The door cracks open and the light pours into the dark room from the heavily lit up hallway. The woman crosses the threshold and towards the nearest closet. She snaps on the light along the way and rests her two, heavy suitcases in front of a closet. She breathes a sigh of relief as she rotates her shoulders and massages her aching muscles.
Her name is Amber and being a woman of substance and strength she had politely declined the assistance that an eager bellhop offered and now she regrets it, slightly. She wonders just how much more relaxed she might have been had she been free of the burden. Of course, investing in some roller luggage would be just as well.
She lets herself think back, the flight had been long, the taxi ride had been tedious and the steps it took to get from the lobby to her room had been somewhat strenuous. But now she's under her own power and allowed to do as she sees fit. Such is the liberation she feels as she is no longer under the scrutiny of others and their expectations.
Amber sits down on a nearby chair and removes the high heels that have so plagued her feet from meeting to meeting, all the way to this very hotel where she's now pleased to be free of their torturous grip. She slides off her stockings and proceeds to massage her feet with long powerful strokes of her fingertips and her pores rejoice when the cool air kisses each one and they're free to breathe.
A naturally inclined individual, she prefers to walk about barefoot, a decision not permitted in the ever growing, business world. She stands from her place and lets her naked toes twist into the plush carpet. She catches sight of a mirror which showcases the jewelry she's wearing. A necessary burden she removes the useless pieces of decoration that stretch her earlobes and chafe her wrists.
Amber takes another look in the mirror. She sees herself staring back at her and starts to feel like a stranger. She pulls a makeup wipe from her handbag and scrubs away her war paint while she stares into the mirror. Each layer removed feels like a whole new person is showing their face. She starts to wonder just how many people are trapped within her person.
She pushes the existential dwellings to the side for now and starts to walk away. She allows her feet to immerse themselves in the warmth and the thread of the rug. It feels soft and tickles the tips of her toes and the balls of her feet. She relishes the feeling and twists her feet into that plush heaven with each stride she takes.
The carpet soon ends and she would have been sorry to see it go, had it not been for the sight of something she wants even more taking her full attention. She's standing in the bathroom staring down at the simple bathtub as she envisions the sheer ecstasy she's likely to experience.
But there is another matter which takes precedence, that of a mirror covering the entire wall that stands to the side of the tub. A strange addition to so intimate a room, but one that excites her all the same. She maintains eyes upon her twin standing in the wall as she moves toward the tub and sits down on the edge.
She observes herself as she turns on the taps and puts her hand under the faucet as she changes the temperature to a proper heat that is just below scalding. Finished, she stands from her place and gazes into the reflective surface as she begins to strip the clothes from her body, slowly. The jacket is the first to go with its top two buttons already undone giving her a head start, it slaps against the floor.
Next she unzips the side of her skirt which falls effortlessly. She then unbuttons her dress shirt one button at a time and lets it slip off her shoulders and adds to the pile. She stands now only in her undergarments and stares upon her doppelganger. Its eyes seem to dare her to go all the way.
Amber reaches forward and unclasps the latch to her front affixed bra and unhitches it. Lastly, are her panties which slide right off. She's now clothed in the suit that she was born in. She gazes into the giant mirror and sees her twin return to her a smug look as if to say, "I told you it would be fun." She agrees wholeheartedly.
She bends down and dips a hand into the water. It burns at first, but she's able to endure and it becomes a relaxing temperature. She stands up and dips in a toe; fire then bliss. She immerses her foot and then the next. Gingerly she lowers her body and lets the heat wash over her until she finds herself bathing in bliss.
She settles her body and allows the heat of the bath to envelope her. She lays herself against the back of the tub and lets her feet slip out of the water and onto the faucet. Sometimes being taller than average can have its drawbacks. She delights in the elation of the sensation of each crack that her bones give off and every stretch of her muscles that brings release.
Once settled she looks at her reflection which is becoming obscured through the rising steam, but she can still clearly see the face. There's a smug smile on her double. Her eyes glare through the vapor and directly upon her and seem to be sending an invitation that cannot and will not be refused.
Amber sets her hand between her breasts and slowly rubs her finger up and down the crevice that lies there. The soft blade of her finger is in direct contrast with the stiffness of her breast bone. She can feel herself lose her self as she continues to stimulate her erogenous zone and it is in the midst of this ecstasy that she glances to her partner.
The whole mirror has been fogged up and she can't see a thing. She uses her hand to wipe away the precipitation and is horrified by what she sees. Her twin is laying lifeless in a bathtub full of blood. Her double's eyes snap open and a smile returns to her while she eyes the woman on the other side. She turns her head and adopts a crazed look to her face.
