• Mirror

    Mirrors see everything from the obvious to the minuet; when a person looks into a mirror there is something in the mirror that looks back and it learns about you. It learns your name, your history, your feelings, and your secrets. I am that something behind the reflective glass; I don’t know what you’d call me or what my purpose is I just know that I’m there to observe.

    Over the years I have been every type of person male, female, child, and adult. My favorite image to take on though would have to be teenage children; they’re just so interesting I never tire of watching them. Rarely am I a male teenager, they only look into my mirror just long enough to make sure nothing is out of place and then move on their way out the door; due to that I guessed years ago that I must be placed in a living room or hallway.

    Rory was the only boy I observed for longer than a few seconds; apparently me and my home were a birthday gift from his grandmother, my previous owner, Dorothy. I had been with the old woman ever since she was fifteen so it was nice to see a new face.

    For as long as I am conscious I will never forget the encounter I had with this boy; he would not only look at my mirror for long periods of time, mostly to fix his hair and adjust his extremely tight pants, he would go turn on his music sit down and stare seemingly right at me.

    At first I thought he merely liked looking at himself but I soon realized that his gaze was not appreciative but curious. I soon found myself returning that curiosity and with that I began to serve my purpose; I learned he was sixteen, he liked music more than anything, his family didn’t support his life choice, he wore those tight pants because they made him feel attractive, he had a tin full of chocolate under his bed, and he believed that something was inside his mirror.

    Rory could not see me but he could feel me watching him. Days went by and I did nothing, never in all my years had anyone noticed me; I am an invisible force something meant to be there but never be seen. Then one day out of sheer insanity I reach toward the barrier separating us. I remember how his eyes widened in great shock but even more than that I remember his quite voice asking, “What are you?”

    If I have a voice I don’t know how to use it so I regret that I could not answer him and I never got a chance to try to communicate with him because after he got no answer he decided to put me away where he couldn't’t see me. It’s been four years since that day and I haven’t seen anyone since, I think I’m in an attic. I miss seeing Rory; after years of finally being seen I couldn't’t even find a way to ask the only question one such as me will never be able to learn. What do I look like?