The Mannequin Mirror

The Mannequin Mirror

A Story by Silent Pacer
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This is one of my Creative Writing assignments that I wrote. I dont really trust my teacher's opinion, since she has a meek habit of playing favorites, so I thought I would display it here in hopes to get a more honest picture of what my write is like.

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The sun was sinking into the horizon as the clock chimed seven on this particularly cold January night. Old Lacey Mosley was sinking into her warm bed, while admiring her new prize that she had just brought home from Ike’s One Stop Pawn Shop. It was a beautifully lavish antique mirror, golden as the sun itself. Its borders were kissed by mother nature herself with elegantly carved leafy vines winding around the frame of the mirror. It’s surface was of pure silver, seemingly reflecting life itself in its spotless reflection.

 

“A door to another world,” the old woman foolishly thought as she viewed herself in its crystal reflection. She was surprised by the clarity of her reflection, even through her old, worn eyes. She could see her white, silvery hair perfectly, along with her old battered, carved features of her face.

 

“My, this was a wonderful idea,” she thought. “I am most certainly glad that I was able to talk that man down in price. I have never seen such a beautiful mirror. Funny though, he seemed as though he actually wanted to be rid of it. I can’t imagine why though.” She viewed the mirror inquisitorially and continued to ponder why the shop owner wanted to get such a beautiful mirror out of his store and for next to nothing at that.

 

As the darkness slowly crept though her window into her presence, she struck a single match, watched it burn brightly for a moment, before slowly lowering it to a blackened stub of a wick that belonged to a low, burned down brilliantly white candle. It seemed as though what little light was left in the room drifted toward the flickering flame, making burn all the brighter in the presence of this elderly lady.

 

As the flame embraced the wick more fully, it lit the room dully, barely reaching its light out to the mirror. As she viewed the reflection of the flickering flame in the silvery white reflection, suddenly, it vanished, though its light remained. Confused, Old Lady Lacey, turned to view the candle right beside her, assuming a sudden draft had blown it out. However, the candle remained lit and melting. Cocking her head in an amused manner, she gazed at the mirror once more. There still in the reflection was the lack of light.

 

“Curious.” she mewed to herself. She stood her weary bones so she could gaze more intently. As she approached the mirror, a funny feeling came over her. It was as though she was in two places at once; knowing that this was nonsense, she shook off this notion, and glided toward the gleaming mirror. As she crept nearer, the feeling became consequentially stronger. Lacey, now captivated gazed into the grand mirror.

 

At first the old lady saw nothing. For a split second this sight soothed her, thinking that she was about to have an out of body experience, but then the notion that she saw nothing in the mirror that was made to reflect flew into her mind. She looked away in disbelief. “How can I see nothing? Have I become quaint in the head?” She looked back to see if she could now see.

 

To her dismay, there her reflection stood, looking rather bemused and a bit disappointed. Lacey was short in time her, she knew it; one desire she always secretly possessed was to have one adventure or strange occurrence. She sighed at her own reflection. “My, my, what a state I got myself in. You are quite naive at times.” she shook her head and gave one last fleeting glance at the mirror.

 

Once more she saw herself, looking rather haggard and pasty in the light of the flickering candle. She gazed longingly at her image; she remembered in years past how she was the talk of the town. She was stunning then, but age it seems had caught up with her, and not treated her too kindly. In mid stare, she noticed something odd. The face she saw had long blonde hair. She blinked and examined closer. Yes, the image was her own self, but with long wavy blonde hair. She stroked her hair absentmindedly, and murmured puzzled what’s about what she was seeing.

 

Next discrepancy she saw was the fact that her skin seemed to glow healthy and smooth in the now luminous light. She turned around to seem if the candle had changed in an sort of way, but it had not. It glowed ever dully in the moonlight. She turned back and stroked her face, she felt the oldness upon her face, but in the mirror, stood a youthful woman who looked to be in her early twenties. She sat combing her long luxurious hair with what appeared to be an 18th century comb. It seemed that she was coaxing herself vainly, though Lacey could be mistake by the wind.

