The Mirrors

It was a small, circular mirror. When Jake picked it up, he saw his crystal clear reflection,


enhanced by the smooth, silver glass. He looked up out of the old boxes he was rummaging


through to find the rest of his dimly lit garage. He could hear kids playing outside and he


rubbed his hands together, trying to remedy the sting of the bitter, unrelenting cold. He


picked up the mirror, and took it into his mansion of a house in a quiet, peaceful suburb.


It was a Midwestern winter, and the days were short, bringing cold nights laced with the


sounds of speeding cars flying down the highway. Jake heard the shrill call from his mother.


        "Jake, we're going to McDonald's. What do you want us to bring you back?"


        Jake thought about it a moment, and responded in his low, thick voice.


        "Im not hungry right now. Go ahead."


        "You really should eat!" she yelled back. He didn't respond. Instead, he went into


his room, mirror in hand.


        Jake had long been obsessed with the paranormal, diving into books of ghosts,


demons, angels, and reproductions of ancient cabalic documents. It was in these books that


he learned of scrying, which is foretelling the future through the use of mirror glass. He


remembered about the cool antique mirror graced with Celtic knotwork and a red runestone,


and figured he would give the ancient art a shot. He opened up the book, looked at some


procedures, and followed the instructions.


        He set out the fancy purple velour cloth on his desk and placed the circular mirror


down upon it. He then eagerly looked into the book and slowly chanted the specified jargon


in slow, broken Latin. With that, he blew out his candles, waiting as the book said, for the


mirror's powers to unlock.


        Nothing happened.


        He got up from the chair in...