That Mirror

For years he had that mirror, for twenty long years he had that same mirror. Ever since his grandmother died in 1988 this mirror from Opole, Poland. His family left Poland in 1945 right after the fall of Nazi Germany. It did not seem possible to leave after the Red Army came rolling through the fields and began asserting their own control just as they had done in September of 1939. However his family lived in the south western half of Poland. No one would say they were fortunate during those six long years. Both Nazis and Soviet or Ruskies did horrible things to the Polish population.

This mirror that now belonged to him was made from silver. Its frame was crafted and forged in an elegant shape. Something about this mirror gave him an eerie feeling. Every night he had dreams about this mirror. In each dream someone from his family would be in the mirror. All of them gave him a cruel smile or a menacing grin. Everyone mouthed that he will die soon. He ignored these dreams for two decades, dismissing them as nothing but ordinary dreams. These were not the only dreams he had at night. For some reason he would also hear taping noises from where the mirror was. Even the noises were ignored mistaking them for noises outside his window. One night he stared at the mirror long and hard contemplating whether to sell or not. He had possessed this mirror long enough yet it reminded him of his dear grandmother and those who died under the boot heel of both Nazis, and Soviets. Drinking his coffee even though it was in the afternoon he sat down on a chair to just gaze at this mirror.

Hours passed as he kept his gaze on this mirror. For three hours he swirled his coffee like it was wine only getting up to refill it with fresh hot brew. When he got back from each refill he sat down. After the tenth time of refilling his decaf coffee he noticed something strange about the mirror. For some reason it did not show his reflection. To him seemed to be a malfunction due to its age and how long it had been kept inside his grandmother's attic in Chicago. He remembered visiting her in an old mansion they had acquired through marriage which seemed improbable after what they had been through. Each visit she would show him this damned mirror. This beautiful mirror that he inherited and not the mansion he desired. As he watched a figure appeared in the mirror. It stood right where he should be or at least behind him. The figure was unrecognizable and appeared blurry. He blinked several times then squinted his own eyes wondering if he had seen this one before. Moments later another figure appeared in the mirror it was his grandmother grinning an evil grin. Soon other members of his family who were long dead even some soldier in a Polish uniform with half his face blown off stood behind him.

He grew scared, and started to shake with fear. Sweat poured out of his skin like rain. At first he felt like he pissed himself but that was only warm sweat. His heart beats grew faster and faster as these figures closed in around him. Scared out of his mind he tried to get up, but he could not. Something invisible held him down to the chair forcing him to remain seated for who knows what. Not believing anything was true he tried to twist around to see who it was but no one was there. Hands, unseen hands grabbed him and made him watch the mirror as his own family members began to claw at him with bony fingers, stabbing and ripping at his flesh. Each hand yanked a chunk of clothing and flesh off of him. He watched in horror as he was ripped to pieces until there was nothing left of him. Life ended for him, and he was no more. Nothing but bones, ripped flesh, and blood on the chair. All because of that mirror from Poland.