Broken Glass
“I said no.”
"Why not?”
Why do you think?”
“Aside the joy you feel when exerting control and making my life miserable? I have no idea.”
“Watch…” Chloe’s mother warned.
“Oh wait. So you DON’T care what I think.”
“Chloe. Go to your room. I need you to help me with this house this afternoon. You can see your friend another time.” Lynn pulled her lips in to fight the angry scream bubbling in her throat. She closed her eyes fighting back the hurt and furious tears. Her daughter seemed so far away and hard to reach any more. She hated the distance and simply couldn’t find the common ground to begin again.
After her husband died, she thought they could move forward. She’d bought this diamond in the rough of a house to prove to herself and any Doubting Thomas for that matter, that she would survive. She’d done her best to pick up the pieces of her broken life and was determined to succeed. Chloe was more interested in dating her depression away. Both were paying a heavy price for their decisions.
“ NOOOO--YOU go. Think about what kind of mom you’ve become.”
“Two weeks down Chloe, want a third? Keep talkin.”
“How ‘bout forever?” the raging teenager spat.
“It’s sounding better and better.” She confessed through tight lips.
Chloe slammed down the hall of the old house. The stairs creaked and huffed with her. The door whined as she kicked it closed.
“Bitch.” They muttered under their breaths.
“Nothing wrong with me.” They said together. Chloe looking at the heavy eyeliner and deep scooped shirt with the high skirt and what her mother had called “come get me boots.” in her full length mirror while Lynn stared into the hall mirror at the cry lines and permanent frown beginning to trace her once smiling pretty mouth. They each turned studying themselves; evaluating and feeling bad. But they couldn’t stop and simply didn’t know how to get back to the better days they’d once enjoyed together.
Chloe flopped onto the large canopy bed. She hugged the green stuffed frog tightly flapping its leg to the beat of Linkin Park as it thumped in her ear buds. A few frustrated tears trickled onto the pillow. Her mind wandered to a place where she ran her own life, made her own decisions and was free from unreasonable parental tyranny. Fatigue weighted her eyelids. She snuggled under the blankets as the room got colder. She wasn’t paying attention to the signs around her. She should have.
Over the next several days an awkward silence crowded between mother and daughter. Chloe wasn’t sleeping well and it only worsened her attitude. If she did, her dreams were dark and thick. She saw faces that were frightening and heard a voice mumbling terrible things but she wasn’t able to get the whole picture. It was a dream that seemed real. She watched shadows appear under her restless eyes, staring into the big old mirror. She blamed the strife with her mom for most of it. When Chloe’s things began to move around in her room, she figured her mom was searching for pot or birth control pills. That’s what moms did. They searched for something to blame for their kids’ behavioral changes; instead of looking at themselves in the mirror, they sought scapegoats. Chloe began to change her mind when the writing appeared on the mirror. She’d seen her name printed neatly at the bottom. Thinking her mom was hinting she clean it, she swiped it away and went on straightening up. But later she’d seen her name again. Knowing Lynn had been out most of the day, she felt the first chill scurry down her spine. That night, she heard heavy pacing outside her door and garbled hissing words. She didn’t dare tell her mom. Lynn was so involved with fixing the house and proving she was everything to everyone that Chloe had become nothing. The young girl felt hounded and always cold. Some days she could even see her breath in her room. She imagined she heard laughter. She was receiving regular messages now: “Come ” “Soon” or “Can’t hide” appeared each day. Chloe began to cover it with a sheet as she left for school but it was always pulled down with another message smudged on it when she returned. Once she’d even used tape to hold it, but when she got home, she’ found the sheet on the floor and the mirror was cracked. Whatever it was; was REALLY ticked off now. Chloe was on the brink of imploding. She couldn’t concentrate or even speak about it. She avoided her room but felt that it was watching her, following her everywhere; even to school. Chloe began to withdrawal; desperately trying to find somewhere to hide. But the mirror was right. She couldn’t.
Lynn slumped into the chair and rubbed her forehead. She sighed heavily thinking of the sweet little girl who’d toddled after her always curious, excited to be like her mommy. She struggled with the steady flow of angry words and hurt feelings that dominated most conversations and prevented healing. She fought the deep sadness that their silence bred.
