Tale 43- The Magic Mirror

 Walking through the streets, the Traveler felt herself grow exhausted. Another night without sleep. The night she’d stayed in the couple’s house, her sleep had been fractured, but at least she’d managed some. But sitting on the barrels all night last night? Nothing had worked. She’d stayed up all night with her thoughts, silencing them when things got too much. Drearily, she walked through the city streets, before a little girl approached her, curious about who she could be. Bending down, the Traveler barely had the energy to answer the child’s questions, simply having to focus her energy on writing the tale that she knew the child would probably tell. The tale of ‘the Magic Mirror.’

‘In a dusty attic of a very old house, there lies a full-length, gilded mirror, decorated in golden flowers and beautiful sculptures. When the little girl living there goes to play up there, she brings her doll to the mirror, where it begins to play games with her. Though on the girl’s side of the mirror it simply appears that the girl is just playing with her doll, on the other side the doll, Bessie-May, transforms into a little girl just like herself. Unfortunately, though, the mirror is tricky, so whenever grown-ups enter the room it acts as if everything is completely normal with the mirror, only showing its magic to the girl and her doll. But…that makes it their special little secret.’

The Traveler illustrated slowly, her eyes beginning to drop from lack of sleep, and decided she wanted to move on to another part of the city to find a place to rest. Thanking the little girl for her story, the Traveler began to walk away, wondering to herself just how she’d look in a mirror like that. Probably, in three simple terms, depraved, disgusting, and desperate. Rubbing her eyes, she found a corner in another part of the shopping district and curled up, falling asleep at last.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Tale 100- The Wilting Roses

  Staring down at her book, the Traveler gently turned each page. Tales of beasts, of sirens, of stars, of mice and of men, of ghosts and globes, of bugs and crows…of blooms and blossoms. The Traveler took a deep breath and pushed back her cloak slightly, the torn rags underneath being gently pushed and pulled by the night wind. She raised her quill for the final time, ready to write her own tale. The tale of ‘the Wilting Roses.’ ‘Once upon a time, in a cottage by a mountain, there was a kind, innocent daughter who was the older sister of two brothers, both of whom she loved dearly. Adored by her family, the girl was given everything she could ever dream of- two wonderful parents, a seamstress and an hourglass-maker, and two fun and sweet little brothers, one dramatic, and one shy. They all shared a room together, acting out stories and playing pretend, and would spend their days doing chores or making flower crowns. One strange day, though, the girl was sweeping snow from the door...
Read more

Tale 35- The Mantelpiece Wars

  The Traveler walked down the stairs toward the dining room, freshly washed and re-dressed in her same old cloak and the few bits of clothing underneath. She’d tried to wash herself as thoroughly as possible, if only to remove the sins of others from her body. Though it was futile, it at least made her feel a little better. She walked through to the sitting room, noticing the head of the home, affectionately named ‘Ma’, and two little boys in her care who were sitting by the mantlepiece, playing with some red and blue toy soldiers. They didn’t look old, and reminded her of her own family. She stared down at them as they played, ‘Ma’ giving her a smile and offering her to sit. One of the boys suddenly swore at the other, pretending to be a soldier, to which the woman immediately reprimanded them. “Hey, you little rascal, you’re not allowed to say those words!” She spoke, the two boys ceasing their game and the culprit looking up at her apologetically. “Sorry ma, I was just playin’!...
Read more

Tale 76- The Greedy King

  The Traveler arrived in a village square, where a jester was juggling and playing with a puppet, sat inside a travelling caravan. He called the passerby over, the girl being surprised but unafraid, and asked her to choose a card from the deck. Ace of Spades. She stared down at it, the jester then taking it and not looking, before pulling it out of the shuffled deck flawlessly, surprising her. She nodded, confirming it was her card, and the man smiled. “Ace of Spades, this little card here has a lot of meanings. In some contexts it can indicate bad luck and even perhaps death, whilst in others it can indicate pleasure and voracious love. It can mean overcoming an emotional hurdle due to lack of appreciation, and it can even mean a happy future in some cases. Interesting card to be pulled by a wanderer.” he winked, the girl averting her eyes slightly but nodding. Voracious love was the last thing she wanted out of life, but to hear she could overcome this hurdle…she couldn’t help a...
Read more