The House of Reflections
The bright eyes peered out of the closet, staring at Sarah as she stared back. She’d known it was in there. She’d known for a few weeks. What she didn’t know was what it wanted. It might be there for the same reason that its brother had come a month or so before. Maybe it wanted something. Maybe it just wanted to watch.
Whatever it wanted, it was there. It wasn’t going away, and it wasn’t going to come out any time soon without Sarah’s help.
She sighed and got up from the bed. The closet door slammed shut. Sarah wasn’t heading towards the closet, though. She went to her dresser, and opened the top drawer. She drew out the item on the far left, where she always left it, and began to unwrap the soft square of silk that surrounded it. When she had, she placed it on the floor in front of the closet and drew back.
Her closet door did not open. The thin silver spoon still lay on the floor where she had put it. Nothing moved, except the curtains as a warm and quiet breeze fluttered through, bringing a sweet perfume into her room.
She had hoped it would come. She had hoped that the spoon, polished carefully early that morning, would draw it out. It was shiny enough – she could see her reflection in it. What else did she need?
Sarah walked to her mother’s room and came back, carrying an ornate hand-mirror that her grandmother had once owned.
She placed that next to the spoon and stepped back once more.
The sun’s reflection in the two objects shown on her ceiling. She didn’t have anything shinier to give. It would come out now or never.
Slowly, as the old metal hinges squeaked in protest, the closet door opened. It was like watching spring come over winter – so slow you wanted to scream, but still beautiful.
It crept closer to the spoon, then saw the mirror and jumped upon that. Sarah stood, amazed, as it sat upon the mirror, probably admiring its appearance.
Yes, this is what it had come for. Sarah knew it had liked her house – conveniently placed next to the forest, quaint, small, yet gorgeous. Of course it had liked her house. They always did.
Then it zoomed away, and out the window into the sunny afternoon, leaving nothing but ten tiny fingerprints on her spoon and a sprinkle of golden dust upon her mirror.
It may have left, but they would be back soon. Fairies could never resist their own reflections.