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Once upon a time, a girl teeters on the edge of the ancient clock tower. At the eleventh hour of the night, she should be asleep. Lost in a land of dreams guided by the summer’s night heat. But, instead, in her hands is her heart remade into a mirror. Glaring at her reflection, she squeezes the corners of the glass. A web of cracks fragments her heart. But before it shatters into a billion pieces, she lays a curse upon it. Time stills.
“May the shards of this mirror infest the victim with an unmovable frost. Let them not know mercy, warmth, or beauty just like I was forced to,” the billions of shards of her heart get carried through the city. The looming clock hands move again as time resumes.
It was not long ago when that lonely girl didn’t have a heart of glass. When her eyes weren’t hateful, and her lips a scowl. She was innocent of the curse she dared to lay. A snowflake unknowingly the herald of a blizzard.
At the blossoming of summer, the City of Yarrows greets the Festival of Fools with humor and an unending sprinkle of rainbow confetti. Colette gazes out her attic window, wistfully wishing to join the celebration. The clock tower is an ominous shadow that stares at her. But she’s unaware of its singular voyeuristic gaze. But she’s to remain in her dry room brimming with stories, longing to participate in the festivities. Always desiring more than the walls that surround her. Colette’s morning breakfast of jasmine tea, poached eggs, and wheat toast alarms her stomach of her hunger. Extracting herself from the window, Colette sits down at her desk and savors her breakfast. Sasha is only able to speak to Colette when she brings Colette her meals. These moments of direct human contact are something that Colette cherishes immensely. It’s one of the few selfish joys she’s allowed to have.
As Colette finishes her jasmine tea, three gentle knocks echo against the oak walls. Then, gathering her dishes on a silver tray, Colette goes to the door and touches the chilly space where the doorknob once was. A reminder of Lord Leslie’s punishment for her disobedience.
“Miss Colette, are you finished with your breakfast?” Sasha whispers.
“I am; how are the festival preparations going?”
“They’re going well; I’ll take the tray now.”
“Oh, okay,” Colette steps back as the door swings open.
A tall and boney woman with ashen hair and skin holds out her hands. Her pale lips downturn as she takes in Colette’s appearance. Despite Colette having one window, her eyes aren’t clouded by envy for the outside. Lord Leslie will be displeased.
Sasha snatches the tray, “Don’t forget to read today’s stories before nightfall. I’ll be back to bring you lunch.”
“Of,” the door slams close, “course.”
Leaving the door behind, Colette picks up her most recent book from the coffee table. The stories from this book touch the fleeting warmth in her heart. Colette rubs her hand against her chest, attempting to remove the chill. Then, sitting down in her dark leather reading chair, she cracks it open to her bookmarked story.
The Bitter Fruit Tree
Years ago, a young maiden, Lisa, worked as a maid for a great General. His bravery in battle, wealth, and handsome face made him popular among the local populace. But Lisa cared for none of it, as she loved his kindness and courage. So, she devoted herself to him and helped to ensure his daily life flowed smoothly. And he thanked her with a grateful smile. It wasn’t long before rumors of marriage spread around, with Lisa as the most likely candidate for his wife.
She had been loyal to him and cared for his needs like a loving housewife should. His parents expected the marriage, along with neighbors and friends. Lisa, thoughts her feelings were clear. But the days became weeks, and week to months, and a year had passed without the tolling of wedding bells. Everyone grew nervous, but Lisa remained determined. The General would propose to her soon. But that day hadn’t come, for the General brought home another woman, Alicia.
Alicia was a beauty with silky red hair, pale eyes, and translucent white skin. There wasn’t a freckle in sight. She spoke little and ate even less, maintaining a graceful and thin figure. Her delicate features made Lisa nervous. The General had always felt compelled to protect fragile things, and Alicia seemed made of glass. But Lise refused to be discouraged by doubt. Alicia is but an unfortunate woman found by the General and protected by pity. Jealously hasn’t a place in her heart, but the seed was already planted whether Lisa desired to acknowledge it.
Despite the unease Lisa felt, she remained kind to Alicia. Introducing the other woman to other members of the community. On one of their outings, Lisa discovered that Alicia caught the eye of the third prince. Prince Leroy was a beautiful man that many nobles gossiped about becoming the next King. He was the favored heir, and his mother, the Queen, lobbied to make him Crown Prince. He was the only man the General was seconded to.
