The Mirror No Longer Works

A very short spooky story for Halloween

Happy Halloween. I don’t post fiction here very much, because a) nobody reads fiction, and 2) nobody wants fiction, but since it’s the best holiday, why not treat ourselves to some fake horror amidst all the real horror going on in the world?

For my birthday this year, I finally visited The Old Spaghetti Factory in downtown San Diego (ironically [?] one of the oldest restaurants in downtown). We used to go to the one in Salt Lake City all the time when I was growing up, so the nostalgia runs deep. Anyway, the experience was everything I wanted/remembered, and I don’t need to do it again. Part of growing up is realizing maybe you’ve been an Olive Garden guy all along.

Anyway, the trip inspired this story. It’s called “The Mirror No Longer Works.” Hope you enjoy!

The Mirror No Longer Works

My reflection was facing the wrong way the morning after I killed my neighbor’s dog.

I stumbled into the bathroom to assess just how hungover I looked. If it was bad, I wasn’t going to work. Not like we get sick leave at the warehouse, but I’d rather go unpaid than have to deal with Mr. Kolchak, who said he’d write me up if I showed up one more time “looking insane.” His words.

But instead of my bloodshot eyes, 9 o’clock shadow and 40-watt teeth, I just saw the back of my head. I waved; my reflection waved. I scratched the back of my neck and saw the lines left by my fingernails.

Had I been dosed? I tried to remember everything I had at The Old Spaghetti Factory the night before. I’d never been, but wanted to take Kelleigh somewhere nice. This whole thing with Kelleigh is new. We met on an app. On her profile it said she liked spaghetti, so.

Not going to lie, The Spaghetti Factory is not cheap, but the warehouse pays me well (when I show up). I was about six glasses deep of The Spaghetti Factory house red when our bill came, and when I bid Kelleigh adieu, it sounded like “I do.”

I drove home with double vision. As I turned into my driveway, my car went whump-whump and the neighbor’s dog was now a red star splashed across the concrete.

Can’t say I felt particularly bad. The dog was always barking and it was nice to have some quiet. But it didn’t last long, because another dog that looked exactly like the first dog started biting my heel. I guess I didn’t realize that the neighbor had two of the same type of dog. So I killed that one, too. Just sort of punted it back into the neighbor’s yard. It made sense at the time. If it were me, I’d hate to have a reminder of something I once had.

I watch my reflection walk away from me, turn a corner in my reflected apartment, and disappear forever. It was at that moment that I heard someone pounding on the door. It was the neighbor. I knew because he kept screaming, “You killed my dogs!”

Come to think of it, I never really liked the neighbor either. Always in my business, like Mr. Kolchak. I took one more look in the empty mirror and imagined myself smiling back.

That night, before our spaghettis with Mizithra cheese arrive, Kelleigh asks if I’ve already been drinking wine. “Your teeth are all red.”

“Oh, whoops,” I say, covering my mouth. “I didn’t know. Something’s wrong with my mirror.”

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