The Man In The Mirror

Part I

I first saw him when I was eight. Back then - looking at that piece of dark volcanic rock, surrounded by a golden frame - I thought the face I was seeing belonged to the man I was going to marry someday. Only now I know how wrong I was. Dead wrong.

The black mirror was given to me by my grandmother, on her deathbed. It would be my birthday the next day, but the rest of my family had completely forgotten about it. I know I shouldn't have cared. Grandma was sick and close to death, so everyone else had bigger concerns than me turning eight. Yet, I did care, and Grandma must have guessed it. She told my mother to call for me just a few minutes after the clock had struck midnight.

She looked so weak, lying there on her bed. We had all known for a long time that this moment was coming, but that didn't make it hurt any less. She was so old and frail when the flu took her. It was entirely my fault. I should've stayed safely in my room until my flu was no longer contagious. I was the one who had delivered the final blow to her health. It was only a matter of time before it dragged her to the grave. Like a gust of wind making a house of cards cave in, just like a candle being snuffed out.

"Hello, sweetheart," she greeted me with a warm smile.

"Hi..." I said in a hushed tone, trying not to sob.

Grandma seemed to be making a great effort to stay awake. She reached for something under her pillow as my mother left the room.

"I've got something for you." Grandma stretched her shaky hands towards me.

For just a moment I forgot about all the gloominess of the situation. The small round mirror - no bigger than a dinner plate - was black with a golden frame. The dark surface was smooth and cold, of such an opaque black that it gave me the impression of looking down a deep well. The runes etched onto the frame only contributed to the mystical feel it had.

"It's beautiful! But... why is it black?" I asked, a very puzzled look on my face.

"It's a scrying mirror, made of obsidian." Grandma motioned me to come closer, as if she was going to tell me a big secret. "It lets you peek into the future."

"Really?!" I found it had to believe, but I also knew my grandmother would never lie to me.

"It's true!" she chuckled. "My mother gave it to me when I was a young girl, just like you. The legend about it says: Look into the glass and your future husband's face shall pass."

I was gaping, completely in awe.

"So... did you see grandpa's face?" My eyes sparkled with curiosity.

She paused for a moment, breathing heavily.

"No. Strangely, no." She creased her brow. "I saw... you."

"Me?" My eyebrows shot up. "Before I was even born?"

"Yes, I remember it now. I had no idea who you were at that time, but I can see it now. And for some strange reason, it only worked in this exact same room."

"Wasn't it supposed to show you your future husband?" I just couldn't make any sense of that.

"Well, maybe..." Grandma whispered, closing her eyes. "Maybe it shows the person you'll come to love the most.

I looked again into the darkness of the mirror, trying to catch a glimpse of the future. My gaze lingered for a few minutes, my mind drifting. Where would it work for me? More importantly, when would it work? Still, it was the most wonderful gift I had ever received from anyone. The gift of hope.

"Thank you, grandma," I said, grinning from ear to ear, grabbing her hand. "I love you."

But grandma didn't hear me. Her hands were papery and cold.

That was when I started screaming.