Prison of Reflection

         It's almost always dark in my world. Some would say it appropriate that I live my life in darkness. I long for the light of the sun. So long ago, it was, that I walked in the light of the sun. Even my memory grows dim and dusty. Now I live alone in darkness waiting, always waiting.

         Susan stood in front of the house, staring up at it in silence. With a deep sigh, she walked up the stairs to the wrap-around porch and approached the front door. Grunting, she set down the heavy box of cleaning supplies she had brought with her. She slid the key into the lock and turned it, well, she tried to turn it. With another sigh she pulled out the key and dove into the box at her feet looking for the can of WD-40. She sprayed a few bursts of canned lubricant into the lock and on the key for good measure. This time the key turned sluggishly, but at least it turned. Slowly, she pushed the door open and was greeted by more dust and cobwebs than she'd ever seen in one place in her life.

         Susan's great-grandfather had built this house. Her grandmother had been born in one of the rooms upstairs. The house had sat vacant for fifteen years; and although Susan had inherited it when her grandmother died ten years ago, she had no desire to live in the house. She had only come back once since the funeral, to pick up her grandmother's jewelry and other valuables to be put in a safe deposit box. With a divorce on the horizon and two children to care for, Susan was facing financial problems she had not imagined. She'd had neither a job nor a bank account for the twenty plus years she'd been married to Mark. It was time to sell the house; but first she had to take stock, clean it up and sell the furniture.

         Despite first impressions, the house and furnishings weren't in bad shape. After setting down her box of cleaning supplies in the entryway, Susan did a brief walk-through taking notes on a steno-pad as she went. Fresh paint inside and out, cleaning the carpeting in the few rooms that actually had carpet and hiring someone to come in to buff and polish the hardwood floors would be about it. Five years before her death, Susan's grandmother had been put into a nursing home. Before leaving her home forever, the old woman had insisted that all the furnishings be covered and that a state-of-the-art alarm system be installed. As a result the house was whole, despite its being abandoned for over a decade.

         Susan's final stop was the attic, she paused before opening the door to the attic stairs. She had never opened this door, never been into the attic. As a child, Susan's grandmother had forbidden it, saying that there were too many old and fragile things piled up in there and that the floor was not safe. Having no desire to have her grandchildren falling through the ceiling, she had put a padlock on the door. The key to the padlock was in Susan's hand. For almost forty years she'd been insatiably curious about the attic and today she was finally going to see what her ancestors had stored up there. Fully knowing that the discovery would be less interesting to her now than it would have been when she was a child, she still felt eager. Smiling to herself, because her emotions reminded her of her son's on Christmas morning, Susan unlocked the padlock and pulled open the door; revealing a steep, narrow staircase.

         I sleep more than I am awake. More from boredom than any need to speed the passage of time. The woman who imprisoned me in the darkness has not come to gloat in some time. How much time I am unable to say, as I have no concept of a day, a year or even an hour. But something has awoken me, someone has entered my prison.

         The staircase up to the attic was short and dark, the bulb had burnt out long ago. At the top of the narrow stairs was another door, this one was not locked and, in fact, stood ajar. Pushing it open, Susan stepped into the attic and groped around for the light switch. Finding it to the left of the door, she switched it on and was grateful when a bare bulb hanging in the center of the room came to life. The single bulb was not enough to light the whole room, leaving the corners shadowed and dark, but it was enough to see that what her grandmother had told her all those years ago had not been the truth. The attic did not look like an attic, the floor was the same quality hardwood as the rest of the house and the walls had been drywalled and painted. There were also no windows. Susan knew there were windows, they were visible from the outside of the house, but inside the attic there was nothing but plain white walls. As large as the attic was, it did not contain the many fragile things her grandmother had claimed. There was only one item in the attic; standing in the middle of the room and covered, like everything else in the house, by a large white sheet.