Observing this as a sign from God, Lisa assisted in introducing Alicia to Prince Leroy. Over time, Prince Leroy and Alicia fell in love even when the General’s attempted to separate the two. And Lisa forgot her own jealousy and helped Alicia be with Prince Leroy. By the following spring, Alicia announced that she planned to become Prince Leroy’s mistress. Lisa was the first to congratulate Alicia. Alicia levied praise upon her for friendship and sisterhood. But the General only stewed in his wrath. Finally, the two women gathered Alicia’s things, and Alicia took a carriage to be united with her prince.
When Alicia’s carriage was but a dot in the distance, the General confronted Lisa. He raved unjust criticisms at Lisa and grew physical in his anger. It was then that Lisa’s blood-warming scream tempered the General’s fury. She collapsed to the dusky ground clutching her stomach. Blood streamed from her wound. The silver glare of the General’s dagger blinded her. The man she loved had stabbed her for a woman that hadn’t returned his affections. He hadn’t yelled for assistance or apologized for stabbing her. Instead, he planned to abandon Lisa and revolt against the imperial family, all for Alicia’s hand. As Lisa withered from the mortal coil, she cursed him to fail his vow of claiming Alicia for himself. Lisa never knew whether her curse held true, for when she died, her body transformed into a tree that bore bitter fruit. The End.
Colette jerks her book close onto her finger. The stinging pain causes her to reopen her storybook and blow on her hand. The self-inflicted injury dulls with each cooling blow. For a nameless man, the General is someone worth cursing. Lisa’s devotion was wasted, and Colette felt the woman was idiotic to be blinded by love. Lord Leslie’s guidance ensures that she’ll never end up like Lisa. Bitter because she failed to recognize she was being used by the man she trusted.
Readjusting in her seat, Colette turns the page to her next required reading. This one is shorter than the first, and she sighs in relief. The first story entranced her to the point of hunger. Colette’s fingers dance upon her belly to hush it as it rumbles quietly. But instead, she refocuses on the short tale.
Pork Stew
It was a year of famine, and a little girl, June, stood hungry in her family’s kitchen. The iron cauldron boiled above the fireplace and smelled of herbs gathered from the forest. Her parents swore pork would be added to the stew, but their last pig was slaughtered three weeks ago. She pondered where the pork would come from when a skull-breaking pain caused her to blackout. It was June’s mother who knocked her out. Her father was the one to hack June up. The husband and wife had a hearty pork stew for a week. The End.
Colette recoils from the story and wonders if the previous pig was a sibling of June’s. Someone June’s innocent mind could no longer recall. Then again, she can only remember Lord Lesile. Her parents but a blur. An unexpected growl disturbs Colette’s mind-numbing thoughts as her hunger demands her attention. With food at the forefront of her mind, Colette prays that Yarrows will never suffer a famine as she doesn’t want to become a cannibal.
“Miss Colette, it’s time for lunch,” Sasha stands between Colette and the outside.
Colette rises upon weakened knees, “Thank you, Sasha.”
Colette walks up to Sasha to take the tray of food. Atop the silver platter is a steaming bowl of pork stew.
“I have no taste for pork. So please, prepare something else, Sasha.”
“Lord Leslie wants to remind you that your parents abandoned you to his care.”
“What does that have to do with today’s meal?”
“An assurance that the lesson is engrained with you. Be sure to devour it all,” Sasha forces Colette to accept her lunch and shuts the door.
Colette eats, standing up, not gazing at the meat. Her mind flees from her body as it robotically spoons another mouthful of stew. It’s only when metal chimes against the bottom of the porcelain bowl does Colette stop eating. A large icy hand grips her shoulder.
“Good, you ate it all,” Lord Leslie’s low voice brushes her ear.
His cool word shocks Colette’s mind back to her body. The silver spoon clatters against the bowl’s rim.
His harsh stare keeps Colette from turning around, “Is there anything I can do for you, my lord?”
“Read the last story,” a rush of cold air proceeds the quiet hush of the door.
Following the order she’s been given, Colette returns to her reading chair to resume where she left off in the storybook.
