Chapter 2: The Mirror

The best part of beauty is that which no picture can express -Francis Bacon

Looking down at the clock, I saw it was only 6:30, plenty of time to get ready before I leave for the art museum's grand opening with my friends. I asked them to go with me instead of buying a present for my birthday. Getting off my bed, I walked over to my desk and sat down. I stretched out my hand to get a pencil. I started to draw the mirror before and after I touched it.

My phone vibrated, indicating that someone had texted me. I put down my pencil and got my phone. When I turned it on, Leslie, my best friend, had texted me. She texted, “Dude when are you coming  to the art museum? We have been waiting for half an hour! Hurry up! We are not getting any younger here!” Looking at the clock, I saw that it was already 8:20. Wow, I must have gotten so focused on my art that I didn’t notice the time!

Quickly, I changed into day clothes and shrugged on my favorite jacket. I tossed my art supplies in my bag, quickly but carefully. Putting on my blue sneakers, I rushed out of my room grabbing my backpack from my desk as I was passing by. I was running down the flight of stairs, trying to beat time. I passed my kitchen on the way out, grabbing a muffin and pushing open the front door.

 But a voice stopped me before I could leave, “Evelyn? Where are you going?”

“Mom, I am going to the art museum's grand opening with my friends. It is for my birthday.”, I complained in reply.

“Is Leslie there? If she is, you are absolutely NOT allowed to go.”, My mom spat Leslie’s name as if it were poison.

“No just Ella and Rose.” , I responded, lying through my teeth.

“Ok, but before you go, here is a birthday present.”

“Thanks Mom!” And with that, I took the present and stuffed it in my bag. Then I ran to the bus station, which was just across the street.

I know what you are thinking, what a bad example I am for little children, lying to my mom like that. I lied for my own good and also for Leslie. My mom would have never let me go to the grand opening if she knew Leslie was going to be there. It was because of my mom’s grudge against Leslie’s family. It happened last year, Leslie’s uncle was drunk at a party with my dad. They were close friends because my dad’s sister married Leslie’s uncle. But on their way home, my dad insisted on driving because he wasn’t drunk, but Leslie’s uncle refused. When he was driving, there was a tragic accident, they all died. My mom was heartbroken and never forgave Leslie’s family. Before that incident, our families were extremely close, but because of this tragedy, , the bonds between our family were broken, well, actually Leslie and I continued on being friends, in secret.

I got on Bus 196 and saw that the museum was the last stop on the bus route. I remembered that I forgot to reply to Leslie’s text. I whipped out my phone and texted “Bro, I am coming, calm down. I am almost there,  about 20 more minutes.”

I remembered that my mom gave me a present on the way out, I tore it open and saw that it was book. The cover was faded, but not torn, it was obviously old yet it was in perfect condition. (Except the cover was faded) I could barely make out the title, but I finally managed to see that the title was, The Original Grimm Tales. I read for the rest of the journey to the museum.

The bus’s driver yelled,”Last stop. Everyone must get out.”, I jumped out of my seat, startled to hear someone speak as I was riding in silence. I closed my book and dismounted the bus. The bright light had blinded me for a moment before I saw that standing just a few paces away was Leslie, Ella, and Rose.

They sprinted to me and yelled, “Happy Birthday Evie!” And hugged me so tight that I nearly suffocated.

“ GUYS. Don’t kill the birthday girl. I just turned 13! I still have life to live!”, I pouted.

“Fine, but come on, the museum is opening in just 15 minutes. You don’t want to miss the grand opening. We already bought your ticket.”, Leslie informed me as we walked toward the museum.

They dragged me over to the Revolutionary Art Museum's main entrance without another word. It’s doors were large and made to look as if it were one of the temples from Ancient Greece. It had tall marble columns that supported the entrance. And in front of the doors was a long ,pink ribbon tied into a large bow at the center.

