The Tenth Mirror

Triggers: Occult, Mental health, drug and dsyfucntional family themes.

​Part 1: The Veranda

​"Shh, the water's stopped," Genevieve warned. She crept toward the screen door millimeter by millimeter, her eyes locked on the hallway.

​Alerted, Phineous swivelled in his chair, casually swinging a leg over the armrest. He opened his camera app, angling the lens toward the hallway, ready to hit record while pretending to type.

​"Oh my goodness, 2:08," Phineous muttered. "She managed to get up by 2:00 PM?"

​Wynfryr's face went white. Her hand shook as a bent, hand-rolled joint dangled from her lips. "Oh me, oh my. Shame and scandal in the family," she said, her voice dry with sarcasm.

​The bathroom door creaked open. On the veranda, Genevieve froze, straining to catch the sound of footsteps. Then, the low hum of the hairdryer kicked on.

​Her shoulders dropped, and she exhaled. "False alarm, guys. You can relax."

​Wynfryr grumbled over her smoke. "I wouldn't hold my breath. With her long hair."

​Snap.

​The loud click of Wyn’s lighter startled both siblings. They spun toward her with furious glares.

​"Shh!"

​"WTF, Wyn?"

​Wyn rolled her eyes, blowing smoke toward the garden. "That'll teach ya," she muttered under her breath.

​Genevieve sniffed the air. She looked at Wyn and shook her head in sheer disapproval. "Wyn!"

​Stopping herself from lecturing her infantile sister, Genevieve stepped toward the house. "Anyone for tea?"

​"The usual, darling," Phineous replied.

​Wyn didn't answer, but the moment Genevieve disappeared through the doorway, Wyn screwed up her face and mimicked her in a high, squeaky voice. "Anyone for tea?"

​Overhearing her from his chair, Phineous, aware of why Wyn might be out of sorts, reprimanded her gently, "Attitude, young lady!"

​Wyn took a drag. "Yous two—thick as thieves. I'm the middle child. Anyways, I can't help it. It's my nerves!"

​Phineous’s voice softened, careful not to trigger her further. "It affects us all in different ways, Wyn."

​Wyn stiffened and stared off. "It’s been like this ever since—"

​Phineous quickly gazed toward the kitchen, praying she wasn't going to start. "We know, Wyn. The doll."

Out it all came in a rush. ​"I was lying there, only four years old, Phineous! Imagine that—four years old!" Drusilla's doll’s eyes rolled right into the back of its plastic head!" Wyn dramatised, rolling her own eyes back to the whites and then blinked.

​Phineous nodded in practiced agreement, nervously wringing his hands in his lap. "Yes, yes. But do you think it's good to put yourself through that again?"

​"And then—and then—its head swung my way and its mouth started moving!" Wyn threw her arms around, sending a spray of hot ash into the air. "You know what it said, Phineous?"

​Phineous looked desperately toward the kitchen. He could hear his twin sister's faint clatter of a tray.

​"It said..." Wyn leaned forward, her voice dropping lower, "...You're Satan's daughter!"

​Unaware, Genevieve strode back out onto the veranda right at that second. Eyebrows raised high, Phineous stared straight at her, repeating the last words slowly: "...You're Satan's daughter."

​Genevieve didn't miss a beat. Her face turned sharp as she plonked the teapot and cup onto the coffee table beside him with a heavy thud. "Hibiscus mix for you."

​Without looking at Wynfryr, she blankly shoved the coffee mug into her hand and settled into her own armchair. Gathering her senses, she picked up a magazine and began leafing through the pages until a glossy advertisement caught her attention. She held up the picture and pointed toward Phineous. "Nice pants."

​Feeling totally stonewalled, Wyn butted in. "Sister dearest," she hissed, "they'd make your bum look twice the size." Then she cackled.

​"I wasn't asking you, Wynfryr Boston," snapped Gin, not lowering the page.

​Phineous sighed, rubbing his temples. "Ladies, please."

​Part 2: She's Coming

​Then—silence.

​"Hairdryer's stopped. Everyone take your positions!" Phineous ordered.

​The bathroom door flew open, its knob banging loudly against the wall. From the lounge room, a male voice called out, "Go easy on that door, Drusilla!"

