This was written so late, with me being very tired. It sucks, but it might be better.
It's going to be part of a series of shorts called Peruvian Magic, possibly.
Please rip it. Please gorge on it. Please do whatever you ravens do
The Laughing Mirror
It had always been odd to laugh in the Tiberius House. Lysander had always known that, as it was an act of sin. Leisurely enjoyment was banned in the Tiberius House, by accord of Lord Tiberius Black himself.
So funnily enough, Lysander was shocked to hear the sound of deafening laughter coming from somewhere in the House.
Lysander Black was an orderly young teenager, brought up by the strictest pair of parents he could have – Tiberius and Persephone Black. Known for their obsessions over superstition, the Black family was mocked by most of the community who knew them. They couldn't care less, though, they had enough money to distract them.
As a matter of fact, Lysander had heard rumours from Maid Dottie that the pair had recently purchased a “Laughing Mirror” from a group of Peruvian Witches. It seemed logical that the laughter somewhere in the House was linked to the mysterious mirror.
He knew he shouldn't, but if his parents wanted to hide the purchase, they should not have bought something that guffawed.
Attempting to follow the sound, he glided along the corridors silently. It was lunch hour, the busiest time in the House – so Lysander had to be careful. He could not be caught out of his room between certain hours. Dodging maids, waiters, butlers and guests, he lodged himself into a wall crevice.
What struck Lysander as odd, was the oblivious tone of the household. No-one seemed to turn their heads or take any notice to the laughter. They saw Lysander, as he distinctly saw the maids smile at him (being of age now, the maids tended to catch his attention more and more).
The laughter was seemingly louder now, meaning closer. It wasn't a short trip from his room, which was even more odd. If Tiberius and Persephone wanted to keep it hidden, they would have put the purchase in the basement or the safe rooms. That's if it was the purchase at all, it was just a rumour.
But Lysander had a feeling. As if he could “sense” the Mirror – he could even imagine the intricate detail in it's head. The golden frames, the sheen of white that was omitted from such a magical object, and the absence of a true reflection.
Lysander waited until a guest swept passed, and stepped out to listen properly. Realising that it sounded pretty close, he spun round and noticed there was many doors that lead to even more doors, which evidently lead to even more doors.
He decided that the Vanity Room was his best bet – one of Persephone's many. But before he went in, he understood how crazy this was.
He just didn't do things like this. Lysander Black, well-educated and sensible, would never creep into the restricted areas. He wouldn't go looking for a mystical mirror. Maybe that was the essence of the mirror.
He decided he was taking too long to enter, and with a thrust of his wrist, he pushed the door open to find an empty room.
Completely empty. No mirror. No people. No anything. He took a short intake of breath, but couldn't hear it – no sound. The empty vanity room. Ironic, really.
He also realised, that there was no more laughing. No distant laughing from another room, it had just stopped. He had a few seconds to gather these thoughts when it all turned around.
A huge impact of sound came from the air, a hysterical laughter that actually drew blood from Lysander's ears. It was painful laughter, the sound that stabbed and poked at your forehead – like a static sound. It screeched with so much emotion, a laughter that wasn't happy. If that made any sense, it was a forced laughter. A desperate plea.
Lysander couldn't move from the pain, he was paralysed. He couldn't think. He didn't know it was possible. Why would somebody sell this pain? It was Lure Magic obviously, a dark magic that Tiberius specialised in. It had “lured” him into the trap, it had connected to Lysander and nobody else. Which was why only he could hear the distant laughter.
Why though?
Why had it focused on him?
He didn't really have time to ask any more questions whilst having this irremovable sound. It became distorted. It lowered the pitch and became a gut-punching sound. It kept going lower. Lower it went.
It went.
And so did Lysander's voice. And his hearing.
He got such a strict beating.
Oh dear, such a rubbish ending. Any suggestions? Thanks
I just know it's not my best piece, at all.
