3. Alonsa
She was staring at me! She was in the mirror! My hand had uncovered most of her face and now she looked directly at me. What a fright! I had dropped the hairbrush and staggered backwards, as if she were about to leap out of the mirror and tackle me to the floor. She watched me with the strangest look on her face. Her face which was in the mirror. The mirror! I couldn’t see my reflection. It was as if it was no longer a mirror but a picture, only she moved ever so slightly in this picture.
Her eyes followed me as I hit the shelves on the opposite wall. They pushed into my back uncomfortably, but I’d rather that then allow myself to step closer to her. The half-empty containers and spare bottles of shampoo and conditioner rattled at the impact. A few rolled off and skittered across the floor, coming to rest near the mirror. Near her.
Her eyes drifted down to one of my hands, held against my chest in an expression of horror, and then back up to my face. My terrified face.
“Please don’t scream,” she whispered, her achingly-lovely face so sad.
I was so astonished I could barely breathe, let alone scream. She was talking to me! After all these years she was speaking to me outside of my dreams. I didn’t know what to do, what to say. I had imagined many confrontations, many heart-to-hearts, but now she was actually talking to me I found my mind had gone blank.
It was her who spoke next. “Please don’t be afraid, I only want to talk with you.” Her eyes were still fixed on mine, so imploring. She said it in such a strange way, almost begging. She didn’t sound like the mean spirit I had envisioned at all, more like a lost soul. This realisation gave me the courage I needed to speak.
“Who – who are you?” I asked, my voice trembled ever so slightly.
She broke her gaze and looked down. Her golden eyelashes were so long and perfectly curved. They rested against her cheeks as she shut her eyes briefly.
She looked back up at me and I saw the intense agony in her gaze before she glanced off to the side.
“Alonsa,” she murmured. “You need not know my last name just yet.”
She had a name! Alonsa! Over nine years of her being ‘the young woman’ and I had finally discovered her name. I should have been jubilant, but instead I was wondering why she was so sad. What had happened to her? That is, apart from her death.
“I-I’m Amelia,” I offered, hoping to distract her.
She looked back at me with a small, sad smile. “I know, I have followed you.”
I winced, looking away from her for the first time. Just what I wanted to know. I looked back at her and noticed the mirror slyly starting to cloud-over again. I wanted her to stay a little longer, but I was not eager to get close to her and wipe the mirror clear again.
She smiled at me again, even if she was not happy. She smiled only to reassure me. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, gentle. “May I speak with you again at a different time, Lady Amelia?”
I was taken aback a little. Lady Amelia? No one had ever called me that. Just how old was she? I only just managed to nod before she began to fade from the mirror. I saw my pale, frightened face staring back at me. My damp, brown hair was limp. My grey eyes were almost as wide as a terrified rabbit’s.
My feet seemed to move of their own accord, bringing me forwards, closer to the mirror. I stumbled against it and my hands left hand-prints in the thin layer of condensation. I lifted my hands away and gazed at the simple object. A mirror. Just a mirror. I pressed my fingers against the glass, seeing if it shifted or moved. Maybe she’d somehow stuck a video of herself in it or something. But then how would she have been able to answer my questions? Surely no one could have predicted our conversation?
I lifted the mirror from the wall to peer behind it. Nothing. No secret window or CD player. Maybe I was starting to get a little paranoid, but how could she of … what had she … how…?
The sounds of my brother hammering on the bathroom door reached me. I replaced the mirror and drifted over, opening the bathroom door as though I were in a daze.
Dylan stood in front of me, angry and anxious. His eyes took me in, searching for something, and then he looked behind me at the empty bathroom. His alert eyes swept the room for something unknown to me. Apparently satisfied he fixed his eyes on me again.
“Are you okay?” he demanded.
Faintly surprised, I nodded.
“Why were you screaming?”
Oh. That was what brought him here. I supposed I had better think of something good, quickly. ‘A ghost appeared to me in the mirror’ didn’t seem the right answer to give my sceptic brother.
“I stubbed my toe.”
“What?” He frowned at me. “You stubbed your toe,” he repeated, his tone echoing his disbelief. It was like I was the murderer and he was the prosecutor.
“Uh huh,” I replied, even though it was a terrible excuse.
In the end it didn’t matter. He shook his head at me in an ‘I give up’ manner and walked away. I didn’t care. Alonsa had spoken to me! Go ahead and shake your head in disappointment, Dylan, I don’t care; Alonsa is not the terrifying spectre I imagined. The Grim reaper! Ha, yeah, because she was so terrifying. The only thing I needed to fear from her was drowning in her tears. She was so sad. But maybe now she had spoken to me she wouldn’t make me faint in the cafeteria or see her weeping face in raindrops. Maybe it would end soon and I could go back to a boring school life. But I knew, deep down I knew, that it was only just beginning. What ‘it’ was exactly I wasn’t sure, but what I was sure about was her visit had changed everything. Everything. She had spoken to me! But why? What did she want?
