The Mirror in the Attic

I step onto the crooked walkway, each stone uneven beneath my feet as the gothic mansion rises before me. I have always loved this house. The three-story Victorian towers on the edge of the mountain. Half swallowed by the embrace of overgrown vines contrasting against its jet-black facade. The steeply pitched gabled roof cuts into the sky, while massive stained-glass windows shimmer as the sun begins to set. At the very top, the turret juts from the attic.

My grandmother’s house is like no other. She passed away 3 months ago, and the news shattered me. She was my best friend. Whenever I needed comfort, I came to her house. She would brew us tea and we’d climb up to the attic and sit in the turret for hours. Watching the river as I poured out all my sorrows. Watching it flow always calmed me, as if each worry I carried drifted away with the current. I miss those moments. I miss her.

I walk up the creaky front steps the wood beneath me groaning. “I need to get these fixed.” I mutter to myself. The wrap around porch blanketed in leaves falling off the trees. Grandma would never have let the place look like this. In her will, she named me – her only grandchild—as the sole beneficiary. She left me everything: the house and nearly five million dollars. It’s been hard for me to come here since she passed. But I know I can’t avoid it forever. The leaves crunching under my boots I unlock the door and step inside.

Closing the door behind me, the soft click echoing through the stillness. In the entryway I paused atop the black and white checkered marble floors. The room is covered in intricate woodwork adorns. This house has always been as breathtaking as it is haunted. Shadows have always lurked in the corners and crossed through doorways. They’ve never scared me.

The grand staircase loomed ahead, zigzagging its way up to the third floor. To my right the sitting room unfolded in quiet elegance—an antique purple velvet couch flanked by two matching chairs, all arranged to face the massive bay window that bathed the room in soft, filtered light. To my left was the living room, though it felt more like a lush sanctuary. My grandmother adored her plants, and the space still overflowed with them—ferns, ivy, and her beloved black velvet alocasias, their dark leaves gleaming like silk. I got my love of darkness from her. Just beyond the staircase ahead, a hallway stretched towards the kitchen, the black and white checkered marble continuing throughout.

I ascend to the stairs and walk up to the third floor. As I get to the wooden arched door, I turn the handle and the door creaks open. The attic was grand. Bookshelves lined every wall, brimming with stories and secrets. My grandmother was a famous author. Reading and writing was her life. Naturally, plants were scattered throughout space, breathing life into every corner. I step up into the turret and take a seat on the window seat. Starring out at the river like I used to with grandma. A cold shiver crawls down my spine. “I feel you.” I say out loud knowing she’s around. “I miss you so much grandma.” I quiver as a tear runs down my cheek.

Eeeek.

My head shoots back into the large room and I see a bookcase slightly open. “What the hell?” I wipe away the tears and walk over to the bookshelf. I open it further and my eyes widen when I see a small room. Dusty boxes and cobwebs fill the room. An old rocking chair in the corner and a mirror covered with a white sheet in the back.

Why did I never know about this room? Why would grandma keep it a secret? My phone in my back pocket starts buzzing. I pull it out and see Maren at the top with a picture of us as the display on the screen. I answer, “Hey! Are you almost here?” Maren is my best friend. She is coming to stay with me for a few weeks to keep me company while I fix up a couple things at the house. Honestly, I hate the thought of being alone here without grandma. Having Maren here will be a nice distraction.

“I’ll be there in half an hour you better have wine glasses ready to go. I need a drink after this long drive.” She mused. “They are all ready on the counter.” I assured her. I think I need it just as much as she does. “Okay I can’t wait to see you!” she adds in before hanging up.

Maren has always been the only other person to know just how to cheer me up. Other than grandma of course. We have been best friends since middle school when she moved here with her mom after her dad passed away. A year prior my mom had passed away. So, we bonded over losing our parents. I never really had my dad to talk to. He shut down after she passed. They were together for 20 years. He stayed in his study a lot of the time drinking his sorrows away while I tended to myself. Eventually losing his job and at risk of losing the house. Grandma stepped in and paid off the mortgage and gave us enough money to keep us living comfortably.