         Light. Dim light has invaded my prison. I blink my eyes repeatedly as they grow accustomed to the light that has too long been absent from my world. I still see nothing, the blackness which was my world has been replaced by white, pure and seamless. Looking down, I can see my own arms and hands, my chest and legs, myself. A small smile plays at the corners of my mouth. I don't remember the last time I saw myself. My face is a memory and shall forever be that way but I can see the rest of my body and it brings me comfort. I am reminded of the last time I tried to see my face. Coming at the mirror at an angle, knowing that nothing would be reflected back at me but holding onto the hope nonetheless. How was I to know that the attempt to view my eternally denied reflection in this mirror would end in eternal imprisonment as said reflection? Those who say that magic is lost to this world know little and also believe my kind to be myths. But we live, we walk amongst mankind, and we feed. Calmed by the sight of myself, as much as I could see, I still myself and wait, knowing that the light means that whoever has awoken me is near.

         Susan approached the single item in the attic, confused but also slightly amused by her grandmother's obsessive behavior. Although it was covered, Susan believed the object was a mirror. A large standing mirror, perhaps an antique or family heirloom that her grandmother held in high esteem. But why it was alone in this room, behind a locked door, and why the windows had been drywalled over, Susan didn't know. Nor would she ever know, because the only one who could explain was ten years gone.

         Without hesitation, Susan reached up and pulled down the sheet.

         At last! There is a woman standing before me, staring into the depths of my prison with a small smile playing across her lips. If she truly smiled one could call her pretty, but her beauty fled with her youth. Her hair is a deep chestnut and her eyes blue and faded, reminding me of cloudy days. Her reflection smiles back at her as she steps back and surveys my domain with her arms crossed thoughtfully across her chest. Her reflection stands next to me, facing the world. They are both unaware.

         It is a mirror, and quite an ugly one at that. Standing over six feet tall and almost four feet wide with an ornate gold foil frame that is starting to peel and flake, the mirror dominates the room. Dropping the sheet and stepping back, Susan smiles and crosses her arms over her chest, staring at her reflection in the mirror.
To the right of her reflection the mirror seems clouded, the reflection is not crisp. Thinking the mirror dirty or flawed, Susan moved closer for a better look. If it were only dirty she could sell the mirror for quite a bit of money, a mirror of that size is not cheap and ugly frames can always be replaced.

         I move toward the reflection of the woman, the only part of her that I can touch. Neither of them can see me, for I am but a reflection and my kind casts no reflection. A small smile plays across my lips, revealing the tips of my elongated canines. It has been too long and the smell of her intoxicates me. I become aware of my hunger, which is suddenly overwhelming. I don't remember the last time I fed.

         The clouding on the mirror grew larger as Susan moved closer, thinking it only to be a change in perspective she didn't notice and brushed her fingers across the glass. The oil of her hands left a small smudge, but the flaw was still there. Disappointment rose, she could still sell the mirror, but not for nearly as much as she would have been able to, had it not been for the flaw.

         Susan's left arm began to feel cold and she rubbed it briskly in an attempt to warm it up. The feeling began to creep up to her shoulder and she shivered. Quickly, the frigidness overtook her entire arm and up into her neck, face and head, then her entire body. She stared at the mirror in surprise and mild fear as the flaw began to cover her reflection. She felt faint and dark spots began to appear before her eyes. Her vision tunneled, then everything went dark. She heard more then felt when she fell to the floor before the mirror and her last thought was full of confusion as she wondered if she were having a heart attack.

         Clasping the now cold reflection in my arms, I gently lowered it to the floor and it disappeared. Difficult to cast a reflection when you are no longer in front of a mirror, impossible when you no longer have a soul. Smiling, I wipe my mouth with the back of my sleeve and lick my lips. It has been too long since I last fed, but this woman will be found and when she is I shall feed again. Perhaps I shall even gain the strength to escape this prison of non-existence, too soon to tell perhaps, but one can always hope.

Written for "Invalid Item" 
The Prompt: Write a story about a vampire who lives in a mirror.

Featured in Noticing Newbies Newsletter 8/15/2007
Thank you esprit !