Page 27 - Cornice_Grade 10

It flashes away. I remember the day when
The blue frame shatters into a million pieces
sending glass shards flying all over the room.
The arrangement of components almost seems
like they were there on purpose. While I gather
the pieces, it cuts my hand, uncontrollably
letting out drops of blood. I go into the other
room to plaster the wounds when I catch a
glimpse of my reflection. I don’t remember
keeping a mirror in this room. It intrigues me,
and I see the sign - love mom - as I move
toward it. I take the shawl from the mirror and
observe the details it contains. Carvings of
flowers decorate its side; pink and brown
colours seem to clash with each other.
When I bought the house, it was in shambles.
The doorway had water dripping and mould
that was turning black. Aside from the
hardwood floor, which was destroyed by
termites, everything else was in the process of
decaying or had already decayed. Whilst
walking through the house, I stumbled upon a
dead rat. Given that the house was cheap, I
chose to ignore it. A faint ringing fills my ears
in a monotonous pattern, progressively growing
louder. I snap out of what had seemed like a
memory and bring my attention to the ringing,
which abruptly stops. In front of me was the
mirror.
“-My dear, what have you done?” The voice
sounds distorted. It pounds against my head.
The sharp, intense pain strikes my body, and
the smell makes me gag. Trying to move around
a little, I notice vomit all over my hair. A voice
in the background kept on yelling for help.
I overdosed. The pain still acutely has a
side effect. I am perplexed upon why these
flashbacks are turbulently re-occurring.
There is a smell of damp books in our old
house. As I looked around, I realised I was
shorter than the chairs. There are loud
noises, feet scurrying by, from the corner
of my eye. I see my little brother gasping
for air. I begin to cry. The cake I gave him
contained eggs, to which he was allergic. I
could no longer bear the pain. Suddenly,
I’m there -again in front of the mirror.
Overtime,i did forgive myself yet the scar
remains etched.
Suddenly, the sights of every mistake I
have made flashes before me and all the
improvement I have made so far seems to
vanish. I realie that the mirror shows me
an honest reflection.
As the butterfly flutters away, it lands on
my shoulder. I hear my brother, mother,
and father call out to me from there.
Something strange was going on. Despite
this, I felt peaceful. The mirror asks me if
this is where I want to be. With tears in
my eyes, I utter “yes” knowing that my
parents will have both deceased children
in this life.
-Aadya Shrestha