by Bob'n Around
Invisible matters of the mind turned real into the written word.
|“Mirror, mirror on the wall,” Dorothy Sanders stroked the fairness of skin, eyeing her double within the glass Time had treated her well. Only the beginnings of crows feet crinkled at the edges of her eyes. It was still an infrequent task, plucking the occasional strand of white hair from her luxuriant head of auburn growth.
“There is one fairer than thee.” Her reflection shared a rueful smile as it spoke.
Dorothy’s grip on her hairbrush tightened. Pain shot through her thigh where she had clubbed herself. When had she begun talking to herself in her mirror? It almost seemed the words had not escaped her lips but had come from her unlikely twin. “Get grip.”
Her doppleganger winked at her. Or did Dorothy, not of Oz, have something tearing in her eye. Lately she’d been spending too much time at this extraordinary mirror so filled with promise. It had cost a fortune and was one of a kind. The history behind it from the glamour industry was absurd, of course, still, it didn’t hurt to think the piece had magical properties. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Dorothy wiggled her sexy tongue out to tease herself but it didn’t work today. She had competition in the beauty department and had better figure out a way to deal with it or pay the enormous cost of losing her modeling career. “Strumpet. Mary Shell thinks she can bed herself into first place, weasel her lies about me into the right ears, tumble me from my throne.”
“Are you ready dear?” Constance, her go to get all girl opened the modeling door.
“One minute,” Dorothy’s heart pounded as she realized she’d just created a bruise where one would show and ruin today’s gig. “I wish we could change places,” she told her mirror. “You don’t know what an impossible task it is to stay young.”
Perhaps her hand, well placed, could manage to keep the bruise from showing in the camera shots. It was about the right size. “If only I were really in Oz and had red ruby shoes where witches had powers untold.”
“In here, you would, Dorothy Sanders. Come and see.”
Had she thought those wild imaginings? Dorothy turned, placed her hand on the mirror, and felt a tingling thrill as it slipped inside. The rest of her body followed. She stared out from the mirror world to her image outside. “Go kill that brat, while you are out there.”
Whatever was happening, felt too good to be true. There stood her threat in her doorway. “I’m taking today’s set. Word got out about your bruise.”
It took only a moment. Her mirror image dragged the brat in, slammed the door shut and the strangulation was done. “Hide her here, inside my mirror,” Dorothy said.
The deed was done faster than Oz ever could have done it. She watched her image wave before she was gone. “Now, to get out of here and switch places,” Dorothy pushed at the glass without it opening like it had done before. “Trapped by my own sacred image of myself.”
The stink of the corpse rotting next to Dorothy Sanders grew. The mirror world was just that. There was only the reflection of the thin line of reality revealed in the real world beyond it. When her doppelganger retired with her fortune, the mirror was covered and stored away with its contents unseen with Dorothy waiting for a world that would never be.