Tracy
Tracy sneezed as the fluffy white insulation settled around her like snow. Well, at least something at Santa Command reminded her of the North Pole.
“Ouch,” she said as she sat up and brushed dust out of her hair. Her tail bone was sore as well as her right arm. Again. She flexed her fingers. At least nothing was broken this time. She pushed herself off of the broken pieces of ceiling and to her feet.
She was in a square room, empty except for a large, oval shaped mirror mounted to the wall. The room had no windows, and the lights were out, but there was light coming from the mirror. It gave the room a soft, yellow glow like a living room lamp at night.
Tracy couldn't look away from the mirror, like it contained every happy memory in her life all rolled into one. She walked slowly toward it, even though the feeling in her bones told her to go for the door or find her way back to the attic. She needed to find out what the deal was with the mirror. Why did it glow like that? Why did she want to reach out and touch it?
As she got closer, the yellow light shivered, then swirled into an image, not a reflection, but a picture of a library. It was a lot like a trick she'd seen in Belle's house at Disney World, and she wondered if Santa Command had the same designers.
Once the picture stopped shifting, Tracy gaped at how welcoming everything looked. There was a red arm chair sitting next to a crackling fire. Green garland and red bows were draped across the mantle. The floor to ceiling bookshelves were stuffed with books. It was as if someone had reached into her mind and came up with the perfect reading room.
It was so detailed, she was certain she was looking through a window and not a mirror. But if the mirror was actually a door into another room, why not just build a door? Why go to the trouble of making it seem like a magical entrance when everything else in this building was fake? And why did her stomach feel so tingly when she looked at the mirror?
No, it wasn't tingles. She was just tired. The computer back in the other room had said it was around 2 am. No wonder the chair, with its fuzzy overstuffed cushions, looked so inviting.
But the presence of a comfy chair didn't explain why the room and the mirror were there in the first place. She knew in her gut the answer had to be important. Think, Tracy, think. What does this room have to do with Santa Command?
All of the people she had met seemed more interested in computers than in how their workplace looked. And if any of the Santas saw it, they wouldn't remember anyway. Besides, Tracy had the feeling the Santas weren't shown anything besides the dressing room and their sleighs. Get them in and out. Have them do their job, wipe their minds, then send them home, with stupid, fake memories.
Tracy had a crazy urge to step through the mirror just to feel what it was like in that library. It wasn't curiosity. It was more like a pull in the center of her body, tugging at her from the other room.
She put her hands on the sides of the frame in order to stop herself. She had other priorities—get to her Santa's sleigh and get home—but her body wasn't listening. Her breath came in quick little bursts. She tightened her fingers around the smooth wood. She shook her head, but instead of clearing her mind, her thoughts grew fuzzier.
One by one, her fingers let go of the frame, and her arms dropped loosely to her side. All on its own, her right foot stepped through the mirror, and the rest of her body had no choice but to follow.