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Cecil Gershwin Palmer stared into the mirror. It wasn’t an ugly mirror, it was actually quite nice. Smooth edges, the frame a pinkish-ivory colour. Cecil couldn’t tell if it was deathly silent or his own screams had deafened him beyond hearing. He decided it was silent. He didn’t particularly wish to be deaf at such a young age as twenty, however long twenty had and would be. The creature on his shoulder stared at his mirror eyes, rubbing the claws and black rings on his grabby little hands along his shoulder. Cecil usually liked pets, he was the guy who went to find the animal at parties, when he was invited to parties that is, but not this pet. Not this animal. Not this... creature. It’s human shaped head was... uncomfortable to look at, though he’d gotten used to its tiny, blank eyes and thin, lipless mouth, grey, human-ish skin.
Cecil couldn’t look away, but he wanted to leave. He wanted to get away. But even more, he wanted to know what was in the draw of the mirror table. The mirror creature opened it’s mouth in a silent scream, it’s long, black tongue snaking out of it’s mouth, razor sharp teeth bared. Was that saliva stringed between it’s teeth, or blood? It was crying again. A long guttural howl, like a baby husky screaming. Cecil winced as he realised he’d been biting down on the inside of his own mouth.
He glanced again at the table. It’s chipped edges, the tarnished yet ornate brass bulb knob of the drawer hanging beneath it. He needed to know what was in the draw. He needed to know. It had been days, now, weeks maybe? He didn’t know. It was driving him mad, if he wasn’t mad already. The table only appeared in the mirror, but was familiar. Where had he seen it before? Cecil wracked his mind, trying to remember where he’d seen it, trying to remember anything. He could only remember one thing. “Someone’s going to kill you someday Cecil, and it will involve a mirror.” His mother. He hadn’t seen her in years. She’d left him, but he still missed her. If she was still here, it would all be ok. He knew it would. This creature wouldn’t be clinging to his shoulder, screaming noiselessly into his ear. “Why are you crying when you don’t even exist?” And another warning about mirrors, what his mother had said when he’d broken his leg on a swing set. Not comfort, not help, just warnings. He’d never gone on a swing set again. If only he’d listened to his mother’s warnings. Would he be here if he’d listened? Would this been happening? Or was this always going to happen? Did he exist? If he didn’t exist, why did it hurt when the creature dug it’s black-ringed fingers into his shoulder?
The table’s brass knob shone, almost tauntingly. Cecil realised his face was damp. He was crying, but he didn’t dare move to check if the tears were real. He didn’t dare move. He sniffed. He needed to know what was in the drawer. He needed to know. There was nothing else he needed. The drawer was the most important thing, it was the only thing he wanted, needed to know. But how are you meant to touch something that only appears in a mirror world? Why was the table in the mirror? Why isn’t it real? But isn’t it, though? Only something real could bring you so much pain, couldn’t it? His questions rolled tirelessly in his mind, never spoken, no one would hear even if he did speak. He hadn’t spoken yet today, though everyone he’d always met had complimented his voice. He still loved to talk, to narrate, to tell stories. His love for radio was never ending, but it had been hard to even enjoy that these days. The creature twitched a little, it’s long, snake-like torso waving in the air. Cecil took in a deep, rattling breath. What was he missing? What was different? What was he doing wrong? What was he doing to prevent him opening the table? What was he doing wrong?! He glanced away from the mirror. He sighed. He couldn’t do this anymore. What if he just smashed the mirror? What if he-
Cecil screamed. It echoed through the empty house. Like how a child screams when it trips and falls to the ground, feeling a great pain for the first time, Cecil screamed. He shouldn’t have looked away from the mirror. The creature’s teeth buried themselves deeper in Cecil’s neck. Cecil went to tear the creature off, but when he moved his hands up to grasp it, it wasn’t there. It was only in the mirror. He could feel blood running down his neck, warm and thick, trickling down the under collar of his shirt. The mirror. He needed to break the mirror. A bat, a baseball bat beside the mirror. He’d found it yesterday in the attic, the single reminder of that one year Cecil decided he played baseball. He didn’t play baseball. He’d never been good at it. He lunged for it, and felt if not a little comfort at the feel of the heavy, smooth bludgeon resting in his unsteady hands. He grasped it tightly, and with a weeks worth of adrenaline build up, he swung it at the mirror. And it shattered.
