The Broken Mirror

“I told you, I’ll be fine. It’s a really nice neighbourhood.” Sarah laughed at her sister’s concern as she made dainty footprints in the dusty wooden floor of her new home. Harry’s asthma would have been playing up had she been here herself.
“I’ve never been this far away from you before.” Harry said.
“Lie. You went on a school trip to Germany in 8th grade.”
“Won’t you let me miss you? You’re still my little sister.”
“I’m thirty five.”
“You don’t look a day over twenty.”
“Flattery isn’t going to bring me home.” Sarah gazed into the large antique mirror that hung above the fireplace, for some reason the previous owners had left it behind. She reassured herself of her sister’s comment, she really didn’t look a day over twenty.
“You can’t say I didn’t try. So when can I come and see you?”
“Let me clean up first, it looks like it hasn’t been lived in for months, years maybe.”
“That’s weird.”
“I know.”
“I thought the realtor said an old couple owned the house?”
“He did, maybe they didn’t live here though.” Sarah, still admiring her dewy skin and big brown eyes in the mottled, gold framed mirror hadn’t noticed her elbow leaning in the thick grime that had now dirtied her long candy-striped sweater. A high pitched cry shook her from her daydreaming, she winced and pulled the phone from her ear.
“Ugh! Millie’s woke up! Ok, mummy’s coming, sweetie pie. Who’s a sweetie pie? Who’s a little gorgeous girl?”
Sarah turned her lip at the goo-goo sounds and rolled her eyes. She’d never been maternal and frankly being an Auntie was a job she thought better suited someone else. “I guess I’ll talk to you later then.” She said.
“Talk later, love you.”
“You too.” She let the phone drop onto the only clean coffee table in the house where the rest of her things were perched and turned back to the mirror. She hated being vein; wished she could be more relaxed about her looks like Harry who, after two years still hadn’t bothered losing her baby weight. But here she was, caressing her jaw that would one day droop and poking at the youthful bags under her eyes that would one day turn purple and wrinkled. She sighed and threw her head back stretching her aching neck and shoulders and looked at the beautiful frame around the old mirror, it wasn’t straight. Sarah sighed; she had inherited her mother’s OCD and loathed nothing more than a wonky photo frame – the mirror was no exception. She pushed it with her finger but it was too heavy, she pushed harder putting all her weight on it until something clicked and the frame went flying up the other side then came crashing to the floor, thousands of shards burst forward like a water spout and coated the mahogany in glistening pieces.
“Shit! Shit! What have I done!?” She cupped her face in her hands and started to sob uncontrollably. That fantastic mirror, a free gift with the house, lay in pieces in front of the fire place.
The phone started to ring. With tears streaming down her face she answered it.
“Hello?”
“Sarah?”
“Harry?” Her voice was feeble.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just broke a mirror, I can’t believe it.” She sniffed back tears that were dribbling form her nose.
“And you’re crying because?”
“Oh, I don’t know! Isn’t it funny? It was a nice mirror…”
“That’s no reason to cry, stop being silly!” Harry laughed, but kindly, she hated hearing her sister like this.
“Maybe its hormones, you know?”
“Is it your time of the month?”
“Well, no but… it should be.” That was a good point, she should have started five days ago.
“I’m sure it’s just late, besides you’ve had a stressful move. Anyway I called because Millie said her first word! Isn’t that great?”
“That’s brilliant, Harry. What did she say?”
“Dada, I can see where her loyalties lie.”
Sarah laughed, but it was forced. “I gotta clean this mess up, there’s glass everywhere.”
“No don’t!”
“What?”
“It’s bad luck! Leave it there!
“I can’t leave it, it’s a mess.”
“First night in a new house and you smash a mirror, sounds suspicious. Please leave it.”
Sarah was tired, and felt a little sick. “I’m shattered, I’ll leave it tonight but I’m cleaning it in the morning. First thing.”
“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Sarah hung up and carried her rucksack up the stairs into the main bedroom where she had already put her bed together. Most of the furniture had been delivered this morning but the rest wasn’t coming until tomorrow. Out of the bag she pulled her pyjamas and quickly changed into them as the bedroom was freezing and slid under the icy covers with her dressing gown on to keep her warm. She blew her nose and wiped the last of her tears smirking at how silly it was to cry over such a minor thing but it had certainly helped tire her out, it wasn’t long before she was asleep despite her shivering and it being only half past nine.
