In Every Mirror She's Black Novels & Stories

I did a good job, too, because it lay hidden there until my sophomore year when one phone call stripped those masks away, laying bare the Truth so I could see myself for what I was. *** As maybe you can imagine I avoid mirrors as much as possible. Can’t be managed all the time, obviously. I do have to shave, comb my hair and brush my teeth occasionally. There’s also the rear-view mirror in my cab, too. That’s somehow the worst. It focuses on my eyes. Everyone’s heard it by now. It’s used in countless stories, poems and movies when someone wants to sound insightful. Eyes are the windows to the soul. Cliché, but remarkably apt. I hate looking into my eyes. They’re dead and flat, which spooks m

Samaira ****** They say mirrors gives true image of a person, but it's a lie. They don't show you what's inside. She is staring back at me looking all elegant and beautiful yet dead inside. My reflection in the mirror is the perfect example of a dead soul dolled up in a beautiful bridal attire.

My mother, Aileen Stuart, leaves me a bronze mirror upon her death. One day, I suddenly hear its thoughts. It says exasperatedly, "My naive child, Zara hid her brooch and blamed you for stealing it. And your stepmother? Her tricks are so banal. She rubbed pollen on your clothes, hoping you'd have an allergic reaction and become disfigured. They really are the perfect pair in household scheming. "Dead mother, philandering father, vicious stepmother, wicked idiot of a sister… What an unfortunate deck of cards you have been dealt with." With the mirror's guidance, I manage to carve out a place for myself in this household. One midnight, it wakes me from my sleep. "Jemima, your chance to

I then say, staring into her eyes, as she scrambles to grab a mirror from her bag fuzzing over her face. “You lair, I look as I always do. You're just saying nonsense”She says laughing out. “They say a mirror reflects the better version of a person's appearance . But look at yourself in the mirror all I see is obsession, hate and a lot of crazy darling and that isn't healthy”I say, before grabbing my bags as I started marching out before her words stop me in my tracks. “Remember my promise right?"She says as she moves towards me, staring at me.

She mumbled. "You are weak!" He mocked her mumble. "No!" She replied in a growl. "I know how you fight with the world but can you fight with yourself?" He challenged. "I bet you can't... Forget it, you are weak!" She frowned at him. "I am not weak!" She stated firmly. "Then what are you waiting for?" He gestured towards the mirror. Mira gulped while taking a deep breath knowing there was no going back. She has to do it because this is how it's going to be from now on.

Momo's voice had faded but I was in far greater trouble. The neighbors had gathered round, encircling me with broken pipes and steel bars. They were scared of me, of my very existence. "You witch." A black lady ran forward, swinging her pipe towards me. My hands moved, catching it before it could trample over my head. "That proves it, she's a Witch." She staggered back, the men moving forward in an attempt to hold me down. "Trust me. I'm not a Witch, I'm a human like everyone here." I said.

It pattered into the silver bowl below. I held my breath. Waited. It stayed red. Relief came all at once, weak and dizzying. My knees almost gave out. I started to let out a breath— Then something moved. In one of the mirrors. The surface rippled, like water under wind. I jerked my head toward it, heart lurching so hard it hurt. And for a single, impossible instant, I saw myself. But not myself. Her skin was pale as bone. Her eyes were black. Completely black, with no whites at all. And her mouth stretched into a smile so wide it looked like it might split her face in half.

The waist-high full-length mirror wobbled for quite a while, capturing the reflection of Candice in its unsteady gaze. The mirror reflected her pale face, a slender neck, and clothes that used to fit well but now appeared loose on her. Candice stared at the seemingly lifeless woman in the mirror, shocked. Her pupils trembled uncontrollably, and she instinctively reached out to touch the reflection in the mirror. Was this really her? Why did she look so terrible? She didn’t feel sick, but she looked awful. Candice stood in front of the mirror for a long time, trying to understand her current appearance and the reasons behind the change.

Mira's heart somersaulted, then crashed. Claw marks slashed across her forearms, deep and jagged, as if something had tried to tear its way out from beneath her skin. “No…” she breathed, stumbling out of bed. “No, no, no.” She rushed to the mirror — forgetting that would present an even bigger trial — and froze. Her reflection stared back with eyes as dark as ink, ringed by faint streaks of shadow spreading from the corners like cracks in glass. Her veins pulsed black. For a second, her reflection moved on its own, tilting its head and whispering words she couldn’t hear.

she asked the woman staring back. The reflection seemed to smirk. “You… are a loser.” Vanessa staggered back. “No! I’m not a loser! I’m Vanessa! Everyone should respect me!” But the voices in her head grew louder. “They’ve all left you. You’re alone. You will only crumble.” She clutched her ears with both hands, screaming, “Shut up! Stop talking to me!” Yet the mirror only reflected her own face — a face drowned in tears and a madness she could no longer conceal.