Between Two Worlds

Bewitched

Shay's POV

Maybe, I was bewitched.

Maybe, the mirror was.

Maybe....

After we had stared endlessly at each other, the fine man from the other end opened his mouth to say something. He was talking but I couldn't pick what he was speaking. I couldn't hear him.

Next, he was thumping the mirror with both of his hands like he would break through it or penetrate through the medium. I stepped back wondering if that could actually happen.

After a while, he stopped hitting the mirror and stepped back to...

I was startled as his body hit the medium from his end but that only made the mirror quake slightly.

What was he doing?

He definitely can't go through the mirror. It was solid from his end.

Was he insane? Did he plan to meet me, a stranger? But, I barely even know him, I thought.

After enough body-hitting-the-medium from his end, he stepped back to continue gaping at me.

I watched him too as he placed both of his hands on the mirror from his end. Slowly, I did the same, placing my hands on his hands.

It was as if we knew each other from time past. We were connecting in a sort of way.

We were touching but not touching.

Speaking but not speaking.

Yet, we were strangely connected.

We were both communicating in ways that felt strange. I placed my head on his. He shut his eyes, I followed, shutting my eyes for a minute while I inhaled deeply.

By the time my eyes were opened, I was staring back at my reflection. I staggered, looking around the room, then back at the mirror.

Maybe I had been dreaming. He wasn't in the mirror. Only my reflection.

I laughed to myself replaying what had just happened some minutes ago. The mirror was indeed bewitched.

I briskly left my bedroom and never returned there till the next morning. I had to sleep in the parlor for fear that such a thing would replay itself. I returned only when I had to change for work.

I stopped to look at my reflection once I was dressed. My long ebony hair had fallen to my shoulders, curling at the edges. My bulging eyes were naturally big, they made me look babyish in a sort of way.

One would have to enquire if indeed I was thirty-two due to the size of my face and eyes. I had a pretty oval face, that was taken from my dad.

I saw so much striking resemblance to my dad. Most of my traits were from him. But, I never wanted to be like him that was why I never believed in love.

One of my hands parted the stray fallen strands of hair, and I laughed thinking about what had transpired the previous day.

This was certainly hilarious.

That certainly happened!

It was only a figment of my imagination, I said to myself.

Yet, a subconscious part of me wouldn't admit that that was a passing thought. It felt real, it was real. Like that human was in my very room, holding me, holding me, captivating me with only his presence.....

His aura was powerful, the way he enchanted me with just the sight of him.

No way!

No way that had happened.

I still struggled with the realization of it at work. I would find myself in a mythical daze wondering if I would ever get to see him again.

Before I would conclude that I was slowly going crazy, I had to do something. I called my mum, she was the closest to me other than my dad.

It was just funny how such a once happy family had been disrupted to nothing.

Aside, the mirror was said to be a gift from my grandma, so I believed it was more of a family thing. Family should know about it before anyone else.

My mum drove in the following morning in her Honda Jeep, the car that dad had bought for her. Dad had given it up to her. She deserves it, he had said.

"What is the thing that you wanted to show me?" Mum asked as she strolled in.

She was dressed in an opaque purplish gown, her hair donned into short curls. She trimmed her hair low when Emilia had died.

But, mum looked beautiful, she was radiating so much exciting energy that I strangely found myself smiling.

"Mum, you look different," I said to her.

She swirled around in a circle, "am I?" She laughed.

I winced, joking with her, "Don't tell me you are seeing someone soon?"

My mum laughed, "Will you stop with the jokes? You are the one who needs to settle down. You have never had a man in your life, and you are 32! Christ! Who would believe such a thing?"

My brows narrowed, and I turned away. There she goes again, I thought.

"Ma, don't turn the tables on me. This isn't about me," I said.

She laughed, slapping my arm, "show me what you wanted to show me. I'm a busy woman," she intoned.

"Ok, okay. Come with me then."

She followed me to my bedroom and I stopped before the mirror. She frowned, turning to look around.

"What is it? I'm not seeing anything," she said to me.

"Mum, the mirror," I pointed at the mirror which had been moved to the center of the far end of the room.

"Such a beauty," she touched the sculptured wooden part, turning to gape at it with misty eyes. "Why will you place it here?" She stopped to ask me.

"Mum, you don't recognize it?" I asked her.

"Recognize what? this seems brand new to me although ancient given by how the sides are sculptured."

I paused, stunned by her words, "a stranger had sent this to me stating that it was from Emilia, my grandma," I explained.

My mother had raised eyebrows then she busted out in laughter, "Now girl, you must be nuts, where is the letter? I have to see it."

I went in search of it, pulling out my dress drawers where I had placed it. Strangely, I couldn't find it there.

"Where is the letter?" My mother asked towering over me.

Maybe, I was crazy, I left it in the drawers.