Setting

A deep oak trim and casings outlined off-white walls and a high arching ceiling. Rafters hung suspended about a foot below and emphasized a vast emptiness filling the unremarkable room. Cedar laminate swallowed the floor, contrasting greatly with its oak counterpart. Furniture peeked out from under white, dust covered sheets. Particles floated in the air and the sheets rustled slightly, moved by the breeze that snuck in from under one of the open windows, providing eyes to an autumn evening. Trees of a collage of orange, yellow, and green lined the dirt road leading to a courtyard with marble statues of two horse heads. Each stood tall and proud in the midst of swirling leaves, guarding the stone steps up to the front door. The setting sun cast an array of light which struck the old mirror in the center of the room. It stood there, the star of the stage. The mahogany frame had dulled and splintered, leaving sharp shards of wood loose. Shaped like a wavy, discordant melody, the mirror’s full length float glass inset shimmered and swirled like a mass of churning, black waters. pungent odor – burnt wood – hung in the air, coming off the mirror in waves as the reflection bent and the glass moved of its own volition, leaving the indent of several human faces plying at the glass for release. It was an old mirror.