The Reflection

The Reflection

A Story by Kumala
"

My first short story. A lot needing to be fixed so criticism is more than welcomed.

"
She stands there, in a place she doesn't recognise, yet it feels familiar almost like home but not welcoming, not in a way another could understand.  Her surroundings so dark, so cold. An empty room but she sees no walls or ceiling. Where does it end? Where does it begin? 
Below her bare, red from the cold feet, lays a white tiled floor, cracked and dirty from what looked like years of decay.  She began to silently walk forward when something caught her eye ahead.  She stepped towards it, almost tiptoeing as if she might scare the unknown object away. As she reached her destination she gazed upon the entity which stood before her. Inside held a reflection of herself. Her pale skin covered mostly by her white, knee length satin nightdress which seemed to be torn along the bottom.  The dress which did cover her firm, small handful breasts, couldn't hide her delicate n*****s which were protruding through as if trying to escape from her cold skin.  Her black hair, darker than even the midnight sky, hung straight and ended at the bottom of her back.  Her face, so innocent, not a blemish in sight, had pointy features almost child like but no sign of a rosy cheek.  Her lips, pink and cracked, looked as if they had never shown a smile, never felt a kiss.  Her eyes, blue as the deepest sea, wide and round like the moon, didn't seem to glisten, just seemed dark and empty as if there was no soul that lived inside.
She raised her tiny doll like hand and placed it hesitantly onto the reflection. Weary it might disappear.  As soon as her hand was flat on the surface it cracked.  She jumped back and heard her breath echo in the empty space. She frowned, confused, as she was sure she was delicate with the touch.  She raised her eyes and was met with a ghostly smile from the reflection, yet she was almost certain her own face held no similar fixture.  She squinted her eyes and slowly moved her head to the side, daring the reflection to follow as it should.  It remained the same. That smile.  She edged back, falling hard onto a wooden chair.  Her wrists feeling tight and stiff against its arms as if strapped down.  Unable to move, she began to panic.  Looking around for someone, anyone who could be witness to this strange magic.  The reflection?! She shot her head up. It still stood, staring with that forced smile. It began to raise its arm, a finger breaking free from its hand. It was pointing.  But at what?  
As quickly as the smile had appeared, it was gone and was replaced with a look of anger.  A pain so breathtaking and sharp, burned on her left forearm, tearing her gaze from the reflection to where the pain was.  Her chest now aching with the beating of her heart and the chasing her lungs were doing to try to catch some air.  
Blood now pouring from the wound, spilling over her finger tips like a gentle running tap.  She writhed trying to free herself from the invisible force that was pinning her. 
Another sharp pain, stinging, burning, now on her right arm.  She didn't need to look, she knew what she would find there.  The warm sensation spilling over her fingertips almost in unison with the other arm.  She squeezed her eyes shut, flung her head back and screamed into the darkness from what seemed like an eternity.  
Her body tired, becoming numb. She slumps her head down. Eyes tight shut.  Giving into the pain.  A single tear slides mercifully down her cheek and landing silently onto her, now blood stained nightdress.  Before another tear is allowed to escape she is interrupted by a cracking sound like glass slicing.  She drags her head up, already knowing where the sound was coming from.  
Their eyes meet.  The reflection back to its original stance.  Looked all but too picturesque.  Small shards of glass began freeing themselves and dropping onto the floor.  All she could do was watch with anticipation of what would happen next, if the end was near.
All at once, an explosion of tiny, glitter like, pieces of glass flew towards her.  She clenched her eyes shut, the only protection she could give herself from the rain of tiny shards.  The small fragments sliced away at her skin, one by one, they grated at her flesh and the intense pain arose once more.  Awakening her body from its numb state of trance.  As suddenly as it had started the storm stopped. Hesitant from a moment to open her eyes, she gradually released them.  The pain, dulling to a bearable ache.  
She looked up to where the reflection had stood, expecting to find the mocking figure staring down, only to find darkness.  Nothing.  Her body now free, she stumbled to her feet.  Weak and exhausted.  The blood had subsided and the evidence of her torture was clearly shown with gashes where her flesh was sliced open like a piece of meat, her white bone peaking through.  Her breathing calming but dubious and unsure, ready to race again if needed.
She stepped around the chair, using it for balance. Releasing a deep sigh, almost of hope and begging, she let go of the chair and started tentatively back down the empty space where she began.  
Staggering, she eventually reached what seemed like the end. In front of her stood a door.  She reached for the handle, suspicious of what trick could be waiting. Gripping the handle and using the last of her strength that her body would allow, she pushed herself onto the door.  It swung open and an astonishing bright, warm light enveloped her body. 
She embraced the feeling as she felt the pain being sucked from her almost lifeless body. Freezing her from the nightmare that she had succumbed.  Her breathing calmed, slowed.  A smile arose on her face, so child like, so innocent, so pure.  Her breathing steady, easy.  She spread her arms waiting to be caught, to be embraced.  Her breathing slowing, lagging.  Closing her eyes, welcoming the unexpected glare.  Her breathing silent, distant.  Her breathing stopped, ceased.  Her body limp, lifeless.  
She, Her, I, Gone.

© 2017 Kumala



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Reviews

This was an interesting twist, when reflection I thought of mirrors and facades of images, but a negative side is something creative, I took a look at this because I too have a story with the same title, named Reflections... you might be interested in the tail behind it, if you could take a look at it I would be very thankful! Good write!

Posted 9 Months Ago


Kumala

9 Months Ago

I will be more than happy to go have a little look. How could I say no when its a title like my own.. read more
You have got an interesting and intriguing mystery story Kumala here - well done. I think I would like to know what has happened and i can't find any clues. There is quite a bit of work you need to do on sentence structure and punctuation.
I would recommend using a larger type and spacing your paragraphs to make it easier to read. In many cases it would help to make your sentences shorter and then work hard on punctuation until the meaning is clear. Avoiding repetition of words is good and working hard to remove any unnecessary words is important.

As an example I have edited your second paragraph (but I'm no expert!)

Below her bare feet, red from the cold, lay a white tiled floor, cracked and dirty from what looked like years of decay. Silently, she began to walk forward when something ahead caught her eye. She tiptoed forward, almost as if she might scare it away. Reaching it, she gazed upon the entity which stood before her. She was stunned to see herself reflected in it's surface - her pale skin, covered mostly by her white, knee length satin nightdress which was torn along the bottom.

I hope this helps a bit. You should certainly work on this.
Cheers,
Alan
Just for interest I am heading to glasgow in the train tomorrow and then up north. my son and daughter both live in Glasgow!


Posted 9 Months Ago


Kumala

9 Months Ago

Punctuation and grammar is not my strong point but I will work on it. Your comments was greatly tak.. read more
Your descriptions flow..keep me engaged..now and then I need to reread..back track..I end up reading the passage twice.. I want to know why this young woman is in this predicament..you have my curiousity.. Write on..

Posted 10 Months Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Kumala

10 Months Ago

Thank you. Reading it myself I find myself reading back also so I shall work on this.

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Added on January 21, 2017
Last Updated on January 21, 2017

Author

Kumala
Kumala

Glasgow, United Kingdom



About
Looking for constructive criticism and advice. I am new to writing so reviews would be amazing. Thank you. more..

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