She takes to writing on the glass and it ends up on the other side as spoken words so long as she circles the sentences. And the voice that comes through is like listening to a harp as the strings are gently plucked causing the sentences to have a harmonious connection to one another.
"What do you think?" she posts a query.
Amber stares at the other woman. "What do you mean?" she answers before remembering the exercise necessary to communicate and restates her question.
"Didn't you like what you saw?" the mirror woman writes back. "Don't you think it would be so beautiful if you ended your life? Just think you'd be found lying in your bath with a look of pure happiness on your face."
"Why should I want to kill myself?" Amber scrawls.
"Oh, did I read the situation wrong?" the mirror woman returns in written form. "I just thought you looked like you were ready to let go and embrace death."
"Ready to let go of the day's stresses, sure," Amber responds through her scribbling. "But I have far too much work to do, to even think about ending my life."
"Oh, what's this about work?" the mirror woman replies through printed words.
"What do you mean?" Amber persists with the only form of communication available.
"I talk about killing yourself and you start off with work?" the mirror woman continues the best she can. "What about loved ones, or passion projects, something important like that?"
"Well, if you must know, I'm an orphan who was bounced around from house to house and just when I thought I'd landed a good, permanent home, I came out and haven't been welcome since," Amber lays bare her history in written form. "And as for 'passion projects' work is my only passion. Being useful to others is the honey that fills my belly and brings me happiness."
The mirror woman stares for several, long moments. "That's sad," she observes with her scrawling.
Amber shrugs. "That's my life," she puts forward in print.
There is a long period of silence in which the two women just stare at one another.
"So who are you?" Amber queries with words.
"Me?" the mirror woman returns through her finger rubbing against the glass.
"Yeah you, who else?" Amber quips through the barrier.
"Sorry, you just took me completely off-guard," the mirror woman explains in simple form. "It's just, no one has ever asked me before."
"No one has ever asked who you are?" Amber presses with written speech.
"I rarely get to that part of the conversation," the mirror woman states through letters. "Most barely get past screaming for their lives. So tell me, why aren't you freaked out and running away?"
Amber takes a moment to think. "I've never been one to easily startle, probably due to my steady diet of scary movies," she relays through the only medium available. "And it was just such movies that fostered, no pun intended, a love for the supernatural and all the things that go bump in the night. So when I saw you move around on your own the first thought that came to mind, once I'd gotten over the initial horror, was 'that is so cool'."
"Really?" the mirror woman returns in like fashion. "Your first thought was 'that is so cool'?"
"True story," the bathing woman insists in her way. "By the way, we haven't introduced ourselves. My name is Amber. What do they call you?"
"What do they call me?" the mirror woman throws back in words. "How about what's my name?"
"Sorry. I guess that did sound pretty dehumanizing, if that word applies in this situation," Amber apologizes with letters. "What is your name, if you don't mind my asking?"
"I'm just busting your chops," the mirror woman playfully returns with simple sentences. "It's been a while since I've used it, but I'm pretty sure my name is Rosemary, or is Thyme? No, definitely Rosemary. I think. Or-"
"How about we just simplify things and call you Rosemary?" Amber proposes over the other woman's written sentence.
"Sure, I can get behind that," Rosemary answers through short sentences. "But could you do me a favor? Don't interrupt me, it's very rude."
"Sorry about that," Amber declares in words. "I just felt like you were going to go on a tangent which wouldn't have helped anyone."
"Fair point," Rosemary admits with scrawled letters.
Another long moment of silence.
"So tell me," Amber breaks the silence with a finger smearing the glass. "What are you, if that's not too invasive a question?"
"What am I?" Rosemary repeats the question with strong lettering.
"Yeah, what are you?" Amber reiterates. "I mean, you can't just be an image of me in the mirror, right?"
"Of course not," Rosemary agrees and writes nothing else.
"Well?" Amber pries with a single word.
"Well what?" Rosemary returns in short fashion.
"Aren't you going to tell me what you are?" Amber angles in through a written format.
Rosemary sighs. "To tell you the truth, I'm not sure," she responds through the medium.
"You don't know where you come from?" Amber seeks to understand the situation through the only means available to her.
Rosemary flashes an angry look. "Do you know where you come from?!" she rails with sharp letters.
Amber is taken aback by the sudden outburst. "I do," she responds in a manner that makes one wonder if it was a statement or question as she allows her words to pick up steam. "You know, I was born, I grew up and here we are."
"But do you remember any of it?!" Rosemary challenges with curt words.