“I heard all of the paintings were the originals! There is a renaissance section for art which were painted in that time period. They even imported a actual pyramid from Egypt to this museum. I heard they moved a wall with caveman art….”I droned on and on about all that cool art and statues this museum is going to have. After all, it is the first art museum in the whole city of Green Banks.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention.” ,The mayor’s voice stopped me from talking. “The city of Green Banks is a wonderful place, with it’s wonderful rivers and mountains. But our new installment of the Revolutionary Art Museum will be our pride and joy. Many of you made a trip around the world to see this. And now may I present, the Revolutionary Art Museum officially OPEN!”

The secretary cut the ribbon and people started to fight their way into the museum. As usual, I got trampled on the way in because I was so short. I got separated from my friends; I am now hopelessly lost in the flood of people. When I finally got in, my friends were waiting for me with a map.

“You got lost.”, Ella told me.

“Yeah I think I noticed that. I got trampled by people, as usual.”

“Okay let's go in. Where do you want to go first,Evie?”, asked Leslie

“Can we go to the statues and carvings first? Most people will be going to the pyramid and the stone age wall first, so I think we should go to a place with less people.”

“Okay, whatever you say birthday girl.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Okay birthday girl”

I let out a sigh of surrender and followed my group of friends.

“Leslie, Rose, Ella. I need to tell you something, something that is private.”

“Okay Evie, what is it?”, asked Leslie

“ Yesterday, I had a dream that-”

“ I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal. I have a dream that-”

“No Rosie, no. This is not the time to be joking around.”

“Sorry”

“It is fine. But what I wanted to talk to you guys was that a dream I had yesterday, it seemed so real. I think it is one of the prophetic type. So anyways, I dreamed about a mirror.”

“Seriously? I think it was going to be like ‘I saw WW3 happening because of terrorists.’ Or ‘I saw Donald Trump winning the presidential election and America seceded and made a second civil war”

“No No Ella, the dream, it was so real, I could feel and smell. So I was in a very dark room and there was a flashing that broke the darkness. I naturally walked toward it and when I finally saw what it was, I saw that it was a mirror. Beautiful and Regal, it was just so-agh-so so -nevermind. I will just show you my drawing of it. It will never capture the beauty of the real mirror, nothing ever will, but it is close enough to understand.”

And with that being said, I slid off my backpack and took out my sketchbook. I flipped it to the page with my picture of the mirror- before it changed.

“Wow that is really good, but do you really think it was real?”, asked Rose.

“Yes the detail was so accurate and didn’t dream experts say that you can’t see stuff in your dreams that you didn’t see before? But anyways, this beautiful mirror changed into a evil, dark looking one when I touched it. It also had the words, The prophecy has begun. Written in a substance that looked suspiciously like blood.”

I flipped it to my evil mirror drawing. “ I am not quite as finished with this one, but you get the idea.”

“This one looks almost prettier in one sense, but on the other hand, It looks as if I could be impaled in the stomach if I accidently leaned against it.”, said Ella.

“Your drawings are so precise, I wonder if you are better than Michelangelo himself!”,praised Leslie.

Michelangelo is my role model, his paintings are so smooth and lifelike. His statues look almost as if someone got turned into stone by Medusa, with all that detail, his statutes look almost alive.

“Oh, Please don’t compare me to the great Michelangelo. He is way better than me, I still have a lot to learn.” But I secretly did like that compliment.

“Come on, it was probably nothing, my dream may not be even real. I may have just saw the mirror in a magazine and forgot about it. Let's go, I want to see The Thinker, it is on tour and displayed at the statue section.”

The other girls followed me and marked that conversation as a useless, dream that may have been caused by reading so much books. When we arrived, I asked for the directions to The Thinker and thanked the museum employee. It was just down a corridor and to the left was a room which held the thinker in it’s display case. After all, it is the original and it had to be protected at all times.

When we turned the last corner and entered the room, I didn’t see it at first. It was hiding in the shadows of The Thinker and wasn't that noticeable, until you looked next to the pedestal. It stood with all it’s beauty-the carvings, jewels, and frame. It was copied to every last detail , it was clean and polished, it was the mirror

I hope you all enjoyed it because I sure did! Remember, you can NOT copy this because it is..
© Carol Chen ALL RIGHTS RESERVED