Cecil fell to the ground, panting loudly. He touched his hand to his neck, where the creature had bitten him. Nothing. No marks, no blood, no creature even. The only reminder it had been there was the aching pain only felt when many sharp blades pierce your skin. Pieces of shattered glass lay about the musty carpet. Cecil stood up, shaky and unnerved. He avoided the glass shards with much precision. He didn’t feel much like slicing his skin open. He stared at the mirror. It hadn’t changed a bit. It was whole, never before shattered. But he was gone. Mirror Cecil was gone. For the most part at least. Cecil stared in horror at the image of his lifeless bleeding body. He looked behind him. Nothing. Just the mirror. He was only dead in the mirror, jaw slack. Mirror him had died screaming. He took in a deep, shaky breath. He realised he was shivering, not from cold, but from fear. He shook his hands, trying to calm himself.
“Come on, deep breaths Cecil, deeeep breaths,” he said to himself in his deep, soothing voice. “Caaaaalm down. Near-death experiences aren’t an excuse to get all bothered, that kind of thing happens all the time.” He tapped his foot rhythmically against the carpeted floor. “You’ll be fine.” He paused, and hit himself in the face, the small sharp pain of knuckles against his jaw. “You idiot Cecil,” he hissed. “You goddamn idiot, you should’ve listened to your mother. You never listened to her and now...” he glanced back to his body in the mirror. The blood leaking from his neck had started to soak a big red stain into the carpet. He swallowed back the lump in his throat. “This never happened.” He composed himself a little, brushing nothing off his shirt and deep blue cardigan. “This never happened. Say nothing and drink to forget.” He stood up straight. “If you see something, say nothing and drink to forget!” He pushed the sleeves of his shirt and cardigan up his arms and wrapped them into themselves so they wouldn’t slip down again. “I need a broom... and a blanket. A lot of blankets.”
Very soon, he’d busied himself about the house tidying up. Cecil had thrown out all the shattered glass, and a few other smaller mirrors in the house. The rest, the larger immovable mirrors, he covered with sheets and towels and blankets, anything he could find. Cecil sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. “Say nothing, and drink to forget,” he muttered to his palms. “Drink to forget.” He headed to the kitchen. He was only twenty, but how long had he been twenty? He didn’t know. He deserved a drink.
And then he heard something. A wrapping of knuckles on wood. Someone knocking at the door. There’s someone at the door? The only people he talked to were Josie, a young woman who showed a respectable interest in radio, and occasionally a young man by the name of John Peters, y’know, the farmer? And Leonard Burton, the Radio host of the local radio station. Cecil had always loved radio, and Leonard had always been very encouraging. He’d even offered an internship to Cecil last time they spoke. Cecil was still thinking about it. No one came to visit him. As Cecil walked down the hallway to the front door he hesitated. There was a table in the hallway, a chipped table with mismatched polish and a draw hanging under around the middle, with a tarnished but ornate brass bulb knob. Cecil took in a shaking breath. Was... was he in the mirror world? Had he been somehow transported? Or had he been in the mirror world all along? No... he knew this table. He remembered his mother opening the draw. The book filled with scrawling illustrations of snakes with human heads and so, so many teeth. They had scared him so much. He’d never wanted to look at the book again. His mother had told him... what had she told him? A secret? Something about a secret? Another knock at the door snapped him out of this new spiral of thoughts, thank god. “Say nothing and drink to forget,” he mumbled under his breath as he reached for the door handle. The slight cold of the air gently pinched his checks as it hit him from the other side of the door. Then, “Abby?”