​Both girls straightened instantly in their armchairs, Genevieve smoothing her skirt, Wyn licking the paper of a new cigarette, ears pitched toward the hallway, eyes locked on each other. Drusilla whizzed past—a blur of fluffy pink dressing gown, her Crocs slapping hard against the floorboards until her bedroom door slammed shut.

​A female voice yelled out from the lounge room, "Ugh, what did your father say, Drusilla May Boston?"

​Feeling safe enough to spy, Gin stepped up behind Phineous's chair, staring over his shoulder. "What's she like?" she whispered.

​Phineous squinted, replaying the video on silent.

​"No, stop—go back, go back," Genevieve urged. "Replay that bit."

​"Slow-mo, huh?" Phineous smirked, both of them leaning in. "Yeah, minus 0.5 speed."

​He enlarged the frame. "Look—there are the eyes!"

​A cloud of sweet smoke settled over them both. Genevieve spluttered and choked. "Looks like—cough, cough—the eclipse has got her again—cough, cough."

​Annoyed, Phineous stared at Wyn. "I should tell Dad!"

​Swinging her crossed leg, Wyn pouted and raised her voice. "Control freaks!"

​Both siblings spat back, "Shh! Keep your voice down!"

​Gin added, "Put some incense on before Mum smells it, Drongo!"

​Phineous nodded in agreement. "Yeah!"

​Part 3: The Eisteddfod

​Music drifted from the bedroom. "Ugh, she's playing that lo-o-ove playlist again," Wynfryr groaned.

​Distracted, she eagle-eyed the fence as the neighbor's chihuahua barked, and Wyn barked right back at it, "Woof, woof!"

​The small dog stuck its snout under the fence, growling and snapping. Fixated and giggling, Wyn wandered over to the palings.

​"Watch out, you're gonna fall down the rabbit hole again," Genevieve mocked, reaching over to push Phineous's hand down. "Best you put that away, big brother."

​Phineous agreed with a brief nod as he slid the phone into his pocket. Pouring lukewarm tea from his pot for a second round, his hand shook slightly as he watched his sister drop to the ground, growling, barking, and laughing hysterically under the fence.

​"Gin, she's not the only one. It gets to me, too."

​Gin pushed her knees together, her jaw tightening. "We all react differently, Phineous."

​He continued, "You remember the Eisteddfod, don't you?"

​From inside the house, their mother yelled, "Is she annoying that dog again?"

​Gin called out, "Mum told you to stop, Wyn!"

​"Gin-Gin... that day at the Queensland Eisteddfod," Phineous whined.

​Knowing where this was going, Gin shoved her face into her hands, elbows resting on her knees. "Somebody shoot me!"

​"They welcomed us as Brassall West Primary," Phineous ruminated. "Remember? We all wore our school uniforms. The choir was behind us... Les and Matt in the gum tree suit. You, Lyle, and Bobby in cork hats by the fake campfire and swags."

​Gin didn't look up. "This whole family is mad as a cut snake."

​"Terry in the kookaburra mask with silk wings, Kylie as the crow, Narelle as the Mickey bird. Lucky those wings could spread, hey, Gin! Everyone singing: 'Once a jolly swagman camped by a billabong—'"

​Seeing Genevieve rocking back and forth, he tapped her knee. "Come on, sing with me, Gin."

​"You're going to put me in therapy again!"

​"Oh, come on."

​Gin relented, singing along: "'Under the shade of a coolibah tree, and he sang as he watched and waited 'til his billy boiled: You'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.'"

​They both exhaled—that collective, involuntary sigh every Australian gives after that song.

​"That's when Drusilla got 'The Broadcast.'"

​"Ah. Yes. Of course, The Transmission." Both their minds went completely blank.

​Gin started rattling it off at breakneck speed: "Jimmy was smart enough to bang the cymbals. Lucky we started practising that military tattoo way before Anzac Day, too—you held the square and hit the audience perimeter on the bagpipes while Drusilla was talking gibberish, like WTF, then BOOM: 'Ye behold upon me, war cometh to the region of his excellency the great, and an angel said blood shall spill!' she said. I don't think anyone heard her in the audience, but no one gave that a chance. Oh boy, those girls were fast—swarming in front, flapping bird wings to shield her while I shuffled her offstage. And the band caught on, hitting a totemic drumbeat, choir does a hard-left march."

​They both paused.

​Gin sighed. "The rest is history, love. Standing ovation we got. First prize!"

