Mirror's Guise

My life is trapped in the land of Ikalla. Our home is in a barren, freezing desert, with only bitter herbs and grasses that grow. Even animals are few and far between, with hunting only providing food for a handful of families. Livestock struggle as much as anyone, so they are only grown by a select few. Maybe some people can survive in a barren desert like this, but our souls are too worn and weak.

Once, when I was a child, a deer had approached town and gotten stuck on a fence near my house. My father called his friend the butcher and we shared it together. That was the only fresh meat I've ever had, and the happiest memory of my childhood.

I look around my house, making sure I haven't misplaced anything stupid that could get us in trouble. We don't have much here. The only things beside essentials are old aluminum wrapping folded into little decorations perched on top of the cabinets. They stare back at me as I pace the room.

My stomach growls, and I put my hand over it to keep its cries at bay. Of course, it's the end of the week. The time the stomach of every person in Ikalla waits for with their palms wet with sweat and throats dry. He'll be here soon.

For the third time in the past hour, I walk over to a free-standing cabinet to the left of the kitchen. The wood is old and cracked in several places, with stains of food that had splashed great distances from the stove. Opening it, I see the jar I'm looking for tucked between stashes of worn books I've never read but don't feel like throwing away. I pick up the clear jar and blink slowly at its contents.

"Oh? Trying to do a magic trick?"

I look up and see Elyna. Her short brown hair is wet and free from ash. She must have bathed after she got home and I didn't notice. As a furnace tender, it's only a matter of time before her whole body is covered head to toe in soot again.

Anyway. "What are you talking about?"

Elyna smiles wide and waves her arms even wider. "Maybe if I just keep staring at it the coins will take pity on me and reproduce!" she swoons in what I assume is supposed to be a mockery of my voice.

That's not even a magic trick. I frown and shake the jar. How in the world is she so cheerful when the delivery man is coming tonight? With a prayer to a god I don't believe in, I take the bowl out and tip over the contents into my hand. I count. One… two… As if I hope the number increased since the last time I did this somehow. Elyna is right.

"Five hundred fils…" I mutter. There's a lump in my throat I try to swallow, but it's too stubborn and stays firmly in place. It makes me feel like I'm choking.

"I know what you're thinking," she says, patting me on the shoulder.

Of course you do. "What?" Her cheerful grin is starting to tick me off a bit. Oh, is that what she means?

Appearing to read my mind again, she continues, "Life is what it is, you know? Or, should I say, 'better luck next time'?"

"Won't you also suffer the consequences?"

"Don't be silly." Her pats turn to a firmer yet still lighthearted smack. "That's what you're for."

Why do I even live with this woman.

Knock knock.

The noise echoes in our tiny house. Our banter extinguishes like a pinched wick.

Knock knock.

"Coming!" I call, sticking the jar into my jacket pocket. Nearly tripping, I make my way to the front door and open it.

Inky black darkness from the rest of town wraps around the tall figure standing there. His body is cloaked in armor like tree bark, with cracked gray-ish brown ridges slithering around his frame. On his right side, he carries a satchel far too big and bulky for someone to move around with easily. On his left, an electric baton attached to his hip. And his face…

There is a blond man staring back at me. His dark eyes are sunken deep in their sockets, like he hasn't slept in days. Every time I see this man, those bags of his seem to get deeper. But his round nose and thin jaw haven't changed. Every week of my entire life, this man has come to me, giving life and taking livelihood away.

"Delivery."

"Come in," says the man I'm looking at. Or rather—

Myself in the mirror.

In our cold, barren land, every face watching you on a street corner with baton in hand, every face that beats you and steals away your life, every face that crushes your dreams into a decaying husk on the ground. It's always yours.

"Your name?" the muffled voice of the delivery man asks. His mirrored mask reflects the lights behind me as well.

"Solen Marsis."

The delivery man takes a step forward, dragging in dust from the road. His head doesn't move to look around the room, though I can't see if his eyes wander. His arm moves, and I feel the very collagen holding my bones together squeeze.

But of course, it's just to reach his satchel. He pulls out a few packages wrapped in paper and tied in string. They don't have a smell, but I recognize the size as being rations of dried chicken and turnips. There is a variety of different meat and vegetables they bring, but which one you receive that week falls to luck.

I take the bundle and hand it to Elyna behind me. She actually smiles, for some reason I can't fathom. Maybe she's looking forward to turnips for the fifth time in a row.

"Thank you," I say back to the delivery man. My reflection doesn't look as appreciative as I would hope. I'm simply bracing myself for what's next.

