GUARDIAN OF THE MIRRORS

by

Kathy Bobo

    The day of the funeral was the darkest of many days to come. While Maggie, and her sisters Ruth, Sally and Patricia stood at the grave of their great-grandfather Fydor’s open grave, mother nature unleashed the worst weather she had to offer. The day was murky, and desolate. The darkened afternoon skies were lit up with enough thunder and lightning to awaken the dead in the old cemetery. Through the lightning the many grave markers became visible. Many of the marble grave stones were cracked with age, and overcome by chemical weathering that the Cyrillic writings were barely visible. Even though the funeral was conducted in the City of St. Louis in a small cemetery it made everyone feel as through they were in Russia. A hand full of elderly people attended the burial of Fydor Martov.

    Everyone stood quietly as the Russian Orthodox priest presided over the burial. In the distance a strange nude figure wearing a spiked dog collar and a chain bound his neck appeared through the flashes of lightning, and with mighty crack of thunder, and the figure was gone. As it started to rain violently, the wind began howling when suddenly lightning struck the spot where the stranger had once stood. The burial mass concluded. Maggie always had a curious sixth sense that allowed her to pick up things from those around her, and this time was no exception. There almost seemed to be a air of gladness in the hearts and minds of those elderly people who attended Fydor’s burial, but she could also perceive uneasiness.

    The burial concluded, the four women began the drive back to their great-grandfather’s house. Throughout the rainy drive to Fydor’s estate along old Franklin Road, thousands of birds lined up single file along the many power lines. As they drove through the wrought iron entry gate of Fydor’s estate, it was as through as an invisible boundary separated the gate from the outside world preventing the rain from passing through. As they drove slowly over the cobblestone pavement, they passed a large pond with pink lily pads with a waterfall. It reminded them of the many winters spent ice-skating and the tranquil days afloat in the summer.

    It was a two-story house with rustic stone walls, and a slate roof. But, despite its seemingly beauty, the area was void of the sound of animals. In the center of the yard was a colorful, antique carousel with a single sparrow perched on the carousel, the sparrow soared away.

    Maggie could remember as a child traveling with her grandfather Fydor and his carnival throughout the United States. But now, the different masks, the many racks of costumes, and a fortune telling booth laid as relics, faded with age and dusk throughout the house. The four women immediately began the tedious task of cleaning up, and it was not an uncomplicated chore, after all, Fydor would not have won the Good Housekeeping Seal.

    It took them a total of two days to clean the entire house. The door bell rang just as Patricia was headed down into the basement. There was a faint scent of wild flowers in the air as she approached the door. As she opened the door, a stranger in a long white cloak with a hood covering his head stood quietly looking downward. In a loud whisper, he cried, "Beware of your true selves!"  Then all at once the door slammed shut as if it had a will of it own. Maggie and Sally ran downstairs after Patricia’s fainthearted scream, and found her trying to reopen the door, but it was as though it was welded shut.

    At first the knock was almost that of a child, but it soon grew to kicking and screaming. It was as if someone were trying to break down the door, then the door began to swell and turn red and then all at once, a swift, spine tingling Arctic wind flung open the door knocking Patricia to the floor. Ruth opened the door and came in from outside carrying a broom, and immediately Patricia lunged herself off the floor towards Ruth, and stared at her angrily suspecting it might have been another one of her pranks. Without an utterance Ruth smiled at them, then turned and went back outside closing the door behind her. Maggie flung open the door, but as soon as she reached the front porch Ruth had vanished.

    Maggie’s and Patricia’s attention was drawn to the carousel, and the black horse that was originally in a prancing position had now crushed the sparrow dead under its hoof. As Maggie walked toward the carousel, a thunderous bang from within the house pulled their attention away from the carousel.

    Maggie, Pat and Sally ran upstairs and down the long hallway. Immediately, they noticed not their own reflection along the columns of mirrors, but Ruth’s. Ruth stood entombed majestically with a strange hypnotic appeal within the mirrors. Maggie’s footsteps gave off a chilling echo as she slowly walked along the columns. As they walked along the mirrors, the sound of a door creaking open bounced off Ruth’s image, creating a rhythmic distortion.

