TITLE: "Through the Glass Darkly"

AUTHOR: Amber M.

RATING: PG

ARCHIVE: Mearain's Fan Fiction Universe and anywhere else, just ask me.

FANDOM: Friday the 13th: The Series

DISCLAIMER: The characters aren't mine, but the idea is.

CHALLENGE: Answer to the Ghost Story Challenge on Ficwrite. 1500 words or less, any fandom, any genre, spiritual beings.

THROUGH THE GLASS DARKLY

By Amber M

"A mirror?" Ryan asked, one brow slightly raised. His expression showed his friends that he was not necessarily interested in being involved in a wild goose chase to retrieve a long lost mirror that his Uncle Lewis had sold at one point.

"No, a looking glass," Micki corrected him, smiling sweetly at him.

Her dark haired cousin made a face at her, then looked at Jack. "So, where is this," he stopped and smirked at Micki. "looking glass?"

Jack chuckled and shook his head as his eyes scanned the large book in front of him. The book was Lewis Vendredi's book of antiques. The former owner of Curious Goods kept a meticulous record of everything he sold, including names, addresses, phone numbers and in some cases personal information about the buyers. His desire to know everything about the ones that were buying the items made it much easier for the three people who inherited the business to locate and retrieve the items.

"It appears that the looking glass was last owned by a Mrs. Murphries in Consack, New Hampshire," he read, his glasses perched precariously on the end of his nose.

"Then to Consack, New Hampshire we go," Ryan smiled broadly, while Micki rolled her eyes.

A day or so later, the couple arrived in the small, rural town of Consack. It was nothing striking as far as towns went. There was a general store, a post office, a private clinic and the others things associated with a small town. They had everything they needed to live comfortably. But it was not exactly what the antique hunters were looking forward to.

"This is hell," Ryan muttered, dropping his bags on the floor of the bed and breakfast inn they had stopped at.

Micki only smiled at him as she signed them in and paid for their rooms. The small inn was just as it would have been a hundred years prior. Lovely, solid oak antique furniture filled the main rooms and the bedrooms, its polished wood surface showing a warm patina in the glow of the soft lights. It would have been a lovely place, had it not been for the feeling of impending doom.

Neither of them noticed it when they entered the town, but once they had settled into their comfortable rooms, it appeared. Both of them threw open the doors to their rooms and looked at each other across the hall.

"The looking glass," they said at the same moment.

*******************

"What if she went for peanuts or something?" Ryan asked nervously.

"Peanuts?" Micki asked, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. "Why peanuts?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Peanuts seemed approiate for bridge," he muttered. They had learned from the innkeeper where Mrs. Murphries lived in town and that it was her bridge night, which generally meant that she would be home, waiting for her friends.

A moment later, the front door opened, revealing a small, stout older woman. "Yes?" she asked, a delighted smile on her cherubic face. She had all of the aspects of the grandmother figure; the kind eyes, the soft, curly white hair that sat on top of her head almost like a halo, the smiling lips.

"Hi, my name is Micki Foster and this is," she gestured to her cousin. "Ryan Dallion. We are here from Curious Goods Antiques to inquire about a small silver looking glass."

She blinked a couple of times, almost as if she didn't understand what the young red haired lady had said. "Looking glass?"

Micki nodded. "Yes, a looking glass. Small, silver with intricate designs etched on the back?" she asked, making a gesture with her hands to show the size of the mirror.

"I..I don't think I have anything like that," the lady said, rather confused.

"Are you Mrs. Murphries?"

Her gaze shifted from Micki to Ryan. "Yes, I am."

The two young people looked from her to each other, confusion written on their faces.

"Are you the same Mrs. Murphries that purchased an item from Vendredi Antiques on March 23, 1965?" Micki queried, wanting to get to the bottom of things.

Her face suddenly broke out in a huge smile. "Oh, yes," she said, nodding. "Now I remember."

They both sighed in relief as they smiled in return. "We were wondering if you would be willing to sell it?"

"Sell it?" she asked, blinking.

Micki nodded. "Yes, Lewis Vendredi was our uncle and we have been looking to buy back all of the antiques that he had sold," she explained. Since they had taken over ownership of the shop and renamed it Curious Goods, the three people, Micki, Jack and Ryan, had worked feverishly to recover everything Lewis had sold, determined to keep the devil from getting a larger grip on the world of the living.

Mrs. Murphries nodded slowly, thinking as she tapped her fingers on the door frame. "Well, I suppose I could," she said, softly.