“Hey there, Cecil.” His sister stood in the doorway, anxiously rubbing her hands together. “Long time no see, aha.”
“Indeed,” Cecil frowned. “Where have you been?”
“Places,” Abby replied. She didn’t seem to know what to say. “How... have you been?”
“Great, great, good, good, I’ve been... yeah,” Cecil trailed off a little. Silence. “Would you like to come in?”
“Thank you,” she sighed. She stepped inside, glancing at the table as she did. “Was that always there?”
“I don’t know,” Cecil pursed his lips. He’d forgotten about the table for a minute. But now he remembered. The creature popped back into his mind’s eye and he shivered. The mirrors were covered. He should be safe. Abby followed him into the dining room.
“I’d’ve thought you’d’ve kept this place a little neater,” she commented. Cecil couldn’t tell if there was a hint of distain in her voice. He assumed there was. Him and Abby hadn’t been on the best of terms last time they’d met. He snorted.
“It’s not like mother was any better.”
“I’d rather we didn’t talk about her,” Abby mumbled.
“Then why did you come?” Cecil asked sharply, turning his head to look at her. Abby seemed a little startled. Cecil felt a small wave of guilt. He hadn’t meant to snap.
“To y’know...” Abby waved her hands a little. “See my little brother again. I miss you.” Cecil didn’t look her in the eyes. He’d always found that uncomfortable. She was wearing a white shirt under her jacket that said ‘Walmart: we sell things!’ in big bold letters. Abby shuffled her feet uncomfortably. “I know you don’t forgive people easily, but... I wanna be friends with you again.” She sighed. “Remember when we were kids? When mom would take us to the forest and try to lose us in the trees, but we had fun anyway? Remember the owls? How many years ago was that now?”
“I don’t know,” Cecil realised his throat was dry and swallowed thoroughly. “How long has it been since we were kids? How old are you now?”
“Twenty-four last I checked,” she looked at her watch. “Still twenty?”
“Yeah,” Cecil sniffed.
“You don’t look a day older,” Abby smiled a little.
“Come sit down,” Cecil offered a chair, letting go of a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. He’d forgotten he had to breath. He did that sometimes.
“Those are new too,” she indicated the sheets covering the large, ivory-pink mirror.
“Yeah,” Cecil inhaled loudly.
“Why?” Abby wondered out loud.
“Don’t like mirrors,” her brother replied, too quickly. “Never have.”
“I don’t remember that,” Abby frowned.
“Well it’s true,” Cecil insisted. “Always hated those things. So what’s been happening with you?” He desperately tried to change the subject. Abby raised an eyebrow, but complied. It was his house now, after all.
Him and Abby talked for a while. Well, mostly Abby. So much had happened to her. She told Cecil about where she was living now, a small house downtown. Cecil was surprised he hadn’t seen her, but he didn’t leave his own house often enough he supposed. She told him about a man she’d been seeing. She never mentioned a name. She wanted to move in with him. Cecil didn’t even know who he was. She told him about her job, working in the Night Vale High School as a teaching assistant. She didn’t particularly like the kids, she explained, but they were ok enough. She said she wanted to quit as soon as she could. Her partner had a job, so it would work out. Cecil didn’t even know who he was. It was uncomfortable. He didn’t know how to react to any of this. So he didn’t.
“What about you?” Abby finally asked. “Work? Family?” She paused, her mouth twisting into a mischievous smile. “Boyfriend?”
Cecil sighed. “No, none of that,” he examined the same wall he looked at every day when he ate every meal. “I haven’t been doing much. Not at all.”
“Really? Nothing?” Abby raised her eyebrows. “What about that radio stuff? You always loved practicing in those old cassette tapes.”
Cecil thought for a moment, before he remembered. “I got offered an internship, down at the community radio station, Leonard Burton.”
