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Mirros that kill

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Sun Mar 12, 2006 10:08 pm
concertchick16 says...



“Click” the lock sounds, and I breathe a sigh of relief. What if he’s serious? What if he’s not lying? “Stop it Nicky, he was just messing with you,” admonishing myself seems silly. Sure it might be possible, but only if he was a ghost or some other kind of spirit. How ridicules, I’ve held his hand. He isn’t even transparent. He really had me going there.

Stifling a chuckle I take a step towards the sink. Glistening counters paired with immaculate mirrors gives this bathroom a sterile feel. I’m not sure if I like it or not, though I can always redecorate once I’ve bought the house. Satisfied with the idea, I turn on the water. Hot water gushes out of the fountain. Water heater needs to be reset also. Making a mental note to myself I quickly turn on the cold water. Even so the mirror above the sink fogs up.

“Nicky…,” only a whisper, I’m not even sure I heard it. Ignoring the slight tingle on the back of my neck I shove my hands under the stream of lukewarm water. “Nicky,” much louder this time the voice startles me. He sounds concerned.

Turning my head towards the door I yell “Hon, I’m in the bathroom.” He doesn’t respond, and I wonder why. I better go back out there. Quickly I turn off the water and reach for the towel lying on the counter.

“Nicky…” this time his voice sounds like he’s taunting me. Should I spray my hair before I go back? Nah, he won’t care. Taking once last glance at my reflection in the mirror I smile. What’s that? It looks like a red spot under my eye. Leaning closer to the mirror I place my hands on the counter to support my weight. It is a red spot, I reach one hand up and rub the spot. It’s spreading.

Coming from the mirror is a slight whisper “Nicky I found you.”

“OK now I’m scared. Stop it John!” Yelling through a door seems quite ridicules, when the sound came from the mirror. That sounds even more ridicules, from a mirror. What will people think of me? They’ll think I’m crazy, that’s what they’ll think.

The mirror its just a mirror that’s all. Stop hallucinating. Just look at the mirror its nothing, just a large flat pane of glass stretching from one side of the counter to the other. There’s a tiny smudge where I’m looking. As I lean closer I notice it’s positioned right where the red spot under my eye is. The smudge seems to be growing, the closer I get. It resembles him in a way. “He wouldn’t like being compared to a smudge on a mirror.”

“No I wouldn’t,” suddenly the smudge changes from resembling him to him. Springing from the mirror he lunges at my throat.
____________________________________________________________________________¬¬¬

Flattening my body against the wall, I squeeze my eyes shut. Upon opening my eyes I let out my breath. I’ve been holding it, without even realizing. The hallway I’m standing in is dark. Too dark, unable to see even my hand, I must trust. “Please God if your there, don’t let him be up here. Don’t let him see me. Please. ” even though I’m thinking the words they sound desperate. Laying my palms flat on the wall, I slowly slid my foot sideways. The hallway is only 3 feet across. If anyone else is in here, they would only need to pass next to me, and they would touch me. Where are the stairs? If I go too far everything will be ruined. The stairs, no! There were at least 12 mirrors following the path of the winding staircase I’m trying to find. Why did I even listen to him?

“Nicky, darling, where are you? I can’t find you. Are you hiding from me?” His voice reverberates off the walls. Coming from no particular direction it’s everywhere.

Now he knows. Where can I go, can he see me right now in this hallway?

“Darling…” Drawing the word out, he makes it drip with sarcasm. Even the sound of his voice repulses me. Amazing, just knowing about the mirrors eliminated my trust in him. So there are mirrors in this hallway. Staying as far away from the glass as I can; I run.

”AH! There you are. Come back!” Laced with hatred a voice I’ve never heard rings out. A hand snatches the end of my hair; twisting its fingers, around and around, pulling me closer, and closer.

No! You won’t get me like this. I will leave this house. Determination surges through me. Angry now, I twist me body around till I can see the hand. Thin white fingers enter laced through my brown hair. “Let go of me! You demon let me go!” A hysterical voice that sounds nothing like my own; erupts from my mouth. Followed by my hands clawing at the arm. Piercing the mirrors glossy surface is the elbow of my attacker. Get rid of the mirror. The statement is simple, yet the only possible escape. The mirror has an elaborate frame consisting of intertwined metal. I’m sorry to break the mirror but I must. Before I can change my resolve I smash the mirror with my hand. The mirror shatters, as the pieces fall to the ground the hand disintegrates into flat panes of glass.