Tires crunch up the gravel driveway. I leave the bookshelf ajar. We will explore the secret room later. I run down the stairs and Maren’s feet barely touch the floor before I tackle her in a hug. “I’m so happy you’re here!” I beam. “Oh my gosh Elara! It’s so good to see you!” She squeals as she hugs me back even tighter. “This place is just how I remember it. Beautiful yet creepy just how Lucille liked it.” She chuckles. It has been almost 2 years since we have seen each other. Maren moved to Colorado to be closer to her dad’s side of the family after graduating from college. Her and her mom Margaret have always struggled to get along— even before her father passed away, so she wanted to get as far away from her as possible.

Neither of us felt like we had a connection with our only living parents. We would go to my grandma’s house to escape and spent a lot of time sharing eerie conspiracy theories and writing ghost stories in our secret journal. Maren has always been a protector of me she is the energetic and bold one while I am more of the introvert and keep to myself type.

Our wine glasses are filled to the brims as we walk out of the house and sit on the rocking chairs on the front porch watching the sun set behind the mountain. The sky is breathtaking as the blue and pink cotton candy colors scatter across the sky, the last of the suns rays dancing across the waves of the river. “I miss coming here.” Maren sighs. “I love Colorado. But the big city life can be overwhelming.” “Why don’t you move back?” I ask. “You can live here with me. There’s more than enough room. And we can run the bookstore together.” I look at her hoping she accepts the offer. I really don’t know what I am going to do in this big house by myself.

“I was hoping you would ask” Maren says with a sense of relief. “What about your family? And your job?” I question. “They are great but we don’t get together as much as we used to with all of our busy schedules. I don’t know it feels lonely.” She pauses. “My job is everything I have ever wanted but it feels like something is missing.” She continues. “I wish I was able to be here for the funeral. I know I keep saying it, but truly I am so sorry.” She looks at me with sadness in her eyes. I break away from her stare and look down at my hands holding my almost empty wine glass. “It’s okay, I know you had a lot going on.” It really hurt when Maren couldn’t attend the funeral. She was the one person I needed the most. But try to not hold it against her, she had just started her dream job.

redirecting the conversation, I ask her “Can I show you something?” She shoots me a look, and the edges of her lips curl up. “Of course.” She says intrigued. I grab 2 flashlights out of the kitchen drawer and we hike up the stairs heading for the entrance if the attic. “What are we doing up here?” She quirks a brow. “You’ll see.” I smirk. I open the bookcase door and her tan skin goes ghostly white. “What is this? A secret room?” She smacks my arm. “Ow!” I gape at her rubbing where it stings. “Why did you not show me this before.” She pouts. “I never knew this room existed.” I grumble. “I was up here earlier sitting inside the turret looking out at the river and it opened on its own.”

She moves passed me into the room. “What is all of this stuff?” she muttered while walking around the small room. “I don’t know. It must be grandmas things, I didn’t have time to go through anything, you arrived shortly after.” We sat on the floor both of us with a flash light in one hand and going through the objects in the boxes with our other. “This one has a bunch of old leather woven spell books.” Maren stated. She blew off the dust covering one of the books. I scooched to her so we could look at it together. There was a range of different spells and rituals from love spells, money spells and rituals to bring someone back to life. One in particular caught my eye. ‘Calling through the veil’ I grab the book from Maren’s hands. Scanning the page it talks about connecting with a lost loved one through a ritual. “Why would grandma have these?” I mutter. “I don’t know but I think we should put it back.” Maren warns.

A gust of wind catches both of our attentions. We shine our lights to the back of the room. We freeze as we watch the white sheet covering the mirror fall to the ground like someone had pulled it down. A shadow very visibly shoots across the mirror. Maren's eyes widen with horror. “I think we should go” her voice has a tone of urgency. We leave the room and both go to our rooms and go to bed. That’s enough for tonight.

