Welcome to the world of
                       Michael G Kimber

The Nightwriter

About Me

Copyright

Hannah Holland looked in her new mirror and was pleased with what she saw.
       She still thought of it as her 'new' mirror, even though it had occupied its space in the hall of the flat for a couple of years or so. It had intrigued her when she first saw it in a small antique shop in the town, and it intrigued her still. It was quite heavy for its size; only about twelve inches square, but the thing that had taken her fancy was the curious inscription across the bottom of its wrought iron frame. 'To Yewgate Hall' it said. Hannah had never heard of such a place, and neither had  her inquiries produced any worthwhile information.   Unfortunately the little shop from where she had bought it seemed to have gone so that didn't help. No matter; she liked it, and quite enjoyed the secret, and one day - she had a strong feeling - she would find out about the mysterious Yewgate Hall.
      Her husband liked it too; a somewhat surprising thing, as there wasn't much they agreed about these days. Their twenty year old marriage had not been a complete failure, but neither had it been all she had hoped for.
Hannah had not been blessed with good looks; in fact some people in her acquaintance had been unkindly blunt when referring to her unsightliness. So she had grown through her teens and her twenties with few expectations of finding romance until she met Edwin Holland. He was, to put it bluntly, even more grotesque than she, but as they had both endured the same ordeal, they found some comfort in each others company, which turned in time to a kind of love. In truth it was more a platonic sympathetic relationship than the passionate romantic love immortalized in popular fiction.  In fact they soon discovered that neither of them had any great interest in, or liking for, sex. A fact borne out when they failed to produce any children. No, their relationship was one of companionship and social acceptance rather than of basic animal instinct.
       The problem was that though they were intellectually compatible there interests were not, and over the years they had grown apart, until they lived virtually separate lives.
      Nevertheless, since neither had romantic ambitions elsewhere they stayed together, combining the social advantages of the married state, with the the freedom to come and go as they pleased. It was an arrangement that suited them both very well.
      Hannah was still smiling as she looked into the mirror. First she turned to see her left profile, and then her right, before returning to the front view.
      'There's no doubt', she was thinking, 'no doubt at all'. She had suspected before, and each time she looked she was more certain, but still found the evidence of her eyes hard to believe. The outline of her profiles were far less hideous than it used to be, and her full on face looked younger; even . . . she hardly dared to think it . . .  almost pretty.
      "Don't know why you spend so much time looking in that mirror?" It was her husband passing through the hall "I hope you're not expecting a miracle."
      Hannah was exasperated. After all, it wouldn't hurt him to pay me a little compliment, she reasoned. Perhaps he feels a bit put out because  he is showing his age so badly. Just the same, it wouldn't hurt if ...
      "Bloody woman." Edwin muttered as he sat down with the newspaper he had just retrieved from the letter box. "What's she torturing herself for? Can't she see that she is looking more like an old lady every day?"  Noisily he turned to the back page "Can't help feeling sorry for her though. She looks to have aged ten years in the past two."
      He stood up and walked to the bathroom, and looked at the image of himself in the mirror over the wash basin. He smiled, and his smile broadened when he considered his reflection. At first he had found it hard to believe but he could not ignore what he now saw every day. He looked younger, and the hard ugly lines of his facial bone structure were vastly improved. "I could pass for forty anywhere." he told the man smiling back at him. "Funny though that 'she' never mentions it. Touch of sour grapes I expect." he concluded.
      This situation continued for a few more years while the gap between what they were, and what they perceived, became ever greater. But though they each recognized their own transformation, they continued not to acknowledge the change in the other. It seemed that neither could see what the other could see.
       It could not go on. Clearly they could not maintain the charade of each believing that while they were getting (or at least looking) younger, their partners were aging fast, and the climax to their metamorphosis was extraordinary.
       On one of their rare outings together in the town, they came across the little antique shop. "Look there," Hannah said, "that's where I bought the hall mirror.” But she was puzzled “ I come down here often enough; I could have sworn it had closed down.” Moments later she was through the door, Edwin following.
      "It's all junk." he sniffed.
      "But that's the fun," she retorted, "finding something worthwhile amongst all the . . . “
      "Junk." Edwin finished the sentence for her."
      After a few minutes she stopped and pointed, for hanging on the back wall was a much larger version of the mirror Hannah had bought all those years ago. Hannah wanted a closer look and gestured to Edwin to go with her.  The mirror was large enough for them to stand side by side and see each other. It was as though they were seeing each other for the first time. For a long time neither of them spoke, for there they stood, a young couple perhaps in their twenties. She, a beautiful young woman with perfect features, her face framed by long curvy tresses of shinning hair. He, with a head of thick wavy dark hair, below which was a handsome square jawed man in his prime. They were seeing the reflection  that each  had been enjoying of themselves, but which neither partner had seen of the other.
      "I don't understand it." Hannah whispered, frightened, looking both ways. First at the the young man in the mirror, and then at the old man by her side. In Confusion she turned away.
       "It can't be true," Edwin responded, as he saw his wife as the young woman he might once have wished for, and at the same time the wizened old lady standing by his side. "it must be some kind of trick mirror."  But they both knew those images of themselves so well, and instinctively they knew that it was true.
       "Look." Edwin said, almost paralyzed, and pointed to the carved inscription which said, just like the one at home "To Yewgate Hall" Together they watched as the letters started to blur, slowly spinning like fairground fruit machine before becoming clear again, but in a meaningless re-arrangement. Time after time the letters blurred and changed, blurred and changed. Together the waited for some kind of supernatural jackpot.
       Fascinated by this the two people didn't notice their reflections were also changing until finally the letters became clear again but this time spelling out a new and terrifying inscription.  "Gateway To Hell".
       The two screams that followed was simultaneous, for staring out from  the mirror were two wizened old hags, so old as to be incalculable, long dead yet somehow un-dead. They ran from the shop screaming and disappeared amongst the startled shoppers.
       That was the last time that Hannah and Edwin were seen alive, and when sometime later the police broke into their flat they were found dead in their respective beds.
      "It's a funny case to be sure," the detective said to his  junior colleague. “A couple in their sixties I would say; but with  nothing to indicate why they died. No sign  of injuries or of fowl play. All the doors and windows were locked and no sign of forced entry. It's a real puzzle."
      "That's right," the younger man answered, "but my word, they're a couple of ugly buggers. Maybe they just scared each other to death."
      The detective laughed at the joke, and shortly after the bodies were carried out of the flat, the young policeman was quite unaware of the prophetic nature of his remark. Neither did he notice when he passed the mirror in the hall;  more interested in his reflection and flicking his quiff; its curious inscription . "Gateway To Hell."


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