Reflections on a Reflection

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The afternoon sun burst into the room. Passing through the light pink curtains, it gave the entire room a dreamy appearance. The house was empty. The silence of the usually chirpy birds gave her a feeling of insecurity. Yet, shrugging off the dread, she removed the towel that wrapped her, and got dressed. She then applied a lotion delicately over her entire body, gliding her fingers smoothly over the moist of her skin.

 

She walked up to the mirror.

 

There she stood, angelically beautiful, devoutly pious yet, blasphemously sinful. Her graceful frame seemed to tell a thousand stories, a little at a time. The roundness of her physique, the child-like innocence radiating from her face and yet, a melancholic tinge in her eyes, made her all the more attractive.

 

She looked her reflection into the eye. All at once, raced a million reflections through her mind-of the past, the present and… let it be. She looked at herself, rather, watched herself. She’d watched herself since a long while, from her very childhood. She’d watched herself grow; grow from a little kid to what they call a lady, a full grown lady. She had watched her own self transcend through the many seasons-the flowers of spring, the snow of winter, the sweat of summer and the bliss of monsoon. She’d watched the many tears, the many pains she had endured. All of them were like messengers from some far away land. They had messages to convey, lessons to teach.  

 

She smiled. The reflection smiled back. But, would it last? The smile? Maybe yes, if she tried. And she did. She did try. Holding on to the smile, she raced her thoughts back to all the lovely presents offered to her, the presents that made her being worth it-the rainbows whose colours were difficult to distinguish but the fact that they were there, gave her solace; the tinkling of anklets as her mother rushed from one corner of the house to another; the sound of her father turning the pages of the newspaper and finally the contented feeling when he’d place it on the table, for now he’d come to her; her younger brother’s monotonous tantrums over the same little things. And just how there’s no end to counting the stars, there seemed no end to counting her blessings. The reflection seemed to be able to fathom that, and naturally, the smile broadened.

 

She looked at her lips and remembered him, the dreams she dreamt about him. She remembered her heart racing every time he would come closer. How desperately she hoped he would be hers, but alas! Yet, she had never let her dreams be shattered. There’s nothing wrong in dreaming, is there? Her reflection grinned, like a child, at being offered her favourite chocolate.

 

How blissful it all is! How marvelous! She carried within her a wonder, a fairytale- some of it revealed, some held back. She wasn’t at all times what she appeared to be. Not always that epitome of strength she was believed to be, was strong enough. Neither were the smiles always smiling. Like a rollercoaster, she had hurled herself to different directions, high and low, yet at all times, like the rollercoaster ride, it was joyous. She smiled all the more.

 

But.

 

But, bless the Devil that lurked in the shadows. Well, can he tolerate smiles? No. Never.

 

Like the harrowing thunder that disrupts the tranquility of the night, there barged into her thoughts the echoes of his voice - the doctor’s voice, kind yet ruthless, “Actually, it’s too late, maybe a year more.”

 

And, probably that explained the silence of the usually chirpy birds.

 

Comments & reviews · 2
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User avatar
IrishFire18
Review

I really like this story. I had no idea that she was going to die. It was very intriguing.

I like the fact that she was reflecting on herself. But I think you could describe what about her appearance was so angelic. What color was her hair, her eyes? Why were those things angelic? What is she dying from? Does that mean she has hair, or no? Who was the "him" she was dreaming of?

Also, what was her personality like? How was she devout but sinful? What was her life like before the doctor said she was going to die? Does she have a favorite memory? How old is she, exactly, if she's a "full grown lady"? A teen or an adult? I think you could improve on this story by giving her more of a back story.

Other than these questions and suggestions, I really liked this story. It was emotional and thoughtful. I like it a lot. (: Great job.

User avatar
prolixity
Review

Hi there!

Nitpicks:

gliding her fingers smoothly over the moist of her skin.

How about “over her moist skin” or “over the moistness of her skin”? Also, adverbs aren’t the best things in the world. “Gliding” already means smoothly, right? You can’t really glide roughly. I would take out “smoothly.”
angelically beautiful, devoutly pious yet, blasphemously sinful.

How can someone look pious? You want to contrast these two ideas, and listing three kind of gets in the way. I would take out “devoutly pious.”
raced a million reflections raced through her mind

She’d watched herself since for a long while

She’d watched herself grow; grow from a little kid to what they call a lady, a full grown lady.

Semicolons separate what could stand alone as complete sentences. The second half is a fragment, so the semicolon doesn’t work. You can trade it for a comma.
Maybe yes, if she tried.

the presents that made her being being alive worth it

the rainbows whose colours were difficult to distinguish but the fact that they were there, gave her solace;

Awkward sentence. I would try, “the rainbows’ colours were difficult to distinguish, but the fact that they were there gave her solace;”
Well,Can he tolerate smiles?

And, that probablythat explained the silence of the usually chirpy birds.

You already said “usually chirpy” back at the beginning, and I think it sounds better as a last line this way.

Overall:
So this was pretty good! You had a good surprise at the end and I liked how you brought us back to the birds. You had some good details, like the anklets and the newspaper.

However, the mirror idea is not the most interesting. You don't really connect her appearance to her life, except for her smiling, and everyone smiles. She's basically just reflecting on her life, which is appropriate, since she has a year to live. It's not very relate-able or interesting to read about a beautiful girl admiring her reflection. I think this could be better if you got rid of the mirror or at least added some other things. (She could look around the house and see things that remind of her of stuff, etc.)

Also, for a short story, there really isn't much of a plot. The reader is surprised by the end, but what really happens to the protagonist? Not much. You need to have more of a conflict to grab interest. Perhaps you could have her waiting to hear back from the doctor, and then hear. Or, she could start out despairing and end up hopeful. Or, anything else you can think of.

Keep writing!
Prolix



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