“Break a mirror, for seven years you’ll have bad luck. That was a very big mistake Nicky,” Laughter follows the statement.

My eyes quickly glance up. The mirror is no longer a mirror. Now it is an empty frame; just a harmless frame, hanging on a wall. "Is he right? He always is,”


I've already posted this in OTHER FICTION, i'm not sure if this could pass as action or not. Anyhow please critique, i need help!
"no, i don't hate you, don't wanna fight you, know i'll always love you but right now i just don't like you..."




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Sun Mar 12, 2006 11:56 pm
hekategirl says...



Well, I don't think the first and second part really connected very well.

“Click” the lock sounds, and I breathe a sigh of relief. What if he’s serious? What if he’s not lying? “Stop it Nicky, he was just messing with you,” admonishing myself seems silly. Sure it might be possible, but only if he was a ghost or some other kind of spirit. How ridicules, I’ve held his hand. He isn’t even transparent. He really had me going there.


OK, this confuses me, I the dialouge in there her talking to herself or is it this mysterious, John person? I'll get back to him later. But anyway, it really confused me. I fit is herself you should proably take the quaoatations out and just make it Italic.
Also:

What if he’s serious? What if he’s not lying?


Who is HE??? If this is the beginning of your story you can't leave so many empty spaces in the puzzle. Pretty much the whole first paragraph kept me going "Huh?"

OK, 'John' who is he? what is he? what relationship does she have to this girl? Please explain!

“No I wouldn’t,” suddenly the smudge changes from resembling him to him. Springing from the mirror he lunges at my throat.


Now, is 'Him' 'John' or what? try to use better refrences, like for John, you could say (If I'm right) my boyfriend, or my husband. Insted of just saying "Him" or "He.

Flattening my body against the wall, I squeeze my eyes shut.


I though she was in front of a sink? how can she flatten her body up against that? has she moved? is she imagining?

You are a very good writer, but this story needs alot of work. But keep at it!
***Honorary 11-Year-Old***

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Wed Mar 15, 2006 12:37 am
Misty says...



“Click” the lock sounds, and I breathe a sigh of relief. What if he’s serious? What if he’s not lying? “Stop it Nicky, he was just messing with you,” admonishing myself seems silly. Sure it might be possible, but only if he was a ghost or some other kind of spirit. How ridicules, I’ve held his hand. He isn’t even transparent. He really had me going there.


Not sure if I like this for a beginning. Seems like you could have starte dstronger. The questioning bit was all right but most people (except in horror movies) don't talk to themselves outloud, so maybe you should italicize that bit instead of parenthesis. Ridicules is Ridiculous.

“Nicky…” this time his voice sounds like he’s taunting me."


Chilling. I quite like this bit.

"Should I spray my hair before I go back? Nah, he won’t care. Taking once last glance at my reflection in the mirror I smile. What’s that? It looks like a red spot under my eye. Leaning closer to the mirror I place my hands on the counter to support my weight. It is a red spot, I reach one hand up and rub the spot. It’s spreading.


Coming from the mirror is a slight whisper “Nicky I found you.”'

Brilliant. I can't say any more than that---it's excellent. However, since you never elaborate on the hairspray bit, and where "going back" is, this doens't make much sense.

“No I wouldn’t,” suddenly the smudge changes from resembling him to him. Springing from the mirror he lunges at my throat.[/qupte]

hmm....not so sure if I like that bit. Nope. Doesn't make sense and it was cooler to think that the smudge was him trying to disease her.

”AH! There you are. Come back!” Laced with hatred a voice I’ve never heard rings out. A hand snatches the end of my hair; twisting its fingers, around and around, pulling me closer, and closer.


put a comma after hatred. the last sentence= pristine.

Okay, this first bit doesn't make much sense but once you post more I'm sure I'll understand. The mirrors are interesting, but I really really don't get what's going on, I just need some more to go off of so I'll see if you posted some more. For the most part, this seems a bit like a cheesy horror flick.




