Broken Mirror Hard To Mend Novels & Stories

“They have nothing on me.” “Sure, they don't. But, Rena, how exactly do you plan to handle this?” Ada asked, worry bleeding through tone. Mirena tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “The easiest way,” she replied. She merged into traffic smoothly, eyes focused ahead. “Do you know the disadvantage of a house of mirrors?” She asked and basked in the silence that followed afterwards. A smile curved her lips.. “It shatters the moment you throw a rock at it,” she continued. “Every reflection fractures. Every illusion collapses. The beauty people admired becomes something twisted and unrecognizable.”

The mirror invites Perci to see his soul and the condition of his heart, to look past physical features. He sees nothing but a man in his 40's, single and broken. 'I wish I had not met you again.' He broke the mirror; it was the last mirror in his room because the rest is broken. A crack runs across the glass, finding the weaknesses that were once small. From a perfect mirror to something that is unrecognizable. He watches each fragment fly outward until they lie still yet vicious on the Marmol floor. Breaking glass has become his art and comfort. There is nothing more broken than his heart. Those fragments are nothing compared to his heart. He watched them shatter and release just a fragmen

They exist in sync, complimenting each other by being in the same space. The floor is marble, impossibly smooth, and every step echoes with a soft grandeur as I move toward a mirror standing tall at the far end, and as I step closer, I see my younger self staring back at me. Small and afraid. The boy I once was, before everything changed. Anger rises in me like a tide, seeing that helpless face, and I clench my fist, smashing it against the mirror. Glass shatters, and the pieces scatter, but as I pull my hand back, the shards float and reform. The mirror mends itself, perfect as before, as if nothing happened. Then, a voice drifts toward me, soft as stardust, calling my name. I turn, and she

When I’d torn his entire room apart and come up empty, a frustrated roar tore through me, and without thinking, my fist flew out and shattered the mirror on his wall. Panting harshly, I glared at the shattered glass all around me—then I looked up. Instead of the plain back of the mirror left hanging on the wall, there was a small metal door. Ignoring the blood dripping from the back of my knuckles and the slight twinge of pain from the shards of glass embedded in my flesh, I lifted the broken mirror, discarding the carcass behind me. It was a safe, barely as large as a desk drawer. It required a code, but I just grabbed the handle and yanked with all my energy and anger.

The mirror’s glass melted and formed liquid hands—the best Deyquan could describe it—which grabbed the sides of Lizzy Tillman’s head, yanked her forward . And slammed her face into the mirror. Over and over. Her hands flailed, fingers sliding off the sink’s smooth porcelain edges, feet kicking and toes skidding on tile. Next to Deyquan, Soccer Mom gasped and triggered her inhaler. Andrew muttered, “Oh God . . . ” While Sue sat and stared. As those hands slammed Lizzy’s face into the mirror once more, hard enough to jerk her whole body, and then shoved her head face-first down into the sink. The faucet knobs spun, water gushing.

I want to curl up and bawl my eyes out. One of the huge custom-made gold gilded mirrors, cracked right along its ten-foot centre, has been left hanging up there like that would ever be acceptable. Not only is it horrendous to see but if that glass fell out of that frame, it would kill somebody. I can only guess at how out of hand the nights in here have been getting if they smashed one of the mirrors mid-party. Joanne doesn’t give a toss about this place—evidently. She doesn’t get what it means at all, what it means to me.

The mirror shows me her face and the curse around her simultaneously, and I understand, for the first time in a complete and specific way, what my mother has been trying to tell me. It has her. Not fully. Not yet. But the reach is there and it is patient and it is growing. I put my hand on the mirror frame. The glass cracks. Not from my touch. The crack travels from the lower left corner to the upper right in a single continuous fracture, the specific clean line of a break that happens from the inside rather than from external pressure. The image of Vivian disappears. In the cracked mirror, my reflection looks back at me. Its mouth moves.

His eyes sweep the scene: Liora’s bloodied hands, the empty mirror, and the two of us kneeling on the floor. “What happened?” Liora can’t speak. I do it for her. “The mirror took him.” He stares at the glass. His jaw tightens. “Damn it.” “Can you bring him back?” I ask. Kael’s expression flickers from anger, grief, and then resignation. “No one comes back from the mirrors.” “Then what are they for?” My voice cracks. “Just to torture us?” He doesn’t answer. The mirror nearest him ripples faintly, and for a second, I see his reflection move independently, smiling when he isn’t. He notices it too. His eyes darken, and the smile in his reflection vanishes.

"Like you missed your way to the nursery?" His eyes dilate, and I see the veins pop on the side of his head. He tries to speak, but is dumbstruck—an effect of control. Ignoring him, I walk in the opposite direction, my eyes sweeping the floor, taking in the damage. My huge, gold-framed mirror is completely shattered—that one was a gift from Rex. My makeup now beautifies the tiled floors in an array of red, matte, nude, red, glitters, and did I mention red?

My hands curled into fists again, my knuckles white, my breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. "No," I growled, my voice a low, dangerous snarl. I wasn’t going to lose her. I couldn’t. I stormed toward the mirror, my reflection taunting me, mocking me, reminding me of everything I’d lost. My fist connected with the glass, the impact sending a sharp, searing pain through my knuckles. The mirror cracked, a spiderweb of fractures spreading from the point of impact, my reflection now distorted, broken, just like me. "NO!"