Stranger Than You Dreamt It
The Mirror
For Molly, the idea that anyone was inside her mirror was an inexplicable thought. However, every night she carefully locked the door to her pokey flat in London, carried her little cat Toby to bed with her- him more often than not falling asleep in her arms as she walked the 15 steps into her room, double locked her bedroom door, checked every window at least twice, and only then would she timidly walk past the inbuilt mirror in her room and throw herself into her queen sized bed. She would remain watching the mirror until sleep finally took her.
But still- the flowers arrived. Blood red roses, each one with a single black ribbon, knotted and bowed perfectly symmetrically by skilled hands, each one left on her dressing table in exactly the same spot every night. At first she had thought that someone was playing a game with her, one of her two best friends sneaking into the flat every night and leaving her these, beautiful and probably out of their price range. She quickly removed that thought from her head and promptly told her two cleared suspects about her predicament.
At first John and Lestrade had laughed it off- blaming Molly's lack of sleep or lack of sex, therefore imagining this romantic, rose giving, admirer. They had promptly shut up when she'd brought in the 4 dozen roses she'd received in the last few weeks. They decided that even Molly would not be mad enough to spend hundreds of pounds on roses merely to prove a point. Molly didn't quite know whether to be offended by this.
And then the mirror came under suspicion, whilst the first part of her routine was already in place. She was surveying her tiny room, wondering how someone could get into the room, without her, Toby and even on occasions policeman- John and Lestrade, who had stayed to ensure nothing un-toward happened to her. The flowers kept coming. Her gaze fell upon the full length mirror, wall to ceiling, mounted into the wall, large enough to conceal an assailant. She walked towards it- wrenching it open and jumping backwards to ensure she wasn't attacked by some hiding, knife wielding monster. It contained nothing- merely an abnormally large spider who blinked at her in surprise after she'd disturbed its nap. She removed the mirror as a possibility from her mind.
However, the following morning, the first and only clue that this Phantom who before had, had no form had left one clue. One sweaty, large, male handprint. Upon the mirror.
Molly stood before the mirror, regarding her own reflection. Big, delicate, doe-like, brown eyes, stared back at her, a small pointed nose, flawless lightly tanned skin, her brown mousy hair normally pulled back into a pony tail, hanging in loose curls around her face. Her hand was reaching out towards the mirror, her fingertips nearly touching the smooth surface but her hand didn't dare quite touch.
"Molly- stop being so stupid" she whispered to herself, chastising herself. There was a sudden knock on the door, causing Molly to jump and flinch, her fingers brushing against the cool glass.
"Molly? You ok in there?" John's voice called through her locked door. She sighed, her chest breathing rising and falling sharply, one hand pressed against her flushed face.
"Yes- yes, John, I'm fine. Nothing..." she searched for the word. "dodgy going on".
John's chuckle echoed through the wooden framed door. It practically vibrated through her body.
"Well if you're sure nothing dodgy is going on- I'll be going home. Night Molls." He called. Molly remained frozen as she heard her childhood friend's footsteps walk across her flat. John had always had feelings for her, ever since he'd rescued her from bullies after her father's death, but she'd never really felt the same way about him- to her their relationship was more of a siblings, sure they'd kissed once when they were in their teens but Molly had quickly thrown the thoughts away as a simple rush of teenage emotions. She loved him, but not the way he wanted her to.
Allowing a small sigh to escape her lips she sat down on her bed. Suddenly the light on her bedside table began to flicker. She stared at it for a moment, watching as it switched itself off, plunging her and her room into darkness.
She breathed out, allowing her breath to form a steamy gasp of air from her just-parted lips. Her eyes swivelled to the mirror that seemed to be steaming, allowing smoke to join her particle infused breath in the enclosed space of her tiny bedroom. She walked over to her door, testing the lock- it didn't budge. Panic building in her chest she tried in vain to turn her main light on- it flickered for a moment before the room returned to its dingy darkness.
"Who are you? What the hell do you think you're doing?" she called, the only thing revealing her nervousness the slight change in pitch of her normally smooth cool voice. A soft, deep, chuckle echoed through the room sending shivers down her spine.
"Look at your face in the mirror, I am there inside." a deep baritone voice whispered past her ear, the breath tingling against the hairs of her neck. She turned, rubbing at her neck, half expecting the person to be directly behind her. A solid wooden door stared back at her.
She span on the spot, her feet walking towards the glassed wall, her bare feet sinking into the plush, deep carpet that had come with her flat. As she moved closer, the mist seemed to thicken into a deep fog, causing her visibility to diminish suddenly
"Well- I would look at the mirror if the bloody fog would go!" she shouted into the mist. That same laugh echoed behind her.
"It will thin- come closer Molly. You shall see me soon enough" the voice answered back, smoothly deeply. The male voice was enough to send a whoosh of blood to Molly's cheeks and in the darkness she felt her cheeks light up bright red.
Another, tiny , jittery step followed and true to the beautifully voiced man the fog did thin to a light mist and the mirror came into view. Molly had to hold her breath to keep from gasping.
In the mirror, where her reflection should have been was simply the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. Slender, in an immaculately cut black suit, and long navy blue coat, he was tell but not ungracefully so, and through the thick material of his clothes she could make out a fit and muscled body. Her eyes flew to his face and another sharp intake of breath was required. His skin, the only skin she could see of his, was alabaster white. He had a bone structure that models would kill for, sharp and long, a sharply pointed nose and full, cupid's bowed lips. His eyes met hers for a single moment. They were an icy, silvery-blue colour full of cunning, inquisitive and were roaming over her nightdress clad body. Black curls fell into those eyes, hanging thick and long around his head and shoulders. Molly gulped as the man's beautiful face turned up into a smile.
A single gloved hand reached out to her and seemed to reach through the mirror. Molly gasped her eyes widening and meeting the man's again. The smile had reached those cold, calculating eyes now and they had warmed them to a navy blue, such as the colour of the man's coat.
"Come with me Molly" he whispered, his fingers reaching out for her hand. She looked at that face once more and took his hand. It tightened gently around hers, the fingers softly caressing her palm in small circles. He pulled slightly and despite her rational mind screaming that it was impossible and what on earth is she doing, she followed him through the mirror and into darkness.