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 Post subject: Mirrors
PostPosted: Thursday 27 May 2010 8:38:11pm 
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Joined: Sunday 31 December 2006 11:40:47pm
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Location: No idea, all I know is that there are a LOT of felt-tipped pens...
Back around Halloween, my English class was assigned to read Frankenstein and then write a scary story. This is what I wrote for mine:


Jack savored the moment, watching with growing delight as the man's face contorted into tortured lines of pain.
Mirrors, all of them! Just like him.
Jack had dawdled at the Seven-Eleven, lingering in the snack aisle as he waited. His name was Garth, and had emerged from the bathroom at exactly the wrong time.
It was really all too easy.
Standing far away from anything reflective, Garth had been obvious prey. There wasn't a mirror in sight as Jack walked forward casually.
Jack didn't like mirrors. They brought to mind memories best left undisturbed.
They'd talked for a while, Jack and Garth, two strangers carrying on a pleasant conversation about trivialities. Jack mentioned a flat tire that he was in the middle of changing. Garth offered to help put on the spare. The cashier didn't pay much attention as the two walked out into the wind-wracked parking lot at seven o'clock sharp. An old woman pumping gas into her car didn't notice that the one named Jack always walked half a pace behind Garth. An adolescent boy didn't see the way Jack clutched a suspicious object beneath his coat as the youth drove away, heading back to a party after a successful beer run.
Jack didn't like memories. They didn't balance out the way they were supposed to; the happiness was always outweighed by the conflicted and sadness.
The parking lot was long empty by the time Garth and Jack reached a bright red car by the edge of the parking lot. A stack of cardboard boxes blocked the cashier's view of the scene. Not that she'd be able to do anything anyway. A make-up caked youth, smacking her gum loudly as she read the latest Teen magazine, was hardly a threat to someone as experienced as Jack. In fact, the police might even blame the girl for the crime that was about to occur. No one would ever suspect Jack. They never did, because Jack had never been there. No one ever remembered the dark haired, pale faced average with a trick knee and a brooding look to his eyes.
It was all a game, and Jack reveled in his position as top player.
Garth formed a questioning look in his eyes when they arrived at the car. It was now revealed to be in perfectly good condition. Jack loved that look, so unsuspecting and innocent. Just like he used to be. He fingered the sedative in his pocket, brushing the cold, worn haft of one of his knives as he did so.
Anticipation stirred in his chest. Jack liked knives.
And now came the moment! Garth turned with a question on his lips, destined to be left unspoken as his body met with the sedative. Garth slumped, almost falling to the ground before Jack caught him and held his limp form steady. Piling him into the trunk of the car was a challenge, but manageable enough.
Mirrors!
It was coming soon.
Jack drove swiftly along the freeway, heading for the nature preserve he knew to be unguarded at this time of the day. He went as far as he could with the car, then proceeded on foot, lugging Garth along like so many bags of flour unloaded each day at the supermarket. It would be good practice for him, Jack figured. After all, that was where he was headed after this. He had great plans for this one. The workers would never find anything amiss; after all, many bags of flour were delivered late these days. The bakers, however, might be in for a little surprise. But first things first.
At last, he had reached the place. A small clearing around four meters across, it would be the perfect place to give Garth a little wake-up call.
As Jack arranged his knives, he heard Garth groan.
Mirrors!
It was coming closer now. Time to begin.
Mirrors, all of them!

They were mirrors of his pain. And the next would be even better.

* * *

Sally stood silently looking at the bulletin board, stopped in her tracks by the flamboyant banner that had caught her eye. The circus was coming to town! Complete with a fun house, and best of all-- a hall of mirrors.
Sally liked mirrors. They fascinated her.
Ever since she'd been a child, mirrors had been an object of wonder. You saw things in them.
Her face fell, however, when she reached the bottom of the flier:

Entry fee: $70

She couldn't afford that! She was only eleven! But she had to try.
Walking home that day, Sally brainstormed some ideas. She could hold a garage sale. She could ask her parents for a few months' allowance in advance. She could scour the couches and chairs for spare change. The last one seemed easiest, so Sally tried that one first.
Her family room, with one garishly pink couch and an avocado green armchair, yielded nothing. In the kitchen, she found ten cents behind the kettle. In the attic, she acquired three dollars and some very moldy-looking bubble gum. That she left where it stood, an enduring monument to some perverse contest long past.
It was in the basement where she really struck gold. A stack of ancient twenties gathering dust on a shelf. Sally reached as far up as she could, but she knew she'd never reach it. Not without help, that is.
On the opposite side of the room there lay a rusting metal pole, ripped from the remains of a car, perhaps, or an airplane. Sally walked over to it, stepping carefully over all the various debris in her way; an old paint-covered smock, the shattered remains of a guitar, a still-smoking cigarette butt lying next to a recently extinguished candle. This was not surprising, as she knew that her father often came down here to escape from her mother, who was prone to tantrums and long bouts of screaming.
Sally picked up the pole cautiously, wobbling slightly as its hefty weight unbalanced her. She carried it carefully over to the shelf where the money lay...

* * *

Jack swept his gaze across the supermarket aisle, humming to himself as he picked out several different kinds of cake. How he loved to bake! And this would be a culinary masterpiece. It would go perfectly with the masterpiece he would be constructing in the cakes' presence. A hall of mirrors!
Mirrors, all of them!
It would be painful for him, of course, to see his reflection. But worth it in the end, when his victims would not only feel, but see their own pain, their own personal horror movie set on the stage of their very own life.
Still humming, Jack picked up a bottle of bubble gum pink frosting and went to purchase his items.

