The Boy in the Mirror

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but tonight, a candle burned in the window. The glow of its flame attracted insects to the glass, but there were no other creatures who took heed, save the woman sitting silently in the upstairs bedroom.

The night was cold and still, and the little wick gave off no noticeable heat, but still she could feel herself start to sweat. Her eyes were closed, hands folded in her lap. She let her attention rest, for now, on the solidness of the wooden floor beneath her crossed legs and measured her breathing, taking care to slow her heart rate. There was no noise in the house or outside it, and nothing else to distract her besides the scent of old dust. Once she was confidently calm, she opened her eyes.

The sight of the mirror before her did not give her pause. She knew it was there, and recognized her own face well enough. Still, she allowed herself to take in its features illuminated by the soft glow.

The darkness behind her warmed into the long black hair that framed her face and fell around her shoulders. The locket shone where it always had, in the center of her chest. Her lips and cheeks were full and rosy, and her brown eyes shimmered with the reflection of the flame. She admired her own beauty, but then heard the creak of the floorboards behind her and her eyes raked over the shadows; knowing better than to turn around, but still reminding herself to keep still.

She stared hard into the mirror, and felt her heart beat faster as the darkness seemed to move around her. Slowly he came into view.

The sight of him filled her stomach with butterflies, and her throat tightened with longing. This was always her favorite part, and she savored every piece of it. The gentle curve of his muscles under his t-shirt; that dazzling smile, the one that felt contagious. The way his blonde curls seemed to shine with their own light, and those beautiful blue eyes. How she wished she could sink into those eyes and stay forever; have him seep into her lungs and drown her. She sighed. This moment of sweetness was what kept her coming back, and she let her lips soften into a smile, but then caught the smell of smoke.

It never lasted long enough, did it? Her eyes stung, but only from the tears that were starting to well. She continued to look into the mirror, sorrow weighing her down.

It always started with his clothes. Tiny holes would appear and then the singe marks would spread, leaving his bare skin exposed as the fabric rotted away. The expression on his face; his smiling at her, remained unchanged; almost like he didn’t notice. Like he couldn’t notice. He started moving towards her, silently, and so incredibly slow.

The muscles in her arms and legs twitched only a little bit at his approach. Her stomach churned with a sour mixture of dread, grief, and adoration for this boy. This time, she would be strong. This time, for him, she was going to see it through.

Her jaw set, she stared into the mirror as he silently crept closer. Still smiling.

Still smiling, as his skin grew red and splotchy. His clothes became more tattered, and the scent of burnt hair started to mingle with the smoke. She watched as his arms and hands started to blister, steeling herself for the worst of it.

But was any of it really ‘the worst’? The moment she first lay her eyes on him was ‘the best’, that she was sure of, but the rest of it… She sighed. Fixing her eyes on his as he moved closer, trying to ignore the way he was withering in front of her the same way he seemed to. It never got any easier, she had just become more accustomed to swallowing it.

The blisters grew, popped. His skin darkened and cracking. She tried to stay lost in those blue eyes but it was impossible to not to see the way his curls sparked and disappeared, how his flesh seared to his bones, the baby fat melting away.

He was closer now and his skin started to peel, pulling away from the rest of him in ragged strips. That lovely smile she had always adored began to stretch, twisting his thinning lips away from his teeth. The smell of him hit her full force and she pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth to stop the wave of bile in her throat. Meat. No. Not meat. Just him. Just the memory of his body undergoing a completely natural chemical reaction.

The muscles on his arms she had so loved squeezes around her were fully visible to her now. Charred and smoking, they wrapped tightly to his skeleton. But she kept her eyes on his reflection, and soon they too dissolved.

He had reached her, and she tried her best to stay on those blue eyes. Tried not to notice the way the remnants of his shirt clung to his bare ribcage, just focus on that little shock of blue that was the only color left.

He paused once behind her, and in that moment, his eyes had vanished as well, leaving behind nothing but empty sockets. Still, her gaze followed as he lowered himself to a crouch at her back, her the picture of calm as his grinning skull nestled itself into the open space between her ear and her shoulder.

She stared, silent, as he reached around her for the locket; all the flesh gone, a ghoulish claw reaching for her heart. She could swear she heard the tinkling of bone against silver as it rested against his fingers.

“Soon,” he whispered into her ear, and was whole again. Beautiful, youthful, strong, and close enough to kiss. She couldn’t help it.

She whined and whipped to face him, and for an instant their eyes met, him still smiling. Then with a cold gust, the candle blew out, plunging her into darkness.

***

The woman sighed, the phlegm rattling in her lungs. She had been so close. She placed a hand on the floor, the skin on the back of it thin and spotted, and winced at the ache in her knees and back as she pushed herself to her feet. She knew this room by heart, but still held out her trembling arms as she shuffled towards the door. She let her fingers run along the wall as she moved to the staircase, the paper dusty and peeling.

She paused at the top of the stairs. She could see the light of the moon trying to burn through the dirt on the windows, but that only served to make the house seem that much darker. She gripped the railing as she descended to the first floor, her knees threatening to buckle with each step.

She passed a picture frame, and this time, tried to avoid her reflection. She knew what was there. Hair wiry and thin, cropped close to her scalp, shoulders bent with weariness.

She reached the threshold and took a deep breath, grabbing for her cane in the same place she always left it. She leaned on it heavily while she opened the door.

***

The old woman stepped outside, and the night seemed to come alive. She could her crickets, cars in the distance, even her little dog lifted its head. The dog didn’t like this place, but had been here enough times to know to wait.

She took a few steps forward, and then turned around. The door was still there, but behind that just the bare bones of the structure. Burnt. Ruined. They had been angling to tear it down for decades, but she’d never let them, not as long as she still had reason to keep trying.

Her dog chuffed at her softly and she twisted to face her, then bent down slowly to scratch her greying chin. “Maybe next time, baby,” she said, her voice creaking. “He said it would be soon.” And with that, they began the slow walk home.