By Monica Eaton
It was just a normal house at first, but as soon as she stepped over the threshold it changed. The porcelain vase on the table to her left with the flower print stayed as it was, except that it changed from porcelain to a mirror. The wallpaper was also replaced with reflecting glass as was the wooden furniture and even the rugs and flagstones.
Devi walked carefully across the floor and wondered where she was supposed to go or even what she was supposed to do. As she moved forward through the corridor she became increasingly conscious of a steady pulse. When she finally came to the grand hall of the house she saw the source of it. Devi looked at the large mirror standing in the center of the room. It appeared to be moving, like ripples on water and she realized that this must be the heart of the house. She grinned and thought how much Ing would love this. She stood before the mirror, thinking it was the one that would show her what she needed to know. She wasn’t sure how long she waited, but somewhere in between beats an image of a stair case appeared. It was difficult to make it out since it was obviously one that was somewhere in the house. The image stayed longer and Devi could sense the mirror becoming impatient. She left it and went to find the stairs. She became wary when she found them. It was strange to be walking on glass and she was sure it would break and she would plummet through the mirror floors to her death. Her foot steps made soft plinking sounds against the glass. It made Devi so nervous that she took off her shoes and carried them the rest of the way. When she looked back there were no smudges where she stepped on the stairs or where her hand slid along the railing.
She turned into another corridor and came down it. Now all the mirrors around her reflected another set of stairs and she searched for it. The beating was less intense now that she was moving away from it, but she was still extremely aware of it. It seemed to be the only sound in the house.
When Devi came to the end of the corridor there was a door in front of her. She assumed that it was a bedroom and turned down another hallway. Immediately all the mirrors changed and she jumped when a hand appeared in them. They were pointing her back the way she came in a manner that suggested they were irritated. She thought it strange that she could sense the emotions expressed by these mirrors and their reflections. They didn’t have faces that could be read, but she didn’t need to see expressions to know what the house felt. Devi realized, then how like the Dreamer the House of Mirrors was. It had no time for anything but business and when that was over the relationship between itself and whoever was inside was over.
When she came back to the first hallway the hands changed and pointed in the direction of the door that she’d previously ignored. She walked through and even though what she came into was clean and not very different from the rest of the house she had the sense that if this was a normal house this would be the dusty way that led to a cluttered attic. It occurred to Devi that she was climbing to the brain of the house and the thought startled her. When she came to the top of the stairs there was one more door and she knew that was it. On the other side was everything she’d been waiting for. Devi inhaled as deeply as she could and counted the seconds it took to breathe out. She opened the door and walked inside.
It was like any other attic. Wooden floors, old bureaus, wardrobes and chests lined the walls. The only difference was the mirror that stretched from floor to ceiling that stood where a window should have been. Devi thought that if the mirror was not being prohibited by a ceiling it would be taller. As she looked at it she began to think it wanted to be. She walked toward her reflection and met the bewildered gaze of her own eyes. She stood before the mirror with the plain wooden frame. There didn’t seem to be anything special about it. Devi tentatively reached out a hand and as soon as she touched her reflection she was knocked backward as the entire room changed. All the furniture was gone and when she looked back to the mirror it seemed different; larger. In fact, it covered the entire room. Where all the rooms downstairs were made of multiple mirrors standing side by side there was just one to this room. There were no more floor boards, dust, even all the furniture was gone and there was still no window where one should have been. Devi got back on her feet and was reminded that they were bare by the iciness of the reflective floor.
“What do you want from me?” A voice echoed through the room.
Devi covered her ears as it resounded off the walls and became louder. “My memories,” she said when the voice finally faded