* * *

“Sally Marie Marshell! What are you DOING?”
Mrs. Marshell screeched, dropping the basket of cleaning products she was carrying and running across the room. Sally jumped in surprise; a dangerous course of action when you're an eleven-year-old child holding a long metal pole above your head. And in this case, fatal.
Slicked as it was with her sweat, Sally had no chance of maintaining her hold on the metal bar. It fell, seemingly slowly, with a kind of grace that mother and daughter both watched with wide eyes, frozen as imminent demise approached. Moments later, Sally's mother fell to the floor with the limp finality of death, leaving Sally standing there, silently mouthing the words she had been in the process of saying:
“Don't be mad, Mommy. Please don't be mad.”
These words became a sort of chant within the girl's mind as noise clattered upstairs, and her father came down. She continued mouthing them as her father called an ambulance, as paramedics questioned her about what happened, as her father cried out in grief. She stopped only when her father asked, his voice thick with tears, why she was trying to get the money.
“I wanted to go to the circus,” Sally murmured pathetically, “to the fun house-- the hall of mirrors.” Don't be mad, Mommy. Please don't be mad.
“Then by all means, go!” Mr. Marshell cried, his voice breaking on the last word as he ripped the stack of dusty bills down from the shelf and handed it to the child. “Just GO!”
Sally went.

* * *

Jack sat contentedly in the hall of mirrors, breathing in the sugary sweet scent of the cakes he had stacked around him. In the reflective mirrors, it was as if there were piles and piles of delicacies, stretching out into eternity.
Unfortunately, this meant that Jack, too, was replicated a million times in each mirror, but he put it from his mind. They would come soon. One of them at least, though no telling which.
It really doesn't matter which one. Mirrors, all of them!

* * *

Sally hesitated outside the hall of mirrors. She was.... confused. That was really all there was to it. She didn't know what had happened to her mother, only that she would never see her again.
Don't be mad, Mommy. Please don't be mad.
Sally took a deep breath and went inside.

* * *

There! There it was! The sound Jack had been waiting for. Footsteps could be heard, and coming with it was one of them. The moment was fast approaching. Everything, all he wanted was about to happen. And to think, it had all started out so innocently...

* * *

“Hurry up! We're going to miss it!”
“I'm going at my own pace!”
“You're just making excuses! You'll never be as fast as I am!” the girl teased, speeding up ahead for a moment to prove her point. Her curly blond hair streamed back from her head, whipping into his face as the girl twirled in front of him.
“Am not!” Jack insisted adamantly. “Come on, wait up!”

* * *

The mirrors were mesmerizing. Sally walked slowly, entranced by all that she saw as she walked through her own personal heaven. Odd, to finally reach such a place, only after making her way through Hell. “Demon child!” Sally's father had screamed as she ran out of the house, before grief made words impossible.
...Was that cake she smelled?
It seemed the demon child was now in paradise.
But with paradise, there always comes trouble, hot on its heels.

* * *

Closer! Closer and closer. They had broken into a run. And look, there she was! One of them. A child. This made him pause for a moment. She was so young... Perfect.

* * *

“Look, there it is!” the girl pointed excitedly at the hall of mirrors. “Come on, let's go!” She took off at a run towards the entrance.
“Wait for me!” Jack called, running after her. “You never wait up!” he accused as the two entered together.


* * *

Closer! Closer and closer. Sally had broken into a run. And look, there they were! Arranged in perfect lines were dozens and dozens of cakes. Perfect. Sally rushed forward and dove her hand into one, not noticing the man standing in the shadows.

* * *

The girl rushed forward and dove her hand into a cake, completely oblivious of Jack standing behind her in the shadows. But not for long. Jack approached the girl and asked quietly, “Your name?”

* * *

“You're name?”
Jack heard someone ask as he ran through the mirrors, trying to keep up with the girl.
“Manny.” he heard her answer.

* * *

“Your name?” Sally jumped, then looked up at the man that had appeared (seemingly out of nowhere behind her).
“Sally,” she said almost inaudibly, knowing that she was probably in trouble. Don't be mad, Mommy. Please don't be mad.

* * *
Sally! What a delightful name! “Well, Sally,” Jack said smoothly, squatting down beside her with a wink, “would you like some cake?”

* * *

“Well, Manny,” Jack heard someone say, “do you like mirrors?” They were getting louder. Jack walked faster, sure that he was on the right track.
“Yes,” he heard Manny answer just as she came into view, “I love them!”
“Well then, this will be a treat...”

* * *

“Yes, please.” Sally replied, just as quietly as before. She held out her hands.

* * *

From his unseen vantage point, Jack saw it all. He was able to describe it quite accurately to the police an a hour later when they found him. The blood on his sneakers and the girl's body lying in front of him were all he needed to keep the memories fresh.

* * *

“Ah, but this is a special cake,” Jack said, smiling just slightly. It wasn't a lie, really; the cake was special, just not in the way the girl thought is was. “You have to shut your eyes.” He readied the stiletto knife held behind his back...


* * *

Jack smiled benignly as the child finally murmured those eight words, destined to be her last, and raised his knife one last time.
“Don't be mad, Mommy. Please don't be mad.”


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