Micki smiled. "We will pay top price for it," she offered, hoping to push the lady into giving up the item.

While the red haired antique hunter bartered with the olde lady for a sale on the mirror, Ryan looked around. Rarely was he interested in the whole antique thinking. Generally only if it involved a young woman and something dangerous. But this was not his style. It was definately more his cousin's. She could haggle and argue, usually winning, but he didn't go for it.

His dark eyes scanned the area around them, not really looking for anything odd or out of place, just for something interesting to look at. Ryan was a man who was raised in the big city. His life was there, as were all of his interests. Small towns held nothing for him.

"Thank you very much, Mrs. Murphries," Micki's cheerful voice interrupted Ryan's reverie. He slowly turned to see the older lady handing his cousin a small, silver mirror.

"No problem at all, young lady," she smiled in return, closing the door as they left the porch.

"We got it, Ryan," Micki beamed as they walked back toward the inn.

"Yep, Jack will be happy about that."

********************

The silvery moon rose high in the midnight sky. Little pinpricks of light dotted the velvety blackness. A slight breeze blew, heralding the possibility of an incoming storm.

Micki sighed softly in her sleep, her dreams filled with images of long lost relatives and lost loved ones. Had her mind been more attentive, she would have noticed one single image among the others that stood out. A small silver mirror, its back etched with vinework and delicate flowers, its glass black as pitch.

Echoing laughter filled her mind as she sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for air, trying to calm her madly beating heart. Her brilliant sapphire orbs scanned the room, looking for the source of the laughter, only to determine that it was only in her dreams.

After taking a deep breath and wiping the cool sweat from her forehead, the red haired antique hunter slipped from the confines of the crisp white sheets in search of a glass of water.

A moment later she returned from the small bathroom, glass in hand, her heart calm to the point of being normal once again. Her lips captured the rim of the glass as her eyes gazed around the room, taking in everything in the dim light of the night lamp by her bed. She took a slow drink, letting the cool water fill her mouth, then slide down her throat.

"Much better," she whispered, not wanting to break the stillness of the night.

The glass made a slight noise as she sat it on the bedside table. The sound made her wince, almost as if she was disturbing someone's noctural sleep. As she crawled back under the cool sheets, her fingers grasped the edges, her eyes scanning once more, assuring herself that there was no one else there, no one that could have loosed the echoing laugh that she had heard so clearly.

Her gaze started at one side of the small inn room, taking in the heavy wooden door, with its dark laquer and heavy iron hinge. From there she looked to the the smaller, open doorway of the bath, from which she had come only a moment early. All had been normal in that small room. Next, her gaze took in the large bay window. Bright white, eyelet curtains hung from small golden rods, creating an almost ghostly effect, though she knew they were no more than curtains. A couple of soft, quilted throw pillows laid against the windows, sitting on top of the cushioned seat of the window sill. Nothing seemed amiss there. A small, deeply stained, wooden dresser stood a few feet from the bay window, very near her bed. On top sat her purse, room key, and the mirror they had collected earlier that day. Moonlight shone off the silvery back, brightening up a small space around it.

Her breath caught in her throat as she looked at it. It beckoned to her, called her to lift it up, to let her slim fingers curl around its cool handle. As if hearing its voice, she stood, padding quietly toward the dresser. Slowly, she lifted it up, her eyes studying the delicate etchings on the back.

Micki's eyes widened as she turned the looking glass to face her. No longer was it bright and clear, showing her beautiful reflection. The glass was now dark, deep, almost dangerous, showing no reflection. She wanted to drop it, to call out to Ryan, but she could not let go.

"Mi...ck....i....."

She blinked and lifted her gaze from the darkened mirror.

"Mi.....ck....i....."

Her blue orbs glanced around room, searching for the owner of the voice. "Who's there?" she asked, her voice shaking with the sudden fear she felt. In her time working at Curious Goods, she had faced many things; demons, ghouls, vampires, ghosts, even her dead uncle's spirit, but none of them had ever prepared her for the great beyond.

"We...all......are...." came the voice, though this time there seemed to be many, all speaking at the same time, all calling for her.

She could feel the pull, feel the need to find those voices.

"Who....who..are you?" she asked, her voice quivering. Her eyes reverted to the mirror. She gasped, nearly dropping the looking glass, as she stared into the eyes of her mother. "Mama?"

The older woman nodded, her pale, shallow eyes gazing into Micki's. "It is me."

"Mama," she whispered again, disbelief filling her mind and heart. "No, this can't be. You're dead."