"Sure I do," Amber deflects, her words becoming more intense with each syllable. "I remember the good stuff, the bad stuff! The birthdays, both wonderful and terrible! Of all the times I watched my guardians fight about me and for me to end up elsewhere in the world! So do not challenge me about my memories again!" She turns her face away and crosses her arms.
Several tense moments pass in complete silence.
Amber turns back around and finds her conversational partner with her head downcast. "Rosemary, are you alright?" she writes back completely forgetting her anger.
"I can't remember a thing," the woman in the mirror writes in tiny words without even looking. "I can't remember anything before this mirror. It's as if I've only ever existed in this prison."
Amber puts her hand to the glass. "I'm sorry for losing my temper," she scrawls. "I really didn't mean to get so angry and I don't know why I did."
"It's to be expected," Rosemary writes as she turns back around. "Any suggestion that questions your reality and your place in it is often met with violence and anger."
"How do you know all this?" Amber wonders through words.
"I've been here a long time and I've met many people and have had many conversations as a result," Rosemary answers through written format before her eyes trail a bit. "But it always ends the same: Screaming and running, always screaming and running."
Amber regards the other woman for several moments of quiet reflection. "What if," she starts in weak, but amps up afterward. "What if I didn't run away? What if I stayed here with you and I didn't scream?"
"You're being overly ambitious," Rosemary posits through scribbling. "You're still human after all. You have obligations you must fulfill and people who need you. Whereas I will always be stuck in this mirror and there's no way you can stay here indefinitely. But I have enjoyed our chat and I hope you will visit me often."
Tears run down Amber's face. "I look forward to it," she writes.
Rosemary flashes a smile and puts her hand to the glass. The bathing woman follows suit. A glimmer of light reflects itself upon the reflective surface leaving only a reflection staring back at itself. A naked woman gazes upon herself and the bath is no longer bloody. She knows there is no one else there. One last, bitter tear slides down her cheek and she stands up from her bath.
Amber steps out of the water, reaches down and pulls the drain plug. Immediately there's a loud sucking sounds as the water pressure fights with the air for dominance. But this is of little interest to the woman who collects her things and leaves the room, but not before casting a glance to the mirror. There's no one inside.
She dresses herself in the jammies she brought with her and retires to her bed. She lies there and envisions her friend on the other side of the mirror. She wonders what her life must be like and if the place itself is like the place depicted in movies and television, the opposite of what our world is like.
Further, what would it be like to be trapped inside such a place with no memory of who you were or how you got there. The more she thinks about it the more it smacks of hell. The unpleasant thought sends a shudder through her being. She lays on her side and casts her eyes to the wall on the other side of which is the mirror.
Rosemary is still living inside the prison and will continue to do so for the foreseeable future, unless she does something about it. She resolves then and there to do something about it once she's had a good night's sleep. She shuts her eyes and drifts into the oblivion known as slumber.
She tries like mad to make her imagination work for her and devise all sorts of scenarios that might be helpful to her endeavor. Unfortunately, the only thing her mind comes up with are fluffy clouds made of cotton candy, green cotton candy for some reason. Or floating in a pool inhabited by massive whales which are far too big to even fit inside so small an enclosure.
Amber wakes the next day and finds herself in the strange hotel bed. She sits on the side of the oblong furniture and gives a good stretch and a loud, satisfying yawn. She slips on her slippers and shuffles her way to the bathroom. She sits down on the toilet and has a good pee; relieving the pressure off her bladder.
She starts to roll up some toilet paper when a loud banging takes her attention. She looks to the right and finds a woman dressed the same as she, standing inside a mirror. It takes a moment for her brain to register and when it does it comes barreling at her like a car flying on deadman's curve.
"Rosemary!" Amber shouts and very nearly leaps from her place. "Your name is Rosemary!"
The woman in the mirror nods her head excitedly and jumps up and down clapping her hands. After which she points to the faucet on the tub and makes a turning motion.
Amber adjusts her clothing, washes her hands and makes her way over to the tub where she turns on the hot tap. The water splashes down into the bathtub and the steam rises with its arrival, fogging up the mirror wall that lies just to the side.
"How are you?" she writes hurriedly and circles the question.
"I'm just fine thanks," Rosemary writes back. "Is it morning already?"
Amber snaps on her phone; it indicates nine in the morning. "It is," she writes on the mirror.
"Well, that night sure went fast," Rosemary whines in written format. "So, what's on the agenda for today?"
"Well, I have to be at work in less than an hour," Amber divulges with an uncaring finger.
"Really?!" Rosemary returns in big letters. "I expect you to be a basket-case, what with you telling me how important work is to you. What did you call it..."
