Broken Mirror In A Dream Novels & Stories

She might be blind but I just knew she would be able to sense it. I waved off the thought and returned to dry my hair at the table. The broken mirror was still lying face down. Why did I still have this? I picked it up and was going to dump it in the trash again when a thought crossed my mind in a flash. Quickly, my eyes scanned the words I’d seen days ago but couldn’t make any sense out of them. "Beneath the moon's mournful gaze it lies, where crimson stains mark a shattered dream but amidst the ink-stained tears of the past

She smirked, setting out the plates and she proceeded to scoop cups of rice inside the small sack. “It is not about what you think, Yana.” “So, what it is all about?” Yana asked, trying to figure the statement I uttered. “Can we take this mirror off, Yana?” “What do you mean?” Yana wondered, wiping off the bottom part of the rice container before putting it back to its shaft. “Yana,” I came closer to her. “When the mirror has gap, there is a possibility that the mirror is two-way. It means that there might be the back of it can be seen by others from there to here.”

I could feel it—its walls vibrating softly, its breath rising in the dust motes around me. And then—I stood. I knew where I needed to go. The mirror room. *** It was just as I remembered. Shattered glass still scattered the floor like frozen stars. The large mirror was gone—exploded in a curse-breaking storm. But along the far wall… stood a smaller one. Unbroken. Framed in tarnished silver. Covered with a thin sheet of white silk. My hands shook as I stepped forward. I hadn’t looked into a mirror since that night.

"This is the official race inspection report issued ten minutes ago. It clearly states there were signs of deliberate damage to the brake line, and that the brake fluid contained a large amount of alcohol. "And this." I pointed at the big screen. The screen suddenly switched to surveillance footage. Although the corner of the garage itself had been a blind spot, Mason had missed one detail. The side mirror of the car parked opposite had clearly reflected him crouching beside my car with the hydraulic cutter in his hand. Looking at himself on the screen, Mason's legs went weak, and he collapsed onto the floor. "No... that's not me... that's fake..." he struggled one last time.

With a mighty force, he hurls the mirror to the ground, the glass shattering into a million pieces with a deafening explosion of sound. The room now lies in disarray, the broken mirror a stark reflection of the turmoil that rages within Paul. His chest heaves with the exertion of his outburst, his mind clouded with a mix of anger, hurt, and frustration. As the echoes of his actions fade into silence, Paul is left standing amidst the wreckage, the shattered mirror serving as a poignant symbol of the brokenness that now consumes him.

“What did it show us?” “That was a part of my life played out in the mirror,” she began to explain. “The mirror has power that shows us things we desire, memories that might have been broken or forgotten, it brings it back, things that we want to know. It knows all and can show you everything without altering any part of it.” “How do i know-” I stopped myself, Kai was already sending me a death glare, whatever image the mirror had produced wasn’t something pleasant and neither of them wanted to talk about it.

My eyes snapped open as I woke up from a bad dream. I was still shaking, and I could feel my heart pounding as I wiped the cold sweat on my forehead. I didn't want to go back to sleep. In my dream, I kept seeing myself inside the mirror maze room again, and I could see Marco's reflections everywhere. Then, to my horror, he escaped in one of the mirrors and ran after me. When he caught me, he tore my clothes and started hurting me.

"What does that mean?" "It means the dead have started introducing themselves." The basin cracked. A sound like lake ice breaking split the chamber. Light poured up through the seams in the floor, silver and blinding. Every mirror in the room reflected a different version of me. Me older. Me bloodied. Me crowned in light. Me gone completely dark around the eyes. Me smiling when I wasn't. "No," I whispered. Mirabella looked at the mirrors, not at me. "You do not have much time before the city remembers the shape of this."

It was old, the frame tarnished silver worked into a pattern of vines, the glass itself dark, like looking into a pool of standing water rather than a mirror. My reflection didn’t show up in it the way it should have. I turned it over in my hands, then carried it over to where Melissa was sleeping. “Melissa.” I touched her shoulder. “Wake up. I think I found something.” Her eyes opened, blinking blearily, and then sharpened the second they landed on the mirror in my hands. She sat up straighter.

I couldn’t take my eyes off the broken reflection staring back at me, fractured and distorted. A shiver ran down my spine. “No… no, no, no,” I muttered under my breath, hugging the cake tighter. “That’s a bad sign. That’s not good.” Broken mirrors meant bad luck. My mother used to whisper it like a curse when I was a kid. And the way this one had cracked, splitting me into a dozen different faces staring back, I felt it in my bones. Something terrible was about to happen. I shook my head fast, forcing the thought away. “Stop it. Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just glass. Just bad balance. That’s all.”