MODRIOMN - Writ

She was getting ready for bed, sitting at her dressing table in the half light. Softly, she hummed a tune to herself as she brushed her long hair, her slender fingers carefully gathering the strands of golden tresses containing  just a hint of subtle red. Distractedly, she fiddled with her earring, trying to loosen it so she could place it on the table surface. She glanced up at the mirror.

It was then she saw the face. Impossibly high above her shoulder, looking down on her at an odd angle, a face that was almost not human, unformed, transparent, malevolent. The expression on the face was cold, analytical, studying her like a specimen in a glass case, the hard  cold eyes bored into her own.

Not unnaturally, she screamed and fainted and fell to the floor.

                                                                                                      Cover Photo: Ghosts in the Hall

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                                                                                                                 Rachel Titiriga