Abby gasped. “You did? That’s amazing Cecil! Did you take the offer?”
“Maybe,” he ran his fingers up and down edge of the table. Abby was very excited, and he didn’t really know how to feel about it. The last time he’d seen her she’d been yelling about how this was all his fault, and he was too, about how it was actually her fault, and if she hadn’t been as rude mother would still be here.
Abby seemed to sense his discomfort. They were siblings after all. “You haven’t forgiven me, have you?”
“Not particularly,” Cecil mumbled, a little guilt tinging his words.
“I’m hoping that... in time...” she started, but he held out a hand to make her stop.
”No need for a speech,” he sighed. “This is my problem. You don’t need to deal with it.”
“Ok,” Abby closed her eyes, letting out a long, deep, exhale.
“Ok,” Cecil nodded slightly. Abby buttoned up her jacket so her shirt just said ‘Lmar sell th’.
“I should... get going, maybe?” She stood up. “Would you want to meet again soon?”
Cecil nodded again, more prominently this time. “Yes please.”
He followed her to the front door. He tried to ignore the somehow looming presence of the table. “I’ll cya round, ey Cecil?” Abby asked rhetorically as they both stood uncomfortably in the doorway.
“Sure,” Cecil realised he’d never pulled down the sleeves of his cardigan.
“Bye.”
“Goodnight.”
Cecil sighed with relief as the door closed behind her. He couldn’t take anymore surprises today, unwelcome, or not, or even deadly. He was tired.
Time skip, to whenever this would happen
“Cecil, sweet, you’ve never explained why you cover so many of the mirrors... I was gonna say in our house, but just in general,” Carlos peaked his head through the door into the living room where Cecil was sprawled across the couch. Cecil looked up.
“Oh, why honeybun?” He frowned. Carlos glanced around awkwardly.
“Oh no reason, just, wanted to do an experiment with one. Just wanted to see if...” he became very interested in the coffee table. “If there were... so y’know when you’re a kid and you stare at the mirror and try and stop your reflection following you?”
Cecil froze. The sight of his lifeless mirror body flashed before his eyes. “Please don’t,” he interrupted, before, “sorry, dear, I... hmm.” For once the radio host was lost for words.
“From what I’ve learnt from living here, if you say something is dangerous and could probably kill me, you’re probably right, so don’t worry honey,” Carlos wandered over, reaching down to pat his husband, who was flopped on the couch like a cat, on the head. “I won’t do anything you say is dangerous without great precaution first.” He put a hand on either side of Cecil’s head. Cecil looked up at him and they met eyes. Carlos smiled, rubbing his hands gently in his husband’s hair. Then he frowned suddenly. “I’ve never met your mother my dear.”
Cecil stiffened a little. “Well yes that would be because she’s... she’s uh... yeah... she’s...”
“Ah ok,” Carlos understood. Cecil was never able to explain... that... kind of stuff. Cecil loved how understanding Carlos was, how wonderfully and perfectly he could interpret Cecil’s meaning from just a few words. Carlos was beautiful, and the whole town knew this, but especially Cecil. Cecil knew he was the only one who really knew how beautiful Carlos was. Carlos was perfect. If there was a single perfect human, it would be Carlos, Cecil thought. “What you thinking about honey?” Carlos’s perfect voice interrupted Cecil’s thoughts.
“You,” Cecil smiled.
“Awww, you’re making me blush,” Carlos laughed. “I have to go make sure the chemicals I’m bubbling don’t melt through our walls now, I’ll see you later honey,” he bent down and kissed Cecil gently on the head.
“See you.” Cecil blinked and quickly swept his hands up and down the couch, making sure it was real and not a disappearing couch like a few fellow citizens had bought in the last week or so. Of course it wasn’t, he’d had this couch for years. He had never told Carlos about the mirrors. He didn’t know if he ever wanted to. He didn’t want to relive that. No. No, better left alone. Say nothing, and drink to forget.