Vain

                                             by Jason D. Brawn

The image of the most beautiful human being ever seen stood before me, sharing my feelings and thoughts.  The person was my own reflection, tall with jet black hair blowing out, like the wind, and their clear and ageless skin.  A female Dorian Grey.  The business suit I had on looked a lot better on her, instead of my unattractive face and plump figure.  She looked twenty-one.  I looked over forty and not thirty-six.  A younger and beautiful version of myself. 

          I spent the remainder of my lunch hour admiring her, outside the shop window, of a bric-a-brac shop in Highgate High Road called, 'Temptations Ltd'.  Throughout my life, I have always been subjected to verbal taunts and physical harm caused by the horrible people, I've met, for the way I've always looked.  But since I caught sight of this tall Edwardian mirror, carved in a beautiful mahogany spiral frame, I have finally found my true self that will give me the confidence I have sought. 

"You're late again!" boomed my boss, Michael Coleman. 

          "Please accept my apology?" I asked politely.  "It won't happen again." 

          "This is not good enough," raised his commanding voice. 

          Pauline, my colleague, sat across the office, smirking at my received telling off.  Then he pointed at me:

          "Remember this, you are still on probation, and we're still in a recession," he warned me once more like a tyrant. 

          "Now, make me a coffee."  He headed to his office and slammed the door. 

          The impact of his behaviour left me stunned with worry.  All I could do was stare at his door. 

          "Better hurry," said the bitch I shared an office with. 

          I stormed into the kitchen and waited for the kettle to boil.  My lunchtime escapism had now died, and instead wanted to cry quietly.  But I'm a strong woman and strong women don't cry. 

When I returned to my desk, Pauline was giggling to one of her friends on the telephone.  Now, if that were me, Michael would have slammed his hand on the cradle.  But because Michael was having an important meeting, I could only leave his coffee on my desk. 

          As I looked at Pauline, I couldn't stop thinking how far she was going to go in life because of how she looked and how bubbly she appeared.  That was due to her confidence.  Pauline wasn't the smartest person, but I knew this job was only a stepping stone for her.  Maybe she'll marry a footballer.  As for myself, my father had always told me, I may be unattractive, but I have a brain and should put it to good use.  Like everyone, my parents had preferential treatment for my younger sister, Louise, who was very beautiful, but not as smart as me.  Today, she is married to a stockbroker, works as a freelance interior designer and has two beautiful brats, who enjoy teasing me.  Always, I'd wondered what it was like to be chatted up, or being in a sexual relationship, and could never understand why these beautiful people would always want to go under the knife.  To sum it up, all I ever wanted in life was to be able to fit in, be accepted and, most importantly, be loved!

17:30.  I was alone in the office, as Pauline slipped out early to see her friends.  As  for me, I was typing out the minutes for Michael, who was working late.  Soon, as that was completed, I slung it on his desk, next to the cold coffee I made earlier and told him good night.  He was still on the phone to another client.  I had no time to await his response, so I quickly grabbed my coat and rushed out.  As I ascended the staircase, I heard:

          "Jennifer!" He sounded cross. 

          I ran out, pretending I didn't catch his voice and joined a sea of pedestrians, who too had finished work for the day. 

19:34.  I still gazed passionately at the mirror outside the shop, which was closed.  This elongated mirror had some kind of power installed.  Maybe a power of God?  Or perhaps a mirror that displayed my future self?  I continued looking at this enchanting mirror for most of the evening. 

I arrived late at my one-bedroom flat in Muswell Hill, and rushed to the bathroom to try on the finest mascara and foundation, to cover my acne, and lipstick was carefully applied to transform me into that particular image. 

          After thirty-five minutes, I had so looked the part.  For the first time in my life, I was beautiful.  Now, things were about to change from tomorrow. 

But it didn't happen, when Michael caught sight of me. 

          "What the bloody hell?!" shouted Michael, who stood in horror. 

          I couldn’t understand his sudden anguish, until Pauline's arrival.  Instead of looking shell-shocked, she had the audacity to laugh out loud. 

          Michael squeezed my arm and dragged me out.  There I felt his abusive power and later threw me inside the ladies toilet.  Still he was with me. 

          We both faced the mirror and I finally saw what the problem was.

          "Look at yourself!"  Then he repeated angrily, when I failed to respond.

          "I'm sorry," I sobbed. 

          He tore off a sheet of hand paper and slammed it into my hand.  "Clean yourself up!"  He looked at my reflection, for the last time, and stormed off. 

          Instead of the beautiful image I'd aspired to become, I saw a hideous person, trying to look attractive.  My make-up was applied wrong and too much lipstick was on. 

