Author's Note: This is sort of my first attempt at an allegory/analogy type story. It kind of stand by itself; if you don't understand what it means, I'll have the explanation in an author's note at the end. Also, the reference at the bottom should give you a hint. Please let me know what you think! This is a new type of writing for me, so I'm anxious to know whether it was clear enough.

The Mirror

By Delaney Wofford

6-7-2013

It was a loathsome wench that stared back at me. I gaped in horror as I took her in; her hair hung in greasy mats, her face foul with corruption and filth. The nails were long, thick, and curved, blackened with neglect and dirt. She was not clothed exactly, for I could not recognize and piece of apparel I knew of, but she was covered by the rank shreds of heavy fabric that draped her. I have no doubt that her stench attracted the flies which continually buzzed dismally around her.

She was hideous, but a sort of fascination took hold of me, and I reached out a hand to touch her, shuddering as I did so. Her gaze never wavered; her hand moved slowly forward to meet mine…cold, smooth glass met my touch, and I fell back in shock. It was a mirror.

And the girl I saw was me.

No! Let it not be so! I must go to meet HIM soon, and the thought of appearing like this sent hot bolts of terror to every nerve. No. I could not. I wouldn't! Perhaps there was still time; I must try, I must at least try to make myself presentable.

I whirled away from the mirror, noticing my surroundings for the first time. My thought had been to find a comb or a brush to smooth away the tangles, soap and water to wash away the filth, anything that would help. But there was nothing to find. There was not a cleansing article in sight; nothing to offer me hope. The room was absolutely bare. Blank grey walls. Nothing else. There was only The Mirror.

I looked at it. The girl's eyes were wild with animal panic. I made up my mind. There was nothing else I could do. I reared back and smashed my fist into the Mirror, all the force of raw fear behind it.

Shards of glass fell all around me, and I pounced on a larger piece. I tried to cut my talon-like nails with the sharp edge, but it only made them jagged and uglier than before. A sob of frustration stuck in my throat. But I had to keep trying. I tried to work through the mats of my hair with a shard. It ripped through, leaving me with a handful of hair resembling a rat's nest. I threw it down.

I was frantic now. Desperately I tried to scrape away the dirt from my hands and feet. It remained, and now thin lines of blood welled from cuts on my skin.

I sank on my knees and burst into convulsive sobs. The repulsive little beggar could still be seen, reflected now many times over in the broken pieces of the Mirror. With a groan, I covered my face and turned away in despair. I must go to meet HIM soon, and I was not fit. I failed.

"Oh, I can't!" I whimpered between sobs.

"What did you say?"

I jumped and turned to face the voice that had spoken from behind me, startled out of my crying. It was a Man. The son of HIM. He didn't seem to be bothered by my appearance; he just looked at me curiously. I forgot I'd been spoken to and stood open-mouthed, gazing. He was so clean.

"What did you say?" he repeated, "Say that again."

"Oh! I…I said, 'I can't'."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't get clean. I have tried and tried. I have to go meet HIM, and I can't get clean. I won't be ready."

He nudged a piece of the Mirror with his toe.

"Are you sure? Maybe you just didn't try hard enough."

"No. I tried. See?" I smiled sadly and showed him my scratched arms. "I can't."

"Well then, let me."

"Can you? Would you?"

In answer, he stepped up to what was left of the Mirror and bade be to tell him what I saw reflected.

The Man was spotless, pure, radiant. Not a spot of dirt marred his visage. He was beautiful. He was clean.

"You can," I whispered. "Please help me."

He smiled. He laid his hand on my arm and drew me forward to stand with him before the Mirror. I was beautiful. I was clean. Just like the Man. I looked at him, then at myself, and back at him. Delight was written on his features.

"Come with me. You are clean. I have made you so. Let's go meet HIM. Together."

Galatians 2:16

THE END

Author's Note: Yep, so that's it. Basically, the idea I was trying to illustrate is, the Law in the Bible, (all the rules and things of the Old Testament) are there to show us how much we need Christ. They show us how dirty we are, but we can't use them to make ourselves clean and holy. Only Jesus can do that. Please leave a review and let me know what you thought!