Between Two Worlds

Stranger Things

Shay's POV

I was exhausted.

I needed some air.

I took a long drive to Settleton where I lived in after Emilia's burial.

Emilia had written in her will that she was to be cremated, and her ashes placed in the town memorial hall. Her autopsy revealed that she'd died of a heart attack.

I still didn't understand how that had happened. Emilia's death had weakened everyone. She was loved by all.

Dad stopped by but Mum would have none of that. His presence irked her, so Dad had to leave. She had bursted out in a frenzy then he'd finally decided to leave.

At home, I boiled up some water for some coffee, the weather was getting rather cold.

Summer was still young, I thought.

Later, I found myself nestled in the soft sheets of my bed. Home at last, away from all toxicity. Mum can do well without Dad, I assured myself a thousand times.

I woke up the following morning to the sound of my doorbell. Grudgingly, I picked up myself and started for the door.

A young man in a face cap was standing at the door, a smile replaced the worried look on his face when I opened the door.

"Can I help you?" I yawned, covering my mouth. I still had a week left till my resumption at work.

"Good morning. Are you Miss Sharon?" He asked me.

"Yes," I nodded.

"I have a gift sent in by an anonymous fellow," he said.

Anonymous? My eyes bulged out from their sockets. What was he talking about?

"Anonymous? What sort of gift would that be?" I asked him.

In his response, he stretched out a letter to me, "I have no idea, ma'am, I'm just doing my job."

I took the envelope from him while he left to retrieve the gift from his van. I tore up its seal and opened the envelope. It was written in another language, a strange, unknown language.

"What the hell? Is this some sort of joke?" I asked, looking up.

The guy returned with another older guy carting a parceled lengthy object towards me.

"Well, hold up, hold up. I still don't understand...," I stopped them, flipping the written letter to its back.

It read

"From your lovely Granny, Emilia Gae Hart."

I paused, those were the full names of my grandmother. What the hell was happening here?

I allowed them entrance and led them to my bedroom. I was curious to know what the object entailed.

There should be an explanation for this whole thing that seemed like crazy s**t to me. I thanked them and watched them leave. Then, I returned to the object and tore up the standing object.

Puzzled, I turned around for a while and asked if this was just a dream.

A mirror?

From Emilia?

I'd never seen my grandmother write such strange words before. I've lived with her when I was younger, so I'd known that about her.

Yesterday was the day she was buried.

Maybe, I should call back those boys. This must be the wrong place for this mirror. I stopped, moving close to the sculptured wooden case that covered the mirror from the back to its sides.

There was something about it, it pulled me in like a trance.

Like a Deja Vu.

I scoffed, it was just a silly imagination.

Each day that passed, I found myself watching my reflection, meditating on what was so spectacular about the mirror that an anonymous person had to send in my grandmother's mirror as a gift.

I tried to seek out the particular company to enquire about the anonymous sender but strangely they had no record of that.

"This is strange," I told myself.

"Maybe, I should throw this out," I said on second thought.

But I never did. The mirror came as a gift, so I kept it. Whoever was the anonymous sender would surely show himself or herself shortly.

The next week came in and I forgot all about it. Some days, I returned home feeling tired. Other days, I was angered by my colleagues at work.

I sat back on my rocking chair in front of the mirror when I returned from work. I was still dressed, tired, and refused to leavefrom my seat.

As usual, a cup of black coffee was in my hand while I ate some cookies from a close bowl. I still had my puzzled thoughts all to myself.

There was be a reason my granny kept this mirror till she passed away then let me have it. I had no idea that she had this sort of mirror with her.

As I stood up, I noticed a whirlwind was taking form in the mirror instead of my reflection. I froze, wondering what was happening.

I stepped back watching it intently.

Then, the picture of a young man came on. He was sitting in a cave, it was as if I was watching a scene from a television.

My cup of coffee fell from my hand, and that must have switched his attention to me. He snapped at once towards me, looking at me strangely.

No, this must be a dream, I told myself.

He was dressed funnily.

An old drab was wounded around his waist to his thighs. His hair was scrapped on both sides, then the middle overgrown hair was plaited like a woman which fell to his back.

Cowries were stuck in one or three places in his hair.

He touched the screen of the mirror but his hand wasn't penetrating through.

I hugged myself, maybe I was seeing a dream.

He placed both hands on the screen and I jerked backwards, hitting the rocking chair. I looked back at his face, he had rings pierced in his earlobes.

He was beautiful, like a sculptured animation. He had whisk like cat eyes. A quail feather was stuck at the end of his hair.

What country was he from? That he should look this ancient?

His head was moving sideways trying to get a proper view of my face. I moved closer, maybe he was not real. Maybe, he was another one of my imaginations, I thought to myself.

Slowly, I raised my right hand to touch the screen of the mirror. I was touching him but not touching him at the same time.

I repeated the same act with the other hand.

I was touching him but not touching him.

I would wake up from this dream, so I thought.