Mirrored Poetry Novels & Stories

Peter asked, adjusting the rear mirror. “Home? The mansion, whatever it’s called”.

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.”

A phrase someone always said. A lesson passed down. A habit copied without realizing it. A kindness repeated years later. The ripples left behind. Mira stood among the lights, smiling softly. The grieving being stared upward in disbelief. Its ancient sorrow trembling. "I thought they vanished." Mira looked at the drifting lights. "They did." The being flinched. But Mira continued. "They vanished from one place." A pause. "Not every place." The silver ocean shimmered. The lights reflected in its surface.

“It’s a warning.” 7. The Mirror Rewrites The mirror from the Isles had been silent for weeks. But that night, it awoke. Elira placed it on the Hollow Stone, and without being touched, it began to spin slowly. Not physically but in reflection. Each time we looked into it, we saw versions of ourselves we’d never lived. I saw myself raising a daughter with Rafael beside a calm river the war never happened. Seris saw herself as a librarian, peaceful and quiet, married to a Flamekeeper.

She didn’t enter this one, it entered her. A name whispered backward—And suddenly, she stood in a hall of glass mirrors, all reflecting not her, but the Prophet. Each version slightly different. One taller. One mouthless. One female. One covered in chains. One childlike. One her exact double. Each whispered: “Nyrah was a lock.” “Elara was the seal.” “We were the key.” And then—They shattered. And the voice behind her said: “The next time you look in the mirror, you’ll see me.”

“What am I looking at?” “A spell she created about six months before she cursed the Veyraths. It’s called the ‘Mirror Bond.’” Iris traced one of the symbols. “It’s designed to link two souls so completely that they become reflections of each other. What one feels, the other feels. What one knows, the other knows. Complete, total unity.” “That sounds…” “Terrifying? Intimate? Like the worst idea ever?” “All of the above.”

Whispers of forbidden love and clandestine alliances painted a mosaic on the walls, and the very air seemed to vibrate with the essence of unresolved stories. The figure gestured toward an ornate mirror, its surface shimmering like a portal to another realm. "Reflections can be deceptive, yet they hold the key to unraveling the web of time," they murmured. As I approached, the mirror revealed glimpses of faces—my own, and others unknown. Each reflection hinted at a chapter in the saga, and the figure guided me through the reflections, unraveling the intricate knots of the narrative.

“And Heath… Talen…” “Blood to blood, and both are well,” Meguitte said from behind them, overhearing the conversation. “He turned someone vampire. Blood to blood, and both are recovered. If you are right, and it is Thaelen, then that is what it would mean to me. Then he speaks of someone missing, perhaps you?” She suggested. “Mirror mirror would be a reference to the spell that was cast in order to send these poems,” Connery offered. “We’re waiting for your call…”

Later that night, as darkness enveloped the Mirabella Estate, Autumn found herself transfixed by her reflection in the antique mirror hanging in her room. The glass fogged gently around the edges, but her reflection remained clear and sharp, an eerie contrast. Just as the image began to wane, it revealed a chilling sight—a smile, wide and inexplicable, unfurled across her mirrored self.

“Here?” I asked. “What is here?” “The Mirrored Realm. We are merely shadows of the people you are. But if we get out of here we can be real. We can be more than just counterparts and clones. We can have real lives.” “El! No...you can't! We can’t stay here!” “Neither can we!” She exclaimed.. “It’s hell here! Getting only pieces and snippets of what goes on in your lives is tortuous! We want to live for real. Is that so much to ask?”