"And your taxes?"

I see myself go pale in the mirror. My eyes remain fixed forward. Trying to keep my trembling hands steady, I reach into my pocket to grab the jar and pull it out, then dump it into the palm of my hand. The weight of the coins is so little I feel like laughing at myself. Elyna might be right about just letting what happens happen.

Once I hand the coins over, the delivery man thumbs over the money with his gloved hand. There is a moment of silence which stretches on far too long. "This isn't enough," he says.

My eyes quiver in my reflection. I see my lips tremble as I open my mouth. "I'll… I'll have extra next month."

"Denied."

Teeth clenched, I feel like saying something else, but I don't know what. I know what comes after this. Dammit! Not again. I can't keep living like this!

The delivery man reaches for his left side, where his baton is kept.

As he raises it, my eyes shoot over to Elyna. She only shrugs and gives me a pitying smile. That's fine. I'm not asking for her to save me anyway. Better luck next time.

I close my eyes just before the impact smacks me to the ground. The blow is quick, and it takes a moment for the pain to hit. When it does, rivets of agony shoot through my head and paralyze me to the tips of my fingers.

Elyna kneels down next to me and rubs my shoulders without a word. She doesn't flinch this close to the delivery man or even look his way. "Well, at least the electricity wasn't on," she jokes.

Thanks I guess.

She's right, though. My head throbs, but I feel no convulsions or nausea. And I can see in my reflection I'm not even bleeding. I'll live to sell my soul another day. He went easy on me. For some reason that doesn't make me feel better.

But he must have heard my thoughts, because he swoops down, coming in close until a dark eyeball is the only thing I can see. The veins of my eye pulse red, covering my vision with a crimson spiral surrounding a dark pit. My pupil swallows me up and drags me into its darkness.

"Don't be late next time."

The mirrored mask leaves my field of vision as the man stands back up and puts his baton away. He looks at me, then nods at Elyna, then retreats back to the black void outside from which he'd come.

“A hundred fils? For this?” the shopkeeper spits and shakes his head. The dry air has cracked his lips. I can see them bleed as he gives them a lick.

My hands are doing no better than his lips, though. The skin is red and worn. It won't be long until they're spurting blood, too. I think this as I dig deeper into the front pocket of my bag, rubbing around until I find a stray herb I must have missed. I toss it onto the rest of the pile, which tips the weight to a solid 450 grams.

"A whole set," I say. "You can only find these up in the Black-Tip mountains. There are bears there. No sane person would go foraging on their own. You can sell them for twice that for all I care. A hundred."

He clicks his tongue and scoffs, then rings up the till. Its bell dings, aggravating my ever present headache. Maybe I should have saved one of those herbs for myself.

With the money having now swapped places with the herbs in my bag, I give a hum of begrudging thanks and leave. This should be enough to cover our late tax for this month, even once I give my working partner her share. Gathering herbs is a dangerous job. There aren't many people willing to do it. Because of the oppressive fog and wild animals, we always go in pairs.

Outside, the air cuts me like a whip. Cold winds are the final straw on my hands, and blood begins to drip out. Maybe I should ask Elyna for some gloves. Furnace tenders probably have some good ones.

As for the town itself, the sun is beginning to set. Unless you have a night job, any person with sense is on their way home about now. I don't envy the former. Hiking around bear territory has a chance of death, but working in the factories has a higher one. In the morning, I can hear the coughing of those who've spent decades of toil breathing in fumes.

With a practiced gait, I take a turn down an alley in the opposite direction of my house, keeping my head straight forward and making sure it looks like I know where I'm going. I pass a few people on their way home, some looking more worn, and others like me with a sense of purpose. Today is one of the few days a month I have one of those.

The alleys are tight, despite how small our population is. Right, left, left, right, left, right, turning corners away from the shop. I reach into my bag, the back pocket this time. Leafy thorns give me a comforting prick. My pulse soars.

Money? Food? As if I could afford to hide away something like that. No, it was far more simple.

Reaching the final street, I'm satisfied to see there's no one else here. I go to a familiar wall on the back of a building. Crouching down, I pull aside the rock I'd put to hide the crack there. Inside, there's a pile of dried herbs matching the ones still left in my bag.

Mera's Spine was made illegal to sell some time ago. I'm not sure why, as its painkilling effects aren't any sort of dangerous, though it is quite strong. But over the last few months I've heard rumors there are plans of reintroducing it into the market. This amount I've saved now should be enough to cover our taxes and other necessities for a few months.

