MONSTER IN THE MIRROR

by
M.J.A. Ware

DIGITAL EDITION v1.1

*****

PUBLISHED BY:
CG Press LTD.

Monster in the Mirror

Copyright © 2010 by M.J.A. Ware

Cover Art © 2009 - Kieron Francis

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved
above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or
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owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and

incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used
fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and
trademark owners of any product referenced in this work of fiction,
which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these
trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the
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*****

MONSTER IN THE MIRROR

*****

I try ignoring the sound. Like fingernails on a blackboard, deep and

violent. It's coming from the stairs, always from the stairs.
My legs move towards my bedroom door. I can't make them stop.
With each step, my heart thumps harder. Something evil's in the air;
thick and musty.
In darkness, I pass my little sister's room and approach the
stairway. The sound grows. Eerie light climbs up the steps and reflects
off the empty wall behind the landing.
 My feet round the corner and I face the stairs.
I find nothing except the steps leading down.
I breathe a deep, hot sigh.
As I start heading back, I feel something from behind. Sharp claws
dancing on my shoulders.
Racing back into my room, I lock the door. Something's out there. I
can almost hear the scratching sound echoing in my head.
Later that day, I can't stop thinking about it. Maybe it was just a
nightmare. Ever since we moved here, I haven't gotten a decent night
sleep.
Mom's making lunch in the kitchen. "Nate, you look terrible.
Another bad dream?"
"I'm fine," I lie, burying my head in my Wolverine Annual.
"You're just getting adjusted to the new house."
"There's nothing new about this heap." I look at the cracked
plaster walls and warped wood floors.
"It's a historical landmark. We got a great deal. We're lucky to live
here."
Sure, if you can ignore the nightmares and scratching sounds
coming from the staircase.
With one huge bite, I stuff the last half of my PB&J in my mouth.
"Daniel sleeping over tonight?" Mom asks.
I look over at my little sister, Mandy. She's hovering over her
lunch. Her long dark hair draped over her face. And she's mumbling to
herself again. The same tune over and over--something about knocking
on a door. She's always been slightly off, but this house has made her
worse.
"Yeah. Dan's still coming."
"I wanta friend to sp-spend the night." Mandy says, doing her best
not to stutter.
"You’re too young to have a sleepover, dear." Mom reminds her.
 That night, Dan arrives as Mom goes out to the garage to do
laundry. We head up to my room to put a new high-performance
engine in my R/C truck.
"Dang, this house belongs in one of those old black and white
horror movies," Dan says as we pass Mandy's room. She's sitting with
her doll, humming that stupid song.
"Let's see your new cell." I grab his phone. "What's that on the
screen?" I ask, looking at hash marks across the glass.
"Nothing. It's off." I turn the phone to show him and they
disappear.
"Must have been a reflection. Here, Nate, I'll turn it on."
I stop; a chill creeps up my back.
I turn the phone and it re-appears. A tic-tac-toe board--only raised
like wood paneling.
"Give it here, Nate."
"Wait a sec." I hold the phone out so Dan sees the reflection. "See
that?" I whisper, almost unable to breathe.
"It's just a reflection of the door behind the stairs..." Dan turns to
see what I already know--there's no door. "What the-is this some sort
of gag?"
We both stare at the phone's screen. In the reflection, I see panic
on our faces. This is no gag.
I turn, hoping we're being stupid, that there's an explanation. But
nothing's behind us except the old, gray wall at the top of the stairs. It
reminds me of the scratching sounds in my dream.
"Come on. There's a mirror downstairs."
We run down, afraid to look back. I dig through some boxes that no
one's bothered to unpacked and find an old hat mirror.
We stand sideways on the upstairs landing, between the wall and
the staircase. Slowly, with a trembling hand, I hold up the mirror.
Reflected, I see an old weathered door with a tarnished brass
handle all fancy and decorated. When I turn to touch it, it's gone.
"Ummm. Think I'm coming down with a cold. Your mom better take
me home." Dan starts down the stairs.
