A Horror of Horrors

By: Oonah V Joslin
September 9, 2008

“What are you doing?” asked her mother.
Gina was dragging a box of dolls along the landing towards the spare room.
“I don’t want them any more, Mummy,” she said.
“Not even Mitsy? Mitsy’s your favourite.”
“Mitsy’s a silly name,” replied the twelve year old. “Dolls are stupid.” Gina looked askance at the pile of contorted bodies in the box - the waxy faces, the porcelain-perfect smiles and accusing eyes.
“But Grandma gave you most of these, Sweetie.”
“Grandma’s gone now.” Gina knew that was abrupt and cruel but she didn’t care. It was all her mother’s fault anyway. If she hadn’t forced her to see Grandma that day… but there was little point in trying to explain.

“I don’t want to see Grandma,” Gina had squealed at the entrance to the chapel of rest.
“But you’ll want to say goodbye, dear. It’s best.”
“No-o-o,” she’d pleaded holding back against the force of her mother’s persistent pull, “I don’t want to.”
But her mother had dragged her inside to where Grandma lay in her coffin - so still - so life-like. Gina had watched for ever such a long time but Grandma didn’t breathe. Then Gina started trying to wish the breath into her, but it was no good. Breathe Grandma, breathe, she was thinking, and all the time holding her own breath. She began to feel dizzy and her ears rang. Her mother seemed to be saying something and smiling at her but she couldn’t hear. Her body took control and yawned in a gulp of air that gave her legs the incentive to move. Gina fled the room and ran as far as she could until she had no breath herself. Then she went home to face the consequences.

“Straight to your room, young lady! You had me worried sick. Where did you get to?”
“I…”
“Do you know what time it is? What if something had happened to you, eh?”
“I…”
“Don’t you dare talk back to me. The worry of all this on top of Grandma’s…”
The sound of her mother’s scolding and sobs receded as she went to her room where Grandma’s dolls had reprimanded her too, from their shelf.

Dead people didn’t breathe.
Dolls didn’t breathe either.

Gina stood in front of the mirror. She could see the row of dolls in the background their faces fixedly dispassionate, but she imagined that inside they were laughing at her. She stared at her own reflection for so long that it didn’t seem like her face any more. It looked expressionless - as if there was nothing behind it at all - no personality, no memories - a bit like a doll’s face - like Grandma’s face. A tightness seized Gina’s throat and she turned quickly from the image and swallowed hard. What was it that made people breathe she wondered and what was it that made a person, a person? Gina gulped for air. How could she know these dolls weren’t moving about in the darkness as she slept? What if Grandma used the dolls to keep in touch? No. Gina didn’t like dolls anymore.

“Oh well,” said her mother, “Have it your own way,” convinced that Gina would change her mind.

Gina never looked at a mirror in the same way again.

At sixteen she was not as vain as other girls her age. She liked clothes of course but she didn’t apply make-up. To do that you had to stare into a mirror and Gina had an increasing distrust of mirrors.

Halloween night, her friend Cathy invited her round for a spooky supper. Cathy had a fantastic collection of horror films and snippets.
“Can we watch this, Cathy?”
Cathy looked at the cover of the Tim Burton classic. “Isn’t it a bit – childish?”
“I like it. It’s cute.”
“Okay then. But I pick next.”
“Okay.”
Cathy ate nuts and popcorn and sang along to the songs just as Gina did. Then, “This one’s really cool, G. You’ll love it!” and they’d watched the film of the demon child.
It was a bit boring at the beginning, Gina thought. Who wanted to watch a little kid dancing in front of a mirror? Something about the child’s expression reminded her of her own face the day she’d got rid of the dolls. “I don’t think I like this,” she’d told Cathy, but Cathy was engrossed and Gina watched on as the girl in the film twirled for the final time and the image in the mirror did not. The child’s demon doppelganger stared malevolently over her shoulder wearing an evil, twisted expression - fierce and murderous. It glared at Gina out of the screen. Gina gasped with fear, clasped her hands over her mouth and shrank back in her chair.
Cathy giggled, “Good, isn’t it? Do you think they used a doll?”
“Probably,” said Gina, trying to cover up both fears at once.
“Or maybe it’s a camera trick. Would you like some popcorn?”
Cathy left the room to get the popcorn and Gina followed - too afraid to be alone in front of the blank screen.

There was a mirror in nearly every room in their house. Gina hadn’t really noticed them ‘til now. She removed the one in her bedroom.
“But every teenage girl needs a mirror, Sweetie,” her mother had said.
“I don’t,” insisted Gina, “And I want to paint my room - green,” Gina picked the colour on the spur of the moment to detract from the mirror thing.
“Green? Whoever heard of a bedroom painted green?”
“Green,” Gina confirmed, “And I want a pink carpet.”
Her mother looked aghast and forgot all about the mirror in trying to persuade her that white or pink or lemon would be so much more in keeping.
Next Gina complained about the living room mirror casting light on the TV screen and ruining her favourite program. “It doesn’t matter where you put it, Mum, it reflects the light from the window. Anyway why do we need a mirror in here? It’s so old fashioned to have a mirror in the lounge. The latest thing is minimalism.”