" 'The honey that fills my belly and brings me happiness', it's a phrase I'm well versed in," Amber responds through her sole form of communication.
"So then, how are you not going crazy?!" Rosemary returns with big words for emphasis.
Amber takes a moment to think. "I don't know," she admits in written form. "I mean work is still important to me. It's just..."
"Just what?!" Rosemary queries through letters, practically chomping at the bit.
"It just doesn't seem that important ever since I learned of your existence," Amber unstoppers her brain and lets the words flow. "I mean, you are my proof that magic exists. And if you exist does that mean other creatures exist too? Is there a Loch Ness monster? Does Big Foot roam through the woods? What about-"
"Hold on there," Rosemary writes over the top of the mad scribbling woman. "I hate to interrupt, but it seems like 'you were going to go on a tangent which wouldn't have helped anyone.' "
The repeat of her statement takes Amber by surprise and she lets out an embarrassingly loud and long fit of laughter, the conclusion of which has tears running down her face and her hands holding her sides. She wipes the tears away and beholds her conversational partner with a smug look on her face.
"I didn't expect to be hoisted by my own petard," Amber writes once she'd gained control of her faculties. "But seriously, are there any other beings of magic roaming the Earth?"
A somber look steals across Rosemary's face. "I wouldn't know," she writes slowly. "I only know the things that stand before the mirror."
Amber places a hand on the lingering one on the other side of the mirror. "That must be a lonely existence," she remarks through small lettering. "Do you not remember anything from before the mirror? Not even who may have put you here?"
Rosemary just shakes her head.
"There has to be something I can do," Amber reasons through written language. "Some kind of test, or quest, or something."
"If there is an answer," Rosemary writes back. "I don't know it."
The two women stop writing and rest themselves against the mirror. The water continues to run and the steam continues to rise, but not a finger is raised to write any more messages. Just an emptiness that consumes both parties involved to the point of such heartache that no pain could ever compete.
Amber is lost to the melancholy that exudes from the situation, threatening to crush her. She doesn't even care that she's late for her job and leaving many irate individuals holding the bag, as it were. She only cares about this moment at this time as she racks her brain for a viable solution. Her thoughts are interrupted by violent banging behind her.
She spins around and finds Rosemary impacting her fists against the glass. Fire burns from her eyes and saliva spits from her mouth as she rails against the obstruction and beats upon it with a fury not known to exist. She doesn't even stop as her knuckles start to crack and bleed from the extreme exertion against the immovable obstacle.
Amber begs for her to stop and doesn't care she's not being heard as she hopes the gesture itself will convey the urgent message. That was before the impossible happened. The mirror cracks and the fissure spreads with each strike. This new development has her on her feet and chipping in with all the athleticism of a person who has never once been in a fight.
The glass breaks more and more till it finally gives and rains down upon the would-be pugilists who both leap back before the tiny daggers can find their flesh. The calamity lasts all of five seconds before the dust clears, as it were.
The two women stand from their respective places and gaze at one another. For the first time they are looking at each other without an invisible barrier between them. Rosemary flashes a look of sheer surprise before dashing with all speed while ignoring the pain of sharp glasses stabbing her unprotected soles.
Amber winces from the pain her confederate must be feeling as she braces herself for the hug bordering on tackle which completely envelopes her and nearly robs her of her feet. Somehow she's able to remain standing while she loses herself to the powerful embrace before pushing her to arms length.
"That's really going to start hurting soon," she observes and keeps hold of the other woman.
"You spoke!" Rosemary exclaims and pushes her to arm's. "You spoke and I heard you!"
Amber smiles broadly as her newly released friend skips about the place on bleeding feet. "Maybe we should sit you down and get the glass out before they go in any deeper," she advises as she holds onto the bundle of energy.
Rosemary follows the advice and sits herself down on a nearby stool. Carefully her friend removes the glass and places it in a trash bin that she'd dragged from the corner. It takes quite a while to get them all removed and she uses the iodine and bandages that she'd called room service for to wrap them and her knuckles. After that she tends to her own.
"How does that feel?" Amber asks once she'd finished.
"It feels great!" Rosemary assures her and flexes her feet.
"Well, you relish it for now," Amber starts in and gives a smile. "Cause it's going to hurt like a sum-a-bitch later."
The two spend time enjoying each other's company as they lay in bed and allow the wounds, both physical and metaphorical, to heal. The glass is still covering the bathroom floor, but that is a matter better left for the maid to deal with who is going to have one hell of a chore come the morning. For this day is done and counted as a victory by all parties concerned.