(continuing with 2011 exchange writing..)
Grace always knew there was something about
that mirror in her room. It was one of those old heavy full length mirror with
intricate gold carvings by the side. She was convinced it was magical. Sometimes when she looked into it, into her
own reflection, she felt like the eyes in her reflection were looking right
through her. One time she even thought it winked at her. Somehow she wasn’t
creeped out by it. She felt this strange magnetic attraction, as if she was
drawn to it. It felt. Magical.
So there was this one day, she was up and
about, ready to go for an important event event. Dressed to the nines, she was
doing up her hair. She realized that she couldn’t actually see how her hair was
like from the back, so she decided she needed another mirror to help her with
that. She held her mom’s mirror to the back of her head to examine how her hair
was like. Whoa, great job, Grace, she thought to herself. Looking straight
ahead now, she realized that she could see her reflection, and then reflection
of her reflection of her reflection, and her reflection of her reflection of
her reflection of her reflection. And there, in the 13th frame, she
saw her own reflection wave to her.
She froze, and rubbed her eyes. NO. WAY.
Before she could even respond, her 13th
reflection reached out, and just like in the movies, like how the mirror
surface turned jello like, that was EXACTLY what happened. It pulled her in.
Grace yelled. She yelled so much, but the next
thing she knew, she was on her bed, and her mom was shouting at her to ‘QUIT it
and to try to be an example of her name.’
“Sorry ma! I just had the strangest, weirdest
dream.”
Well, just quit it will you, or I’ll redraw
your privileges to control Grace on Sunday alright?”
“Huhh? Waddyou talkin’about mom?” Grace was
dumbfounded. What was mom talking about ‘grace’? she was Grace!? “Don’t act
like you don’t know how the rules are, Grace. You little rascal. Control her,
or she gets to be free, you make the choice alright?” Grace stared at mom. Some
thing was strange about her. Mom was right handed. This woman was holding her
hair brush in her left hand. Mom had a mole on her left cheek. This lady had
hers on her right.
Oh goodness. Grace screamed again. This time,
she suddenly noticed that everything around her was a reflection of her house.
She burst out into her garden. Her favorite rose plants were on her left. Her
car was a right hand drive instead of left. And what ‘Mom’ had said, what did
she mean?
She had to find out. Quickly, Grace swapped her
right swept fringe to her left side. Luckily for her, she was ambidextrous. On
Sunday, she followed “Mom” to the garage, where she got to peek into a screen
which she planned Mom’s activities for the next 7 days. Likewise, before her,
Grace sieved through an entire archive of what she had done in her Real World
before she came to this parallel universe. From the boyfriends that she had,
the silly things that she ever did, the music she ever liked. These were all
planned by “Grace”.
Freewill.. What in the world was that? Grace
gapped at the screen in front of her.
x
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