Mirror, Mirror

Mirror, mirror upon the wall, who is the fairest of all?



The song is repeating itself within me, without stopping. The soft voice who sang the words were long gone. But the memories of her singing live forever... as a reflection.

I do not know why I was here. I could not choose my own fate. I am a living thing who is supposed to be dead.

I remember the first time I met her. I was sitting on a corner of a dusty room. She came inside the room, talking with the shop owner. She wore the most beautiful gown I have ever seen, and nothing could describe her radiant beauty. The black curls falling to her face and shoulders; the fair skin which shone through the darkness; the bright, deep blue eyes, looked at me mesmerizingly. At the same time, I could tell she was also fascinated with my beauty.

'I have decided,' she said to the shop owner, 'I shall take this one.'

'Are you sure, my lady?' the shop owner asked back, 'This worthless thing has been lying here for years, without nobody to take it. I did not dare to show you before, since I am afraid you might no like it, and the trip to this poor room would be in vain.'

'I do not want to hear anymore refusal,' she said haughtily, 'I want this. I am paying for it. Would you sell it to me or would you not? But beware of the consequences, if any refusal comes from your mouth. I shall tell Pappa about your conduct, and he will close down the shop.'

The poor shop owner shivered in fear from hearing those words.

'Of course I dare not to deny anything you wish, my lady,' said he leniently, 'Should I send it to your house today?'

'Yes, please,' said she cheerfully, 'I shall satisfy myself on staring at its surface very soon.'

How differently she behaved! The handsome face and beautiful, graceful figure did not go with the gentleness a lady should possess. A spoiled young lady, who was used to receive anything she wanted. At least for then. Very soon, the doom would come - from the one who spoiled her.

But who am I to say? I was just a 'thing', an inanimate object, to her. She knew nothing. She thought I could not speak nor walk. But I could see. I could listen. Her flaws meant nothing to me, I who had been blinded by love towards her. I knew everything about her, for since then, we were inseparable, until the day I killed her.



I was sent hastily by the shop owner to her room. He put me upon the wall, facing her magnificent bed. Her room was filled with luxurious, modern furniture, with both elegance and beauty. She was the only daughter of a baronet, and inherited her mother's extreme beauty. But behind the handsomeness, the perfection of her life, I, who was with her everyday, soon would be the witness of something nobody would like to see.

After I was put on my new spot, she sat before me, watching me. Her fingers caressed me lovingly, and her eyes gazed at me with such adoration, it melted my heart.

'Oh, how happy I am to have you in my room! To gaze inside you everyday, to enjoy the beauty you offer,' said she. Her voice was melodious, the kind of voice which would send you to heaven.

'O, mirror mirror on the wall who is the fairest of all?' she sang while still watching me. I wanted to answer her, to tell her she herself was the fairest of all.

'O, my lady, the fairest one has lips like blood, hair like night, skin like snow,' she continued singing, and then, sighing once, she said, 'Happy shall I be, for I have hair black like night, red lips like blood, and fair skin like snow! O, I am the fairest of all!'

I would readily approve of her claim, since she was really the fairest creature in the world.

A tap on the door disrupted her reverie. A maidservant came in, her own pretty face was buried by the radiant beauty of my new mistress. She was like a full moon, shining brightly, in a place nobody could reach.

'My Pappa is calling me! What is the matter?' she asked, astonished.

The maid did not have any answer. Of course, she was just a maid. She knew nothing, and need not to know anything. Whatever the baronet wanted with his daughter, the maid would be kept out of it.

My mistress went out of the room with light step. Such graceful movement! She looked like dancing elegantly even when walking. I saw the maid looked at me very briefly, with an astounded expression. Perhaps seeing my elegant decorations, handcrafted by the most talented hands in the world, a hundred years prior.

But to my surprise, she came back an hour after, with teary eyes and depressed expression.

My mistress, who was like a bright star in the sky, who had such extreme beauty to make the toughest man knelt down before her, wore such painful expression, tarnishing her perfect face.

'Oh! My Pappa! I never – I do not imagine – ' she could not finished her sentence. The sob broke uncontrollably.

'I do not imagine my Pappa has the heart to – to force me into a marriage with someone I do not know! Such shock! It is the Viscount Le Feuvre. He had fallen in love with me, Pappa said, when we met last month in a ball. He had proposed to Pappa. Oh! Why did he not propose to me, that I have the chance to refuse him?'

Here the sob broke again. I wanted to do something, anything for her, to give a brief relief, or stop her from crying. But here I was, doing nothing, only helping her by listening silently.

'He is twelve years older than me. He is fat, he is ugly. Oh! I could not bear to see my beauty, marred by such a beast as he! Would anything could be done to prevent me from marrying. Oh! I would prefer dying rather than having my body stomped by that fiend!'

