Pylimitics

"Simplicity" rearranged


The Mirror 8

Girl with Mirror by Walt Kuhn, 1928

It took Lisa three months to ferret out the reference books she needed in the library, read more of Agneta’s diaries, and decipher enough of the grimoire to understand what she thought was the whole story. She hadn’t returned to her thoughts about how unusual it seemed for the two of them to suddenly be obsessed with an old castle in the Carpathians, but obsessed she had become. Just as Megan now did nothing else but review renovation work and sign off on this or that plan or purchase order, Lisa seemed to have become a reclusive scholar. She had begun to leave the town from time to time, but neither beaches nor parties were involved. Instead she would visit universities around Europe where she would visit libraries and consult professors, asking them questions about parts of the grimoire. 

She wasn’t sure why, but she felt reluctant to reveal that she was in possession of the complete, intact book. When she had questions she carefully copied out a passage, or a diagram, and explained that she had found it tucked between the pages of an old book or in the collection of the great uncle who had left her the castle. 

Their parents had visited the castle several times, and seemed to be pleased that the girls had plunged into their projects so completely. As Nancy gushed, “this old place is starting to look spectacular!” Gerald was more reserved, but if he wondered why, exactly, an old stone mansion in an obscure town was worth turning into a showpiece, he said nothing that wasn’t supportive. At least, he explained to Nancy, Megan and Lisa hadn’t started to turn into spoiled rich kids. 

Megan’s interest in the mirror, the book, and Agneta’s diaries had waned as her work on the castle progressed. Lisa had stopped giving her any updates at all, but when she finally felt she had enough answers, she couldn’t bear keeping them to herself, so she called Megan in. 

By this time Lisa had carefully opened the coffinwood box and taken out the mirror to hold and inspect. It did nothing, but now she thought she understood why, and how to “turn it on.” She explained it to Megan.

“You have to place it on a grave, and it should be at night,” Lisa said. “The grave works like a battery, and activates the mirror. Then you look into it and it shows you how to find the treasure.”

“The treasure?”

“Yep, the whole thing is about treasure. There used to be a huge cathedral in town. Centuries back. It was full of gold and artifacts and who-knows-what, and all that stuff was stolen and the cathedral burned.”

“And Agneta saw this happen?”

“No, it was ancient history even in her time. But the treasure was never found.”

“But how do you know it hasn’t been found since?”

“I don’t, but if the mirror works maybe it’ll tell me.”

“Come on, LIss, you can’t believe this magic stuff is really going to work.”

“I have no idea,” said Lisa, although she’d become convinced that it would. “But I’m going to try it.”

“You are seriously going to take the mirror to a cemetery in the middle of the night?” asked Megan incredulously. “It’s not like we need more money, you know.”

“It’s not about the money,” said Lisa, “it’s about…it’s exciting. Come on, Meg, come with me. I’m going tonight.”

It took a while but Lisa finally convinced her. So just after midnight (Lisa insisted that 1am would be the best time to use the mirror), they made their way to the same graveyard that Agneta had visited to collect her materials so long before. Megan tried to put her most cynical face forward, but underneath even she was excited and nervous. Lisa insisted on finding a relatively recent grave, but the best they could do, working under the time limit she had insisted on calling a “deadline”, was one that according to the headstone had been occupied for eleven years. 

Lisa had brought the mirror in its box, but took it out to be placed carefully in what she judged to be the middle of where the coffin rested six feet beneath. Megan suddenly wondered how deep graves were dug in Europe. “Probably two meters,” she murmured to herself. Lisa, shining a flashlight on her notebook, didn’t appear to have heard. 

As close to 1am as she could manage, Lisa started reading out of her notebook. Her voice took on a singsong rhythm as she recited something Megan couldn’t follow a word of. The odd cadence went on for a few moments, then Lisa reached into her bag and sprinkled something that might have been dried leaves over the mirror. Then she knelt down and breathed on the glass. Then she waited, staring intently at the surface. 



About Me

I’m Pete Harbeson, a writer located near Boston, Massachusetts. In addition to writing my own content, I’ve learned to translate for my loquacious and opinionated pup Chocolate. I shouldn’t be surprised, but she mostly speaks in doggerel. You can find her contributions tagged with Chocolatiana.