Behind the Glass

By Rose Q. Addams

“Mirror, Mirror, in my hand—”

I cringe as the incantation rings throughout my prison.

“Who’s the fairest in the land?”

Against my will, I’m dragged through mists and shadows to the Glass. On the other side stands my captor, Queen Claudia of Grenvue.

I clench my incorporeal fists, and my stomach roils as I am forced to speak the truthful answer:

“You are the fairest in the land, Oh Queen.”

Her perfect rosy mouth quirks to one side, revealing a dimple in the alabaster skin of her cheek. Propping up my prison at eye level, she steps back, smoothing her gown.

“Won’t they love me?”

She’s mocking me, knowing I must answer every question she asks and that I can say nothing else. If she knew more about me, she might regret her tone.

“They always do,” I say mechanically, eyes roving over her dark hair. I had hair like that, once.

My hair is barely there now; it flickers in and out of existence along with the rest of me, melding into the mists that perpetually swirl in this icy hell. The only part of me that appears solid is my face, as I recall from outside of the glass. If only I’d bothered to ask about something beyond my face, I might’ve stayed there.

Her deep violet eyes twinkle with self-satisfied pleasure, and she tosses her head.

“Wish me luck,” she says, smoothing her eyebrows one last time before leaving. “There are suitors to torment and treaties to negotiate!”

As this is not a question, I cannot answer. I wouldn’t anyway, given the choice. I sink back into my chamber and slip into oblivion, haunted by memories.

“Mirror, Mirror in my hand…” I stop, staring at my reflection. No face appears, and the glass’s surface is empty of the usual swirling mists. My mouth pinches irritably as I flick a polished nail against the glass. “Stupid thing. I said—”

I hear a crack, and I gasp, afraid of breaking my most cherished possession.

I was afraid of the wrong thing.

I gently set down the mirror to examine it, but I see no damage, and the mist churns inside it again like nothing happened.

“That’s better. Mirror, Mirr—”

I never finish. The mist behind the glass breaks out, flooding my room. I struggle to draw breath as I fumble for the door, my mind suddenly hazy. Tinny, manic laughter echoes, and I slump to the floor.

I awake in the chamber where I would be trapped for the rest of my life, though I did not know it at the time. My predecessor fades before me, crazed eyes, now clearing in death, full of pity.

“You will take my place,” says she. “I, too, was once outside and cared for nothing but my appearance. I, too, tormented the soul inside the mirror, mindlessly feeding myself with what I wanted to hear. But my time came. Yours is now. You are charged with the truth, and may God have mercy on your soul.”

She smiles sadly at me. “See, it begins already.”

I look down and my body flickers. I scream, but there is none to hear; she’s gone to her final rest.

Though I hated her at first, I do no longer; she at least sought mercy for my soul in the end.

I will not seek it for Claudia.

Another day, and the ever-monotonous spell drags me out to answer the eternal question. I relish the thought of my final sight being the queen, wasting away before me in terror.

Then Claudia’s chamber door opens, and I see a flash of the intruder before she presses the glass to her velvet skirt and berates them.

It’s a child, with wide eyes the same deep violet as Claudia’s but containing none of her arrogance. Her features cannot be called beautiful yet—she’s quite young—but she’s more delicate, and more lovely, than Claudia could ever be. I find myself unable to stop reviewing her face, even as I hear Claudia’s harsh rebuke.

I’ve told you! Stay out of Mama’s room!

That night, the girl occupies my thoughts. Her expression was one of hope; she’d wanted to steal a moment with her mother and was refused. Claudia has orphaned her own child, spending all her love on herself instead. Her vanity has consumed her. I finally fall asleep, restless and guilt-ridden. Would I have done the same to someone in my former life? Did I?

The next day, the incantation summons me, but hesitant and lisping.

Mirror, Mirror in… my hand?

It’s the girl! Somehow she’s stolen the glass. Behind her I can see a dusty room; she’s hidden herself away, surely to escape wrath. She looks down at me. Her finger traces the glass, and she grins shyly.

You’re pretty, she says. My heart trips. Ask me something, anything!

This little one has so much love to give. If only… I ache as I press my palm to the glass, and she touches the other side tenderly.

How can I make Mommy love me?

An answer appears instantly in my mind, as it always does. There is one solution, but if she succeeds, I will never have the satisfaction of seeing Claudia wither and suffer before me.

But she has someone who needs her. Can I murder the mother of a child, orphaning her yet again? If this works, she will regain someone she loves dearly. I gaze up at her eyes, brimming with hope, and I find myself willing to answer, for her sake.

“Break the mirror.”

Won’t it hurt you?

I have a choice. A blessing, for my last question. This answer would have been a lie, once. But now…

“No.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rose Q. Addams loves cheesecake, wears many hats, and blames her expansive, loving family for her love of reading. Some of her earliest memories are hearing stories of Heidi, Winnie the Pooh, Paul Bunyan, and the prophet Ehud who stabbed King Eglon— which explains how her taste runs wildly throughout genres. She can be found searching her hometown for a rumored giant bird (or pterodactyl, stories differ), or scribbling madly on any paper she gets.

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