I gently place the Mera's Spine I collected yesterday into the crack in the wall and cover it again with the rock. My heart can't seem to calm down. It's not illegal to possess on its own, but this amount could surely get me in trouble.

Once I stand back up, I stretch and rub my hands together. It's far too cold and dry, even for Ikalla.

Elyna should be home by now. There's no need for me to think about what we'll be having for dinner, so my thoughts simply wander as I retrace my steps back through the alleys. I take one turn, then another. And then—

"You there."

A muffled voice calls from the street perpendicular to mine.

My muscles are as frozen as the air. I swallow and steady my expression for when I turn to face them. I'm just walking home, I repeat in my head. I got a little side-tracked with… something? What? What? Right, yes, I happened to see a stray cat I followed down the alleys.

I turn to look. And…

Huh?

Brown hair.

"What are you doing here?"

Blue eyes.

I barely understand the muffled voice. It sounds so far away. I… what…

Wide nose.

That face. It…

Round jaw.

Whose face is that?

"I said, what are you doing here?"

As I open my mouth, the man staring back copies me. I reel, taking a few steps back until I trip over a box and fall to the ground.

Who is that who is that who is that?

The delivery man with someone else's face walks closer, reaching for his baton. Every inch his fingers move towards it, my head throbs even harder.

"I… was just heading home," I squeak out.

Why? Why is the man looking at me moving his mouth at the same time?

"And where is home?"

"…" My mouth is clamped shut. I can't speak. If I do, what if that man opens his mouth again? Why would he be speaking at the same time I am?

A sigh, and then the delivery man's hand grabs his baton.

My head keeps throbbing. What is this? Why does it hurt so much?

Oh, I think. That's right. I was hit in the head the other day. Hahahahahahahaha.

I cover my mouth. The man staring back at me does the same. Why?

Why?

I can't stand for this stranger to speak the same thing as me again.

"P… past the cobbler on Shall Street," I say. The man looking back at me keeps his hand over his mouth. His fingers are pressed so tight they are scratching his face.

An eternity passes. The fingers against my face start to grow numb. Pain from my head has reached the back of my eyes. It burns.

The delivery man puts his baton away, breaking the spell of perpetuity. "Go home," he says. "It's getting dark.

My hand trembles over my mouth. I need to keep it there. It feels like I'm going to be sick.

Why though? Why am I so afraid? It's only a stranger. Who.

Who copies everything I do.

A stranger who looks back at me from the mirror.

Who was that? Who?

I grasp at my face and pull. It hurts.

It hurts it hurts it hurts it—

I let go. My skin still stings. I.

I was imagining it. It was late and I was tired and cold so it's—

Time to go home. I walk briskly, dodging people as I reach more populated streets. None of these people are in quite such a frantic state as I am, so it's easy to get around. A delivery man passes by and I try to look, but he's gone before I can look myself in the face.

What was that delivery man even doing out there? There was nothing. Nothing there to see. Nothing nothing nothing!

Home. Finally, I. What was I….?

I didn't imagine it.

Elyna isn't home yet after all. The house is dark as I enter, lights dimly buzzing to life as I hit the switch. It's cold inside from being left empty all day.

Shudder. My heart thumps. I was imagining it.

I leave my coat on and dash to the bathroom, slamming the door open. The knob makes a loud thud against the wall, adding another crack.

There, above the sink, staring back at me is—

A screaming mouth stretched impossibly tall, maw opened up and ready to swallow me. Eyes, melting from their dark orifices. I open my mouth to match its scream.

Wait.

Nothing. A blank, peeling, moldy wooden wall, with dark knots in three stretched out circles.

"Ha…" I gasp out a half-laugh, swallowing my stomach acid threatening to come up. Just the wall.

Just… the wall?

I touch my face again. Wasn't there a mirror here? Didn't I… look at myself in the face, just this morning?

Digging my hands through my hair, I wrack my memory. This morning I woke up, cooked the last of our rationed eggs for breakfast. Elyna and I talked gossip about our neighbor. She left early because she needed to tend to a furnace on the far side of town. I wasn't in a similar rush, so I waited for the usual fog to clear before heading to town to sell my herbs. I went into the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and…

Nothing. I left for town. There was no mirror in our bathroom. Since when? Has there never been one? Or have I just never noticed?

When was the last time I saw my face?

