Mirror Image

Mirror Image

Around the pond grew the greenest trees she had ever seen. They were tall and strong and bright, casting a dappled shade onto the grass and daffodils around the pool. The ground was dry and soft, the sun was warm, the water was clear and sparkling, with shining dragonflies hovering above its surface. It was a beautiful spot, and Sophie has a great appreciation for beauty. Her room at home was full of little works of art, her clothes were the prettiest that she could afford. And when she had the time, she would walk for miles in the countryside, in all weathers, searching for perfect places like this one. Her fondness for all things beautiful was almost an obsession, and it was fuelled by her knowledge that she, herself, was far from lovely.

When she was two years old, just old enough to be able to remember the pain and the screams, the cottage in which she had lived with her parents had burned down. The cause of the fire was never discovered, but Sophie was left an orphan and with terrible scars. The skin on her face was puckered and twisted, pale in places and livid in others. Her right arm was left limp and useless after being trapped under a fallen beam and her hair grew in clumps and patched on her burned scalp. For years, her Godmother had allowed no mirrors in the house to protect Sophie from the sight of herself. But the village children taunted her, even adults avoided her, and she knew that they believed her not only to be hideously ugly, but also cursed.

So it was only natural that she should seek out peaceful, hidden, perfect places like this wooded pond, to hide from everybody and everything. She spread her cloak on the ground, in the shade of a tree for she sunburnt easily, and settled down to dream. Real life held little joy for Sophie, despite her Godmother’s best efforts to keep her healthy and happy, and she sought refuge in stories and dreams. Her favourite daydream which she returned to again and again was the one where a handsome man on a strong horse carried her away to a life of love and riches. She had many, many different versions or this story in her head and in her journal, but two things were always the same. The man was always handsome, and Sophie was always beautiful.

The day grew hotter, and even the most romantic imaginary prince could not distract her from her thirst. Sophie, as rule, avoided anything that could show her reflection, but she sat up and crawled right to the edge of the wonderfully clear pool. Sophie told herself not to close her eyes as was her usual habit, because she did not want to drink a frog by accident, and leaned over with a cupped hand to drink. And she was so astonished by what she saw that she almost fell, headfirst, into the water. Looking back at her from the surface were a pair of striking green eyes, just like her own. But they were surrounded by flawless milky white skin. The girl in the pond had silky auburn hair which fell to her shoulders in soft waves, and plump pink lips that were opened in shock, showing perfect white teeth. She was the most beautiful girl Sophie had ever seen. Sophie forgot her thirst, and putting her good hand on the ground to steady herself she leaned closer to the water. The girl in the pond did the same. Sophie blinked, so did the girl. Sophie rubbed her eyes. The girl in the water raised an elegant hand to her own eyes. Sophie was utterly mesmerised, how could she have suddenly become so perfect? What had happened to her scars – had a spell been cast on her while she slept in the shade?

But when she looked at her own hands, they were still the same as they had always been, with distorted skin and missing fingernails.

Sophie was late home for supper that evening, and could give her Godmother no good reason why. The following afternoon, as soon as she had finished her lessons and her chores, Sophie dashed along the wooded paths, almost tripping over tree roots and startling a family of deer in her haste. She arrived at her pool, breathing hard, and again looked into it. Her reflection was just as it had been the day before, except now the pale cheeks were flushed and the hair was attractively windswept. Sophie had almost convinced herself that she had imagined the vision yesterday, and yet here it was again. There was Sophie, reflected just as she might have been without the terrible fire which had ravaged her at such a young age. This, Sophie thought, was exactly how she was supposed to look. The burns and the withered arm were not her, not really. In reality she was a stunning beauty, and this proved it.

Over the next week Sophie was inattentive in her morning lessons, and her Godmother struggled to hold the girl’s attention as she explained the history or their country, or taught Sophie about their religion. Her chores were done in a rush and on the fourth day the pigs went unfed, such was Sophie’s desire to return to the pool and the beautiful face it showed her.

Her Godmother worried, but Sophie would not talk to her. The neighbours sympathised, and agreed that Sophie was simply at a difficult age. “Give her space and time” they recommended, “and she’ll come round in the end.” They told stories of their own daughters’ youthful escapades, and Sophie’s Godmother was reassured. On the seventh day, Sophie was perched on a rock by the pool, admiring her reflection as had become her habit. Darkness was beginning to fall when footsteps approached Sophie from behind, but she was so hypnotised by the reflection in the pool that she did not notice, just as she was oblivious to her own cold and hunger. She continued to gaze intently into the pool, when a man’s face appeared beside the girl’s. He was dark haired and dark eyed, with sharp cheekbones and a nose which had once been straight, but now bore the marks of having been broken at least once. Sophie was so lost in her reflection and her dreams that she no longer knew what was real and what was her own fairytale. For her, the faces in the pool and the stories she told herself had become her real life, while her Godmother and neighbours faded to dull grey figures at the back of her mind, barely worth her notice. This man’s face was one she had imagined so many times that now it seemed only natural that he should appear beside her. Sophie, and the Sophie in pool, smiled. Yet she did not take her eyes off the reflections in the water – these now seemed to be the true people, while those on the shore were mere shadows.

“I’ve seen you here often,” the man began. His voice was deep and strong. “You love this place.”

“I feel at home here. It’s peaceful. But I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I’m skilled at not being noticed when I don’t want to be. But I’ve noticed you, you are so beautiful. I’ve come here day after day just to see you.”

He called her beautiful! A fortnight before Sophie would have been astounded, but now it seemed only what was due to her.

“You must be a Lady, or a Princess.”

“No, just a poor girl.”

“I could make you a queen.”

It was just as she had imagined. The handsome man, obviously a prince or a king of some great country, was going to marry her and make her queen of all the land.

“Come with me.” He took her hand and led the poor burned and scarred young girl away from the beautiful clearing, and into the darkness of the forest. Sophie was a tall man, string and muscular, with a long velvet cloak and a sword at his belt. She saw her saviour, just as she had always imagined him. But Sophie had begun to lose her sense of what was the true real world, and what was her own fantasy, the moment she had first seen her perfect reflection in the magical pool.

Sophie’s Godmother had been searching the woods for her since the sun had started to. She arrived at the clearing to see her beloved Goddaughter, whom she had always believed to be perfect in every way, being led into the woods by an old, hunched creature with horrible lumps and bumps all over his grey skin. She could just make out his long talon like fingernails where he gripped Sophie’s arm, and the curled horns emerging form his sparse hair, and the pair disappeared completely into the darkness. Part of her wanted to follow them, and bring Sophie back safe, but everyone knew that goblins lived in those woods, and once a goblin had you under his spell there was no returning to the light.