Waltzing Matilda

         Millicent hummed to herself only because she had somehow forgotten the lyrics and they niggled at her and she believed if she played the music on an annoying loop that elusive jumble of words just had to knock at her memory. She fluffed her crown of silver curls and peered with a frown at her distorted visage in the steamy bathroom mirror. I'm looking rather shaggy. I should ring Judith and schedule a hair cut. There must be some juicy gossip to dissect. I can't quite grasp the name. Is it what's-her- name? The actress. Is she dancing? Winking? Waddling? Wallpapering? Ohhh, why can't I remember this? I know it like I know my own face. Wait, is that a new wrinkle?

         

         Millicent did not concern herself with the usual trappings of appearance. Never had so much as a smear of blusher, a slash of lipstick, or a swipe of mascara ever painted her face. She did however liberally apply a moisturizer to her skin daily. Mother had insisted it would be to her benefit. When had this wrinkle settled itself upon her forehead? Surely, she did not make a habit of frowning that much. If she raised her eyebrows the furrow emphasized her wide-eyed look of incredulity. A scowl smoothed it a wee bit, not that it disappeared.

         "Millicent, Millicent," croaked a disembodied voice. "Can you hear me?"

          Millicent jerked and yelped. One foot snagged the fluffy pink floor mat she had scored at a going out of business sale last week and in a thirty second chain reaction Millicent first slid then stumbled. With a loud whoompf she toppled onto the toilet seat.

         Nothing bruised but my equilibrium. Am I hearing things now? When I awoke this morning and checked I still lived alone. Talking mirrors exist as movie props, don't they?

         With a groan Millicent bent to straighten the bundle of fluff tangled around her feet.

         "Hello. Are you there, Millicent?"

         Gasping in tandem with her hammering heart Millicent reached a trembling hand to the sink and pulled herself upright. She stared into the medicine chest glass and squinted as she concentrated on its edges. With one hand to steady herself she extended the other to explore the cool surface before her.

         Nope, there isn't a hidden microphone, or any loose wires.

         As if by reflex, Millicent rapped which rattled the framed mirror.

         "I can hear you, Millicent. Won't you answer?"

         The quaking woman in question quavered, "Yes. I hear you."

         "I heard you humming. You do that a lot lately. Forgot the words, huh?"

         Millicent couldn't help it. She looked over her shoulder and then turned to study the bathroom's nooks and crannies.Am I on an episode of The Twilight Zone? Maybe this is a prank like that silly show Candid Camera. Who ever hid the camera is gifted. I don't see it anywhere.

         "Are you still there? You got quiet, talk to me."

         Millicent swallowed and cleared her throat. "Um, what do you want me to say? It's supposed to be a sunny day here on Earth."

         Giggling erupted. "You silly goose. What's all this Earth nonsense? I'm on this crazy planet with you, you know."

         "Who is this?"

         "It's me, Matilda. Who did you think it was? A talking mirror?"

         With a feeble snort, Millicent replied, "Of course not. But Matilda who? Wait, that's the name, Matilda."

         "That's what I said. It's me your neighbour, Matilda."

         Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda, you'll go a'waltzing Matilda with me, he sang as he watched and he waited---

         "Can you see me, Matilda?"

         "What? Of course not. I do need a favour though."

         Relieved that she wasn't becoming doolally and those elusive lyrics had materialized like a floating balloon in her consciousness, Millicent agreed to lend assistance.

         "Well, you see. I've fallen in my bathroom. I appear to be stranded on the floor. Would you mind terribly calling 911? And Millicent---"

         Shouting directly into her mirror now, Millicent trilled, " It's the least I can do for you my dear. Help is on the way momentarily. You were saying?"

         "Stick to humming. It just may be the terrible acoustics, but your voice leaves much to be desired."           (699 words)( Mirror, Mirror Prompt # 23)