​Phineous, like the cat who got the cream, added, "Drusilla became the school's sweet spot after that. High five!"

​Part 4: Red Dress

​Drusilla flung her bedroom door open, releasing a sluggish waft of heavily scented perfume.

​As her door banged, her father called out from the lounge, "Drusilla, how many times do we have to tell you?"

​As Drusilla appeared, Phineous sniffed the thick, mossy air and nodded. "Oh, good taste, expensive! Mmm, Guerlain... Mitsouko!"

​Drusilla commanded, "I need help."

​Wyn pushed past her on her way to the toilet. "Well, that's an understatement if ever I heard one," she muttered, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

​Phineous glared at Wyn.

​Indignant, Wyn shot back, "Well, it's true!"

​As a vulnerable Drusilla clutched her corset, squashing it tightly against her chest, Phineous whispered, "She's off her face!"

​Genevieve lunged at the red lace skirt caught on the doorway. "Stop—it'll catch and tear!"

​Out of nowhere, Drusilla burst into tears. "I can't do this!"

​Phineous, wondering if it was that time of the month, stood up and wrapped his arms around his youngest sister. "Oh, what can't you do, honey?"

​She blubbered, "I was scared. The sun burned and burned up the whole earth as I watched!"

​Gathering the red lace skirt, Genevieve locked eyes with Phineous, who was already staring intensely back at her.

​"Oh, baby face, when did the sun burn and burn?" Phineous continued gently, mouthing silently to Gin, Bloody hell!

​"In my dream!" she replied, crying louder.

​Standing up while cradling the bundle of red lace, Gin interrupted softly, "It's only a dream, lovey. Come on, we can go back to your room and get dressed properly. I'll carry this and we can do up your corset."

​From the toilet, Wyn hollered, "I'm not helping her in there! Bad dolly vibes!"

​Phineous, completely fed up with her, yelled back, "Shut your big, fat, ugly mouth, Wynfryr!"

​She replied blowing a loud raspberry.

​The utter rudeness brought an abrupt halt to Drusilla's sobs.

​Noticing the hooks on the skirt, then eyeing the eyelets along the waist, Gin asked, "Does this have a bustle?"

​Drusilla nodded, dragging her open fingers back through her hair against her scalp, exaggerating a dramatic pout.

​Gin's voice trailed from the hallway, "Phineous, can you style her hair when I'm finished?"

​Since he genuinely loved styling all his sisters' hair, Phineous agreed. "Just get yourself dressed, I'll be right in." Then he paused, calling out, "Where are you going, anyway?"

​Washing her hands at the basin, Wyn answered, "Brynhyfryd Castle."

​In the bedroom, pulling the corset strings tight, Genevieve commanded, "Breathe in."

​While Wyn teased from the hallway, "With her new boyfriend, Lucas!"

​Shocked, Drusilla stuck her head out the doorway. "How do you know that, Wynfryr? I've told no one!"

​Wyn replied in her usual squeaky voice, "I have ways and means."

​Phineous, amused in a weird way, enquired, "Wyn, you haven't been hacking her phone, have you?"

​Part 5: The Ball

​The side gate rattled. Phineous looked toward the front of the house as a young man appeared. His top hat made him look taller, and the black Victorian tailcoat made him look thinner. Oblivious to Phineous's presence, he pulled a pocket watch from his green velvet vest, smiling to himself. "On time."

​"Have you ever heard of a front door?" Phineous asked defensively, interrupting him.

​The young man extended his hand, apologizing in a deep voice that didn't match his slight frame. "Beg my pardon. I believe you must be the brother, Phineous."

​His eyes moved swiftly toward Wyn. She immediately tucked her knees up on her chair and rubbed her bloodshot eyes, avoiding his gaze while spitting out, "She's not ready yet!"

​Turning toward the house, Wyn yelled at the top of her lungs, "Dad! Mum! Drusilla's boyfriend's here!"

​The side window slid open and two heads popped out. "What boyfriend?"

​Moments later, their father appeared on the veranda, crossing his arms. "Haven't you heard of a front door, mate?"

​Siding with him, Phineous piped up, "That's what I said!"

​Their mother slammed the window shut, her voice echoing from inside: "Drusilla, what's going on?!"

​Drusilla pushed past her mother and Gin, who were hogging the doorway. "What has gotten into you all?"

