The Mirror Out For Blood

• Zainab Loraichi, Grade 4
• Short Story
• 2022

I gaze at the crinkled will and the familiar cursive handwriting. My mother's words echoed in my head.

“Remember sweetie, don’t trust anyone. ”

“What do you mean mummy?”

“You’ll understand when you're older.”

We drifted apart during those years. She seemed to be apathetic when I would tell her about my carefree school days. All she cared for was when she won a lottery. She would buy all the flashy and expensive jewellery almost shutting me out. On one occasion she told me she had to get me out of school since the fees were too expensive and she had to get this sequined dress she so deathly wanted. I didn’t want to do it, but if it meant making my mother happier, I couldn’t resist but laying my life down for her. The consequences got more unjust and absurd when she bought an ornate brass mirror. She would slightly cut my finger occasionally, to reveal electric red blood she then collected in a vile. Every time she did this, the vile would return with the blood unseen and her pockets stuffed with hundred-dollar bills. Years after she bought that, she died. Which brings us to the present day. The same brass mirror sitting in my room. My inquisitive eye kept drawing to it. The thought of putting it up tugged at my conscience. Soon I felt my trembling hands picking it up and hanging it on a rusted nail. I lay on my bed. I was right to be superstitious about the mirror. I heard squeaking. As though someone was rubbing their finger on a piece of glass. My head circumspectly turned to the bulked, hanging mirror. I felt myself let out a bloodcurdling scream. Fogged up, the mirror was, and a barbaric font of letters spelt out “ I CAN GIVE YOU WHAT YOU WANT” My heart danced. I broke out in a cold sweat as my consciousness slept. I wake up to the mirror now showing gold bricks, jewellery and money that I could only imagine. My eyes lit up as I edged closer like a moth going into the bright light of a lightbulb. “ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS KILL” My head instantly nodded, and I slipped on my boots and coat, taking a sharp kitchen knife with me. I entered my local store, Smith’s Grocery. I reached for my pocket and grabbed the knife. I thought of the sumptuous gold. About to make the news of a cold-blooded massacre, I shook my head vigorously and tears filled my eyes. ‘The question of ‘What is happening to me?!’ filled my brain, making less space for thinking about what to do with the mirror. A disturbing thought crossed my mind. ‘WHAT IF MY MOTHER KILLED HERSELF FOR THE TREASURES?!!’ It all made sense. She was found in her bedroom, IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR WITH A KNIFE IN HER CHEST. I went home. Smashed the mirror. Slept. Woke up. IT WAS IN MY ROOM!!