“Nope. We’re not letting those assholes ruin this weekend.” I swagger in my heels, picking up the pink hammer with the floral handle that I thought I’d never use again, pulling a nail, and popping it into the artfully messy brunette bun on top of my head. “I have a mirror to hang and a bath to luxuriate in.”
THE SURFACE OF MY WORLDshifts, swivels, and shines again, showing me the face of a new victim to torment.
She’s beautiful. Taking her visage is a delight.
Long brunette waves. Light olive skin. Full in the right places, gently curved in the middle. She hums as she slides my prison along her wall, a shift here, a shift there, until we’re centered, staring eye to eye.
“Hello, gorgeous,” she whispers and blows herself a kiss.
Only it’s really me who feels the soft brush of air skimming through the glassy barrier and landing on my skin.
She turns her back, but I remain, smiling, watching the pretty human undress, my arms crossed, tentacles of shadows sailing out around the form I’ve taken. If she turned now, what a fright she’d get.
I’m tempted to start the fun now.
But I don’t know her name yet. When I do...
I slide away, leaving the mirror empty, drifting into icy, crystal nothingness, where phantoms like me are sent.
One day... One day, I’ll finally trick someone into asking me out to play. Until then, I torment. I tease. I pass the time by manipulating minds. The first thing to do is listen carefully in my new home, a prison for my prison.
When I hear her name, then I’ll call it in the night. Wait until she rises and greet her in the mirror, not in my true form, but in hers. But the movement will be a little off. My smile will grow while hers stays fixed. I’ll bare my teeth and wave as she screams.
Madness is so easy to manipulate, especially when you look just like your host.
THE ONE... THIS ONEisn’t easy.
No one calls her. No one visits. I never hear her name!
I sulk a little as one week passes, then two, and not a peep. In desperation, I say my own name to see if I remember it.
“Lucius. Lucius. Poor, lonely, lascivious, lugubrious Lucius. God, I’m bored,” I mutter, changing to my true form—a devilishly handsome being with writhing tentacles of shadows and a fine physique—then to the female’s form, curved and tanned and youthful. Alone in her apartment, I try a few other things as well. The old lady who last had my mirror. The confounded sorcerer who had it first.
“I thought the old lady was boring! At least Jane watched television where I could see it.” I cross my arms, and my tentacles braid themselves as I sulk. “I rather miss my soaps. Don’t even get me started on her obsession with game shows.”
I’d kill to buy a letter.
“Okay, okay, baby. Here we go. Good girl, Strawberry!”
I whip back down below the surface, invisible for the moment as the lock rattles and the door swings open.
The human has a kitten in one hand and the contents of a pet store in the other. The kitten is the size of her hand, and its white fur is so fine and sparse that she looks almost pink.
Ahh. Strawberry. It makes sense.
“We’re going to set up your food. And your potty. And your bed. Such a good girl!”
“Hell,” I whisper, rolling my eyes. I drift away. I don’t need to watch a soppy display over a kitten.
On the other hand... Iambored.
I slide into the frame of the oval mirror, watching the woman settle in the tiny, clinging kitten. I’m in my true form for the moment, confident that the human won’t notice. They’re oblivious most of the time, and this one seems more oblivious than most.
The kitten, on the other hand, sees me at once. Its wide green-blue eyes fix on me, and I freeze. She freezes. Her tiny toothpick of a tail puffs up and goes rigid.
She’s a brave, brazen little thing. After a moment of indecision, she charges, her two-pound body determined to deal me a lethal blow.
It’s rather amusing.
