Mirror Poetry Novels & Stories

"No, the garden remained as it was. I had to create a mirror verse that serves as a barrier between what you saw and the real world." "What does that mean?" "You would have hurt yourself and destroyed the entire garden if I had left you alone to react to what you were seeing. You did move, you did run away and try to fight it off, but your movements had no impact on the real world because I had placed you in a mirror verse, it's a world that mirrors the real world but isn't affected by it." Ivy shook her head trying to process everything she was learning. "Let's try it again. I want to try this again."

He sighed. *sigh* And raised a hand to massage his temples. "A class 4 dark artifact…" He mumbled, and Director Bones asked about it. "What is it?" "The Mirror of Erised. Is an artifact that shows in its reflection the deepest desire that the person looking at has. Until here there would be no problems, but the mirror entrances the user and viewer to continue looking at its reflection and do nothing more. This mirror killed a lot of people by starvation simply by showing them their deepest desire being realised."

Her friends said she had become obsessed with “the woman in the mirror.” That evening, as the sun set, I stood in front of the mirror again. This time, I spoke directly to it. “Who are you?” My reflection didn’t move at first. Then it slowly smiled, a smile I had never made. It raised a finger and wrote on the inside of the glass, the letters appearing backward so I could read them: **“I am what’s left when you look away.”** I smashed the mirror with a chair that night. The glass shattered into hundreds of pieces across the floor.

Her back was facing him, and her right arm was moving in a circular motion as if she was stirring something on the electric stove. The profoundness of his footsteps, causing the hard slapping sound of his slippers against the tiled floor alarmed her that made her turn around and face him, her eyes widened in bewilderment for a moment before they curved and imitated the shape of a crescent moon along with her lips forming into a small smile.

I write: He didn't have time to be anything else. I am at the mirror in the room seven bathroom at five-fifteen, washing ink off my hands from a pen that leaked, when the reflection changes. Not my reflection. The quality of the mirror itself, the surface doing the thing I have seen Helena's mirrors do, the clouding and then the clearing that precedes a scrying image. I step back. The mirror clears. My reflection is there. Then, behind my reflection, in the space that would be the room behind me if this were an ordinary mirror showing an ordinary room, there is a figure.

For every hazard I blunted, three new ones seemed to spawn. We hit the shattered mirror field. Each shard reflected a different version of us—alive, dead, younger, older, from worlds we hadn’t yet walked. Step on one the wrong way, and it bit into our boots, trying to slice through to skin. “Blunt,” I thought, too tired for poetry. “Round the edges. Take the worst of it off.” The mirror teeth dulled a fraction. Not enough to make them safe. Enough that they tore our soles instead of our tendons.

POV: Afnan The chamber trembled violently. The walls of the Mirror Gate cracked and warped, flickering between reality and nightmare. My reflection hovered a few feet away, eyes sharper, movements more fluid, a perfect imitation of me, yet everything about it screamed danger. I staggered backward, barely catching myself as the floor rippled like water. My reflection smirked, a cruel twist of my own lips, and raised a hand. Instinct screamed at me to strike, to destroy it. But something deep inside whispered: You can’t fight yourself. Not here. Not now.

Every tree, every rock, every gust of wind seemed to whisper of dangers lurking just beyond the horizon. Lia’s wrist-mark had been flaring with more intensity over the past few days, the power within her growing stronger, and yet more volatile. The strange "Mirror Soul" ability—this gift, or curse—was becoming harder to control. Every time she replicated magic, it drained her energy, leaving her weak and vulnerable. But she couldn’t stop. The Heart of the Greykin was still out there, and it was the only hope for her people. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

My reflection is faint in the pale light, but it is nothing strange, nothing wrong. Until it moves. I freeze. My reflection doesn’t mimic me. It lifts its head when I don’t, eyes widening in terror. Its mouth forms a soundless plea, and then the surface of the glass ripples like water. The sound that follows is soft but unmistakable; a river running. The hairs on my arms rise. The mirror deepens, the reflection dissolving into color and motion. I see water, dark and fast, churning under moonlight. Two figures are caught in the current. Two men struggling against the pull. One older, one younger. The older one I know.

“I’m waiting for her answer.” ⸻ Below, Miriam led Amelia toward a narrow alcove hidden behind the twelfth pillar. Inside stood a large mirror framed in polished cedar. Unlike an ordinary mirror, its surface shimmered gently like calm water. “What is this?” Amelia asked. “The Mirror of Keepers.” “It doesn’t show your face.” “It shows your choice.” Amelia hesitated. “I don’t understand.” “You will.” Miriam stepped aside. “Look.” Amelia slowly approached the mirror. At first she saw only her own reflection.