner, cans of opened and eaten peaches and beans, books, toilet paper, a bucket in the corner, and…a thick blanket hung over something at the opposite end.

She pulled the blanket off. It was a full length mirror.

Cosima’s flashlight reflected and scatter light off the mirror’s perfectly polished surface.

The room lit up behind her, and her reflection stood brightly in the mirror.

“Oh, I look a mess!” Cosima saw splinters in her hair and dried paint from an earlier cabinet painting project, speckled on her skin.

She removed her goggle and finger brushed her hair. Splinters of wood fell out. They kept falling out. She kept shaking her hair loose, and more came out.

After a moment too long of this, Cosima realised she did not hear or feel the splinters falling. But she saw them continue to fall out from her hair, in her reflection.

She looked down, with her head now tilted forward, and watched as she shook her hair. Nothing came out. But she could have sworn she saw things falling out in the corner of her eye, in the mirror’s reflection.

She looked back at her reflection. She made sure there were no more splinters of wood visible.

She gasped! She saw something behind her. Behind her, in the single bed in the corner, someone was under the blankets, rolling over.

She turned to look. But the bed sat perfectly made, without anyone in it.

***

“Cosima…Cosima…” Cosima woke to the sounds of her name being whispered.

The room was in complete darkness. The air was cold and damp. Cosima couldn’t see a thing.

“Cosima…”

Cosima’s adrenaline pierced through her pores, her eyes and her lungs.

Her breath puffed noisy static. She took in a deep breath and held it.

Kkshhh…hiss…

“The furnace… it’s the fricken furnace.” Cosima breathed a sigh of relief.

Her eyes adjusted to her surroundings in the darkness. She was in the basement. Confusion nearly suffocated her, she didn’t recall heading down to the basement. She remembered getting into her own bed, but not coming down to the basement.

“I must be exhausted.” Cosima reassured herself.

She wrapped her hands over her face and sighed deeply once more. The air was cold but she was burning hot. Cosima wiped the sweat from her face and drew her fingers through her hair.

Her eyes opened—widened. Her hands stopped part way. She felt something hard and poking from her head.

Her fingers curled, and she scratched and picked at it. After a doze on flicking picks from her index finger, it loosened.

Cosima pinched her thumb and index together, and pulled at the foreign debris. She tugged. It resisted.

“Is it dried paint?” She thought.

She pulled harder. A slippery sensation rolled through her skull, behind her eyes, and down ther throat. She pulled out a wooden splinter, as long as her thumb, from her scalp.

She rushed to find the flashlight. Lit up, she saw the splinter. It was lightly coated in her blood. Her devouring fear was confirmed—a splinter was in her scalp.

Panicked she dragged herself and her flashlight to the mirror. With her free hand, she groped and combed her scalp for any more splinters.

Fifteen minutes of examining her hair, her hair-parts and scalp in the mirror, she found no others.

Cosima looked into her own eyes, “Get a grip, Cosima.” She ordered herself.

Cosima blinked. Her face skewed and her eyebrows furrowed. Her reflection blinked half a second slower.

Cosima leaned in closer. Her reflection dragged slower. It twitched with movements, like a buffering video.

“Maybe I need to get my eyes checked.” She said aloud, watching her mouth move out of sync with her words.

“Oh.” It dawned. An aura smoked into her vision, a nausea pilfered her stomach, and a one-sided, stabbing pain began to blind her.

“I’m getting a migraine. My vision is fine, just a migraine coming on.”

Cosima felt reassured. She climbed the stairs, and navigated the hall. She climbed stairs again, and made her way to her bedroom.

***

“Foundation and support beams are all A-OK. And my colleague looked at the furnace, it’s fine for now, but will need replacing within the next few years.”

“Thanks. I appreciate you all coming here, on a short notice. I’ll just cut you a cheque, if that works”

A nod from the gentleman, who herded his colleagues and their belongings to the front. Cosima dashed to her cheque book in the kitchen. And met the gentleman at the front door, handing the cheque over and receiving the invoice.

She felt the stress wash off her. The basement was no longer an after-thought worry from her hasty purchase of the house at auction.

A few days earlier, she had even had an exterminator come in to deal with the scratching sounds from the walls she had been hearing every night.

The exterminator hadn’t found a single sign of vermin or pests of any kind. A blessing given the overall age and condition the house had been in prior to her purchase.

But after the exterminator had been, the scratching had stopped that first night, only to start up again the next night, after dark.

Cosima settled on the thought it was just the furnace. Nothing a service couldn’t fix. She assumed it would have been fixed, and the noise would not disturb her that night.

She reheated leftovers, and sat to eat her dinner in silence. The house had been so noisy with the scratching at night, and the workmen checking the foundations and furnace, she relished the quietness as it came.

“Cosima…” the furnace still hissed in a way that sounded like it was calling out her name.

“Ugh! I thought a service would have fixed that too!” Cosima’s frustration was palpable.

She stormed down the stairs, and headed to the furnace. She had no clue what she could do to fix it, but had been set in her determination.

“Cosima…” the hissing whispered again.

Cosima was facing the furnace. The noise came from behind her, on the other side of the room.

All she could see, after she turns around, was the mirror, standing alone.

“Cosima…” it was no longer a whisper, but a vocalized calling.

“Wh—who’s there?” She called out.

No answer.

She stepped forward.

“Is somebody still down here? Your colleagues left about half an hour ago. You should be on your way too…”

No answer.

She stepped forward.

“Cosima…” the voice was taunting.

“This isn’t funny! Show yourself!”

No answer.

She stepped forward.

Silence.

Cosima cautiously walked around the mirror. There was no sign of anyone there. No one was hiding.

“Cosima…” the voice called from behind her, where the mirror stood.

She walked back around to the front of the mirror. She looked around at the glass of the mirror. She placed her finger on the glass, hoping to see if she could tell if it were two-way or not.

“Cosima…” the voice came from the mirror. Her eyes caught the sight of her reflections lips moving, as her name was called.

She gasped. Cosima stepped back in disbelief. She stared, but her reflection held true in form.

She tried to calm her breathing. Her brain said run, but her legs quivered as jelly.

Her face in the mirror, suddenly changed. It was not her face anymore. The eyes melted from her sockets, a smile appeared and deviled deep, and her flesh paled as it blemished with rot.

“Cosima, I’m coming for you!” The voice sounded mangled, and twisted. The words came from her monstrous reflection. “Tonight, you are mine!”

The hand of her reflection reached out of the mirror. It rose and swung for Cosima. She jumped back, just in time.

Cosima’s instinct kicked in. She ran up the stairs, as fast she could. But she didn’t just run out of the house. She paused.

She thought, for a moment.

“The blanket…” she whispered to herself. “The blanket that was covering it.”

She grabbed her sledge hammer and the thickest blanket she could find.

Her palms sweated as she descended the stairs. Her jaw clattered, but she repeated “Be brave…” over and over to herself.

She approached the mirror, slowly. Her reflection mirrored her. Cosima’s reflection began to distort once more.

Before it could fully change, she swung her sledge hammer. The mirror shattered. But remained in place. She swung again, and the pieces splintered and dropped.

She dropped her sledge hammer, and threw the blanket over all the pieces of the mirror.

She panted. She felt relief. Cosima laughed. She couldn’t tell you why she laughed, yet she still laughed, alone and in the dark.

“Cosima…” the voice whispered her name still. “I’m coming for you…Be seeing you soon…”