Ficta Venibat
Written for Elena.
Miranda sat on her bed, combing her hair slowly. It was a wet day; the windowpanes were grey with raindrops and one could hear the soft, drowsy, dead sound everywhere in the manor. She felt angry. Wet days made the whole world grey and lonely. Wet days meant no one could go outside, and therefore she would stay in her room with all the lamps out so that it was grey in there too. It wasn't clever or sensible, since she hated the grey, but it was the only thing she wanted to do with her anger and boredom. She always contradicted herself. She sighed.
Listlessly, she pulled a strand of her hair around so she could see it. It was a nice, rich colour of brown, which pleased her greatly. She didn't know what colour her eyes were.
Suddenly she heard a knock at her door, and danced over to it to open it. Perhaps something would distract her from the prospect of a boring, grey day.
"Yes?"
"Miranda, your Aunt Ariel has sent you something. We don't know what it is; we wanted you to open it." Her mother smiled, and directed the man to bring 'it' in. 'It' was a gigantic paper box.
Miranda stared. "How do you make a box out of paper?" she asked curiously.
The man looked up. "It's cardboard, kiddo." He had an unusual, gruff voice, and he held out a paper. "Care to sign?"
Miranda's mother did so. With a grin, the man pocketed the paper and edged away. He was wearing trousers made of a funny blue material, and Miranda had a strong desire to poke it. It certainly wasn't linen. People who brought packages from Aunt Ariel never wore normal clothes.
"Well? Open it," her mother said eagerly.
Miranda took the letter opener off her dresser and stabbed through the thick layers of a clear, sticky substance holding it shut. She unwrapped it, and out of the little, squashy, pink objects, a smooth black rim rose up.
"What on earth is that?"
The rim continued to rise, and finally, standing in the box, up to her waist in the pink things, was a young girl holding a gigantic black circle. Miranda leaned forward, and realised that someone was looking back at her from the circle.
"What it that?" her mother asked again, touching it.
The young girl was dressed all in dark blue, and her skin was dead white. She didn't look alive. Her eyes opened suddenly. They were dark blue as well. "I'm a mirror." When she spoke, her lips hardly moved, and her voice was harsh and unreal. "You see yourself in the mirror. You are very lovely. Do you like the mirror?"
Miranda gasped. "That's me! Mother, that's me! I am pretty! I'm pretty!" She grabbed her comb and ran it through her hair. "Look, look, it's beautiful, my hair. My eyes are green!" she gloated, thrilled. "I know what colour my eyes are!"
"You might have asked me that," said her mother reproachfully.
Miranda ignored her.
"Your hair is very long. It is a beautiful colour. You are a beautiful person. You are very perfect. You like the mirror, because you are beautiful and now you can see that."
Carefully, Miranda patted the girl's marble-hard shoulder. "I do like the mirror. I like it very much." She smiled. "I must write Aunt Ariel a very nice letter. And we'll feed you--what's your name?"
"I am the mirror. I do not need food. I am happy to show you yourself. You are very beautiful."
Miranda beamed. The day was going to be very good after all. She hustled her mother out and lit her lamps so that the light shone behind her and made her hair take on a golden sheen. She put on her best dress and walked around the mirror. Without drawing any attention, the mirror had stepped out of the box and knelt on the floor at the best angle for Miranda to look at herself.
"You are very beautiful," she kept murmuring in her harsh, clockwork voice. "Your eyes are lovely. Your face is shaped perfectly. Your hair curves around your ears very prettily."
Miranda continued to circle, never tired of the constant stream of praise, because she could tell it was all true. The mirror only said what was evident from looking in it. Instead of a terrible day, the lovely new 'mirror' was making it a splendid day.
"Aunt Ariel always sends the best presents," she said, feeling very pleased with the way things had turned out.
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