She knew that Chloe was terribly upset. Now she rarely spoke or ate, seeming jumpy all the time. Lynn heard her pacing at night up and down the hall, impatient and heavy. She even thought she’d heard her talking to herself or laughing. She noticed that Chloe seemed to hide, floating around the house almost like a ghost. She’d tried to speak about it but found her daughter distant and unwilling. She’d thought briefly that perhaps Chloe was on drugs or had an eating disorder. She noticed the mirror had a cover on it. When she pulled the sheet every day, she noticed notes Choe’d written: “Can’t hide.” “Soon” all smeared along the bottom of the old looking glass. She cleaned them off for her daughter and even wrote “I love you.” The next time Lynn checked, the mirror was cracked. But she truly thought that her daughter was simply punishing her; for buying this house, grounding her from her friends, for her father’s death, everything. Lynn hoped Chloe was just progressing in her own grieving process. Lynn also noticed that Chloe was taking some of her things. She was missing a watch and noticed her favorite shirt was missing. She knew push would come to shove, but didn’t want to wage war right now. So Lynn kept working on the house. She almost had all the wiring up to code. The walls on the main floor were rocked and ready. Things were moving along. She was gaining some sort of control. Lynn was feeling pretty good until she found her favorite shirt ripped and stuffed under Chloe’s bed. Lynn knew it was now or never.
When Chloe came storming in from school, Lynn followed her. She really wanted to find an answer to what was going on. Chloe turned and stopped right in front of her room, huffing loudly and rolling her eyes.
‘What?”
“It’s what I was just going to ask you…or maybe Why”
“WHAT Mom? WHAT did I do now?
“Chloe, I’m not attacking you. I want some answers though. Why are you destroying that mirror? Why did you rip my shirt? Why are you taking my things? What? Yes, but it’s a question better suited to you.”
Chloe swallowed the lump in her throat. She took a breath and began to speak. She started to tell her mom everything beginning with “It wasn’t me…” It came rushing from her like a river. Lynn stood quietly, feeling the cold air billowing from her daughter’s room almost swirling around them as Chloe spoke. Things began to make more sense as Chloe chipped away at the logic of it all with her fears and experiences. Lynn smirked at the irony.
“What about Poltergeists? “ Lynn asked.
“No mom. It’s NOT poltergeists. It’s not me or PMS. You dug up something in this old house and now it’s after me.”
The lights began to flicker and there was movement down on the main floor; footsteps and voices. Lynn went to look.
Alone on the landing, Chloe froze feeling it approach her. Its breath on her back made her nauseas and weak. Her bones shook under her skin. It swept from her room and stood directly behind her. The hairs on her arms stood up. It begged her to turn and look. Instead Chloe stepped forward and reached for the banister. She opened her mouth to call for her mom. There was a swish and suddenly it stood before her tall and dark: a man in a dark suit? His “skin” was pasty grey and there were milky eyes that still bore into her soul. It stepped forward, opening its mouth.
“Mine now.” It whispered and reached for her.
The air was thick and sweet. Chloe closed her eyes to it and held her breath, backing away, rushing to her room. It followed her. The door slammed and there was a dark laugh that sparked Lynn to run to her daughter’s room. This was no poltergeist.
Grabbing the handle Lynn began to pound and scream. But it wouldn’t budge. She kicked at it: begging Chloe to fight, to come out. She promised it would be all right.
The laughter continued. Chloe screamed once and Lynn shoved at the door. It finally gave.
Lynn stopped in horror to see Chloe being pulled inside the mirror. Her flesh appeared to melt into the glass in pink pools. Her hair dripped along the edge and then disappeared. She saw a shadow cast across the shiny surface and heard a muffled cry, then a loud pop as the mirror broke like a windshield, splintering into hundreds of pieces; save one large piece at the bottom where a word was smeared
“Mom”
Lynn grabbed at the pieces and began to put them together like a puzzle. Tears blurred her vision. And sobs took the place of her breath. It was no use; the bits were too small. They only cut her hands and fingers as she tried desperately to mash them, command them together again. She slumped to the ground; defeated.
The old woman sat on her cute porch. She watched the kids go by on their way home from school. She smiled and waved. “Granny Lynn” lived all alone in that creepy old house. She had a daughter long ago, but she was gone. No one was certain what happened since the old woman kept to herself most of the time. But there were still a few in town that remembered Chloe and knew that one day she just disappeared. Rumor was that Granny Lynn caught her daughter fooling around with a boyfriend when she came home from work early one day. She’d gone insane and killed them both. There was quite a struggle. Seems she smashed a mirror and cut them to ribbons with it. They never found any bodies
Guess that would explain the smudgy piece of broken glass Granny Lynn always carried with her. Sure.
Not one of my favorites, but I still like the creepy factor.
Thanks for visiting. Hope you come again soon.
