Mirror Mirror – A Short Story
The last night of the village pantomime, Sleeping Beauty had been a resounding success. The director had whipped us into shape and it had exceeded all our wild expectations. My part in the production had been insignificant, I was a stage hand, painting the scenery but the director Emelda had taken pity of me and promoted me to “ Gofer” If she needed anything I got it !! It had been my responsibility to place the mirror on the stage. No one else was permitted to touch it or even look into it. To my surprise she had also cast me to make the mirrors replies. The groans from the other cast members made me blush. I had had a disastrous debut in a previous production and had sworn to never appear on stage again. Emelda persuaded me though. By the time the show came round I was entranced by her and she had asked me to rehearse with her. I had learned all the mirrors lines by heart and when we practiced together all my nerves disappeared. Despite the age difference we were close and my crush was huge !! and I found myself opening up to her and telling her everything about me. On the opening night she found me in a corner by myself. She sat next to me still resplendent in her stage makeup that emphasised her hypnotic blue eyes and the figure hugging black velvet dress that did the same for her body. I was jealous of her husband that much was obvious !! Her arm rested on my shoulder. “ It’s always the same after a successful show. I’ll tell you what, go home and take my mirror with me. After we’ve cleared the stage tomorrow you bring the mirror to my house and I’ll show you the play I’ve chosen for the summer. I think there will be a small part for you” As I hurried home clutching the precious mirror. Exhausted I began to undress but felt an irrestible urge to look into the mirror. As I stared at myself I could see my bare shoulders. Not broad as I longed for but slim and delicate like a girl. My eyes switched back to my face and I felt more atrractive than I ever had before. My lips had become fuller and pinker. A straggly eyebrow had disappeared and the brows seemed more prettily arched than before. I felt a flush of excitement. I could not believe this feminine face in the mirror was me but it was !! Now I could see bra straps running across bare shoulders and interesting moulds entrapped within delicate white lace at her chest. Glancing down at my own chest I was shockingly disappointed to find nothing there. Disturbing dreams of the girl in the mirror intruded into my sleep. Who was she? How had she appeared in the mirror ?? Why was she so like me ? I arrived back at the theatre to clear up but Emelda ignored me. As the rest of the cast went off to the pub she offered me a lift. She lived in a remote farmhouse about a mile away and we completed the journey in silence. I was going to ask her who she thought the girl in the mirror was. We had a light lunch and I discovered she was no longer married and in her mid forties. It was on a visit to a foreign country that she bought the mirror. “ No one looked in it did they??” She asked. Within minutes I was confessing what had happened the night before. Her pale blue eyes darkened as I told her. Her voice was soft and bewitching when she answered “ And who do you think it was ? “ My masculine ego denied my interest. “ It must have been my imagination, I have always wanted a sister” I noticed during this denial that was voice had lowered as if to underline my masculinity. To my surprise she got the new script put and suggested we do a rad through with each other. Emelda was keen for us to a particular scene together which turned out to be a love scene between 2 women!! “ Surely we aren’t going to perform this in the village ?” I stammered She laughed, “ I don’t think the village is ready for this yet do you ? ! “ “ I just wanted to see if you could get into character -well done !!” “ Lets try again and this time try the voice you used for the mirror – remember you’re a sexy, young woman determined to seduce an older woman. “ We repeated the scene stopping just short of the climax where the two women embrace passionately. “ Martin you’re nearly there ! You have to believe you’re Lizzie. Discard your masculinity and be this girl with all her memories and feelings” The words hung in the air between us and I longed to get to the part where they embraced. But Emelda wouldn’t let it get that far until I was fully into the character. “ Look your character is returning from a nightclub. She’s a little tipsy, sexily dressed and frustrated. You know what its like to be frustrated don’t you ?” This was it. This was my chance that every young man dreams of – an invitation from a sexy, older woman. She read my thoughts and smiled. “ There is one way – but it isn’t fair….” She hesitated and then went on” you do want to get it right don’t you ?” Once again I gulped in excitement and nodded. Her suggestion that I borrow a blouse and skirt from her to get into character shocked me at first but the promise of those passionate embraces and what they might lead to induced a heady recklessness. Throwing all caution to the wind I agreed. Purely for the sake of the art of course !!