Mirror, Mirror
Melpomene knows nothing of the outside world except the unreachable sounds through the high windows carved from the stone walls. Everything within the frosty cage is frozen. Her only friend is her reflection, which stares back at her from the full-length mirror. At the trick of the light, her doppelganger smiles while she frowns. Or stands closer to the mirror’s edge than Melpomene thought possible without her just as close. She didn’t know that a person’s reflection shouldn’t move independently. She hadn’t thought it strange, but one day the sound of festivities caused too great of an ache inside her heart. It is on this day that Melpomene’s reflection decides to speak.
“It’s painful, isn’t it? To be trapped here while everyone else cherishes the outside.”
“What, how, when have you been able to?”
A biting chuckle answers, “You can speak, and so can I! Although, it took me some time to figure that trick out.”
“Is it normal for mirrors to do what you do?”
“No, I’m special because of you!”
“How can I be special?”
“Why else would you be locked away?”
“Because...”
“Because there’s something about you that’s worth fearing.”
“I haven’t done anything, though.”
“Maybe nothing you can recollect, but you’ve created me out of loneliness.”
“You’re nothing more than a figment of my unstable mind.”
The scathing giggle returns, “Those ingrates out there would have long since killed themselves from the isolation. You haven’t, nor have you starved from lack of nutrients. In fact, dehydration should have killed you within the first three days after the water ran out. Yet you appear as any healthy young woman strolling atop the cobblestones.”
“How do you know all this if you’re as caged as I?”
“Now, you’re asking the correct question,” The doppelganger leans so close its lips glaze the glass, “I’ve found a way to escape.”
Melpomene’s vision blurs, “How?”
“Sacrifice”
“...sacrifice what?”
“The one that’s closest to you.”
“But I’m alone.”
“You have me remember. I suspect you’re locked away because you must lose someone close to gain what your heart desires most.”
“Is that why time stagnates inside these stonewalls?”
“Most likely.”
“I don’t wish to lose you.”
A passing solemn smile, “To be free, you must. To take revenge, you will.”
“Everyone who forsook me to this wretched place?”
“The vessels to your eventual escape.”
“What must be done?”
“On a day when the wind sweeps the dust from the floor, smash this mirror to bits. Grind every last shard into dust. If you bleed upon the glass, it’ll strengthen the curse even better. As the glass tornadoes around you lay your will upon it. The wind will carry the shards out the windows.”
“And implant themselves inside the ingrates outside.”
“Precisely, you’ll invest them with an identical desolate feeling until,”
“One grows cold enough to become my ideal vessel to body swap with. Deserting them here while I leave a blizzard in my wake.”
“The wind should pick up soon.”
Melpomene flattens her hand against the mirror. Her doppelganger hesitates but reflects Melpomene’s action.
“You’ll see me once you’ve escaped.”
“You’ll be like every other reflection.”
“That’s the price.”
The hot autumn air thrashes against icy stones as Melpomene shatters her mirror. Blood, tears, and striking wails assist in grinding the shards to dust. The heated wind tornadoes around her as she lays her curse in a shrieking voice. And for a brief moment, the storm stills. Then floods out the unreachable windows carrying along the specks of glass. The shards became a parasite to their new host, either a person or a beast. Weeks pass as Melpomene waits in isolation. Despite being the hottest time of the year, the village outside grows colder. The majority of the citizens are distant and cruel. And on an unnaturally chilly day, Melpomene feels a tug on her body. Guided by the pulling force, space warps around her, and Melpomene discovers herself outside the stonewalls. And as she promised herself, Melpomene brings forth a storm of ice and snow. The End.
A bouquet of sounds from the outside dance across Colette’s window. Dumping her storybook on the table, she goes to the window. The early evening mocks her for the life she’s missed out on. Of all the stories Lord Leslie has her read, Mirror, Mirror stabs at a familiar memory. And in her heart, envy blossoms into a flower of destructive loneliness. The air shifts, and a light thump weights down on the ground. Turning around, Colette notices the door is cracked open, and a small mirror partnered with a letter keeps it from closing.
Cautiously approaching the door, Colette picks up the letter. It’s written in Lord Leslie’s elegant hand. The only important words are, “The clock tower is downwind.” Compelling the door to open further, Colette gathers the mirror and makes her way to the clock tower. This summer night will bring snow. END.