 

Old Lady Lacey had never seen someone as beautiful as this youth before. She stared in owe at what she was seeing. The fair lady stared blatantly back; as though she was able to see the old woman, and was mocking her for some unapparent reason. She smirked at Lacey and started to hum a mockery of a tune. Around her Lacey began to notice people dance, as though the fair youth was at a Victorian Ball. Lacey’s dank room began to fill with the sounds of this eerie ball; she heard the laughter, the shouts, the beautiful music, she could even smell the dance. Her room became filled with the aroma of flowers and sweet wine. It was all so inviting, the old woman longed to be there. She even began to sway with the inviting music. The fair lady just sat there humming meekly to the tune of the music all the while pampering herself.

 

“Her vain love for herself must be insatiable.” commented the old woman absentmindedly. The Lacey saw something peculiar about the behavior of one of the guests. He was staring at the youth with eyes full of vengeance and lust; it gave her chills seeing this man. He had an important air about him, but his eyes were cold and hunger. The Old Lady Lacey found herself wishing the fair to turn and see this man; as though she would die if she wouldn’t. All of the sudden, the man slyly reached into his pocket and drew out a revolver that mirrored the supposed century. Pointing it straight at the fair youth’s head he pulled the trig; the youth, seeing this in the mirror, had a look of absolute horror when the bullet contacted with her fair golden head.

 

Three days past after that cold January night, a neighbor of Old Lady Lacey came waltzing in after noticing the lack of activity from the old lady’s home. As she strolled cautiously into the bedroom she saw the woman collapsed on the floor in a heap of gory blood. Imbedded in her delicately carved face was a ominous bullet hole.

© 2008 Silent Pacer


Author's Note

Silent Pacer
Three things, one this is an obvious work of fiction, so dont take it seriously but feel free to state any related occurances, I love the supernatural. And two, Ignore the name of the main character, I know she is a singer, I was just mocking my teacher's obliviousness, and I really didn't feel like changing it once I had her as a defined character. Finally, I would like to give some credit to Morgan, for he helped with insperation in the begining of this story.

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The sun was sinking into the horizon as the clock chimed seven on this particularly cold January night. Old Lacey Mosley was sinking into her warm bed, while admiring her new prize that she had just brought home from Ike's One Stop Pawn Shop. It was a beautifully lavish antique mirror, golden as the sun itself. Its borders were kissed by mother nature herself with elegantly carved leafy vines winding around the frame of the mirror. It's surface was of pure silver, seemingly reflecting life itself in its spotless reflection.

Hello again.
Just as a small critisism in the first paragraph,
'It was a beautifully lavish antique mirror, golden as the sun itself. Its borders were kissed by mother nature herself with'
i personally would leave out the herself, making this sentance tighter, and less rythming with itself.

I do really like the imagry, but still had to copy and past it here to read. maybe my eyes are just too old.
Nicely written though hun,
Dawn

Posted 14 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

I LOVE the direction you went with this. The ending was immaculate. There were a few grammatical things here and there, but I could fix those for you some day when I'm over. I may have pitched the beginning to you, but damn, you finished with a grand slam (excuse the baseball puns). This really was immaculate. I loved it. I would like to discuss a bit more with you in person, as I want to know how your mind traced a few things. The ending blew me away. I loved it. I really did. Beautifully written. Very well done. 95/100.

Posted 14 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

The sun was sinking into the horizon as the clock chimed seven on this particularly cold January night. Old Lacey Mosley was sinking into her warm bed, while admiring her new prize that she had just brought home from Ike's One Stop Pawn Shop. It was a beautifully lavish antique mirror, golden as the sun itself. Its borders were kissed by mother nature herself with elegantly carved leafy vines winding around the frame of the mirror. It's surface was of pure silver, seemingly reflecting life itself in its spotless reflection.

Hello again.
Just as a small critisism in the first paragraph,
'It was a beautifully lavish antique mirror, golden as the sun itself. Its borders were kissed by mother nature herself with'
i personally would leave out the herself, making this sentance tighter, and less rythming with itself.

I do really like the imagry, but still had to copy and past it here to read. maybe my eyes are just too old.
Nicely written though hun,
Dawn

Posted 14 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.


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Added on May 2, 2008
Last Updated on May 2, 2008

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Silent Pacer
Silent Pacer

Middle of Nowhere



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I'm Me, and sometimes me, but only half of the time, then I become something that resembles me. But in all seriousness, I am looking for constructive criticism about my work since I am trying to fur.. more..

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