For as long as Lucy can remember she has been afraid of the dark. She knows through stories her mother told, that wasn’t always true. For six years she had no qualms with darkness, then one night she went to bed as usual and the next refused to sleep without light again. Even now, the reason behind the abrupt change is still unknown and Lucy cannot sleep without some form of illumination. Try as she might to deny it, to pretend it never happened, the truth behind Lucy’s fear has haunted her dreams for the past twenty years.
Before climbing into bed for the night she covers all of the mirrors in her apartment saving the floor to ceiling antique mirror in her bedroom for last. That particular looking glass is covered with a long, thick tarp blocking it from the rest of the room. Turning on a small fountain residing on her bedside table that bathes the room in colored light Lucy falls into the land of slumber. This night, like every night before it, the dream comes but fades as she wakes save a lingering fear that chills her to the bone.
Lucy climbs from her bed shaking off the remaining effects of the dream and freezes in terror. Seconds tick by before a strangled wheeze escapes and her heart begins a quick staccato within her chest. Honey-brown irises are transfixed upon the uncovered antique mirror. Folded neatly atop her dresser is the tarp that she placed upon the glass hours before. A flickering glint draws her gaze down as she tries to swallow with a painfully parched throat. Before the mirror rests a candle, the flame dancing with its reflection, looking freshly lit from the absence of dripping wax.
Grabbing a nearby wastebasket Lucy takes unsteady steps, scoops up the candle, blows it out and drops it into the bag. Tying it closed as she runs from her apartment into the hall Lucy skids to a stop in front of the garbage chute and drops the bag inside. Without pause she races back to her apartment into her bedroom and hastily throws the tarp back over the mirror. Trembling, Lucy sinks to her knees as the dream, her nightmare, lingering on the edge of her subconscious returns in the light of day.
Hours pass before Ciaran, Lucy’s beau, appears at her apartment looking for her. Walking into the bedroom he finds her curled on the floor. Dropping to the carpet he pulls her into a soothing embrace. Her face is ashen, eyes red-rimmed, and her hands are clenched so tightly there are bloody crescents in her palms.
“Fer Chris’ sake Lucy, what the hell happened?”
“P-panic attack,” she stutters.
“What could cause you to have a panic attack?” Ciaran asks.
“It’s the reason I’m afraid of the dark. I’ve had this dream for most of my life, but I never remembered what happened in it until today,” she whispers.
“Tell me about your dream.”
A long silence settles between them as he patiently strokes Lucy’s hair, waiting for her to begin. Fingers clenching onto his shirt, her voice comes in a rasp.
“I’m six years old, it’s , and I’m standing in the hallway in front of a floor length mirror holding a candle. My cousin told me if you look in a mirror at as April 30th ends and May 1st begins while holding a candle you’ll see the person you’re supposed to marry. But that isn’t what I saw.”
“What did you see?” he encourages softly.
“I saw pure evil. He was reflected in the glass surrounded in darkness except for his piercing blue eyes. Putting a hand on my shoulder the man leaned down and whispered in my ear, ‘don’t tell anyone.’ His voice, gods! It was beautiful and horrible; a terrifying caress that froze the blood in my veins. I panicked, dropped the candle, and he was gone. The thing is, I don’t think it was just a dream.”
She clutches him tightly; afraid of her awakened memories as he absorbs everything that was said.
“I’m so glad you told me. I was very worried you wouldn’t remember,” he tells her, voice terribly pleased.
“What?” Lucy asks pulling back in apprehension.
Shadows bleed throughout the room absorbing all of the light as darkness spreads towards them. She watches stunned as the inky black swallows Ciaran save his piercing cerulean eyes and face-splitting grin. Scrambling back she tries to escape, but roiling tendrils of darkness wrap around her body consuming her whole. Entwining his hand with hers, he gives it a squeeze.
“Hey Lucy,” Ciaran says playfully looking into honey eyes drowning with fright. “I thought I told you not to tell anyone.”
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