She deliberately broke the hall mirror when her mother was out.
“You did what?” said Cathy. “You know your trouble, Gina – you really are nuts!” and she’d laughed at her. “Don’t tell me it was because of that stupid Halloween thing?”
Gina demurred.
“You’re joking me. You weren’t really scared of a silly kid-thing like that, were you?”

So much for Cathy…

Gina couldn’t do anything about the bathroom mirror but she covered it with a towel whenever she was in there. It gave her goose bumps to think that perhaps a demonic version of herself would be watching her darkly from within the silvered surface and laughing - waiting until her guard was down to take full possession. People got used to, ‘Is my hair alright?’ or ‘Does this colour suit me?’

All her friends were going to the traveling fair including Jazz Hardwick. It was a huge event. Every girl wanted to date Jazz. Apart from he had a car he was devastatingly ‘yum’. Gina wore her best jeans and her most designer tee-shirt. “Do I look alright?” she asked her flat mate Martha.

The fair ground was dazzling. Martha and Gil had paired off immediately and that left Gina with Penny, Cuba, Dulcie and of course Jazz. They decided to stay together - safety in numbers, that sort of thing, and to vote on what to do next. The Ferris wheel was a must, the Dipper too.

“Oh come on Gina, don’t be a party poop!” said Dulcie.
“I don’t want to,” Gina insisted.
“Look, what can happen? We have two big strong men to look after us,” said Penny rubbing herself shamelessly up and down Jazz’s body.
“Only if someone keeps hold of my hand the whole time,” said Gina giving in. After all, she had been outvoted four to one.
“I will,” Dulcie said.
Not exactly the outcome she’d hoped for but at least she would be able to keep her eyes closed. And that was how she ended up being led into the hall of mirrors, eyes tight shut in terror.

Gina didn’t look when the others giggled at their distorted selves. She didn’t look when they screeched in surprise at the sight of three selves at once and ‘ooohed’ at the expanse of infinity. So Gina never knew whose idea it was that Dulcie should let go of her hand and run. It had been negotiated in a set of silent looks and signals - maybe passed between their doppelgangers.

“What’s going on, you guys…? Where are we…? Dulcie? Penny? Anybody?” She heard their receding laughter as the ghastly truth dawned. “Anybody?” There was bound to be someone else in here. “Come on you lot, come back.” Her voice was quiet now, almost a whisper. “Is anybody there?”
Yes, she thought. Yes I know who’s there. I know who’s waiting for me to open my eyes. She knew she needed to open her eyes to get out. Maybe she was out. Maybe this was their idea of a joke and they’d left her clear of the mirrors. They wouldn’t be so cruel as to leave her in amongst the mirrors… They wouldn’t have gone far. “Penny?” Eyes still shut, Gina dared a step with her hands out and felt in front of her the smooth, cold surface of a mirror. Why didn’t they come back? They’d had their fun. Gina sank to the floor, paralyzed with terror. She dared not open her eyes. Tears began to drip from beneath her closed lids. “Please…” she tried again. “Help me… Someone… Help… HELP.”
“Oh there you are,” said a man’s voice.
Gina allowed herself to be led.
“It’s difficult to know you’re way round in here isn’t it. Well, I’ve got you now so you’re safe.”
Only she wasn’t… and no one heard her scream.

In the mall Gina saw terror in each window and in every human face. Each picture-distorted image that caught her eye as she passed by, housed demons. Sometimes she thought she caught sight of her mother - but her mother was dead now too - and the world was a hall of mirrors. Gina moved to the county to get away from people and reflections but she discovered that even nature has its mirrors. Studying a raindrop one day, the pleasant wooded area behind her suddenly manifest itself as an upside down, twisted forest - tiny, dark and threatening. Puddles opened like some fathomless caverns at her feet showing light-years of sky, hurling her demon image skywards. Micro and macrocosms of unanticipated horror opened up all around her.

Gina developed a life-style that would allow her to stay at home. She shut her computer down and moved quickly away from the screen, increasingly aware of the danger that she might see her dark nemesis in its surface. She covered it with a white cloth; got rid of everything black. You can’t see black in the dark. Artificial light kept her world illuminated night and day. Gina hated to close her eyes in sleep. Reluctantly she succumbed to her body’s daily demand for rest, but her mind could find none - the nightmares - the red pattern of veins behind her closed lids - the colour of blood reflecting ever inwards, pumping… pumping… breathe… breathe... breathe.

Gradually her world became white, the furnishings - white, the fabrics - white; white tiles, white walls, white ceilings. Only the shadows of time remained to haunt her. She watched the slow slick of grey move across walls as the Sun defied her artificial day. The only shadows were time and shades of imagining.

What was it that made a person, a person?

The telephone rang and rang, unanswered. Junk mail piled up.

Gina crouched in a corner - barely to be seen - a desiccated shell of a creature, thin and haggard, huddled against the walls, eyes bulging and fixed, arms clasped around her knees, mind imploded with terror.