The Mirror Part 5

The alabaster hand grasped her shoulder gently. Its touch became soft and steady. Claire didn’t flinch. The light around her pulsed, calm and still, like the silence that falls after a storm.

She turned around. Her mother stood behind her.

Not the monster. This was her. The way Claire remembered. Her eyes were kind and tired. A pale glow settled over her like she carried the light itself.

Claire couldn’t speak as her mother smiled.

She raised one hand and brushed Claire’s hair from her face, the same way she had in a thousand quiet moments.

The smell of cinnamon lingered in the air. Claire’s heart ached. She remembered. This was real.

The other Claire was gone. The gray grin had faded with the dark. There was no more whispering, no more knives, no more shifting shadows in the corners of the room.

Only peace.

Claire leaned into her mother’s arms. They stood there together in the white room, the roar of the house now nothing but memory. Her mother said nothing. She didn’t have to. Claire felt it in the way she held her.

She was not alone. Her memories had not been taken. She knew who she was.

When her mother stepped back, the light didn’t fade. It stayed with her, wrapped around her shoulders like a blanket pulled from a warm home on a cold morning.

Claire looked around. The house had changed again. But this time, she didn’t feel afraid. She was ready.

The darkness would return. She could feel it waiting, watching, just beyond the edge of the light.

But now, she could see it clearly. And it could see her.

Claire stepped into the hallway. The warmth of the light faded behind her. She didn’t look back.

The air grew colder. The floor creaked beneath her feet. Darkness thickened ahead, swallowing the walls and the ceiling. Her breath came slow and steady.

The house shifted.

The kitchen appeared again, but it was not hers. The counters were stained, the windows cracked, and blood pooled at the corners of the tile. Everything smelled of ash and vinegar.

A figure sat at the table.

It looked like her mother. The skin was stretched too tight. One eye bulged while the other was missing. The hands were curled around the edge of the table, gripping it like claws. A knife rested beside a plate that still held hotdog buns, soaked red and wet.

Claire stood still as the figure smiled.

Behind that smile was every lie the darkness had told her. Every false memory. All the warped things meant to destroy the image of herself.

But Claire didn’t step back. She remembered the light.

She remembered her real mother’s voice. The warmth of her arms, the way she hummed softly in the mornings, and the  smell of cinnamon and old books. The safety of her presence lingered.

The figure’s grin shook as the house groaned.

The shadows pulled tighter around the kitchen. The walls buckled and the floor beneath her feet quivered, but Claire stood tall. Her heart pounded steady. Her jaw clenched.

The figure at the table flickered. Its face cracked.

The color drained from the room as the vision split open. Smoke poured from its mouth. Its body caved inward, folding into itself like paper set on fire.

Claire stepped forward. The room shattered around her. Silence returned.

The darkness was no longer endless. It was thinning. Claire stood in the center of it, whole and unbroken. The last pieces of the gray world started falling away.

She hadn’t forgotten, and they had failed.

Fear had dispersed from her spirit, and the darkness ran away with it.

Claire moved down the narrowing hallway. The walls closed in like ribs around her. The air grew thick and chilled her skin. At the end stood the mirror framed in black.

She looked into it and saw Gray Claire. She was still and hollow. Her skin was pale and lifeless. Her lips curled into a cruel smile, and her eyes were empty and cold.

This was the monster she feared. The shape grief had taken.

The blame she carried for her mother’s death. The loneliness that turned her inward until she could barely recognize herself.

Claire reached out and touched the glass. The cold seeped into her bones. The reflection held her gaze unblinking and accusing. For a long moment they stared. Two halves of one broken soul. The mirror began to crack.

Thin lines spread like veins. The darkness whispered all the lies she told herself to survive. That she was at fault. That she was the monster.

But Claire didn’t flinch.

She remembered the soft warmth of her mother’s hand. The cinnamon scent in the kitchen. The love beneath all the pain. She saw the truth behind the shadow. The grief and loss and love that made her human.

The mirror shattered.

The gray figure faded and dissolved into nothing. Claire’s breath came fast but steady.

The house trembled and shifted around her. The hallway disappeared. She blinked and found herself standing barefoot in her real kitchen.

The sunlight streamed through the window. The air smelled of rain and quiet. She walked slowly through each room touching the familiar surfaces feeling the solid presence of home.

The darkness tried to claim her. To turn her into something unrecognizable. But she was still herself, scarred but fighting.

She placed her hand over her heart and breathed deeply.

The weight inside her was still there but she carried it now.

It was grief, love, and memory. It was part of who she was. And finally she was free.

Thanks for reading! 👻

This is my first online story. I hope you enjoyed this five week project.

I plan on rewriting this story to make it longer. I can’t wait to begin my next tale.