    A single mirror provided the perfect camouflage for another room concealed behind a door. All four walls, ceiling, and floor were covered with mirrors. The mirrors on the ceiling and walls suddenly turned to black as the mirrors on the floor divided themselves into sections of four. One section showed an image of Ruth floating face down in the pond, while the second section displayed her sister’s Sally and Patricia placing body parts in a hope chest. The third section depicted three unmarked grave stones, and the last section showed no reflection what so ever.

    A stranger came into the room, the stranger from the cemetery, but this time he was fully dressed. When he entered the room, there was something unexplainable about his nature that told Maggie that nothing to fear from him. He did not have the angry facial appearance of Russian Men, nor the sternness of voice present in most Russians. "The selection has been made, two of you will die."

    Maggie asked, "What! Selection? By whom?"

     He said, "The Martov family are the guardians of the mirrors, and its secrets. Once Fydor died, Ruth became the primary guardian of the mirrors. These mirrors hold the spirit of someone whose name can not be spoken. For his crimes, he was cursed to spend eternity in the mirrors." Sally and Pat remained in the room as the stranger and Maggie went downstairs.

    The stranger and Maggie searched the house looking for Patricia and Sally, but lastly she came to the basement, which had a long circular staircase leading deep into the earth. Cobwebs filled the narrow passageway, the further down she went the more prevalent the stench of death and decay. The first chamber Maggie came to was a crypt with concrete slabs seemed freshly cemented, and upon one laid the remains of Fydor Martov.

    Many of the chambers were empty, but as Maggie continued onward they heard Sally scream, then dead silence followed. She came upon another set of stairs that led even further downward, so she rushed down and came to a dead stop. At first it looked as though someone were tied to a pole, but the person not tied to a pole. Something with great force had driven a sharp pole up through her lower mid-section and through the crown of her head.

    Maggie entered yet another chamber with a concrete block in the center of the room. Propped against one side of the block lay a large battle ax, and on top of the concrete block lay Patricia’s head in a pool of blood. Maggie suddenly panicked, and ran from the scene. She failed in her futile attempt to find a way out of the bowels of the estate. Finally, she collapsed on the floor into a deep slumber due to shear exhaustion.

    Days later, Maggie awakened back in her room, and in her own bed. She let out a sigh of relief in the hope that it was all a bad dream. She rolled over, and found Patricia in bed next to her with her head covered. Ever since she was a child, Patricia had always been afraid to sleep in her own room in this house. Many times she could remember Patricia coming into her room crawling into her bed. This was the first time they had been home in many years, so Maggie was not surprised to find Patricia in bed with her again. "Pat wake up, we have a lot to get done before we leave tomorrow!"  But she did not budge. Maggie reached over and pulled the cover off her head, and discovered Patricia decapitated body.

    She ran through the entire house, and found herself back in the hall of mirrors, but this time Ruth’s reflection had disappeared. She looked upon her own reflection with hatred, envy, and pity. Maggie entered the room as she did in her dream, but this time she was alone. The mirrors on the ceiling and walls were blackening out, and the mirror on the floor suddenly split into four sections by itself. Each section replayed the events of the night, and each picture showed Maggie committing each of the murders. The first mirror showed her wielding a large battle ax with the skill of a Amazon warrior, and severing the head of Patricia. The second mirror showed the image of Maggie tying her unconscious sister Sally to a large crossbeam connected to a wooden machine of some sort. Maggie waited for Sally to regain consciousness, then she smacked a large button with slug hammer that forced the release of a large wooden stake that impaled Sally. The third showed Maggie drowning the stranger in the pond outside, and lastly, the fourth section revealed Ruth still trapped within the mirror. Ruth banged on the mirror with her fist, "Help me, Maggie! I can’t get out!" 

    Maggie stood and stared for a long time before she walked away saying, "Good!"

    The carousel turns round and round as Ruth rides on the black horse with a sparrow perched on his right leg, she tries to reach for the golden key hanging on the hook over the full length mirror, but she misses. When the ride ends she climbs off the horse, and as she is turning to leave, the image of Maggie appears on the full length mirror on the center of the carousel, and she is banging her fist and screaming, "Help me! Help me! I can’t get out!"

    Ruth glances back for a moment and says, "Good! I was the one who played the practical jokes on everyone, but now it looks as though the joke's on me, for now, I am the new guardian of the mirrors."

THE END

E-Mail Kathy at: Kabobo001@aol.com