I walk back into the main room of our house and sit down at the table, slumping over. My chest burns. Why don't I remember the last time I saw a mirror. They're mirrors! An everyday object I see every day. Every single day of my life I… thought I…

I wrack my brain. A few days ago, a delivery man made his weekly visit. Before that… Why, why can't I remember.

And then, today I saw—

Brown hair.

That's right. I pull a few strands of hair from my head and look. They glint in the warm light. Blond, definitely, I think with relief. Maybe a dirty blond, or… I squint. I can't tell. Was it always this color blond?

It's fine. I imagined it. I imagined it, I simply made it up. I was tired and I…

Standing back up after only a moment's rest, I go over to the dresser we share and open the drawer. Elyna must keep a mirror somewhere. Formal blouses and sturdy work shirts alike are parted before my hands. I dig, deeper and deeper into every piece of clothing we own.

Something shiny catches my eye. My fingers move so quick they cramp, and within a second I have my hand on it.

"Just a button…"

Dammit! I keep digging, before finally giving up and slamming the drawer shut. Next I turn to the bedside table, throwing its drawer open so fast the whole thing comes out. I search, still coming up with nothing.

"What are you doing?"

I shoot back up.

Elyna is behind me. She must've come home at some point.

With a furrowed brow, she looks around the whole room, seeing the mess I made. Clothes lay strewn about before her, the door of the bathroom cracked in a way it wasn't before. "Lose a lucky coin or something?"

For a moment, I open my mouth to ask her the obvious question, then slam it shut once again. I imagined it. That's right. I never met with a delivery man on the street to begin with. I just panicked and saw someone with brown hair and thought he was a delivery man.

"Elyna…"

She looks at me and smiles. "Yes?"

"…How was your day?"

Clapping her hands together, she gives a groan. "You won't believe it. Old Man Uvne called us in because his furnace wasn't working, and guess what! He hadn't cleaned it in so long there was built up ash the width of my arm. It's a wonder he didn't choke to death on it. Took us all day to clean it up."

As she tells me more about her day, I feel my panic pack itself in the cellar of my mind. Floorboards cover it up one by one as she helps me put the house back the way it was. We make dinner, the ache now suffocating beneath a layer of wood.

But there's one last thing I need to know. I can't stop myself from opening my mouth to ask:

"Do we… own a mirror?"

There's a moment's pause, and then she laughs. "Don't be silly. Why would we need one?"

The pain that's been in my head and chest come back, aching so hard I feel the need to grasp at both.

Why would we?

Sleep evades me for the rest of the night. I imagined it, I imagined it. I keep repeating it to myself the second my mind starts to wander. Every time my face presses into my pillow I try to guess its shape. No matter how much I touch my face, nothing seems to have changed.

Because of all this, my eyes are sore the next morning. I blink wearily as I eat stale bread for breakfast. A mirror, a mirror…

Today is a very rare day of snow. Our cold desert sees it only a few times a year, with most of our water come from wells. The light flakes chill me as I open the door. It's at this moment I realize. We don't have any windows either. Such a thing never crossed my mind until now. I give a huff of wry self-pity.

Snowflakes sting my skin as bad as the wind does on clear days. I pull my coat tighter around myself, resist the urge to rub my eyes, and start down the road.

Even delivery men are a rare sight on days like this. Most people are focused on collecting snow for water unless they have somewhere very pressing to be. Climbing mountains to search for herbs is dangerous in the snow, so I would be at home too if I wasn't so dead set on going to the shop. Mirrors are simply useful to own, I tell myself. There's no harm in buying one. I definitely imagined the incident yesterday, but having one will be useful for the future.

I look down. If only this were rain, I might be able to see my reflection in the puddles.

This is ridiculous. I'm letting my paranoia get the better of me.

On the way to the store, I only pass three other people. Each looks quite as serious as I am. Maybe Elyna is right and I'm a rare breed of sucker. My breath is visible when I sigh.

With this gray and white world nearly empty besides myself, sounds are few and far between. The only noise is the snow being pressed under my boots.

Crunch.

The shop is just ahead. A few more corners and I'll see that familiar worn-out sign. I step forward.

Crunch.

My boots aren't made for this weather, so some of the snow melts and seeps in. My toes start to freeze.

Crunch.

I turn another corner, seeing the shop just up ahead.

Crunch.

I sigh again, stopping just before reaching the door—

Crunch.

"…huh…?"

My natural evolutionary reaction to noise makes my neck turn before my mind has even processed what's going on. It happens so fast I cannot even prepare myself to guess what is behind me. My eyes adjust to the sudden movement and vision runs through my nerves to my brain.

