Flash Fiction: Reflections of Persuasion

Silhouettes danced across the bedroom wall reflecting in the glass as Laura settled on her seat in front of the mirror. She glanced with curiosity at how the light assailing the room from the window danced across the smooth pane surface, cascading in an array of fractured radiance. The light poured through drawn lavender curtains that gently billowed through the crisp morning air, of which its moisture refused to caress her skin.

She gestured her hands, watching herself as she rearranged the contents of her dressing mirror in an officious fashion. These were the moments of memories which were longingly seared upon her conscience in thoughtful contemplation about her existence. Laura studied her bright pensive cerulean eyes as they gleamed of optimism blended with melancholy. If the mirror were porous, perhaps she could reach through to cradle her own dimpled chin with reassurance. Her lips quivered unintentionally around thoughts of isolation.

Her life was nothing more than reactionary at this point as she absentmindedly began the motion of brushing her shoulder-length blond hair. She stared off in the distance longing to feel the soft stroke of the brush across her numb scalp, to experience the comfort of fluid repetitive vibration emanated with each downward motion.

Laura dared to glance by way of the mirror before her at the cracks surrounding the pearlescent opal painted door with the long, curled brass handle and matching rustic style hinges across the room behind her. The unfathomable darkness of the void beyond light’s reach ebbed at the crevices, beckoning her to return to its unfeeling solace.

A gentle rapping at the door in the mirror startled her from her reverie. She spun around involuntarily to hear her voice echo behind her, “Yes?”

“Milady, your car has arrived.”

Her heart faltered feeling the front of herself fading, forced to stare at that cursed door. Fixed in place, Laura remained motionless as the response came, “Thank you, Brandon. I’ll be there shortly.”

Swinging back to face the mirror, she could see her pale cheeks were flushed as blood rushed back into them. She glanced back over her face once more, scratching numbly at the side of her sloped nose to remove a fine piece of lint. A sigh escaped her lips, the warm air collected on the mirror’s surface in a fine mist, distorting her view.

Laura rose quickly, consciously trying to resist the pull away from the mirror toward the door. She turned to see the brass handle on the foreboding door had become distorted from the mist on the mirror disrupting the flow of the light. She walked briskly across the room reaching for the askew door handle. The darkness licked at the fissures surrounding the frame.

In one fluid motion, Laura opened the door to the abyss to walk through and involuntarily slammed it closed behind her. In a fleeting moment, she blended with the darkness knowing she would vanish until the proper Laura returned to the room with the mirror to tend to her appearance.

The reflection of Laura was once again swallowed by oblivion.