Dream Of Broken Mirror Novels & Stories

I couldn't sleep, and sometimes, I couldn't even breathe. The worst part was the daydreaming. Every now and then, I fantasized about Ethan getting distracted and me going to have a drink. The desire was so intense that I dreamed about it. I saw myself with a bottle in hand, drinking every last drop, savoring that poison. Suddenly, I would wake up with a dry mouth from desire and covered in shame, realizing where my thoughts had taken me.

I darkened my brown eyes. Then, looking me in the eye— Were the eyes of Viktor. My reflection's lips twisted into a slow, ruthless smile. Gasping, I staggered back. The mirror broke. My breath was ragged as I startled up. As I wiped perspiration from my forehead, my hands shook. Then I noticed it. The mirror on the other side of the room Broken. I gasped for air. It was only a dream. Was it not?

So, why would the moon goddess curse her to become one of them instead of being a werewolf. “It was all a dream,” She said to herself, before she happily went and pushed the curtains open to allow more sunlight stream into her room. She closed her eyes to embrace nature’s warmth. But she felt something else land on her face, that made her pull away from the window side and that’s when her eyes landed on the broken pieces of her mirror, which the sunlight met some of it in the floor and was reflecting some of it through it. Broken silver mirror. The smile seized from her face instantly the moment she realized what was going on. If it was a dream?

I hissed. I slammed my hand against the mirror again and cracks split across its surface, spreading like veins. The reflection’s voice turned desperate. “Rory, stop! You’ll destroy me!” “Good,” I whispered. The mirror broke. Pain burst through my armglass tearing my skin, blood spilling across the floor. I fell to my knees, gasping. The broken bits glowed softly, reflecting not Elias, not Selene but me. A thousand versions of me. Crying. Screaming. Laughing.

…Jenna POV… They ask why, why does a woman stay with a man that hurts her, physically hurts her? When does one blue eye become too much? One broken lip, one too many. When does hiding the bruises become impossible? When is enough really enough? So here I am staring at myself in the mirror, and looking back is a shadow of a woman, a woman that I used to be. Not only am I a shadow, but I have a shadow under my eye. I would like to think that it was an accident, but the truth is that this is not the first time.

I raised my hand and placed it flat against the glass. The mirror broke. Not dramatically… a single fracture running from the point of contact outward in three directions, clean and immediate, the kind of break that happens when the pressure behind a touch is not as controlled as it appeared. The glass held in the frame, just fractured, the reflection multiplying itself along the crack lines into several versions of the same face looking back from slightly different angles. I stood and looked at the broken mirror. From the bedroom, the sound of Franklin moving. “Rydan?” His voice had the quality of someone pulled back from the edge of sleep. “What was that?”

"You are an amazing person whether you see it or not. You see everything you've been through as bad luck but I see it as struggles that you made it through and became stronger from. I'm not scared of your past, Tiffany." Tiffany exhaled through her noes. She held a worrisome and somewhat sad look on her face which made my chest ache because I knew she was finding it hard to believe and accept that someone was willing to love her despite the baggage she was carrying. "Maybe you're right," she finally said, looking at me with soft eyes. "But... I'm broken and messed up and have pieces of me all over the place. That's not something anybody should have to deal with, Noah."

As she turned the sink’s faucet on, stuck her hands under the water (dammit if he couldn’t hear the water trickling over her hands, against the porcelain), she froze, gazing into the mirror over the sink, entranced by something only she could see. The voices in Andrew’s head kept screaming and the water from the faucet kept trickling into the sink, though the video feed made no sound . . . *** For a moment Deyquan forgot they were watching recorded footage, tempted to yell at Lizzy Tillman: Get the fuck out! Run! Freaky-ass kid’s getting closer! Get your ass out of there, now..! The video flickered. Rippling with static. The mirror’s glass melted and formed liquid hands—the best Deyquan coul

After cleaning the broken tray, Mira excused herself earlier than normal. And the moment she stepped outside the chamber doors— She stopped breathing steadily. Her hands trembled violently. No. She knew what she saw. Twice. Not imagination. Not exhaustion. Something inside that mirror had looked back at her. And smiled. --- That night— Mira avoided mirrors completely. But sleep never came. Because every time she closed her eyes— She saw Elian’s reflection whispering silently through the glass. And somehow— Deep down— She felt certain of one terrifying thing.

Chapter 14. First Step to make it Reality Either it was a dream or dream turning into reality. Denzel was afraid to open his eyes. He thought it will break once he opens his eyes. He never imagines one day he would spend his life the way he was spending now. With care, love, happiness surrounding him.