A pair of Tiffany lamps sat on their respective bedside tables, casting a soft yellowish glow out into an otherwise dark room from beneath their colorful glass shades. On the wall opposite the foot of a large four-poster bed made of a dark wood sat a Victorian style vanity. It was made of the same, dark wood, with a large oval mirror at it’s center.
To the right of the vanity was a large bay window. At the seat of the window was a cushioned bench, and a couple of smaller pillows in the corner. A lovely spot to look outside, but now the sky was dark, cloudy, lit occasionally by lightning rolling within, but never striking.
To the left of the vanity was the doorway into the room, and another door that led to a small bathroom. Presently, a woman came out of the bathroom, toweling off her damp, chestnut hair. Wearing a soft, thick white bathrobe, tied at the waist, her feet bare, she stood at 5’6” at best, her now tousled hair handing down just past her shoulder blades in the back. She took a moment to walk back into the bathroom and drape the towel across the shower rod, before exiting once again, taking a seat at the vanity.
After a moment’s reflection, she reached for a hairbrush, holding it in her hand, feeling its weight as she looked it over. It had been a gift, some time ago, though she couldn’t remember who had given it to her. The brush had a handle made of beechwood, topped with oxhorn; the bristles dark wild boar. Sighing a little, she began to brush her hair out, until it were straight, closing her hazel eyes as she did so.
“Lena….” came a noise, whispered through the room.
She jerked her head up and looked around, clutching the brush tightly in one hand, her back to the mirror. Had someone broken in? And if so, why did they know her name?
“Lena….” it repeated, sounding as though it were all around her.
“Who’s there?” she called out, her voice quivering.
“Behind you, Lena….” came the whisper, sounding just behind her now. There in the mirror was her reflection, staring back at her.
But it was not the same.
She held her hand up to the mirror, hovering, but not quite touching the reflection. Barely recognizable to herself, half her face was covered in scars.
“Tonight you will be like me, Lena….” her reflection whispered.
Lena jumped, startled at seeing herself speak, knowing she had not spoken.
“I’d be careful if I were you.” it whispered again.
“What’s going on?” Lena cried out.
“You’ll see…” whispered her reflection, then it was gone – the reflection was back to normal.
“Too much wine…” Lena muttered to herself. Still, she couldn’t help but feel chilled about what she had experienced.
She set the brush down before getting up, moving to the bathroom in order to hang up her bathrobe, revealing a simple nightgown; strapless, lilac, and satiny. Pulling aside the covers once she reached the bed, she slid under them and pulled them back up, snuggling down in order to fall asleep to the sounds of the now rumbling thunder outside.
The house was quiet in the middle of the night, until the grandfather clock struck the time. . Lightning had begun to strike occasionally, followed by low rumbles of thunder. There was a particularly bright flash of lightning, followed by an angry, low rumble of thunder. Shortly thereafter, the power went out. There was a flicker in the mirror, and then a voice sounded.
“Soon…”