More than a mirror (Original Story)

Don't read this out loud.

She knew it wasn't a good idea. She never believed in that tradition, never thought it’d be of any help to find her a husband. But they had insisted, claimed it helped them when they also thought it wouldn't and now they were happily married, with babies and a house and a dog; all the things she dreamed about. She was getting old and needed to find a man, after all.

She would become the black sheep of the village otherwise, and black sheeps were outcasted in the forest near, where strange noises could be heard during the night. Some said there was something lurking in the trees’ shadow, something inhuman. It was for the children to not go wander there, but even at twenty-three, she wasn't more reassured than them. 

It should have been easy, though. Go in there, gaze in the mirror, say the words, realize it doesn't work, get out as fast as possible. Simple enough. Only, they believed in that superstition a lot, and since they had all done it before her, maybe it was true... And she was scared to death. She didn't want to go in there, and look in the mirror to see... nothing. 

She’d also heard about all of the women who had come out of the room, crying and screaming and trembling. They’d said that whatever they saw hadn't been from this world, claiming another woman had took their place in the mirror, blood tears coming from her eyes. All of these women hadn't found a husband, and nobody had never heard of them again.

And now it was her turn to face her destiny. She was dressed in a white gown, the kind that newly-weds were wearing for their honeymoon, and they had braid her long, dark hair. She was ready... or she wish she was.

She knew what she had to do, to say, she could do this. She...wanted to do this. Her curiosity was eating her, even through her fright, she still wanted to know what was beyond that mirror. 

Her steps through the hall were slow, careful, fearful. They wouldn't enter this part of the house. It was to be haunted, and one time had been enough for them. She had to do this alone. Her feet were bare, cold and covered in dust. She heard a thump against the door at her right, too close for her comfort, and she gasped. 

Her heart was like a drum in her chest, and she wasn't even in the bathroom yet. She forced herself to continue despite the odd sounds coming from the other rooms. The sooner she was before the mirror, the sooner she could be out. 

When she opened the door at the end of the hall, she was met with scratch marks on the otherwise nude walls, and the floor was as dirty as in the rest of the house. The mirror was rather small, cracked on the bottom left. It was a small room, and she didn't feel comfortable after closing the door behind her. There was something in the air, something bad. She shivered, tightening her jaw to stop her teeth from clattering together. How was she supposed to say the words when it was so cold she only wanted to curl on herself to keep the little warmth she had left? Strange fact was that it wasn't even winter yet.

She kept glancing behind her. She felt watched. She looked into the mirror, but only saw herself, eyes wide from fear. She quietly sighed, gathered little courage she had left.

‘’Bl-Bloody M-Mary, she whispered before licking her lips. I-... I want a b-baby.’’

She couldn't do this, she couldn't. She wrapped her arms around herself, licking again her dry lips even if her mouth never felt drier.

‘’Bloody Mary, I want to marry.’’

Cold air caressed her bare feet, even if there was no window and the door was closed.

‘’Bloody Mary, show him to me.’’

She breathed out, and it had become so cold that her breath created condensation. She stood like this, shivering, for what seemed like an eternity. She never looked away from the mirror. She couldn't.

At first, nothing else happened. The only sound she could hear was her own heart trying to escape from her chest. She felt like crying, she only wanted to get out and away from this room, but she had to do this.

She thought it was because she kept staring at her reflection without blinking, so she briefly closed her lids, and yes, something was moving before her. The scene was changing. A dark living room. It looked like it was in the same house she was in, maybe it was in one of the locked rooms?

Someone was sitting in an old couch, it was a woman with long, dark hair. She was leaning towards a crib, a pale hand gently rocking it back and forth. The image cleared itself after a few seconds and she saw a baby in that crib, but it was... dead, rotten. She heard quiet sobs coming from the woman, and they got louder and louder, until it almost hurt her ears. Something was dripping from her lowered face, something... red.

The woman looked up and she saw her red eyes, blood tears falling from them. Her face was as pale as Death itself, and her expression went from languid, sad, to annoyed and irritated. She left the couch to walk towards her through the mirror, and she unconsciously took a step back. Her eyes were dark, almost black, and she had prominent blue veins on her forehead and neck. She also noticed her hair weren't naturally dark, there was... blood in them. So much blood for so long that it had dried in large strands.

Her large eyes devoid of life were gazing at her, seeing through her, looking into her soul.

She couldn't blink. She wouldn't even if she could, because she had to keep eye contact when Mary was looking at her, or she'd be dead.

Her face softened, but she was still frightening. She couldn't contain her gasp when the creature's hand went trough the mirror to cup her cheek. She gulped, forcing all her limbs to stay in place.

Again, the image changed.

The blood disappeared, the long hair too, and Mary's face morphed to become a man's, with deep green eyes and full lips. The hand against her cheek was warm, gentle. He smiled at her, and despite everything, she smiled back. He was handsome. She placed her hand on his, squeezing it. He seemed so real...

He frowned, cringed. He took a few steps back, and looked down his chest. There was blood coming from a wound. A bullet. He took a last glance at her, blood falling freely from his mouth, and he collapsed. She screamed, sobs caught in the back of her throat.

That was her husband, her man dying. No, he was dead. Already dead since she didn't know when.

Bloody Mary appeared again before her, but she didn't feel scared anymore. The person she was to be with was not in this world anymore, so what was the point of fearing for her life? She felt her nails on her face, her neck, her arms, scratching and marking her, but the pain was nothing against the aching of her heart.

"Kill me," she whispered.

She could feel the tingling of the scratches already, the blood soaking her white gown.

The creature only smiled, a cold, sardonic smile. No, she wouldn't end her misery. She'd live alone for the rest of the life, because with the scars she'd have, nobody would want to marry her. She would be exiled.

The vision disappeared, the air became warmer. She was alone.

The End

This is my interpretation of the Bloody Mary folklore story. I inspired myself of the version where she was a witch who could see the future and would show the face of a woman's husband or the Grim Reaper if he was already dead. The incantation to cast her was created by me, even if "I have/killed your baby" added to her name is often used in nowadays' stories.