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Wed Mar 15, 2006 7:00 am
concertchick16 says...



I know the beginning is one big question. literally. i thought about him diseasing her. but the clencher is only she sees the spots...to everyone else she looks perfect. So he drives her crazy or some other stupid end. the only thing is, what parts should i modify so they dont sound like a cheesy horror flick? the guy? man? isn't real he lives BEHIND the mirros behind every mirror. he's her imagined boyfriend that turns on her i think. not sure yet!
Thank you sooo much for the help
"no, i don't hate you, don't wanna fight you, know i'll always love you but right now i just don't like you..."




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Wed Mar 15, 2006 6:16 pm
concertchick16 says...



“Click” the lock to the bathroom door sounds, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Resting my back against the door I ponder what John had just told me. What if he’s serious? What if he’s not lying? Stop it Nicky, he was just messing with you, admonishing myself seems silly. John can only be described as the best boyfriend anyone has ever had. But, why then do I feel so scared?

John will wonder where I’ve taken off to. While he made popcorn, for our nightly movie I used the bathroom excuse, to slip away. Usually I can sit with John for hours, but tonight I’m scared, of him. Just before going to the kitchen to make the popcorn, John showed me a mirror. The frame was beautiful, and at first I thought he was showing me its intricate design. Instead though, he wanted to show me how he could move through the mirror.

I laughed at first, and asked him to show me how he did it. He told me he couldn’t, that it was impossible for me or any other mortal to do it. When he mentioned mortal I could only laugh. That’s when he told me he wasn’t real, that no other than me could see him; not until he was free.

It had to have been a trick. Satisfied I step away from the door. Glistening counters paired with immaculate mirrors gives this bathroom a sterile feel. I don’t like it; the mirror takes up half of the wall. It scares me. Determined to get out of the bathroom and away from the mirror as quickly as possible I turn on the water. Hot water gushes out of the fountain, quickly I turn on the cold water. Even so the mirror above the sink fogs up.

“Nicky…,” only a whisper, I’m not even sure I heard it. Ignoring the slight tingle on the back of my neck I shove my hands under the stream of lukewarm water. “Nicky,” much louder this time the voice startles me. He sounds concerned.

Turning my head towards the door I yell “Hon, I’m in the bathroom.” He doesn’t respond, and I wonder why. I better go back out to the living room. I’m sure the popcorn’s done by now. Quickly I turn off the water and reach for the towel lying on the counter.

“Nicky…” this time his voice sounds like he’s taunting me. Should I spray my hair before I go back? Nah, he won’t care. Taking once last glance at my reflection in the mirror, I place the hairspray on the counter and smile. What’s that? It looks like a red spot under my eye. Leaning closer to the mirror I place my hands on the counter to support my weight. It is a red spot; I reach one hand up and rub the spot. It spreads as if it’s red paint.

Coming from the mirror is a slight whisper “Nicky I found you.”

“OK now I’m scared. Stop it John!” Yelling through a door seems quite ridicules, when the sound came from the mirror. That sounds even more ridicules, from a mirror. What will people think of me? They’ll think I’m crazy, that’s what they’ll think. Getting paranoid; because of a magic trick.

The mirror it’s just a mirror that’s all. Stop hallucinating. Just look at the mirror its nothing, just a large flat pane of glass stretching from one side of the counter to the other. There’s a tiny smudge where I’m looking. As I lean closer I notice it’s positioned right where the red spot under my eye is. The smudge seems to be growing, the closer I get. It resembles him in a way.

“He wouldn’t like being compared to a smudge on a mirror.”

“No I wouldn’t,” suddenly the smudge changes from resembling him to him. Springing from the mirror he lunges at my throat. My first instinct was to scream, my second was to run. I did neither instead I grabbed the bottle of hairspray.
________________________________________________________

Flattening my body against the wall, I squeeze my eyes shut. Upon opening my eyes I let out my breath. I’ve been holding it, without even realizing. I’m sure John’s made at me now. After grabbing the hairspray I caught him off guard by spraying it in his eyes. It wasn’t a magic trick. He really is bound to the mirrors by a thread deeper than any physical object.