The next day we make our way down the mountain to the bookstore. Binding Books is my prophecy, a small, cozy bookstore nestled along the main strip of Moonstone, Washington — a quiet town tucked between the two greatest peaks on the west coast. After giving her a tour of the bookstore we hangout for a few hours and pack up a couple of ‘blind date with a book’ orders. Before we leave I pull out a book from my bag. “Is that what I think it is?” Her stare burning holes into me. “Yes, look at this.” I bring the page up that has the ritual. “Calling through the veil?" She stops after the words leave her mouth. “No” She spits out. “We are not doing this” She objects. “Come on, this could be the only thing I can do to see grandma one more time and tell her everything I have been longing to for months. You owe me this.” Those last words came out without even thinking. My eyes meet hers and she for once looks speechless. “I’m so so—” “No, you’re right” she interjects. “What do we need to do?” We stop at a Mystic Boutique on the way home and grab everything we need.

We sit on the floor of the turret, the spell book between us, candles lit in a circle around us. “Wait” I shot up. “The mirror. In the book it says we need a mirror so she can come through.” Maren gave me that nervous look again. The both of us struggled to move the full body length mirror perched on its sleek metal stand across the attic floor. ‘‘God this thing is heavy.” She groaned. Finally, we got it. We sit back down, the candle flames flickering around us. I put grandmas picture in a bowl in front of us and sprinkle salt and rosemary around it. Maren and I join hands and start the chant.

“By candles light and memory’s flame,

I call your spirit and speak your name.

From time’s embrace and shadows fore,

Step through the veil, be lost no more.

With love I call, heart to heart,

Let soul and soul no longer part.

Come close, come near, in this time,

This sacred space, your voice and mine.”

The mirror’s surface ripples like water from the river. Maren and I stop, our gazes seared on the mirror. Slowly grandma’s face appears in the mirror. I let out a long breath I didn’t know I was holing in and a tear drops down my face when she says, “Hello, my little moonbeam.” Her soft smile warming my heart. The tears almost streaming at this point. “Grandma.” My voice quivers. “I have missed you so much, I didn’t even know if this was going to work.” Grandma nods her head. “I miss you too sweetheart. I hope you are enjoying the house.” “I have so much to tell you—” My words come to a halt. Grandmas' features start to twist. “Grandma?” I crawl towards the mirror. “What’s happening?” Maren whispers, her voice trembling with fear. Grandma’s smile stretches unnaturally, her eyes turning black. Before I can comprehend what I’m seeing, a gnarled black hand with claws thick and hooked like talons juts out from the mirror. Screams fill the air. The flames of the candles vanish. The house groans like it’s coming alive. “Elara?” Maren squeaks. It’s too dark to see in here with the lights off and the candles no longer burning. I feel around and finally finding her we cling to each other not knowing what’s to come. “What do we do?” She cries. “I don’t know.” My voice barely above a whisper.

Thud.

“What was that?” Her body trembling against mine. Ripped from my hold, a horrible blood curtling scream rings in my ears. “No!” I yell. “Maren!” I feel all around me trying to find her. “Maren?” I shout. No response. I find the lighter we used to light the candles and flick the lint wheel the flame illuminating the space. Maren is gone. And so is the reflection in the mirror. “Oh my god.” Tears streaming down my face, I run into the main room of the attic stumbling over my feet. I quickly hit the lights. No sign of her anywhere. I drop to the floor, my chest heaving. My heart feeling like it has been ripped out of my chest. “What did I do?” I’m so angry with myself. I should have listened to her. I can’t handle losing Maren too.

I stand up and charge towards the mirror taking a marble bookend off of one of the bookshelves. “Give her back!” I yell as I smash the bookend into the mirror again and again. I’m yelling at nothing, Maren is gone. Shattered glass covers the floor in front of me. I drop to my knees sitting there staring at the glass covered floor, I look over at the spell book. I pick it up and skim through the pages, there has to be something in here to help. I stop when I see a page with a ritual called ‘Crossing the Veil.’ I look back at the broken mirror. “I’m coming Maren.”