Heart beating hard and fast, she rose from the bed to check the hallway and other rooms of the second floor, but before she made her exit, she saw a flash in the mirror in the corner of the room. It was quick—only a slight moment and then gone. She looked around the room as she slowly went back to her bed. She got in and laid her head back on the pillow as she pulled the blanket up over her head. All she could hear was Angelo’s breathing.
It was almost morning before she began to doze off again.
When the alarm went off, she bolted up and glanced over at her waking husband. He reached over to disengage the alarm clock setting on the bed stand next to him. He sat up, stretched his arms above his head before he rose from the bed. “You up?” he asked as he set his feet in his waiting slippers beside the bed. “I know it’s early so if you wanna sleep in, I’ll make my coffee and be on my way.”
“No, I’m up. I’ll make the coffee. At least have some toast and juice before you go.” She set her legs over the side of the bed and looked over at the mirror. “There was some kind of reflection of light in the mirror during the night. I wonder if it was something outside,” she said as she rose from the bed.
“The mirror does face the window. What would be out in our yard late at night? I don’t think it was something out there. You must have been half asleep or dreaming.”
She wasn’t about to tell him she thought she saw a dark figure by the side of the bed. “I guess you’re right, but I could swear I saw a flash in the mirror.”
Over their morning coffee, Britney suddenly wanted to talk about the previous owner of the house. “I understand the man who owned this house was over a hundred when he died. That’s pretty old. Leopold Archer . . . I hear he was once in the navy—a captain or some high ranking person.”
“Yeah, and he was known as being something of a weirdo, eccentric all around odd ball. Hope he didn’t curse this place.” Then Angelo laughed. “The old goat.”
“Oh, now Angelo, don’t say bad things about a dead person. It’s so disrespectful.” No sooner had the words left her mouth, than she felt a light touch on her shoulder and looked around, but nothing was there. She took a deep breath and went on spreading jam on her toast. She washed it down with her second cup of coffee while Angelo grabbed his coat and started for the door.
Britney climbed the stairs to begin her Saturday cleaning, starting with fresh bedding. The sheets were folded neatly in the linen closet next to the bedroom. She took a set out and carried it into the room. As she set them down on the chair near the window, she looked over at the mirror and was taken by how much of the room was reflected in it. As she walked past it, she felt a rush of cold air. She rubbed her arms, wondering where it came from. She went to the window to check for a cold draft, but once she pulled back the curtain she found the window closed.
When she turned around, there stood a man dressed like a sea captain. She froze in place. He smiled at her through his thick short beard and stepped back with his hands held up to let her know he would not hurt her. By then, Britney had her back pressed against the window, and she shook with fear.
“Don’t be afraid of me, I won’t harm you,” he told her. His tall body hovered over the bed between the two of them.
She managed to speak with the obvious question, “Who are you, and how did you get in here?”
“I happen to live here and have lived here for most of my adult life.” Then he laughed. “Or maybe I should say my life and death.” He moved toward the mirror in a slow manner, more like gliding than walking. “You are a very lovely woman. I do love beauty in women. I am happy you moved here. I can watch you and enjoy your presence all the time.” His baritone voice struck her as being calm, gentle.
Thoughts of all kinds raced through her head while fear ran amok. Searching for words, she finally whispered, “So, you’re a ghost?”
“I suppose one might call me that, but I like to think of myself as a spirit with charm . . . one who just wants to stay where he belongs.”
He began to move from the other side of the bed. Britney yelled, holding up both hands up to him. “Stop!”
She stepped back and stared at him. "I don’t think I can believe you’re a ghost. For all I know, you broke into my house as a burglar or worse, and you’re trying to make up a story that’s a little too hard to swallow.”
He folded his arms on his wide chest and laugh as he moved back. “If you will just let me have a moment where you are standing, I’ll prove to you who I am and where I’ve came from.”
Britney held one hand up. “No, I want you out of here before I scream for help.”
He laughed again. “Who would hear you? There is no one around for miles and your husband has gone to work. I find this an opportunity to get acquainted. Not everyone can see and hear me. It gets a little lonely around her.”
“Why do you need to come over here?”
“I want to show you something about the mirror.”
Britney hesitated a moment to think about what she should do. Then she took a step forward. “All right, I’ll move over to the dresser away from the window and mirror, but if you try anything, I’ll run out of here and call the police.”
Slowly, very slowly, she walked to the dresser with a watchful eye on her intruder. She stood at the side of it. She could reach the bathroom door next to her, giving her the opportunity to lock herself in if she had to.
Leopold walked over to the mirror, and then looked back at her. “Watch closely.”
Her eyes widened as he lifted his leg and stepped right into the mirror. When he smiled and gazed out at her, she almost fainted.
“How did you do that?” she yelled out with hands held up to her mouth.
Just as easy to go into the mirror, Leopold stepped out and stood gazing at her with a smirk on his face. “You see, I am what you’ve called me. I am a ghost."