​Besotted by his partner's appearance, Lucas tipped his hat, sweeping into a deep bow. "Mademoiselle."

​Her mother pulled Drusilla back from him. "We don't speak French here, young man!" she said, narrowing her eyes.

​Lucas swallowed hard and corrected to English, looking directly at Drusilla. "It is getting late, my beautiful Joan of Arc."

​Phineous snarled at his audacity, "Oh, Joan of Arc! Mocking names do hurt!"

​Lucas raised an eyebrow high as the family pressed around Drusilla like a human shield. Clutching her husband's hand, her mother mouthed to him, Do something!

​Wandering over to the fence and squinting out at the front footpath, the father motioned toward Lucas. "Is the hearse some sort of joke?"

​"No, Mr. Boston. It belongs to my business, Le Vant Funeral Company."

​"Is that the one on Warwick Road?"

​Lucas nodded. Used to de-escalating traumatized families on a daily basis, he kept a polite physical distance and offered softly, "It's a customized 1950s Ford."

​Her father softened. "Well, she's a beauty. Well kept. Must've cost a mint."

​Lucas extended his hand again. "Mr. Boston, my name is Lucas Le Vant. I beg your permission to take your daughter to the Brynhyfryd Castle Eclipse Ball."

​Her father looked back at the family, who gave a silent nod of agreement. "Well, it's getting on, Drusilla and Lucas. We don't want to keep you."

​Part 6: The Change of Guard

​Lucas held his hand out flat at Drusilla's shoulder level. Drusilla accepted, resting her hand on his as he gave a soft clasp, their palms held high between them.

​Together, they strode toward the gate.

​The family huddled together on the veranda.

​"He's rich," Wyn whispered.

​"Oh, Wyn, you didn't, did you?" Genevieve scolded, half-amused.

​Phineous squinted, tracking Drusilla’s stride, reporting wickedly, "She's still walking straight."

​Her father looked on. "Well, are we surprised?" he said sarcastically.

​Gin shook her head. "You men."

​"Oh, heaven forbid," Mum chimed in. "Are you two talking about what I think you're talking about?"

​Phineous added wryly, "She's still a virgin, Mum!"

​Instantly, Drusilla and Lucas swung around. In perfect unison, they raised identical wooden stag masks over their faces, their eyes glaring cold through the carved eyeholes.

​At that exact second, every phone in the vicinity shrieked—a piercing, national emergency test alarm echoing across the entire neighborhood.

​And just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

​Something shifted in the air; everything went hollow, as if a massive, unseen responsibility had just lifted from the family and transferred to Lucas.

​Wyn breathed freely for the first time since she was four. Phineous stretched his arms, no longer feeling boxed in. The exhaustion of 29 years dropped off the parent's faces, even as a profound sadness settled into their hearts.

​Squinting at the authoritative, orange smoky haze clinging to Lucas, the father mumbled softly, "It's like the guard has changed."

​Part 7: Ten Mirrors Deep

​Behind his mask, ten mirrors deep in the line of glass, Lucas leaned close to Drusilla and whispered in soft, heavy French:

​"Pucelle d'Orléans... nos retrouvailles ont été trop longues."

(Maid of Orléans... our reunion took too long.)

​Drusilla looked back, her voice quiet. "J'avais peur du feu, monsieur."

(I feared the fire, monsieur.)

​Lucas tilted his head, his gaze steady through the carved eyeholes. "Tu n'as jamais eu peur du feu. En vérité, tu craignais le vœu que tu as fait dans les flammes."

(You have never feared the fire. In truth, you feared the wish you made in the flames.)

​Drusilla took one last look at the veranda. "C'était trop grand pour eux. Ils ne pouvaient pas comprendre, mais ils ont essayé de me protéger."

(It was too big for them. They couldn't understand, but they tried to protect me.)

​"Tu vois donc ta folie maintenant, petit oiseau ?"

(So you see your foolishness now, little bird?)

​"Oui. C'était mon désir."

(Yes. It was my desire.)

​Lucas murmured gently, "Sainte, pécheresse... deux faces d'une même pièce."

(Saint, sinner... two sides of the same coin.)

​She let out a soft breath, the long tension finally dissolving from her shoulders as she took his arm. "Alors, que tout s'achève ici."

(Then let it end here.)