File Four: Mirror, Mirror

Taken from: The Stone Files

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the most beautiful of them all? Never mind I am…hahahaha,” chuckled Amber. She was the most conceited, and self-absorbed woman in all of Cold Stone.

Amber came from a wealthy family. Her father owned a jewelry company, and her mother was an international fashion designer. At least, that’s what she told everyone. No one knew exactly where Amber Richard came from, only that she suddenly appeared one day in an expensive convertible. She dressed and smelled fancy, so they all just believed everything she said.

Actually, neither of her parents were wealthy; Amber’s grandfather worked in a mine most of his life. He saved up all his money for his children and grandchildren, to enable them to have all the things he didn’t. After he passed away, Amber took her share of his money, then moved far away from Noisyville; far from family and friends, and away from people who knew her. She wanted a new life; one in which she could be admired and loved by everyone, including herself.

Amber loved looking at herself in the mirror. It became an every minute of the day routine. She made sure to carry around a small mirror inside her purse; everywhere she went, she would take a look: Shopping at the mall, buying groceries, having dinner at a restaurant, and even while at the lake. It was like an obsession. She just couldn’t help it.

“Amber, can you not look at that mirror every second? You’re already beautiful. Do you know how silly you look doing that?” her friend Gilsie was getting annoyed. But Amber never listened; she just wanted to make sure she looked perfect. Why she couldn’t be satisfied with everyone saying it to her daily, no one knew.

One Sunday evening while Amber was getting ready for bed, she went towards her dresser to look at herself and make sure she looked beautiful even for her dreams. While picking up her brush to begin stroking her hair, she looked in the mirror.

Amber admired her beauty until she noticed a small crack at the bottom of the mirror. Strangely, without anything or anyone’s doing, the small crack turned into a bigger one, moving from the bottom to the top.

Amber was confused. She didn’t understand what could cause such a thing. Then she realized something even more awful; she could not see her face in the mirror. It was completely covered in cracks. She was frightened, not by the cracks in the mirror, but scared by the fact that she couldn’t see her beautiful face.

She started to panic. Amber rushed from the dresser and searched for her purse with the tiny mirror inside. But when she found it, even that mirror was cracked as well. “What’s this? I don’t understand? Did I hit it on something?” she asked herself frantically.

Amber was in great distress. She circled her bedroom, scratching her head, looking for mirrors. “Ah! Of course,” she said, remembering the mirror in her bathroom.

She hurried towards it. Gasping, she said, “cracked as well?” She didn’t understand what was happening. Why were all the mirrors cracked?

Amber rushed downstairs to look at the mirror by the entrance. “Cracked!”

The mirror over the fireplace, “cracked!”

The mirror in the bathroom downstairs, “Cracked!”

In the kitchen, in the study, and even in the dining room, “Cracked! Cracked! Cracked! They’re all cracked!” she screamed.

Amber fell to the floor in the living room, so tired of running around, looking for mirrors; then a thought occurred, “Other things can show my reflection.”

Amber remembered once while doing dishes that she even stared at herself using the silverware. She ran towards the kitchen, opened the cabinet, and took out a shiny sterling silver spoon. “Ahhhh!” she screamed. There were cracks on the silverware as well. She threw it on the floor, and rushed outside.

Amber ran towards her car. All the windows were cracked as well. She ran towards her neighbors’ house; instead of ringing the bell, she pounded on the door. Finally, when Sylvester answered, his loud and rude neighbor pushed him out of her way and ran towards the mirror by the entrance. And of course, that mirror was also cracked.

“Amber! What the hell? You woke up the entire neighborhood to take a look at yourself in MY mirror? You must be insane!” Sylvester was angry. His wife had just put their three month old to sleep.

“Why are the mirrors cracked?” she asked.

“What?” Sylvester was puzzled. He went towards the mirror, but it wasn’t cracked at all. The mirror was in perfect condition. “What, are you high? The mirror isn’t cracked. You, Amber, is obviously on crack! Get the hell out!” he yelled.

Amber cried. She ran out of Sylvester’s house and headed towards town.

Everywhere she went, everything that used to show Amber’s beautiful reflection, were all cracked. Amber stood in the middle of the street, while cars swirled around her.

Drivers yelled at her, either irritated or concerned: “Amber, get out of the road!”

“Are you okay girl?”

“Hey! You idiot!”

“If you wanna kill yourself do it somewhere else!”

But Amber just stood there in the middle of the street. Some couldn’t even tell it was her, because she looked like a ghost out of a movie. She was in her long white nightgown, and her long black hair looked like she had been electrocuted. Finally, after spinning around, holding her head and asking why, Amber fainted.

“Good morning! Good morning!” sounded the alarm. It was 7am. Amber woke up to realize it was just a dream. She was still frightened by what she experienced while asleep though. Her hands were still shaking, and her heart was beating fast.

As she turned on her side slowly, cautiously looking at her mirror through the corner of her eyes, Amber started panting and breathing heavy. She lay in bed, afraid, but still wanted to see if the mirror was okay.

She uncovered herself out of the sheets, and walked nervously towards the dresser.

Amber moved closer and closer, the entire time keeping her head faced down. Finally she approached the mirror, only to see that there were no cracks, and it really was just a dream.

“Ha…haha,” she laughed. “What am I doing?” she asked herself.

Amber started the day like any other. She got ready for work, and of course, double checked herself in the mirror. It seemed the dream hadn’t taught her a thing.

While she strolled along the sidewalk on her way to work, acting all beautiful, Amber stopped for a minute to look at her little mirror. She glanced at her pretty reflection and smiled, and then she noticed something odd: her reflection wasn’t smiling back.

She started to panic, eyes wide opened. Then an angry voice came out, “Mirror, mirror, on the wall, Amber is the ugliest of them all…Hahahahahahah!”

“Ahhhhhhh!” Amber screamed. She smashed the mirror onto the sidewalk. She thought it was over, but then suddenly, the broken pieces rose from the ground and went flying at her face. People at the coffee shop heard her screams, running to see Amber lying on the sidewalk unconscious. The little mirror in perfect condition lay beside her.

Amber spent four years in the hospital; not recovering from her injuries, but rather getting treatment for her mental trauma. She would be alright until someone mentioned a mirror, or showed one to her. She would especially become hysterical, when her friends would say, “You’re very beautiful, Amber.”

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