Tea by Candlelight

I live alone, but the house always feels even more quiet and empty just after guests leave. This evening, I had friends over to have dinner and a couple of glasses of wine. Now they’ve gone, the place is so silent it’s oppressive. The unhindered quiet is like a weight on my chest. Sometimes I feel like I’ll suffocate.

As I head into the kitchen to clear away plates and make a cup of tea, I try to shake myself out of my melancholy. It’s silly really; it’s not like I’m never going to see my friends again. This is a night like any other. Knowing my mood will eventually lift, I focus on my task. Once the tea is made, I hold the mug with both hands to steal its warmth. That’s another thing about being in this house on my own, it always seems colder when no-one else is around. Just as I’m about to take my first sip of the hot beverage, all the lights go out and I’m plunged into darkness. I take a few steps over to where I know the light switch will be and flick it. Nothing happens. I try it again. There’s still no light.

Taking my tea with me, I head to the front of the house to look out the window. Outside, it looks like darkness has reclaimed the street. It looks like every house has been affected by the power cut. ‘At least it’s not just me,’ I think, taking a sip of my tea. The tea is hot and I can feel its welcome warmth flowing through my insides as it makes its way through my body.

Powercuts happen a lot around here, so I’m well prepared. From memory alone, I’m able to walk back to the kitchen without knocking into anything or spilling my tea. Holding the mug with one hand, I use the other to open a drawer and pull out a candle. In one smooth movement, I pop the candle onto the candlestick holder and light it with my lighter. A soft glow illuminates the area around me. I even feel a little warmer thanks to the small flame.

With the candle in one hand and the tea in the other, I make my way upstairs to my bedroom; the cleaning up from the night’s festivities can wait until tomorrow. Leaving the curtains open to allow in some of the moonlight, I place the candle at the window and sit on the bed to drink the remainder of my tea. I watch my reflection in the mirror as I drink, the lack of light makes it look somewhat sinister. I poke my tongue out at it to relieve some of the tension that’s forming in my shoulders and in my gut. To my relief, my reflection does the same thing. It’s amazing how unexpected darkness can leave me on edge.

Continuing to watch my reflection, I drink my tea. It’s then that I notice something isn’t quite right. I squint at the image as if that will make the answer jump out at me, but it doesn’t work. Something just seems off. The scene in the mirror is almost a carbon copy of the real one I’m in, but there’s something that doesn’t match. As I finish my tea, I realise what it is. In the background, I can see my bedroom window, but the candle is missing. I turn behind me to see if the candle has disappeared, even though I can still see its glow outside of the reflection. The candle is still there, just as it should be. Why would it move? I look back at the reflection and the candle is still missing. How curious.

I stand and walk towards the mirror to get a closer look. My reflection does the same thing, but now there’s something off with that too. I can’t tell if it’s just my imagination, but Mirror Me seems to be moving a fraction of a second slower than I do. The oddness makes my stomach flip. I tell myself it’s all in my head. It has to be. What other options are there?

In the darkness, I try to study my mirrored features. Everything appears quite normal until movement in my eyes causes my heart to pound. As I watch, my eyes grow darker and darker, until they are filled with an inky black. Solid, dark orbs stare back at me, and my reflection smiles. This is wrong. I’m not smiling. I’m not happy at all. If anything, my lip is trembling and I’m readying myself for a scream. My reflection’s smile widens. It’s not a friendly smile. I don’t think I’ve ever worn an expression like this. That look is drenched in malevolent malice. Those eyes speak of murder.

My scream rises in my throat.

But I don’t get to release it.

Instead, the power flicks back on and I’m bathed in electric light. Now the lights are back, my reflection appears to be behaving itself again, copying what I’m doing perfectly. With relief in my heart, I turn around.

And my relief vanishes in an instant.

A familiar figure stands waiting. It’s the version of me from the mirror. Its black eyes stare deep into my soul and an evil smile forms on its lips, suggesting it knows exactly what’s about to happen. At that moment, I too realise what’s about to transpire. The Mirror Me is now holding the candle. They drop it, setting the bed ablaze.

I now have two choices. I can either take my chances through the rapidly spreading flames and jump from the window. Or, I can try to run past my doppelgänger and leave through the door. Neither option fills me with optimism.

But, as I try to make up my mind, I realise something. At least I’m not cold anymore... and I’m certainly not alone.