The woman nodded, her pale red hair falling in soft waves around her slim shoulders. The image of the woman that Micki saw as her mother faded for a moment then returned. "I am, my dear," she said, her voice echoing in her daughter's mind. "I am dead, but I needed to see you."

"Why?" Micki slowly sat down on the edge of her bed, her legs and arms trembling.

"To let you know that it is your time."

Micki blinked, staring in wide eyed disbelief at the visage of her mother. "My time? You mean to die?"

Her mother's image nodded, fading once again only to return a moment later. "Yes, time for you to join us."

***********************

Ryan rolled over in his bed, his arms wrapping around the soft down pillows, pulling their comfortness warmth to him. His mind was filled with pleasant dreams, images of his youth and things he enjoyed. Never would he have known what was happening to his cousin had it not been for a squeaky floorboard just outside his door.

The dark haired man blinked and yawned broadly, his hand rising to cover his mouth. His eyes glanced around the room, settling on the soft light that came under the door. A shadow passed, blotting out the yellowy glow for a moment.

At first he didn't think anything of it, but something nagging at the back of his mind, kept him from returning to his peaceful slumber. Slowly, he got out of bed, the long legs of his pajama bottoms dragging the wooden floor. He rubbed his eyes, trying to force the sleep away just long enough to inspect the hallway.

A gentle creaking noise filled the silent corridor as he opened the heavy wooden door, his fingers curled around the iron latch. His gaze moved up and down the hall, starting at the long flight of stairs, leading down to the lower floor, and moving to the curving stairs which led to the next level of the inn.

His mouth opened in a sleepy yawn. Uncaringly, he shrugged, assuming that it was nothing more than the innkeeper checking things in the night. As he turned to reenter his room, his eyes caught sight of his cousin's room, the door hanging slightly ajar.

His slightly bushy dark eyebrows knitted together, as he reached up to scratch his close cropped hair. Carefully, he made his way down the hall, peeking into her room, his eyes scanning the interior.

"Micki?" he asked, his voice sweeping through the room and returning to him unanswered. He waited a moment longer, then stepped in, worry creeping into his mind. "Micki? Are you in here?" Still there was no response.

As if suddenly realising something was terribly wrong, he spun on his heels and raced from the room, making his way up the wooden, curving staircase, unsure of where it truly led.

**********************

She stood, precariously, on the widow's walk, her white cotton nightgown fluttering out behind her in the cool wind. The sky had clouded over, heralding the approach of the storm. In her hands, was the mirror, the image of her mother still speaking to her.

"Do it, my dear. Leap," she urged, her features slightly contorted, a little more malignant.

"I will, mother," she whispered, her eyes distant, fixed on some far off point. A brilliant bolt of lightning crashed somewhere in the distance, its luminescent glow surrounding her, caressing her skin.

"Micki! No!" Ryan shouted from behind her, one hand on the doorknob of the attic door, the other outstretched to her.

"Ignore him. He will only make you miserable," her mother's voice hissed.

She turned her head slowly, her eyes catching Ryan's. She blinked a couple of times, trying to discern what was truth and what was not.

"Micki, come here," he pleaded, taking a slow step forward.

"Leap!" the voice in the mirror shouted, the face deformed and evil. No longer did it appear to be her mother, but something much more sinister.

Micki looked back at the mirror and let out a shrill, bloodcurdling scream, its sound echoing throughout the night. Thunder boomed and lightning crashed as the rain began.

"Micki!" Ryan shouted, leaping for her, his hands grabbing her arms as she let go of the mirror. The object plummetted to the ground below, landing on the concrete and wood patio, shattering into a thousand glittering fragments.

Sobs came from deep within her throat as her arms wrapped around him. Part of her understood what had happened, and had been about to happen, while another part of her did not.

"Ryan," she whispered, looking up at him, with tear filled eyes. "I saw her."

He nodded. "It's ok," he comforted, his arms holding her close.

The storm worsened as he urged her into the attic, her nightgown clinging to her body, her hair falling in firey strands around her face. He cared little for the state of his now rainsoaked clothes, his only worries being for his cousin.

Gently, he encouraged her back to her bedroom and into something dry and warm. Sleepily, she crawled back into bed, her final words being soft and sleep filled.

"Don't leave me," she whispered as her head hit the soft, warm pillow.

"I won't," he sighed, looking at her, watching her as she fell asleep. Somewhere, outside the cozy walls of the inn, laughter echoed, flitting around the homes and businesses of the small town of Consack, caressing their walls, ensuring the inhabitants that all was not as it seemed.

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