The Funhouse Mirror, by Nia Walker
I look at myself in the mirror and am confused. I make a smile. I can feel the muscles in my face moving, and I know I am smiling. I am sure of it. But the face in the mirror is not smiling. It tells me this is “me”. Well, I guess it is me and it is not.
This always happens when I look in this damned mirror. I see things that cannot possibly be there. I cannot look this bad—haunted eyes and strained veins, cracked skin and yellowed teeth.
A knock on the door jolts me away from the image. “Can I come in sweetie,” my mom’s muffled voice travels into my room and I hear the creaky doorknob already starting to turn. I grunted an affirmative and felt myself shrink as I tried to smile up at her.
“You left your pills downstairs again,” she said and gently passed me the bottle. I glanced at her own reflection in my mirror and saw a woman just as beautiful as she looked in front of me.
“Damned funhouse mirror,” I muttered, swallowing a pill with my spit.
Published in Friday Flash Fiction, 11/22/2019: https://www.fridayflashfiction.com/longer-stories/the-funhouse-mirror-by-nia-walker
I look at myself in the mirror and am confused. I make a smile. I can feel the muscles in my face moving, and I know I am smiling. I am sure of it. But the face in the mirror is not smiling. It tells me this is “me”. Well, I guess it is me and it is not.
This always happens when I look in this damned mirror. I see things that cannot possibly be there. I cannot look this bad—haunted eyes and strained veins, cracked skin and yellowed teeth.
A knock on the door jolts me away from the image. “Can I come in sweetie,” my mom’s muffled voice travels into my room and I hear the creaky doorknob already starting to turn. I grunted an affirmative and felt myself shrink as I tried to smile up at her.
“You left your pills downstairs again,” she said and gently passed me the bottle. I glanced at her own reflection in my mirror and saw a woman just as beautiful as she looked in front of me.
“Damned funhouse mirror,” I muttered, swallowing a pill with my spit.
Published in Friday Flash Fiction, 11/22/2019: https://www.fridayflashfiction.com/longer-stories/the-funhouse-mirror-by-nia-walker
The Elevator, by Nia Walker
Tired from her long day in the library, she entered the elevator in her dormitory. Just before the sliding doors closed, a hand burst through the crack and halted the process. She looked up with slight annoyance and then felt pure and simple fear as she registered who stared back.
Published in Friday Flash Fiction, 8/7/2019 : https://www.fridayflashfiction.com/100-word-stories/the-elevator-by-nia-walker
Tired from her long day in the library, she entered the elevator in her dormitory. Just before the sliding doors closed, a hand burst through the crack and halted the process. She looked up with slight annoyance and then felt pure and simple fear as she registered who stared back.
Published in Friday Flash Fiction, 8/7/2019 : https://www.fridayflashfiction.com/100-word-stories/the-elevator-by-nia-walker
