Hello my lovely readers, I am so very sorry it has taken me such a long time to write this next chapter. My immune disorder got really bad for a while there and to top it off i got in a really bad relationship. It has taken me a long time to get over everything and get to a point where i can write again. But i'm back now and i will *fingers crossed* be updating this every few weeks.
Feel free to shoot me a message, reminding me that i owe another chapter. I did actually start this chapter a while ago but i lost it when my computer freaked out and i had to re-install everything *grrrr*.
Anyway i hope you all enjoy this next chapter, i know there isn't all that much going on but its all part of a very important build up and so there are little bits here and there that are important. So keep an eye out and i hopefully you will clock them. Have fun reading the chapter.
With an audible sigh, Lydia surveyed the intimidating staircase that let up to the attic. She remembered the first time she had ascended these stairs, on the fateful day she moved into the house. The mist of the decorators had created such an atmosphere. Especially when the lime green light of the netherworld had lit up the narrow staircase like a stage. She felt an ache when she thought back to how she had met her substitute parents, the Maitland's. The ache deepened when she realized that no friendly faces would greet her in the attic. No one was there to ask her questions about the ever-changing town or how her day was. There would be no one to greet her at the top step to embrace her in a warm hug or rather as warm of a hug that ghosts could give. It was less about the physical sensation and more about the intended feeling. The Maitland's had been so happy and full of warmth, metaphorically speaking. Now that they were gone, possibly for good Lydia didn't think she had the stomach to actually go into the attic. She stopped halfway up the stairs and began to way up the options in her mind. Don't go into the empty attic because of the very real reminder of lost family. Or go into the attic and try to find her mother's last worldly possession. "I guess in a way I'm the last thing left of Mama" Lydia mused to herself. She felt a wall of emotion was very close to the surface and she pushed it back to wherever it came from. She needed to do this, if not for her then to her mother. She needed to complete the dresser. Just so she could have that last tiny thread of magic back, that she had once believed in so strongly as a child.
The old stairs groaned with each step she took. It was almost as if they were trying to object and worn her against her new mission. But once she was standing on the top step everything seemed to go on autopilot. She unlocked the door and found herself walking over to the model village in the middle of the room. The thing was surprisingly clean considering that it didn't have a dust cover like everything else in the room. Lydia reached out and hit the dust cover of the sofa with the back of her hand. She instantly regretted it as a large plume of dust emanated from the ancient and mouldering sofa. Coughing, she fought her way through the dust cloud. Forgetting entirely how strange the almost pristine condition of the model was in a room full of dust. With lungs on fire Lydia quickly crossed the room to open the windows. Luckily they weren't nailed shut and as she stuck her head out the window she took a deep, long breath of the fresh air. It was actually quite pleasant outside. It was an unseasonably warm day considering that it was almost the end of September. She stayed there for a minute or two, breathing in the warm almost summer-like air. Before fixing the window at its half-open position. That way it would help with the feeling in the room, it was too stuffy and too dusty up here. But perhaps her discomfort actually had more to do with what was so obviously absence in the room rather than the dust.
She stood by the window and just observed the room in its entirety. It was hot up here and ridiculously crowded, even if you considered the fact it contained the possessions for two families. Yet it felt cold and empty to Lydia even as rays of sunshine created warm patches upon her back. "It's just so…lifeless". Lydia muttered to herself and as if to answer her something moved in the corner. It was small but she clocked the movement and went to investigate. Half expecting to find a mouse or the spider from before, Lydia was surprised to see a small dust devil forming in the corner. It was there for a moment or two, the dust caught in a miniature whirlwind. It travelled from the feet of Adam's model to the part of the attic that was reserved for the Deetz family possessions. It seemed to stop next to one particular pile of her family's stuff. Which was of course covered by a dust cover just like everything else in the attic. Just as sudden as it had appeared, the spout of air and riled up dust particles disappeared into the cracks of the floorboards. It had only been there for a few moments but it was long enough for Lydia to take it as a sign. It was so unusual, how could she think of it as anything else. "Thanks for the heads up" Lydia said addressing whatever entity had caused the little apparition.
She made quick work of the dust covers, dumping them on the sofa so she wouldn't have to fight with the dense cloth. She brought her attention to the pile of junk that had collected over the years and honestly it didn't look promising. There wasn't a single hint of silver that she could see. Nor any glimpse of something, that could constitute a mirror frame but she had a lot to work through. After wading through a few boxes of clothes, some Christmas decorations and a few of Delia's miniature monstrosities. Lydia came across what seemed to be a barricade of boxes, stacked to the rafters of the sloping ceiling. The top boxes were easy to get rid of as they seemed to be empty. But the other boxes were stuffed to the brim with books. There seemed to be no order to the books she discovered as she opened two of the boxes and compared them. One was full of old encyclopaedias and outdated dictionaries. She could have sworn they actually belonged to the Maitland's. The second was full of old phone books that was it. No treasures, no special books worth keeping. It was as if this box was filled with the intent to just make it as weighty as possible. She strained to take down on of the taller boxes and again it was full of nothing but phone books. It was as if someone had made a quite literally a wall between Lydia and the very back of the attic. Her curiosity was peaked there had to be a reason for the boxes to be there. They were so difficult to move and they had been positioned in such a purposeful and deliberate way. It seemed like it would be almost too obvious to hide something behind them.
