A Mirror Never Lies

by Margaret I Holmes

We moved into this house just a few weeks ago. It is miles from where we used to live. I miss my friends and family but, “houses are so much cheaper here,” said Ben. It was what they call a ‘dooer uppa’. We were renovating it a room at a time. Now it was the turn of our bedroom.

Stripping off layers of wallpaper had revealed a door to a large cupboard filled with junk. Leaving me to empty the cupboard Ben went off to buy more paint. He had refused to change his dirty T-shirt saying laughing, “it will be even worse before long.”

At the back of the cupboard, I came across an old, ornate mirror. I carried it carefully over to the window. Fetching glass spray and cloths I commenced cleaning the dirt and cobwebs from it.

Looking into it I saw an upraised arm. A disembodied arm. Definitely a man’s arm. A hand at the top of the arm was revealed slowly as I cleaned. It was wielding a knife. A knife poised ready to strike. I rubbed harder but the arm was still there.

The torso of the man wielding the knife became clearer. He was wearing jeans as well as a grubby T-shirt. He was carrying a tin of paint.

As I sprayed and wiped another figure was revealed seated in a chair. One of our chairs or one very like them. The figure was gradually revealed as a woman wearing jeans and a blue T-shirt. She sat with her back to the knife-wielding arm unaware of the danger.

I looked down at my jeans and blue T-shirt as the door slowly opened.