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Upon Reflectionby
Tara Thompson
Lin rolled over and stretched. The fingers of her right hand brushed the wall above her head and, on the other side of the room, Nil felt compelled to make the same gesture with her left hand. Identical faces contorted into the same, semi-conscious frown as Lin woke; dragging Nil unwillingly from her own slumber. And in that moment of waking, Nil hated her all over again. Hated that she was forced to look the same, act the same, be the same as Lin. Even her name underlined her status in the relationship: Nil, nothing, zero. She was a nonentity and always had been. She followed Lin through life, mimicking her actions and reflecting her emotions. When Lin laughed, Nil laughed; when Lin cried, Nil cried. But she felt nothing.The only time that Nil could call her own was the night, when Lin slept. There, in the dark, she would lie and remember the story whispered to her as a child. The story was a simple one, but it was all she had, and that made it more important than anything in the world.
*
Once, long, long ago, there had been a King. He was a wise and good King, and the Country had rejoiced when his wife finally brought forth twin boys. There had been fears that the union would not be fruitful, and that the Country would descend into civil war at the moment of Succession. But those fears could now be laid to rest. The Royal line was assured, the period of peace and prosperity would continue.
But what no one had foreseen, was the eventual conflict between the boys. Created from a single seed, they were identical; even their own mother could not tell them apart. When one pricked his finger, the other cried out in pain. In all things they were the same. In all things that was, save one. Herm had been born twelve minutes earlier than Merrin and, therefore, would be King.
This knowledge festered within the younger brother throughout their childhood and adolescence. Until, upon the death of their Father, it erupted into violence. Now, Herm had the might of the Army to support his claim and could have won by force; but he could not raise so much as a hand to the brother he loved and so, tried reason. But Merrin, corrupted by hate, turned to the only power over which he had mastery: Sorcery. He invoked the arcane and forged a forbidden charm from silver, mercury and glass.
The spell was cast; a spell strong enough to imprison the soul and lock it away in the shadowy realm of the mirror world. And so it was that Herm came to be imprisoned within the first mirror; condemned to spend his life in service to an unworthy master. He had to watch as his brother assumed first his name, and then his throne. Helpless, he saw his Kingdom fall into decay and ruin.
In his despair he did the only thing he could; he began to create more mirrors. The magick that had created the first now stained every fibre of his being. He knew that the souls spawned within his world would be born into bondage, and he wept for them. But he knew that it was the only way to break the spell. Alone, he was too weak and the magick too powerful. But as the number of mirrors grew and multiplied, the charm stretched thinner and the army contained behind that fragile, invisible barrier, grew stronger. They were a people who knew nothing but slavery; freewill destroyed, identity, purpose and pride almost eradicated. Almost. The one thing that survived, was the hope. The silent prayer, whispered in the dark while their masters slept. "Send us the sign. Send us the Light!" Deep within each of them - in that place that could not be seen and, therefore, could never be destroyed - lingered the belief that one day the Light would come. The Light that would set them free. The Light that would destroy their enemy. So they waited - a shadow army that did the bidding of their reflected counterparts - and bided their time.
Gradually, as the centuries advanced, men turned to science and the old ways of magick and sorcery were abandoned. Knowledge turned to myth and story, and was, eventually, forgotten. But the mirrors remained, and grew in number. And the mirror people remembered. Enslaved they might be, but they knew that the power was not gone, merely lost from sight. It lingered still in the safe, dark passages of their world, just out of sight of the shining doors to their prison. And one day, it would set them free.
*
Lin brushed her teeth, rinsed, spat, then raised her eyes to the mirror and grinned at her reflection, checking her work. On the other side of the glass, Nil smiled back: despising her.
Lin frowned, leaned closer and, for once, Nil felt the same stirring of concern. Had Lin seen something? Seen the hate hidden deep in her eyes? Surely not? The others couldn't see their thoughts, could they? But something had changed. She knew it and was almost certain that Lin knew it too.
From nowhere, a single point of multi-spectrum light appeared and pulsed in the centre of the glass.
Lin jumped back in alarm but, for the first time in her life, Nil didn't feel compelled to reciprocate. Lin stared at her own face, smiling back through the glass. Was she smiling? Then she screamed as, unbidden, her reflection reached towards the light. It was the last sound she would ever make as long silvered fingers slid through the softened glass and reached for her throat.
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© Thompson, 2007Tara suffered a premature mid-life crisis at 30 when she realised that not only was she not young and hip anymore, but she was dangerously close to become a "pillar of the local community". She has since attempted to mitigate this fact by writing some very un-pillarish fiction and articles.