The Reflection of Piper Chastidy by Sian Webster (reading eggs books .TXT) 📖

the guitar, my hand travelling down the length of the strings and the fret board.

“Go on,” Dad pushed. “Have a play. I’ll leave you two in peace.”

I slid down and sat on the floor beside the guitar, carefully lifting it from the stand. I slid my fingers up and down the strings in awe, desperate to recall a song I could play. It was like when someone asked you what your favourite movie was, and you forgot every movie you had ever seen.

Forcing my brain into motion, my fingers moved over the strings and the frets. I barely thought about what I was doing. Music swirled around the room, bouncing off the walls. Until I heard the crash. And the scream.

Dad.

My head snapped up, my eyebrows furrowed. I placed the guitar on the stand and stood up.

“Dad?” I asked hesitantly.

There was no answer.

“Dad?” I called, louder. When, once again, I wasn’t answered, I inched towards the door of the room, poking my head around the corner. All I could see to my left was the empty hallway. The only thing to the right was a mirror on the wall. Once again, I saw the empty hallway. I was still absent from the reflection. I found myself reaching out towards the mirror, slipping my hand through the veil between my world and whatever world waited beyond. I snapped out of my reverie as I heard a bigger, louder crash, and a louder scream. A bloodcurdling scream. My curiosity towards the mirror shattered, and my legs forced my body forwards, running.

I skidded around the corner, barely stopping myself before I could tumble into a pile of rubble. My eyes scanned the room in earnest, hardly able to comprehend what they were seeing. The staircase leading upstairs had collapsed. It was completely obliterated, looking as if something incredibly heavy had been thrown into it. Hesitantly, I stepped around the fragments of wood and concrete, my eyes surveying the room for my father. The kitchen cupboards and drawers were all agape, some drawers pulled out onto the floor, their contents pouring out onto the linoleum, some cupboard doors barely still on their hinges. I made my way around the mess of kitchen utensils until I found the knife block that had been strewn onto the floor in whatever commotion had occurred. I looked around once more before ducking down and grabbing one of the larger knives from the block.

“Dad?” I called out, my breath catching in my throat as I stood up.

I heard a strangled cry from the study and ran to the doorway off the kitchen, the knife held tightly in my fist which I hid behind my back. I froze as I laid my eyes on what waited inside. A humanoid creature stood before me with pale skin, dark, sunken eyes, sharp teeth and long claws finishing its fingers. One of its pale arms was stretched out before it, the claws on the end of the arm piercing my father’s abdomen as he was lifted from the ground. The creature turned and smirked at me upon my arrival. I forced myself not to gasp, and took a deep breath instead.

“Put him down.” I said sharply, my voice stronger than I felt.

“Put him down?” The creature hissed, its voice as rough as sand paper. “In the air or on the ground, he’s dead, little girl.”

“It doesn’t matter.” I told it. My head was spinning. I spat out the first words I could think of. “I’m the one you want, right?”

Its pale eyebrows raised in surprise. “Look here,” it turned to my father, “we have a smart one.” It then trained its eyes on me. “You want your father? Have him.”

I barely had time to jump to the side before the creature launched its arm forward, throwing my father through the doorway I had been standing in and across the room until he landed by the collapsed staircase. It took all my free will not to run to him.

“I’m not afraid of you.” I said boldly, my heart thundering in my chest.

The creature cocked its head to the side, a sinister smile appearing on its face. “Sure you aren’t.”

“You should be afraid of me.” I told it. “After all, I am my father’s daughter.”

The creature’s smirk faltered.

I laughed humourlessly, hoping my suspicions about my father were true as I voiced them aloud for the first time. “Do you really think he would leave me and my sister completely defenceless against whatever would come for him from the other side of the mirror?” I asked. “Would he really be that stupid?”

“He should never have escaped.” It hissed. “You would need no defending if he had stayed.”

“Of course not.” I narrowed my eyes. “But I would still have to kill you on the other side.”

The creature laughed, a horrible choking sound. “You couldn’t kill me.”

I stepped from behind the door frame, gripping the knife tighter in my hand. “I wouldn’t be so sure.” I took my arm from behind my back, revealing the knife.

The creature’s eyes seemed to light up. To my surprise, it took a step towards me, its hands raised in surrender. “Do it then. A fitting revenge, considering I killed your father.” It walked slowly around me. “I wish I could describe the feeling of euphoria it gave me when I finally found that traitor, and my claws pierced his skin for the first time. The feeling of pure power when I realised I was the one who finally killed Jason Chastidy. And the feeling of excitement,” it muttered in my ear, its sharp teeth grazing my earlobe, “when I realised that I only have to wait a couple of minutes before his wife and second daughter return, and I can murder them just as I have with him.”