Nothing. The street behind me is empty.

Crunch.

Sight bouncing and darting around, I look at every street corner. The snow has cast a spell that deepens every shadow. My fingers are so frozen they can barely clench into fists. Heart thumping, I think.

I am alone.

Crunch.

There's no one there.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Someone is there.

Crunch. Crunch.

Crunch crunch crunch.

I tear open the door of the shop and run inside. It slams closed behind me with a loud clang, the bell on top giving an especially excited cry. Turing back around, I can see nothing but the door.

There are no windows here either. There are no windows anywhere in town.

A… window?

Window: a glass pane to see in the outside world. The definition is solid in my head. I've known it all my life, like any other common word.

So. Then.

Why are there are no windows in town? Why do I know what this word means if I've never seen one?

Since when? Since when are there no windows? Haha. Hahahaha.

The tight hold I've got on the door loosens. My shoulders shake with my internal laughter. After a moment, my fingers finally let go of the handle, and feeling returns to my hands. I swallow the questions and fear. There's a reason I came here. I can't let myself be so perturbed I forget it.

"Solen, what the hell are you doing?" A voice calls out, one that's familiar.

I look back into the depths of the store. The usual shopkeeper is giving me a gruff look from behind the counter, lips turned down in a scowl. I'm still on edge, but I can't get distracted. With one final look at the door, I walk further in. Though I am going to keep an eye on it.

There's a few general goods stores around town, selling everything from foil to medicinal herbs. Some of them even have food beyond our usual rations, if you're lucky enough to afford it and get it before someone else. Fresh vegetables sell out near instantly.

This place is the one I usually sell my collected herbs to, so I have a good relationship with the shopkeeper. Though that's probably hard to believe from the way we talk.

Passing by the aisles lined with cans of oil, bandages, and ink, I search for what I'm looking for. The store is kept better than my house, at least. I only count two cracks in the walls, with a few more having been visibly plastered over. Nearby, an assistant is sweeping the floor. My boots squelch on the ground, leaving a thin trail of water from melted snow. I feel bad she'll have to clean that up, but my pulse is too quick for me to dwell on that for long.

Every so often, I look back at the door. It remains shut tight, with no sign of opening. The longer I search, the more my thoughts rush. Rows upon rows of junk. This is all useless to me. The more aisles I go through, the more sure I am I can't find it. Where are they? Where are all the mirrors? Where are the windows?

The shopkeeper is watching me with a confused look. Eventually, I steel my nerves and go up to him.

"What's the matter with you?" he asks as a greeting. I probably look like hell, so I can't blame him.

"I'm," I begin, then cough as my voice cracks. Remembering to breathe, I try again. "I'm looking for a mirror." I almost add that it's an emergency, but realize at the last moment how crazy that would sound.

"Hm, a mirror huh…?" He thinks for a moment, tapping his finger on the counter. "Don't think we have any. Try a carpenter."

"…what?"

"I'm saying we don't sell those. It's not our area."

"That doesn't make any sense!" I exclaim, placing my hands down and leaning forward. "You sell toothbrushes and soap! Surely you must have a hand mirror or something!"

He scoffs and shakes his head. "I don't know what to tell you. We don't sell that kind of thing. Look around. If we don't have it, we don't have it."

I grit my teeth. It's not just oil, soap, bandages, and herbs. Paper, glassware, dishes, linen, blankets, hammers, sewing needles, plaster, paint, canvas bags, light bulbs, silverware, batteries, plastic!

"You have all this junk, but not a mirror!" I'm yelling now.

"Go somewhere else."

Why? Why!

"Don't mess with me!"

The assistant flinches, the broom falling from her hand and clattering to the ground.

My mouth falls open, then clenches. "Sorry…" I mutter, shrinking back into my coat.

The shopkeeper gives me another look. "For God's sake, Solen. Go home. Get some rest. And don't come to me drunk again."

I'm not drunk. I haven't had a drink in weeks. Biting down the urge to say "what the hell are you talking about?", I instead rub my head.

But, another part of me thinks, is he even wrong? What am I even doing here? Does it even matter if I don't have a mirror? Or that windows somehow never existed? I'm so tired. My body aches from the constant fear I've felt since yesterday. Maybe I should just go home. Collect snow for water like everyone else.

I step away from the counter. But… going home means going back outside. My body shivers just in the anticipation of that cold snow. And not just that. Those… noises earlier…

Noises? No. There were no noises.

I control my breathing, leave the store, and dash all the way home. I hear no noise but my own.