Smack, smack, smack... My feet pounded softly against the floor as I made my way, slouching, down the corridor. Although it was midnight and I was completely alone, I still tried fruitlessly to get my short blond bob to cover my tearstreaked face. How had I let this happen again? I should know better by now not to think too hard about home. I had been so confident before that I wouldn't get homesick, and I had been pretty good until last week. Now I cried almost every night for my mom and dad. Pathetic.
Still, I cried. I couldn't let the other girls know, though, so I snuck out of the common room and wandered the hall where I could cry a little louder. I still lived with the fear, though, that I would wake up with the blotchy redness that always came when I bawled. I could only imagine the humiliation.
I decided to try and distract myself. I turned down a hall that I hadn't been down before. It was drafty and cool, but that was a good thing because it refreshed my swollen face. I slowed down, savoring it. I started to hiccup. Trying to hiccup quietly I continued.
The end. I almost walked into the wall, so shrouded it was in shadow. I turned, feeling my way ahead, and countered a door. Turning the knob I found it open, so I walked in.
It was extroadinarilyl dusty inside. My uneven "hic...hic hic..." was interrupted by a sneeze and three coughs, and then a gasp. My mind had not immediately registered the mirror in it's hugeness, but now that it had processed the elaborate golden frame I could barely believe my eyes. I approached it cautiously, half worried something would jump out of it.
Now that I stood in front of it, I could think of no other cautions. I was wholly absorbed in what I saw; myself, crying softly, but cleanly. There was no redness, no swollen lids, no spotty nose, no bright pink streaks. The only thing that might give away that I had been crying were the very few streaks of the makeup I apparently missed when I had washed my face. I reached up and wiped them away, as well as the rest of my tears. You couldn't even tell I'd been crying. Although I could feel myself still hiccupping, my chest heaving, I was breathing steadily in my reflection.
I stood there staring for another while, until I realized that I had stopped crying, and that the room was getting lighter. A panicked glance at my watch told me hat classes would start in an hour and a half and that I should be in the common room getting ready. I sprinted out of the old room, unaware that I had been followed by the invisible gaze of two friendly, sympathetic, bright blue eyes.
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125,015 Literary Works • 672,849 Reviews
Very nice story, however I noticed a few things...
The 'smack' threw me off...possibly try something different, as I don't imiagine feet really making that sort of noise.
I have to agree; Why would wizards need watches? xD
In all, great story. Thanks for sharing it.
Harry Potter! Yess!
I'm a little confused as to why she didn't see anything in the mirror besides herself, it's the Mirror of Erised, right? Why didn't she see what she most desired? I liked the entire story up till that very point because I was left wondering what the point was. Sad girl finds a mirror, the end. I would like to see a little more but otherwise it was good.
*Sorry it was repeated*
Wow, this is good!
The pace is good. I like how you made us reader read between the lines to see that it is the Mirror of Erised instead of just stating it.
You make us have sympathy with the character as well. I do think it would do a little better in third-person though.
I LOVE that ending!
Good work, and thanks for entering my contest!
Hai!
This is quite short, so I’ll go through and be picky about it, if that’s all right.
“Pounded” is quite a powerful word. I always, always associate pounding feet with running and panic, but you say she slouches and makes her way softly, so I’d change “pounded” to something softer.
Minor typo. ^_^
Wrong word. “It’s” with an apostrophe like this is short for “it is”. You need “its” without an apostrophe for the possessive.
Again, minor typo.
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Hello!
I liked this! You had a good pace, and I’m already feeling sympathetic towards the character, which is a really good thing, so mega brownie points/thumbs up/kudos/puppies for that. I would have liked to know her name, though, because that would help me get to know her even more.
One thing really did strike me about this, though, and that was that maybe it would be better in third person. Some of the way you wrote, like describing her hair and at the very end, talking about the eyes that were watching her, feel very much like third person details. A true first person account is limited to whatever the narrator/focaliser knows, and if she didn’t know about the eyes, we couldn’t know about the eyes either. She wouldn’t really be thinking about her hair while she’s crying, so we shouldn’t have information about that either. Does that make sense?
Also, what fan-fiction is this? I don’t recognise which one that is (but that’s not really surprising) but this reads like an original story, not one based off of an already existing universe. Could you PM me to let me know? If it’s not fan-fiction, then I’ll be happy to move it to its proper forum, and you’ll probably get more reviews that way.
Also, do PM or Wall me if you have any questions!
-twit