The creature had barely stopped before me when I gripped the knife in my hand and thrusted upwards, lodging the knife under its rib cage with all the strength I could muster. As soon as the creature grasped at the knife and black blood began to fall from its mouth, I whirled around and ran to my father, my hands shaking.

“Dad,” I sobbed, slipping my hand beneath his head and pulling it onto my lap. “Dad this is all my fault. I think this is because of me.”

He reached out and patted my knee. “Don’t be silly, Pipes, how on earth could this be your fault? If anything it’s mine.”

I blinked. “Your fault?” I asked incredulously, not waiting for a reply. “Dad. Dad, this is my fault. I don’t have a reflection.”

A pained smile spread across his face. “Don’t worry, Piper.” He said, wincing. “Neither do I.”

He slowly closed his hand into a fist, leaving one finger outstretched. My gaze followed his finger and landed on the mirror at the end of the hallway. In the reflection, there was the rubble of the staircase surrounding a pool of blood on the carpeted floor. My father – the source of the blood – was not there. Neither was I.

“Dad—!”

He shook his head, his hand slipping from my knee so he could clutch at his stomach. The blood covered his hand instantly, so thick that it was more black than crimson. “Piper,” he croaked, “Piper come closer.”

I leant down, my ear close to his mouth, my hair shrouding him in darkness.

“Piper,” he said slowly, “don’t lean into the mirror.”

As he finished speaking, his body collapsed, a dead weight on my lap. A sob tore its way from my throat as I pulled back, his dazed, empty eyes staring at the ceiling above him. I reached out a shaking hand and lowered his eye lids, trying to convince myself he was sleeping. It didn’t work; his chest didn’t rise and fall, his snores which normally echoed through the house were non-existent. There was far too much blood.

Slowly, I slipped my hands under his head, cradling it, before slipping myself out from under his body, and lowering him to the floor. My breath rattled in my chest against sobs as I dragged myself from the floor, unable to draw my gaze away from my father. It took all my free will not to sink down next to him again and just give up. Just let those things take me too. But – somehow – I didn’t.

“This is about to get really interesting, believe me, but just – just go with it.” A voice said from behind me. “What you just said to your dad? Not true.”

I didn’t turn around. My shoulders were tensed. My teeth were clenched. My knees were locked in position; the only thing keeping me upright.

No. I told myself. Not possible.

“What’s not true?” I asked, my voice shaking.

The person sighed exasperatedly. “Your reflection. You have one.” They paused. “And right now, she needs you to get your ass through that damn mirror.”

Hesitantly, I turned around. My gaze met with a girl with a round face, auburn hair, and green eyes of average height. “What are you doing here?” I asked, remembering their face from when they watched me from the edge of the forest. As well as many other occasions.

“Trust me.” My reflection told me. “It’s for your own good.”

2. The Desolation

 

I felt like I had been plunged into a bottomless ocean, cold enveloping me in its cruel embrace as I came into contact with the mirror. Darkness swirled around me, obscuring my vision, increasing my already rapid heartbeat. I reached out in earnest for my reflection – she had to be there somewhere – but my search was fruitless.

As fast as the feeling had washed over me, it was snatched away, and I was forced from the interior of the mirror and onto the other side. The air was stifling hot, suffocating my lungs. I choked in the too-warm oxygen, savouring the feeling after the illusion of drowning mere seconds before. I landed on my knees roughly, my hands slapping on the hard ground before me, stabilising my body. Sweat broke out on my brow, a result of the rapid temperature change, and I raised my eyes from the ground to observe my surroundings.

I was crouched in a square room with plain, concrete walls, and a single steel door in one corner. Everything was a shade of dark grey, a huge contrast to the beige and browns of my house. I pushed myself to my feet, spinning around to look behind me. “No.” I muttered, recalling my father’s story, where the worlds were mirrored perfectly. He must have known they weren’t, but why did he never tell us? “No, no, no, this is all wrong.”

Behind me was a mirror, but once again, I was not reflected. Nor was the rest of the room. Behind the glass was my house, the hallway I had just left. The only difference was that I could see my father, clutching at his abdomen even though he no longer felt the pain. I felt a sob choke its way up my throat as I reached out to touch the mirror, to watch the surface ripple, but my hand was met with cool glass.

Solid.

No ripples.

No escape.

When my knees buckled and my legs fell from beneath me, I didn’t even feel my body hit the floor. Silent