"It's here, this has to be it," Lydia said to herself as she used all her effort to pull the last of the ridiculously heavy boxes away. She had cleared a slight walkway between the boxes so she could finally get behind them. She shimmied her way behind the box mountain and there she saw a glimmer of silver. Filled with pure excitement Lydia pulled at a large object partially obscured by yet another dust sheet. She could feel the wood beneath her fingertips and she could see the flash of silver even through its cover. Pulling on the large mirror she managed to knock over a few of the weighted boxes. But she didn't care, she had her mother's mirror and that's all the mattered to her. She dragged it out into the middle of the room and threw off the dust cover.
There sat the mirror from mother's dresser. It was almost as she remembered, the frame was perfect with its intricate little swirls of vines carved into the frame. But there was something smeared across the actual surface of the mirror. She tried to wipe at it with the dust cover and it only seemed to smear it more, it was something oily and thick. It reminded her of engine oil as it had an almost black appearance to it. Whatever the mystery substance was it smelt something awful. Not metallic as she suspected but it smelt of pure rot. It was disgusting and Lydia wretched as she dubiously smelt the oily residue on her hands. She steadied herself taking a deep breath before she began to drag the mirror down the stairs and into her bedroom. It wasn't easy and she thought she would drop the heavy mirror slippery with mystery oil many times. But after much fuss and bother it was finally in her bedroom. Now sitting next to its counterpart, the dresser. They were two parts of what was once a whole unit looked very sad on their own. So Lydia busied herself in trying to remove the oily substance from the mirror. After an hour of trying different cleaning products and even threatening it clean. Finally, the mirror was free from grime and dust that stuck to the oily substance. The silver surface shone brightly in the dying rays of sunshine. Before Lydia finally fixed the mirror onto the dresser, making them whole again.
As soon as it was done Lydia felt a wave of energy hit her. It was a good feeling that was somewhat familiar. It was different from the normal satisfying feeling of accomplishment at finishing a project. It was as if a spell had been cast on dear Lydia. She found herself with the sudden overwhelming feeling that she needed to touch the mirror. To feel the cold glass under her fingertips was abruptly priority one and for some reason it made her feel dizzy. Her mind felt cloudy as all she could think about was the mirror. She shook her head and the dizzy feeling dissipated a little. But the overwhelming urge still remained. She felt enamoured with the reflective object and yet her mind was so hazy everything felt disjointed. She found in a strange state of autopilot as she walked over to the dresser and sat down on the little matching stool. She felt her hand reach out to the mirror but in her dizzying state, it didn't feel as if it was her hand at all. It was almost as if someone else was controlling her body and she was just sitting there and watching it. The feeling was so strange but at the same time, it was comforting and familiar. It felt as if she was in some strange Alice in Wonderland inspired dream. She half expected for her hand to go straight through the glass where she would tumble down into oblivion. But as she put her hand up to the silver surface she felt a very unpleasant sensation. Something slimy and disgustingly slick stuck to her hand. The sudden unexpected and revolting sensation broke Lydia out of her strange hazy state.
"Eww gross" she muttered to herself, wiping her hand desperately on her jeans till the nasty substance was gone. She wiped the remaining oil from the mirror with her sleeve. Yet no matter how hard she scrubbed there was still her handprint evident against the glass. Again she reached out with her hand, but he hesitated for a moment. Something inside her said that it wasn't actually her handprint and that she shouldn't touch it. She felt a pang of dread at this thought but she quickly pushed it aside and placed her hand flat against the glass. The mirror was surprisingly cool against her palm. But almost as soon as her skin made contact there was a strange tingling feeling. Like the electric crackle of a thunderstorm, rumbling in the distance. It was a delightfully exciting feeling like a pent-up storm about to explode. Lydia couldn't help but sigh in ecstasy at the feeling. But the delightful crackle quickly dissipated. She looked at the mirror and she swore there seemed to be a strange green glow about it but she put it up as a trick of the light.
Lydia took her hand away from the mirror and a wave of exhaustion hit her like a truck. She hadn't realised how tired she had been, but she felt utterly drained. She was so tired that she didn't even bother to get dressed into her nightclothes. Instead, she got up fro, the dresser and climbed into bed straight away. She drifted off to sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Unbeknownst to Lydia, a second-hand print had come to join hers on the polished surface of the mirror. This secondary handprint was much larger than hers and seemed to encompass her hand completely. The only thing that kept her handprint from bleeding into the other one was the fact that the other hand came from inside the mirror.