Four hours later something stirred in the living room.
The golden frame that previously contained the stained mirror started to shake, it was slight at first then became more violent and the last remaining shards of glass that clung to it like an ape to its mother’s chest were thrown to the floor. The first one came crawling out. Its black body swollen with food heaving gruesomely on top of struggling, black feet with claws that were curled at unnatural and diseased angles. Another soon followed it; it was practically identical to the first one except, of course, for its face. In a matter of minutes there were hundreds that poured out of the mirror like a sea of tar. Some tottered but most flew up the carpeted staircase and into the main bedroom where Sarah lay sleeping soundly, her chest delicately rising and falling with each breath. The flapping of wings woke her. She opened her heavy eyes and allowed them to adjust to the dimly lit room. In the blackness she could hear rustling like birds feathers brushing against each other, she strained harder wishing she had a bedside lamp to assist her but eventually she could make out what was causing the noise. There were hundreds of fat, black birds papering the walls and carpeting the floor. Some perched on the wooden bed posts and some sat idly on the windowsill staring at her with human eyes. She jumped up and stared back, her soft face adopting an expression of horror when she saw that they all possessed human faces. She screamed and at the same moment all of them flew at her swamping her bed and covering her face to muffle the sound. She tried to bat them away but for every one she hit another two filled the gaps, the weight pushing her back down onto the bed and covering her mouth and nose to stop her breathing before she fell unconscious.

She woke. The bed covers wrapped around one leg and draping onto the floor. The rest of her was uncovered yet she was drenched in sweat. The early morning sun cast its blinding rays into the room illuminating every corner. With her eyes she searched each nook frantically keeping her body stiff until she was sure that the coast was clear.
“It was a dream? Bloody hell. What did I eat?” Sarah looked down at her body, she lifted her pyjama top up and placed a hand on her stomach, it felt bigger than usual. “You’re getting old now; have to start watching what you eat.” That was easier said than done. She rubbed it miserably and pinched at the extra layers that were once taught and toned. She pulled a bottle of water from her bag and gulped it down with two aspirins after fixing the bed covers and stepped into her slippers trudging dozily down the staircase and shuffling into the kitchen where she found a dust pan and brush under the sink. A house warming present from her sister, cleaning equipment, Harry found it hilarious. She went into the lounge and got on her knees carefully picking up the larger bits first then got to brushing up the smaller ones. Suddenly she felt sick to her stomach. She felt her way to the downstairs bathroom and just about made it to the toilet as yellow bile burnt its way out of her mouth. As the dizziness subsided and the blackness cleared from her eyes she wiped her mouth with tissue paper and looked at her face in the bathroom mirror. It wasn’t pale, in fact she looked pretty good, but she didn’t feel it. She looked down at her stomach again.
“Maybe I just have a bug.” She said to herself, but wasn’t convinced. She took a deep breath and returned to the living room. As she walked in something caught her eye in front of the fire place. She knelt down and picked it up in her hand. It was a shining, black feather with a flash of purple running through the centre. Her mind flashed back to last night and the dream of the awful birds with human faces. She threw it down and fell back onto her backside breathing rapidly as she remembered being suffocated by a black mass. Sarah slowly lifted her eyes to the television, her body convulsing at the reflection. In it she could see behind her a pair of human eyes. Crippled with fear she jerkily cracked her head round to see hundreds of thick, raven-like birds covering every inch of the room. She opened her mouth to scream but before she made a sound they attacked her clawing at her tongue and forcing their way down her throat. They tore chunks from her face and body, slicing her open with their sharp, twisted talons until she was nothing but a bloody pulp twitching on the dark wooden floor. Her stomach had been ripped open and disembowelled and lying beneath piles of intestine and blood was a tiny foetus no more than a month old. The last of the birds was eating her eyeball in its human mouth. Its face was pale and youthful, its large eyes chocolate brown, out of proportion, yet beautiful.