For the rest of the day, I stayed in the building afraid to step outside and avoiding eye contact with Michael, who I found intimidating. 

          It was nightfall when I left to go home, as London was blitzed in the cold rain.  I walked fast, passing many shops through the streets of Highgate Village, and there I passed the shop, which I refused to look at.  And hopefully never again. 

          But how I'd kept thinking about the mirror, for every second of my weekend.  And there my mind was already made up.  Nick, a nice-looking chap who lived downstairs, had caught my heart.  He was friendly and funny and most importantly single.  I had to do something as I was getting mighty crazy about him. 

Monday lunchtime, I stood facing the shop door, with a sense of dread.  This was the moment where there would be no turning back.  I gently pushed the door and crept inside, entering a dingy and dusty place, surrounded with medals, old furniture no one wanted, dolls and worthless paintings.  I was alone. 

When I looked around, I couldn't stop noticing how expensive every item was.  Whole place was a dump.  The proprietor should be ashamed for looking after this place.  But how on Earth could he or she make a living when there've never been any customers? 

"Can I help you, madam?" a softly spoken voice interrupted my thought.   

          I spun round in shock to see an elderly man, wearing a flat cap, red bow tie, white scarf and light brown duffle coat, and spoke in a Yorkshire accent.  He looked rather strange, giving me the creeps. 

          "Noticed you have been looking at this mirror for quite a while."  He must have noticed my daily dalliances.  "It's a genuine piece, for a reasonable price." 

          "How much?" I wanted to know, as I was ready to buy this piece. 

          "£750," he answered with hesitation. 

          "That's a lot of money."  My pondering words forced him to haggle it down to:

          "OK, £200.  Take it or leave it?"  He was desperate to get rid of it. 

          Still a high price, as I stood in deep thought, feeling like a complete mug for an item that was considered as junk.  But the moment I glanced at the mirror, she smiled at me, insisting I should buy her.  Her charming smile tried to convince me, as I still wasn't sure. 

          "I only have fifty quid on me," I lied, and I think he knew it too. 

          He fixed his cold eyes onto mine and waited for a long beat, until he said, "It’s yours."  He was disappointed at the final price. 

          I did feel guilty that I'd conned him and could have met his price, but hated spending that kind of money on any object.  Then I gave him the money, went home and phoned up sick, leaving Pauline in the lurch. 

          Then I savagely tore off the bubble wrap and saw, in delight, the mirror.  She smiled happily at me. 

          Next, I raced to my bedroom, carrying the mirror, which had caused me great agony on the way home.

          Once it stood in my room, I gazed at her, still admiring my new friend for a long time.  Then an idea came. 

          Slowly, I slipped off my work clothes until I was completely naked and stepped closer to the mirror.  Her body was immaculate and beyond perfection.  Her thin frame must have been a size 9 or perhaps she weighed 8 stone.  As I turned, she turned.  When I smiled, she smiled too.  When I screamed with delight, she screamed in the same tone.  Then together we let out a triumphant laugh.

          "Jennifer," she whispered like the wind.

          I listened further.

          "Come and become like me."

          I moved towards the mirror and froze. 

          "Give me your hand."  Her hand was raised and soon it emerged from the glass. 

          My hand linked with hers.  It was warm and soft.  Then she gently pulled me towards the glass, as I now entered straight through.  Soon, the nightmare was about to begin. 

          I was all alone in a dark and cold cavern, which stank of urine and manure.  Her world was hellish.  When I journeyed further, she was no longer to be seen and the light, from my bedroom, became distant.    

          "Where are you?" I was already panicking, as she never attended to my curious voice.  I must head back, I thought, so I sprinted back to the glass and suddenly, my face smacked the strong glass, which became an invisible wall.  Trapped, I didn't know what to do.  I screamed and banged the glass, begging her for help.  Then:

          She appeared, on the other side, glaring at me with hate. 

          I continued screaming, in a hope the neighbours would intervene, but no, it didn't happen.  All I could do now was watch her explore my room, throwing out my clothes from the wardrobe.  It was as if she was looking for something significant.  Then the lights went out, as she left the room, leaving me in the bleeding cold where my feet were buried in mud.

          I knew screaming for help would be no use, so I waited and waited, in a hope I would wake up from my worst nightmare.   

          Moments later, the lights flicked on, causing me to blink.  Must have been several hours I'd been waiting.  By now I was hungry and dying for warmth.  She arrived, with her hands behind her back, staring coldly at me, like she was up to something.  

          "Please, let me out?! I pleaded once more. 

She stood and gazed closely at her own reflection for a long while.  Then her expression morphed into hate, as she hated what she saw and screamed: "Damn you!"  Immediately, she struck a mallet at me, shattering the glass!

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