My grandmothers house was an old worldly place with many dark spaces, many old things that stood in hallways and corners and to me as a child seemed to lurk about with far too much familiarity.
In the centre room, a room we rarely frequented, and locked securely was a large and impressive mirror that hung from the wall, opposite the door you entered by so that the first thing you noticed was your own reflection as you enter the room.
I always thought it a lovely room; it was spacious, with only the mirror, to say the least. But grandmother kept it closed said it was best not to go in there. Of course that was an invitation to a curious mind of course.
I knew where the key was kept, as I was a watchful as well as curious. I let myself in and shut the door behind me. There was the mirror, looking back at me.
I looked into it at the small boy standing there and felt an irresistible urge to step closer and closer and closer until I was within a hairs breath of the mirror itself.
Then it happened.
I blinked. I looked around and I was not in the room with the mirror but in a field, with a forest across to my left. At the edge of the forest I thought I saw a hand waving, as if beckoning me.
So I did and found myself in the forest.
It seemed that every bird in existence was chattering at once, the sound was deafening. I put my hand to my ears but to no avail. I felt a tap on my shoulder and looked around at the strangest man I had ever seen. He was a pale shade of green, and he was holding earmuffs. He intimated for me to put them on before beckoning me to follow.
The earmuffs made a huge difference I felt I could again at least hear myself think.
He led me to an opening in the side of a hill and down a winding staircase. At the bottom was a door on which was printed. “The Door at the Bottom of the Staircase’.
On opening the door we entered a large room filled with people of the same colour and at the end of the room sat a person I concluded was some sort of leader or king or queen or what ever.
The leader said to me, ‘Hello small white boy, welcome. My name is Martha and you young man, are just in time for dinner.’
The dinner was magnificent, every food you could imagine, and the green folk were ever so polite passing plates to me, offering me more helpings, it was quite the feast.
Having had more than my fill I felt it was time to offer my thanks for the meal and make my departure. That was when everything hit a snag.
‘Leave?’ said the Martha, a slight hint of laughter in her voice, ‘No my dear I fear you don’t understand, no one leaves.’
‘But I have to be getting back, my mother will be looking for me.’
‘Your mother will look for you as will your grandmother but they will soon realise where you have gone.’
‘And where have I gone?’
‘Eternity my dear, eternity.’
‘I’m dead?’
‘Well not technically now as you are still standing aren’t you.’
‘Then where am I?’
‘Well you actually among family as it turns out. See that small creature across the room sitting by the mushroom patch? You great-uncle Alfred, the small girl near the fountain? Your great aunt Winifred. Oh and Kevin of course who led you here, a first cousin.’
‘So this is what happens if you step too close to the mirror?’
‘The mirror my dear boy is a pathway in, not a pathway out.’
‘No wonder grandmother keeps the room locked.’
‘She does my dear, and for good reason.’
Martha looked down me and smiled, it had a benevolent familiarity about it. I suddenly felt comforted.
‘You’d never guess we were sisters would you.’
Written for: http://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2014/05/09/fairytale-prompt-7/
Morpethroad 