The mirrors in my bathroom are foggy. It's why I hate taking showers in the morning, I am desperate to see how people see me.
I squint my eyes and search to see the ugly details of my face: the pimples, the texture, the things I do not see on others. Despite my efforts, the mirror only reflects the blurry resemblance of my face.
I recall my sister once saying I have a familiar face, like a painting she's seen before. It's a polite way to say that I am unremarkable. Beauty is remarkable. But, being ugly is remarkable too, it's something people spy for, wondering what similarities they have, I guess I am in between.
Maybe the mirror is kind today. I cannot scrutinize what is not there.Yes I can. Maybe, with my sleep-crusted eyes and soft slippers, life can be simpler. No it won’t.
Maybe I am a fool.
Before leaving, I grant myself one last glance.
Something I had not seen before had appeared. Suddenly, I feel the weight on my face where I see eye bags distorting my face. I fly towards the glass, and get close enough that my nose hovers centimeters away. The brown hair is pulled into a loose bun and the off-the-shoulder top makes me see just me. I cry out in horror at the disgustingness that is me.
For a second though, I do not see myself. A flash. A change fast enough that I could have gone on without worry.
But of course I always worry. Stepping back from the mirror, I contemplate what I just saw. In that bathroom, I have cried, cursed, and crumbled. The memory that comes to light though, was on the night of Halloween when I summoned Bloody Mary with my friends. I think about her, and her painting. The same brown hair pulled back. She was evil, but held power. Was it because she forced herself to be beautiful?
That is not what I saw though.
I go back up to the mirror, craving an answer. I recreate the exact position, my nose hovering over the glass. Then, pushing aside my fear, I imitate the hundred yard stare. Looking nowhere, and letting my eyes fuzz. I've always been uncomfortable with mirrors. The stories saying mirrors are portals to other, crooked dimensions made me silent. But, peering through my peripherals, I see someone. A someone that I do not know, but they share the quality of having a familiar face.
This someone looks aged, not in time but emotionally. They are tired.
I wonder if I'm delusional. I wonder if it's schizophrenia. But, it feels too real.
Hours later, I am still not over it. Who was she?
All I remember is that she was beautiful.
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125,024 Literary Works • 672,762 Reviews
Hello there, human! I'm reviewing using the YWS S'more Method today!
Shalt we commence with the frightful S’more?
Top Graham Cracker - The main character, presumably a girl, is looking at a mirror. She wants to see her face before she leaves because she wants to know how people will perceive her, so she wipes away the fog and…who is that girl staring back at her?
Slightly Burnt Marshmallow - I have no personal recommendations to make, I enjoyed reading this! If you want to edit this, you can, but I like it as is.
Chocolate Bar - This kind of reminds me of someone seeing an alternate version of themselves in the mirror only for that reality to slip away once they look away from the mirror. Through the supernatural aspects, there is a sense of real world connection with the struggle behind the mirror, the mirror that can reflect, that can show things no one else sees. I liked how the person was saying that they didn’t see pimples on other people because it’s true that we don’t see pimples in others, but that’s only because we’re less likely to notice them. We notice them more in ourselves because we spend more time with ourselves.
Closing Graham Cracker - Overall, a spooky short story that is slightly filled with sorrow from how it is told. I do hope the main character feels a bit better about looking in the mirror, but I’m not sure if they will. Especially after they saw that odd girl looking back at them from the other end…was it another girl? Or a version of them? Hmm….
I wish you an amazing day/night! ^v^
this is such a cool story. everybody struggles with a lack of self-esteem and this story captures that perfectly. was the mirror woman really bloody mary? or was it just a vision of how the narrator wants to be perceived as beautiful? people only remembering beauty is poignantly shown, when the narrator has forgotten everything about the mystery woman, except the fact that she was beautiful. but beauty is a subjective thing, and relying too much on trying to be beautiful will only end up ruining your self-perception and make you miserable.
ignore the other 2 replies, misclicks
this is such a cool story. everybody struggles with a lack of self-esteem and this story captures that perfectly. was the mirror woman really bloody mary? or was it just a vision of how the narrator wants to be perceived as beautiful? people only remembering beauty is poignantly shown, when the narrator has forgotten everything about the mystery woman, except the fact that she was beautiful. but beauty is a subjective thing, and relying too much on trying to be beautiful will only end up ruining your self-perception and make you miserable.
this is such a cool story. everybody struggles with a lack of self-esteem and this story captures that perfectly. was the mirror woman really bloody mary? or was it just a vision of how the narrator wants to be perceived as beautiful? people only remembering beauty is poignantly shown, when the narrator has forgotten everything about the mystery woman, except the fact that she was beautiful. but beauty is a subjective thing, and relying too much on trying to be beautiful will only end up ruining your self-perception and make you miserable.
The plot was truly captivating, as it vividly portrays the emotions that define a lifetime. There’s a time in life when everyone feels beautiful, with moments when even the simplest things, like having amazing hair, make everything seem perfect. But as time passes, reality can feel much harder to face. The mirror, in its honesty, reflects how brief life really is, and how, despite our best efforts, it often feels like time is never enough.
Bathrooms, in a way, seem to be the place where we experience a range of raw emotions. It's where we cry, sing, laugh, and dance without judgment. In those moments, we're free to be ourselves, not bound by the expectations of others. It’s a personal space where no one demands answers or opinions—just a safe haven to express our true feelings.
At the end of it all, we must remember that we are beautiful in our own unique way, regardless of how we might feel in different moments of life. This story serves as a reminder to embrace our individuality and cherish every part of ourselves. Keep up the great work, and I look forward to reading more in the future.