The shock of all of this began to subside, but Britney’s blood still ran cold with fear.
“Are you earth bound and don’t want to go on?” She moved away from the bathroom door and stood in front of the dresser. “I’m not sure I like the idea of a ghost living in my home. After all, this is now our house, and we’d like it to stay that way. You should go on.” She could hardly believe she was talking to a real ghost, even though she’d heard about such things.
“I stay most of the time in the mirror. There’s another world in there, and it’s very nice. I could take you there some time if you like.”
“I don’t think so. I like the mirror, but if you’re going to be spying on me from in there, I’ll have to move it out of my bedroom.” The thought of him being able to view all of her private moments, was more than she could tolerate, especially after coming to her bed the night before “No, there’s no way you’re going to be an audience to my life in my bedroom. I will move the mirror.”
“Well suit yourself. I wish you’d consider a visit to my world. I know you’d like it. I find you a very attractive woman and would love to get to know you better. I don’t hurt people since I’ve left the living. I regret all the hurt I placed on so many around me and won’t do it any more. I’d like very much to correct things and then move on.” He remembered his bad behavior of yelling profanities, and making life hard for those he was in charge of. He had strong regrets now that he was gone from the living and wanted to make amends.
“How often are you going to come out of the mirror and haunt us?” Now she was brave enough to look him right in the eyes.
The chuckle from him before he spoke rocked the room. “Maybe just often enough to see what you’re up to.” His demeanor seemed happy, although weird in so many ways—like the way he moved, the way he wiggled the mustache attached to his dark short beard. He was a handsome fellow for a ghost.
Could she trust this sudden visitor from another world—or should it be called another dimension? Why wasn’t she afraid of him? A good question. Here he was, the ghost of the very man who once dwelt among the living in her new home,
and she was holding a civil conversation with him. A conversation with a dead man.
“I’ve heard of spirits being seen in mirrors, but I was never sure how true it was. Why are you staying in a mirror?”
“It’s a great place. I never get sick. I don’t have to work, and I have all the food I want. I can rest in the sun and enjoy the clear blue ocean waters, ride on the waves as they splash up against the shore. It’s wonderful. You should come with me some time to enjoy yourself.”
“You mean it can cure illness?”
“Oh, yes it can. Do you have a health issue?”
“I’m not sure. I know I need a check up, but I wanted to wait until we got settled from the move before going.”
“Whatever it is, I can guarantee, you come with me inside the mirror, you will be healed.”
He moved closer to the mirror. “I must return to my world, my time out is approaching an end. You see, I can only use so much ectoplasm at a time and then I fade away.” As he put one foot inside the mirror, she noticed how transparent he was becoming. She could see right through him. “I’ll see you again when I’ve replaced my energy.” Then he was totally consumed by the mirror.
She walked up close to look at her image in the mirror and tried to see him only to find he was gone for sure—the only thing she could see was her self.
The whole episode was so bizarre she didn’t know if she could or would tell Angelo about it. He would think she’d lost it. No, she would keep this under her hat for a while and see if it ever happened again. But it did remind her of her family doctor’s orders for testing in search of cancer. She went to the dresser and located the number she’d put there to call for an appointment. This had to be done, so she got on the phone and made arrangements.
Chapter Three
Monday morning found Britney at her business office away from home getting things set up for her home office. So much to do in so little time. She had to get set up by the weekend so she could start the next Monday morning in her new in residence office. She wanted the mirror moved to the guest room, so Angelo obliged.
“I don’t understand why you want this moved?” he asked her as he lifted it from its space by the window. “It looked great right here.”
“I know, but please, take it to the other bedroom. I think I’d like it there better than in here.”
Angelo took the mirror to the other room next to the master bedroom. But she could hear him yell out, “And don’t ask me to move it again. It stays where I put it today.”
Suddenly, she heard a little laughter she couldn’t locate. I hope that’s not what I think it is.
She then followed her husband to the other room to make sure he put it where she wanted.
He set the mirror down in the place she designated. “I have to get to work, and tonight is my night with the guys. We’re going to Steve’s. I need to win back the money I lost last week when we played. I won’t be home for dinner, and don’t wait up for me.” He turned to leave, but glanced back at her. “Didn’t you say Cindy was coming over?”
“Yes, that’s what she told me. I’ll call her to make sure she can come for dinner. Then I won’t have to eat alone.”
Angelo went off to dress, leaving Britney standing in front of the mirror looking into it. “If you’re in there,” she looked deep into the silvery glass, “this will be your new place in this house. I’m not about to have a peeping Tom in my bedroom.”
She shut the door then leaned back against it to reflect on her discovery in the mirror. Her curiosity had piqued about Leopold Archer, the former occupant of the house. Did she really want to share her home with a ghost? She walked away with the thought of it roaming around in her mind.
Cindy, an old friend of hers, would be paying her a visit soon. She would ask her to have dinner. She knew how much her friend liked her fried chicken, one of Angelo’s favorites also, so she planned the meal without delay.