"Hey, you chicken." I grab his t-shirt. "We've gotta figure this
out...ourselves." There's no way Mom would believe this. Even if she
did, she loves this house so much; something like this would break her
heart.
I have to fix this--but how?
"Whatcha doing?" My little sister's big eyes stare up at us.
"Go back to your room or I'll tell Mom you're bugging us," I snap.
"Okay. Just don't open that door." She turns and heads back.
"Wait, what did you say?"
Mandy stops and stands with her back to us. She starts singing
that song again, only louder:
"Knock, knock on the door. Thirteen times, the monster moves
no more.
Enter swiftly, don't make a sound. Except this song, the sp-specter
to bound.
On a mirror, give thirteen taps. Make sure the creature can't come
back.
Frame it fast, over the door. With fortunes luck, it'll be fettered
evermore."
"Where'd you hear that?" I demand.
She turns around, "Don't know. Just heard it."
"That's the key, Nate, the song. It's gotta be!" Dan's voice shakes.
"Thanks for the brilliant insight. It obviously tells how to get rid of...
the monster."
"Knock thirteen times. That must make it safe to enter," Dan says.
"And the mirror? Tapping the mirror must trap it."
"But can we trust a song?"
"We don’t have much choice." I look at my sister. She's looking
down at her doll. Smiling and combing its hair.
"Are we sure we got it right?" Dan asks.
I have Mandy repeat the song a couple of times, to make sure we
got everything.
"O.K. you ready?" I ask, mirror in hand.
"No," Dan says forcing a smile.
Looking in the mirror, I reach back for the door, knocking thirteen
times. I can feel the rough grain of the wood on my knuckles, but
nothing happens.
Still focused on the mirror, I grab the knob. It's ice cold.
The door opens slowly, as if pushing against me.
I turn, and now I can see the door straight on. It's open, but there's
nothing except deep black beyond.
"Remember, don't say anything. I'll repeat the rhyme and tap on
the mirror."
Dan's gripping my forearm so hard it hurts. I take a step into the
room. The darkness is so thick it seems to press down on us. I want to
turn back, but like my dream, something pushes me on.
There's a tug at my shirt, and I glance back to see that Mandy
followed us in. I start to tell her to get out, when the door slams shut.
We all jump. I almost scream, but remember I can't say anything
except the song. The song--what are the words to the song? I can't
remember.
Everything's black. My heart beats so hard I hear it in my ears. As
my eyes begin to adjust, I start to make out the room. It's dirty and
coated thick with dust. Layers and layers of peeling wallpaper, a
broken rocking chair, bare wires reaching down from the ceiling like
long, skinny fingers.
And there's something else. Another presence--cruel, old,
desperate.
Softly, I hear a voice, "Knock, knock on the door..."
 It's Mandy. As she repeats the song, the creature's anger swells.
My arms grow numb, and Dan's grip slips--something's zapping our
strength.
"...it'll be fettered evermore," Mandy finishes.
It takes tons of effort to lift the mirror. I look away, afraid of what
the mirror might reveal. I begin tapping.
One, two, three. I feel breath on my neck, rotten and sticky.
Four, five, six. A hissing sound fills my ears.
Seven, eight, nine. The whole room starts to rumble, like it's
tearing itself apart.
Ten, eleven, twelve. The walls are closing in on us--I start to shake
with panic.
Thirteen. There's a loud whoosh, and everything's silent.
I hear a click and a sliver of light slices across the floor. The door's
open.
Dan quickly jumps out. I put my hand on Mandy's shoulder as we
leave. The door gently clicks closed behind us.
"Good job, little Sis," I say and turn. The door's gone. Just a bare
wall--except for one large rusty nail. "Wow. That was close."
I hang the mirror on the nail.
"Yeah, I thought we were dead when Mandy mispronounced
specter."
"Mispronounced what?"
A crack appears in the mirror and spreads like a spider web.

*****

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About the Author: M.J.A. Ware, known as M.J. to his friends, lives in
the foothills of the Sierra Mountains with his wife and two daughters.
When not writing about aliens, monsters and ghosts, he runs a
company where he designs award winning video arcades. He’s
currently polishing his latest novel, Super Zombie Juice Mega Bomb,
about friends who take on an army of the undead, armed with nothing
but Super Soakers—filled with zombie killing juice.