The hallway ouside the bathroom door, where I’m standing is dark. Too dark, unable to see even my hand, I must trust. “Please God if your there, don’t let him be up here. Don’t let him see me. Please. ” even though I’m thinking the words they sound desperate. Laying my palms flat on the wall, I slowly slid my foot sideways. The hallway is only 3 feet across. If anyone else is in here, they would only need to pass next to me, and they would touch me. Where are the stairs? If I go too far everything will be ruined. The stairs, no! There were at least 12 mirrors following the path of the winding staircase I’m trying to find. Why did I even listen to him?

“Nicky, darling, where are you? I can’t find you. Are you hiding from me?” His voice reverberates off the walls. Coming from no particular direction it’s everywhere.

Now he knows. Where can I go, can he see me right now in this hallway?

“Darling…” Drawing the word out, he makes it drip with sarcasm. Even the sound of his voice repulses me. Amazing, just knowing about the mirrors eliminated my trust in him. So there are mirrors in this hallway. Staying as far away from the glass as I can; I run.

”AH! There you are. Come back!” Laced with hatred, a voice I’ve never heard rings out. A hand snatches the end of my hair; twisting its fingers, around and around, pulling me closer, and closer.

No! You won’t get me like this. I will leave this house. Determination surges through me. Angry now, I twist me body around till I can see the hand. Thin white fingers enter laced through my brown hair. “Let go of me! You demon let me go!” A hysterical voice that sounds nothing like my own; erupts from my mouth. Followed by my hands clawing at the arm. Piercing the mirrors glossy surface is the elbow of my attacker. Get rid of the mirror. The statement is simple, yet the only possible escape. The mirror has an elaborate frame consisting of intertwined metal. I’m sorry to break the mirror but I must. Before I can change my resolve I smash the mirror with my hand. The mirror shatters, as the pieces fall to the ground the hand disintegrates into flat panes of glass.

“Break a mirror, for seven years you’ll have bad luck. That was a very big mistake Nicky,” Laughter follows the statement.

My eyes quickly glance up. The mirror is no longer a mirror. Now it is an empty frame; just a harmless frame, hanging on a wall. "Is he right? He always is,”

Does this flow better? Is the transition still confusing? Thanks soooo much for the critique~
"no, i don't hate you, don't wanna fight you, know i'll always love you but right now i just don't like you..."




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Wed Mar 15, 2006 6:52 pm
Misty says...



Haha. You are quite very welcome. :P

This is much better. I especially like the added bits. It is excellent like that, now you are only missing one thing: Motive.

What is John's motive for turning against her when they were just eating popcorn and watching a movie. What I would do is have her having broken up with her ghostly boyfriend the night before because she's scared of him and have a date for that evening. Mr. Jealous comes to her house through the mirrors and tries to get her. What you need to do is SHOW her breaking up with him the night before, explain her walking home, her beings sad and scared, her house, her bed, her bedroom, her hair, her eyes. Show her at work in a grocery store and show a hottie asking her out and show show show show show. Don't rush into anything, take it nice and slow, there is no rush, you have all the space you need for this story.

You don't have to use that exact idea, and the revised bit was better than the original, but John has to have motive. That's the important part. Also, you want us to sympathize with your character. That means we have to know her. So far as I know, all we know about her is...well, her name. I have to know her before I can understand her, and I have to understand her before I can sympathize with her.

I hope this helped, you're off to a promising start. I'll keep checking up on this, I quite like it. :P

hearts and hugs
~Misty Lynn




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Wed Mar 15, 2006 6:54 pm
Misty says...



Sorry one last thing:

It's the little thing in this story that makes it excellent. The bit about the hairspray. The dot under her eye. Her breaking the mirror. Those small details that make up the infrastructure of the story. :P Anyway, it's very promising, I just wanted to let you know.




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Mon Apr 24, 2006 2:36 am
Sledgehammer says...



It's a great story, but too many typos. I mean, the first sentence is a typo! Besides the many glaring grammar flaws, though, it is a very chilling tale.

concertchick16 wrote:“Break a mirror, for seven years you’ll have bad luck. That was a very big mistake Nicky,” Laughter follows the statement.


I LOVE this part.