The phone held to her ear, Britney slumped down on the sofa, her feet up on the coffee table. “I’m glad you’re coming for dinner, Cindy. I love making a meal for someone who appreciates my cooking. I’ll see you at six, then. And, don’t bother bringing wine; I already have a bottle in the fridge.” She sat forward, but before she hung up, she asked, “Do you happen to know anything about a Leopold Archer who lived in this house?”
“Yes, as matter of fact, I learned about him from my Aunt. From what she told me, he wasn’t the most likeable fellow in the world. But, we’ll talk about it tonight over dinner if you want.”
Cindy’s aunt lived in a house only a few doors from Britney, so it was logical she would know something about good old Leo. It was upsetting to think she might be hearing things, or thought she was now that she was aware of Leopold Archer’s ghost in the house.
Britney rose from the sofa when she heard someone coughing. She looked around the room and listened carefully. Nothing. No sounds or things moving suspiciously either. She rubbed the back of her neck, and then went to the kitchen to start preparations for the evening meal.
She shook her head and went off to the kitchen.
Her mind wandered while she prepared the chicken for the evening meal with her friend. She began to think she may have had a mental blowout and none of what she saw was really true.
A mind exposure of the attic produced a picture of the warm and stuffy third flour. It zeroed in on the large chest she hadn’t taken the time to check out.
Her hands worked fast to finish breading the chicken as the torment of what she might find in the chest haunted her. She placed the dressed chicken pieces on a plate, took it to the refrigerator, closed the door and stepped back. She had to go up there and take a look.
The afternoon was warm and blustery for an early spring. Windows she’d opened in the bedrooms on the second floor let in a pleasant breeze filled with the salty scent of the sea. Before venturing up to the attic, she stood in the hallway for a moment to inhale one of the most enticing things about the house . . . the ocean.
She climbed the attic stairs with caution, afraid of another encounter with Mr. Archer the ghost captain living in her house.
When she reached the top, her gaze settled quickly on the object that brought her up there: the large chest on the side wall to her right.
Lifting the somewhat heavy lid, she gazed down inside the musty anterior to investigate its contents. Stacks of books to the left, folded blankets in the middle, and off to the right was a good-sized picture frame leaning straight up against the side of the chest. She reached in to pull it out when she heard someone chuckling. She turned her head to search her surroundings only to find nothing there. “Humm,” she muttered.
She held the frame up to the light coming in from the window in the front of the attic. The face in the photograph displayed in the beautifully carved wood frame looked back at her with a smile. She brought a hand to her mouth in an attempt to quiet a loud outburst. It was him, the Captain, Leopold Archer. The one who said he lived in the cheval mirror.
She sat down on the floor with the portrait of what she now believed to be a ghost. Yes, a ghost, sharing the home she just moved into. She stared at his face. This is not real.
Nothing could have been more shocking. She would have rather this whole thing had been a temporary mental fart or just plain imagination.
A ghost. A real ghost!
Her eyes still focused on the figure in the photograph. “All right. If you’re going to be here, we are going to have some understanding of how this is going to work out.”
She raised her eyes to glance up away from the portrait. “Great, now I’m trying to negotiate with a ghost on how we can live together.”
Thinking it was stupid, she rose from the floor, took the prize she had found and went down the attic stairs. Next, she had to decide what she would do with it. Hide it in her bedroom? Put it somewhere downstairs? Take it back up to the chest and forget about it? She looked down at it again. “No, you’re coming with me. I want to be sure this
is really you. Cindy will know."
Stepping off the last step at the bottom of the staircase, she hurried to the living room to place the photo on the mantel over the fireplace. “There, you can sit there until after dinner tonight when I can discus this with my guest.”
Still early enough to make a side dish and desert, she went back to the kitchen to perform a work of art as the good cook she was. Perfection entered into her culinary experiences, but not to the point it hindered her from putting out some great meals.
As she went to the counter to prepare her masterpiece, she suddenly doubled over with pain. The sharp claw of it grabbed her in the lower extremities so bad she almost fell to the floor. This was not the first time a pain like this struck her, but never as brutal as this one.
She caught her breath and tried to straighten. Slowly she came upright holding on to the edge of the counter. That’s it. I have to see a doctor. Then she whispered, “As soon as I get settled in this house and my job. Now go away . . . let me do my thing here.”
It took a few more minutes for her to regain relief from the excruciating pain. But, once it left, she hurried to get back on track with dinner. She knew she couldn’t keep avoiding it, and sometime soon she’d have to see that specialist. She had no idea if old Doc Taylor was still around. As old as he was back then, she tended to believe not. They had come there from another state, another city and didn’t know what doctors were still around. She hadn’t been back since she left ten years ago. The transfer of her job brought them back. She’d ask Cindy who to call.
The afternoon slid by without another eruption of pain. Britney went about her schedule of things to do with recognition of a certain reflective something upstairs in the guest room.
Mirror Mirror Page 2