I never met Viscount Le Feuvre before, but whatever my mistress judged must be the truth. She was extremely beautiful, and she knew it. The one suited for her was one who had handsome face surpassing every man in the world. Not some old royalty from nowhere, who used his position and power to force his own wicked lust.

Had I but the strength needed to save my mistress, to bring her into my world, I would do anything. My heart had fallen in love with her. Forget the haughtiness she possessed, she deserved to be. The beauty who had no match in this world, had given her the rights to do as she pleased. But that pride would be her doom.

My mistress cried in front of me, until evening came. The maid tapped at her door, telling her dinner was ready, and her father expected her downstairs. She was to wear her most lavish dress, most beautiful toilette, most expensive headdress, and most luxurious jewelries.

'Oh!' she continued her crying, after the maid was bade to go, 'He is downstairs. Viscount Le Feuvre is downstairs. My Pappa! The most amiable, most loving Pappa! It is all a dream... Pappa only sees me as his tool, to gain higher status, more pride, more fortune. He loves me because of my beauty! If I was to be born ugly, he would dump me as easy as he sent me to this beast! Oh! How could I dress beautifully and smile merrily, when inside I only want to cry until both my eyes dry?'

The maid came again, this time urging her to be as quick as possible. Hesitantly, my mistress obeyed. I was amazed. Mesmerizing, fascinating, attractive?

I need more words. She was like an angel, came down from heaven, disguised as a baronet's daughter. Angelic... more than mere human.

But this angel would soon be stomped by the beast's plump, ugly paw. The white, smooth neck would soon be bitten by the poisonous fangs. Could I just stand idly by, watching her be preyed upon the fiend?



Hours went by, feeling like aeons to me, who was waiting in extreme anxiety for my mistress' safe return, like sitting on a blazing coals.

She finally returned, safe and sound. The tears no longer ran down her cheek, but her expression was empty. Her eyes, her beautiful eyes, shining brightly... They were a pair of empty glass now, so brittle, like a touch would break them.

She sat in front me, only staring. No word passed from her lips, but she did not need to speak. I understood perfectly, what she felt. She was me, and I was her. She was in me. My mistress, my mistress, my one and only...



Two weeks later, my mistress was married. She looked so beautiful in her pure white wedding gown, which would be stained by blood soon...

My mistress brought me to her new room. Put me upon the wall. Her new husband was as ugly as I had imagined. Fat and short, with loathsome eyes, premature crow's feet, round chin...

He looked at my mistress with hungry eyes, like a predator ready to leap upon its prey. It was disgusting expression, and my mistress' face was full of horror, when the beast jumped on her forcefully, tearing her gown, straddling her.

My mistress' shrieks of pain was like piercing thousands swords through my heart. She cried and shrieks and wailed, but nothing would tame the beast. He had her ridden until the ecstasy came upon him. Satisfied, he went out to smoke a cigar while my mistress was left bleeding and crying. She was no longer pure. She was stained.

Once again, she sat in front of me, with painful expression on her pretty face. There were bite and clawing marks on her fair skin. Her beautiful curls were untidy.

'Oh!' she sighed with desperation, 'Why do I live until today. Would anything could be done to spare me this pain! Death would be a welcome relief to me, rather than one more second as the wife of that beast! Oh, that animal!'

She extended her hand, caressing me again.

'Kill me,' she begged, 'Kill me now. I shall drink the cup of death like I do honey. Sweet and painless.'

Tears running down, hair untidy, gown torn here and there, but still she looked angelic. Would that beast raped her every night? She was prideful, she deserved to. The pride made her could stand this insult - that death would be better for her rather than surrendering her graceful body every night. Who could understand her like I did, to see nothing wrong if she dies - honorably? Dying to kept her purity. Who could grant her wish?



I shall grant your wish. Death will be gifted to you by my hands.



There was a small knife lying on the dressing table in front of her. Studded with diamonds, made from pure gold. Beautiful, precious knife. A gift from her father. Would be the best tool to end one's beautiful life, to show the father about what he had forced my mistress into.

I moved my hand to take it. Put it on the fair skin of my neck. Slit it slowly. Blood flowed down.

My mistress stared at me with horror – for one brief second. When she realized what I had done – what her reflection in my surface had done, she closed her eyes, and welcomed death with peaceful expression on her pretty face.



You shall be free.



'Thank you,' was her last word – before she fell down to the floor, and vanished also her reflection within me. A crack appeared on my body, one, then two, then three, then my body broke apart – into hundreds and hundreds of pieces.



I have no regrets.



I am in the blackest void now, without my mistress, without everything. But a reflection of her – shall stay within.