The Unicorn Challenge.
A magical new weekly writing opportunity from her – Jenne Gray – and me.
Visit her blog every Friday to see the photo prompt, and post your amazing story in her comments section.
Or on your own blog, and stick the link down in her comments.
The rules are:
Maximum of 250 words.
Based on photo prompt.
That’s it.
To hear me read my story, just click here:
The Mirror on Reflection
I wonder if there’s a mirror in here?
That’s the first question I ask myself every time I go into a new place.
Ah, you think, an egoist.
Maybe you label me Narcissistic, after that handsome dude in Greek mythology who fell in love with his own reflection.
But no, you’ve got me all wrong.
Although, I confess, I’d love to see my face in a mirror.
Because I see only hers.
In every mirror I’ve looked into since…
Well, since the night of her sister’s birthday.
I was standing at the mirror, fumbling with the tie she’d just bought me.
Ugly thing it was, red and purple stripes.
She said it was tasteful, cerise and heliotrope, and I would look smart for once.
My fingers weren’t functioning too well, because she’d upset me again, belittling me, nagging me, asking why I can’t be more like Torquil.
Her sister’s hubby, a total tube.
Anyway, she sneered at my ineptitude, pushed me aside to do her eyes, or lips, or whatever.
Wasted effort, it was her heart that lacked beauty.
I looped the tie around her neck, pulled tighter, tighter, tighter.
Then I went to the bar, got seriously blootered, and saw her face in the mirror.
I lost control, started bellowing, said I was glad I’d killed her, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
Now I’m approaching the high walls that’ll be my home for what’s left of my life.
I wonder if there’s a mirror in here?
Delightfully creepy.
He’s better off without a mirror. If there was one, she’d be forever there to haunt him.
Nice!
Even worse than that, he’d maybe see his old coupon there!
Great story! Yes, you got me with your twist.
AND you expanded my vocabulary. I’ve never seen the name Torquil before — I may have to name a character that sometime. Blootered — hahaha, adding that to my word toolbox. Cerise — ah, I know that as fuschia.
“…it was her heart that lacked beauty.” What a great statement — love it.
When a reader gets so many things from a short story, Sally, I feel my time is well-spent!
As I said to Margaret, below, Torquil, sometimes spelt Torquhil, is a Scots name of, I think, Norse origin from way back in the day.
And, as explained to the inimitable Ladysighs, there are, in Scots, about 2,785 words which describe the varying levels of inebriation!
You have me on the colours. Like many men, but almost no women, I am partly colour-blind, so many of the nuances slip by me.
I’m delighted you found so much to enjoy. Thank you.
the ultimate damnation, the one we impose on our own-selfs
(excellent Poe-esque vibe to this one.)
Indeed, Clark.
I quite like The Tell-tale Mirror!
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Oh my goodness…and the truth is, this sort of scene plays out daily around the world.
Drat.
I should have kept a couple of my ties!
Oh what a turn of events that was! I had to chuckle when he did the dastardly deed with the hated tie 😳. He’s truly haunted now, poor chap – I don’t think he was cut out to be a murderer. Great tongue-in-cheek portrayal of a downtrodden man and his tragic ending. There’s no escape for him. Torquil???? 😆
Ah yes, strangulation as a comic device!
Thanks for kind words, Margaret, and Torquil, sometimes spelt Torquhil, is a Scots name of, I think, Norse origin from way back in the day.
“I’d do it all again in a heartbeat”
No need to say another word.
Nicely done.
He just reached breaking point, Nancy.
Ooh, spooky.
Excellent misdirection – ‘I’d love to see my face in a mirror’.
The weaselly wife is just asking for a bit of karma.
(I’ve actually a mind to do her some damage myself.)
Pity the karma had to come round for your MC too, but after that brilliantly described outburst in the bar, he was done for.
‘Wasted effort, it was her heart that lacked beauty.’ – a gem of a sentence.
Thanks, Jenne, I quite liked that sentence myself.
But you’re a wee bit hard on the wife!
We women usually are! 😉
blootered! Interesting word.
There are, in Scots, about 2,785 words which describe the varying levels of inebriation.
This is the one I chose, mainly to interest you.
What a twist! Great story.
Thank you, glad you enjoyed!