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Piper stared at herself in the mirror. Because the mirror was covered in years of dust, cobwebs, and filth, Piper’s image looked nothing like herself. Her face looked fractured, dirty, and covered in grime. She touched the surface of the mirror softly with the kitchen towel and began brushing layer after layer of filth away. With each brush of the towel, her face began looking more and more like her own, and not some twisted visage of herself.
Beneath the decades of dust was one of the most beautiful objects Piper had found in this house so far. Her mother would definitely approve. She had encouraged Piper to check out the attic for hidden treasures and things that could be useful. As far as Piper knew, she didn’t have any mirrors in her room, and definitely could use one.
It was difficult applying foundation and makeup with only a pocket-sized mirror for help, and it was getting increasingly more difficult to do all of her morning routines in the bathroom. This was partly because ever since they moved, she had to share the bathroom with her mother—which meant that every minute she spent in there, her mother spent nagging her to get out of there—and partly because now that she was sixteen years old, she wanted to look good. Appealing. Beautiful. She couldn’t risk going outside looking like a clown simply because she couldn’t get her makeup right in the small mirror she carried along in her purse.
But Piper had to admit that she didn’t just want this mirror because it would solve many of her problems. She wanted it because it was by far the most beautiful mirror she’d gazed upon. It was large and oval-shaped. Resting against a pile of boxes, it came up to Piper’s waist and would look perfect hanging on her bedroom wall.
Now that she’d cleaned the object of the most prominent layers of dust, she noticed the mirror frame was equally interesting. The frame portrayed two cherubs on each side of the mirror, blowing on tiny little trumpets. The frame was oxidized, but she could tell a silver-plated layer was hidden underneath the black oxidation. She guessed the mirror was at least one hundred years old, and that it had spent a fair share of that time hidden in the attic with other junk that wasn’t even half as interesting. If mirrors had personalities, she was confident this one wouldn’t have been too happy with being banished to an old and dusty attic, where it spent decades waiting for someone to rescue it and put it to good use again.
Piper grabbed hold of the mirror on both sides and was surprised by how heavy it actually was. As she lifted the mirror up, she heard a faint noise, like footsteps coming closer. At first she was startled, but then decided it was probably just her mom, climbing the stairs to the attic. Perfect! She could give Piper a hand carrying the heavy looking glass down the stairs.
“Hey Mom, come give me a hand!” Piper shouted, turning around toward the attic door.
No one.
Piper blinked and listened carefully for her mom’s footsteps going up or down the stairs, but she didn’t hear a thing. The house was as quiet as it had been before. There wasn’t a trace of the footsteps she’d heard earlier.
Piper brushed it off, thinking it was probably the wind, or maybe she had just heard her mother’s footsteps somewhere in the house and mistakenly thought she was on her way to the attic. Or maybe Piper’s imagination was going wild by being alone in the attic for so long. She wasn’t one to get scared easily, but she had to admit that the attic was rather creepy. It was stuffed with junk ranging from old mannequin dress forms to mysterious locked trunks without keys to open them. There were smelly, dusty carpets looking like they were last used in the eighteenth century and some disturbing dolls with black buttons for eyes. The only light came from a small light bulb in the middle of the spacious room. It barely cast a light on the shadowy corners, which remained dark and unsettling.
The window in the attic was small and shuttered, letting through only a sparse amount of light. To add to the spookiness of the attic, the room was a great deal warmer than the rooms on the second floor. Since today was a particularly nice day for early autumn, the heat was nearly unbearable. It was enough to make anyone’s imagination run wild. Although Piper was a very down-to-earth person, and according to her best friend, Alison, had as much imagination as an accountant—namely, none—she apparently wasn’t immune to the eerie and claustrophobic atmosphere of the attic.
Piper decided not to give it a second thought. There were more practical matters at hand. She had to get this mirror downstairs alone, and her muscles were already strained and sore. With a deep grunt, she made her way to the attic door and began the long descent down the stairs, muttering to herself about all the foolish things she did just to look beautiful.