Citizen Forsaken

When the disaster happened, or the event, or whatever it was—I still don’t know to this day—I hadn’t yet noticed how much yellow there is in the lower city.

There’s not a lot of yellow where I come from—except for light and that’s different—but here, in the lower city, it seems to be everywhere.

Maybe I’m from here now. After a year, maybe I’m from Los Angeles.

I’ll say that to myself, sometimes aloud as I stare at the silent, solid bathroom mirror.

As I try to stare into the mirror.

Home used to be that close. I stepped through a mirror and I was in Los Angeles. And I was supposed to step through a mirror and be right back home again.

But now there’s nothing to see but my own reflection.

And home may as well be a galaxy away.

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Oddnever

Oddnever adjusted her spectacles, tucked in her wings, rolled open her scroll, and touched the tip of her quill to her tongue.  She peered into the mirror that was set in the modest front room of her modest abode within an acorn tree.  That mirror had been locked so that she was only able to look through it, not step through it.  Oddnever was, after all, different from other sprites.  She could be trusted and relied upon.  She was capable of focusing for long stretches of time.  And she was thought to be too slow to evade the human gaze—likely because she was taller than was typical for her kind.  Therefore she was forbidden from visiting the human realm. 

While she wasn’t generally mischievous, Oddnever was keenly curious.

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All the Mirrors Are Broken

“Do you have any missing art supplies?”

The woman standing in the open doorway, still blocking my entrance, blinked at me and said, “What?”

“Art supplies.  Especially high-end supplies.  Maybe some fancy imported ink.  That kind of thing.”

Her gaze dropped briefly—to take in my apparel, I’m guessing—and then she smiled at me, or at least, her mouth smiled at me.

“I’m sorry, Miss, uh—“

“Diamond.”  My mouth also smiled at her.

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The Mirror of Displacement

Perhaps centuries from now, medicine will be able to restore what was lost from injuries such as his. But now, I must turn to practices arcane.

Clara sighed as she watched the ink dry. She sat in the dim basement of the home she shared with her husband, who was working in his office upstairs. It was a chilly autumn day. Yet the basement was temperate. She dipped her quill into the well and continued.

I have built it according to the instruction I found. I have built it with my own hands, against warnings, it is true. But I am a desperate woman. I am a desperate wife.

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The Mirror of Liriope

Mirrors are not to be trifled with. Once, there were many taboos associated with mirrors. The taboos became superstitions and the superstitions began to fade. Some remain in present times. But once, even children knew that one should never turn one’s back on a mirror. Even children knew that one should keep a candle or torch nearby when looking in a mirror, even during the daylight. That one should never crack or break a mirror, and if a mirror should break, one should cover it quickly, gather the pieces and bury them in the ground. If the mirror was too big for that, then one should flee or else be ready for a terrible battle with a terrible enemy.

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