Shattered

I pressed a hand against the cool glass of the mirror and studied the reflection staring back at me. I liked my hair better this short, but there were still so many things that I would have changed. The way my skin sat was as if I’d never quite learnt how to fit into it.

“Annika?” His voice was smooth from the other room, and it sent shivers through me without even trying.

I smoothed out my skirt. “Coming.” I hurried out and grinned at Heath’s smiling face. “Hey,” I breathed.

“They’re all set up out there.” He nodded his chin out at the street. He wrinkled his nose. “Lots of colours.”

“Ha, that’s the best part,” I said, jabbing his dark clothing, which stood out in comparison to the bright yellow dress that hung off me.

As we got closer to the carnival, the streets began to fill with people. It was soon crowded enough that we were pressed against each other. My face flushed and I focused on anything except him.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathed, soaking in the patchwork colours and strangeness that hung in the air. This was the kind of place where no one could be out of place.

“I don’t know why you like this,” Heath said beside me.

“Because—look.” I jumped and pointed down the end to a smaller tent off to the side. “A witch.”

“A witch?” He gave me a sceptical look.

“I’m feeling a lot of judgement.”

He held his hands up in surrender. “Witches are not something to mess with.”

I laughed and walked into the tent. Heath didn’t follow. I could vaguely hear him muttering a protection chant that his grandmother had taught him.

Inside was littered with belongings, the life of a traveller spilled across the floor. “Hello?” I called, stepping carefully through the maze.

A fragile voice floated towards me. “Come in, child.” Nestled behind a desk sat an old lady who hunched over a crystal ball that swirled full of mist.

“You’re the witch?” I asked.

She studied me with bright purple eyes. “Would you like me to tell your future or if that young man out there will take you as his wife?”

“Oh, Heath? No.” I sighed and sank down into the chair across from her. “I’m not beautiful enough for that.”

“Ahh,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “I know what you need.”

“You do?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

She leant down and rustled through a bag, producing a vial of bright pink liquid. It seemed to zap electricity through her body, just looking at it. “This spell has three components. You stand in front of a mirror, recite these words”—she held up a slip of parchment—“and drink this potion.”

I reached out for them. “And this will do what, exactly?”

“Make you beautiful, of course.”

My whole body locked, frozen. I didn’t even have the capacity to speak.

“It’ll work,” the witch said, nodding, and I felt a warmth spread somewhere inside me. Belief, I realised in surprise. She had an inherent sense of truth about her.

I read over the incantation, all the words foreign to me. “Thank you.” I looked back up, but she was gone. The entire tent was emptied of her things. It was just me and the red cloth flapping in the breeze.

I hurried back out of the tent and crashed straight into Heath.

He narrowed his eyes at the sight of the potion in my hand. “What did she give you?” he asked, biting his lip. The concern in his eyes almost made me throw it to the side and tell him she was a complete crackpot, but all I could do was clutch it tighter.

“I have to go home,” I said stiffly and hurried away, losing him in the crowd.

The pink potion tasted faintly of strawberries. At first, I didn’t feel anything at all, and the excitement that had been pumping through my body faded. Nothing about me had changed; my nose was the same size, my eyes the same dull colour and my lips the wrong shape.

My body sagged. I was stupid to believe a carnival witch was the answer to my problems. I sighed and turned away from the mirror. I frowned. The world didn’t look right, as if everything were flipped. I blinked and turned back, gasping.

My reflection had collapsed. On instinct, I leapt towards the mirror. My hand hit it, and the world around me moved. “What the hell?” I hit it again, and again the world shook.

In the mirror, my reflection stood up, rolling her neck. It cracked loudly. She opened her eyes and stared at me. Bright purple eyes stared at me.

“That’s not possible,” I stammered and pressed both hands against the mirror. It felt different from this side. “Let me out.”

She shook her head and looked me over. “This body feels good. Young, strong.”

“How dare you?”

“How dare I what? You’re just a reflection.” She cocked her head to the side. “And do you know what happens to a reflection when the mirror breaks?”

“Annika?” Heath called.

The witch smiled with my mouth. “What fun.”

“No.” I stepped closer to the mirror as if to push through it back into my life. “Don’t touch him.”

He appeared at the door, breathing hard. “You okay?”

She winked at me and turned to him.

I banged against the mirror, but his eyes were trained on her as she walked smoothly towards him. She wore my skin much better than I ever did.

“I’m fine.”

His eyes flicked up and down her. “Are you sure? Something seems off.”

“What is that, exactly?”

Heath’s eyebrows furrowed. “I…I’m not sure.” She trailed a finger along his collarbone, and he hardly seemed able to move.

“Heath, Heath,” I called, but he couldn’t hear me. Hell, I didn’t even know if he could see me.

The witch reached behind her and wrapped her hand around my antique letter opener. She pulled him towards the mirror and spun them so that his back was towards me.

“Please. Don’t.” My voice was at a high octave now, the mirror shaking from the effort of me slamming my body against it.

She locked eyes with me and grinned manically before thrusting the letter opener into his ribs. He gasped and fell back against the mirror. Blood soaked through his shirt, leaking onto the floor as he clutched at the wound in vain. His mouth opened and closed like a fish as his eyes searched for me in her.

“Now,” she said, turning to me, “It’s your turn.” She grabbed my old baseball bat and tested the weight in her hand.

Heath moved his head in confusion to the mirror, and his eyes finally focused on me. I slid to my knees with a palm pressed against the mirror. He reached a blood-soaked hand up to mine.

“Heath,” I whispered, already knowing that he couldn’t hear me and wishing that I could feel the heat of his hand, not just the coolness of the mirror.

Then I shattered.

First published in 'FANTASY 7: Lockdown Fantasy Adventures' by Black Hare Press