The Girl Who Was Buried In Her Ball Gown

Chapter Three: Smoke and Mirrors

It was such a strange space. Something I had never imagined before, but all around me were pockets of light; different sizes, different shapes, even different shades of colour and brightness. Many were black and looked empty. I was in a space, icy cold and absolutely confusing.

I turned to look at the girl and she looked different. Her face was nearly the same as before, but gaunter and it seemed to be projected forward, like a hologram. The lovely face that beckoned me the first time we had met at the hospital, was hidden behind this holographic mask. Her jaw jutted outwards slightly and her eyes were black sockets, dancing a wandering jig, never focusing. Her body and limbs looked famished and she was all jittery and couldn't seem to stand still for a second. Maybe she felt uncomfortable within these mirrors, or did these mirrors cause us to refract into different forms? It made me wonder why. Perhaps I look different too, within this crazy prism of glass and mirrors? Ah well, it sure seemed an exciting place, but pretty daunting.

How could anyone ever work out where they wanted to go? I mean really, it seemed like you could go anywhere... anywhere that had some kind of a mirror, or in certain cases, a window was all you needed. However, the windows were apparently more difficult to tackle as they were not so visible, more dangerous to navigate and so I didn't even bother with them.

"You know, it's not a good idea to use too many windows," the gaunt girl with the raven hair told me. "They are more fragile and dangerous to pass through than mirrors."

"They look boring anyway." I replied. "It's just like looking out of some skyscraper, or maybe, the principal's office window."

"Now there's something you don't want to do too much of. Have you been in the principal's office before, hmm?"

"Nah. What about you?"

"Oh yeah, plenty of times..." So, we chatted and giggled just like girlfriends.

Any pocket of glass, or portal I stood in front of, or rather – floated in front of – I could see right through and into whatever might be behind it, or more correctly, in front of it. I wasn't the only one in this crazy place either, there were heaps of us. How we all fitted in or managed to negotiate around each other, I could not nut out. It just sort of happened; like we were a school of fish that navigated as a swarm. So, were we... a swarm of ghosts? We could all go here and then there, on our own, or in two's, or twenty's and simply disappear through one of the many lights (well actually, mirrors). Or some would reappear. However, for the brave, and the stupid, they could jump out of a window, any window. We were an amazingly choreographed dancing swarm of dead people. I did notice that there were different types of people within the place of mirrors, it almost seemed like various species. Sure, there were many cultures about. I saw Indians, Asians, Maoris, Africans... many different cultures, but there was an apparent difference amidst the cultures and some people appeared as – well – people. Tall, skinny, fat, short and whatever; but I estimated about two–thirds to be more like — the girl that bought me into here — gaunt, black eyes, famished and jittery in variant degrees, with the imagery of something else projected from within themselves and without. How did I appear in here?

I looked down at my arms and legs and they were skinny for sure, I was always on the lighter side. But they didn't look skinny and famished like the Maori girl's.

"Why do we look different within here?" I asked her.

She said, "Oh, don't worry about that... all newbies look like you. Us skinnier people have just been here a little longer." Well, I couldn't exactly argue with that now, could I? So, I just had to accept it.

Standing in front of a mirror was unbelievable. And, had I known what was behind my own mirror, when I was still alive, I would have done things very differently, that's for sure. It's like a whole other world is watching the living world, very eerie. I could see everything, and anything — from pimple squeezing to hair teasing and all things that were in between. Some things I lingered and watched, mesmerized and other things I just did not want to see! And oh, the things I learned, my goodness! Things a young girl should never have seen, or learned at my sensitive age; they had me pinned to my – ahh, space as it were. I even remember – and this was gut wrenching – seeing people ripped from the life they had always known, into my current existence. One was graphically murdered. I watched, disgusted and I hated it!