Love and Enduring

A quick fairy tale I wrote

            In an age long forgotten, in a time when lore and myth were fact and reality; a young boy came upon a rotted, desecrated ruin.  Being the curious sort, he ventured into ruin.  Fancies of lost treasures soon took hold of his thoughts and he began to rummage about the soot and moldy remains.

            Upon a far wall a picture framed in gleaming silver hung upon a wall. The picture was of a girl.  The boy began to think on how the painting seemed so life like and to mirror the ruins exactly; when the girl moved inside the painting.

            As he moved closer the boy resolved that the mirror was enchanted to confine the damsel on the other side.  She was a lovely girl in a green corset, with shoulder length red hair and pleading green eyes.  The girl opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came forth.  The boy grabbed a chair to smash the mirror to get to the girl, but stopped when the girl waved her hands and shook her head no.  The boy sat the chair down and sat pondering upon the girl and her apparent plight.

            The boy could seem to figure out a way to release the girl.  The more and more he pondered and more he stared the more he knew he had to reach the girl.  He could feel odd stirring in his heart.  Could he be in love with a girl, he did not even know?  It seemed all too possible.

            As the sun began to set, the man wrote upon the dust.  I have to go, but I’ll be back in the morning.  The girl shook her head no, but the young boy had already turned from her.  She screamed, but to no avail.

            And so it was the same day after day, for years to come.  Each day after the boy, who had now come into an age to be considered a man, finished his chores; he would come and sit with the girl.  In the spring he would set flowers by her mirror.  In the winter he kept a candle lit for her.  He had truly come to love the now, beautiful young woman in the mirror.  Her red hair now reached to the small of her back.  Long outgrown from her childhood clothes, she now wore clothing fashion from the vegetation of her mirror world which was limited by what the mirror could reflect.  Often the young man tried to move the mirror, but without success.

He had learned over the years that the girl could not read or write. So the boy brought it on to teach the girl to read and write.  That as how he learned her name, Kyna.  His name was, Kian.  The girl worked hard each day to master the words. 

            One night, as Kian stood to leave, Kyna quickly wrote, not yet Kian.  Stay a while longer with me.  Kian did not have any work the next day, so he resolved to stay a while longer.  Kyna smiled, which Kian had come to love so much.

Slowly the moon drifted until its light filled the ruins and bathed the mirror.  The mirror shone with an unnatural beauty.  Kyna picked up the stick she used to write in the dirt.  Kian, would you kiss me?  Kian blushed a little as he read, but he knew no harm would come from it.  So he went to the mirror and kissed where Kyna’s lips should have, been had the cold surface not separated them. 

Tears fell from Kyna and she placed her hand upon the mirror.  Kian knew how she felt, how they both longer for the other’s physical touch.  He knew how lonely she must have been all these years.  He placed his hand on the mirror across from hers.  Slowly Kyna sank to her knees, Kian’s hand following hers.  Her tears rolled down the mirror.  Kian could feel his heart swelling and could not stop the sobs from coming.  He did not even try to stop his tears from falling upon the mirror to roll along side Kyna’s.

Suddenly a warm, softness replaced the cold surface on Kian’s hand.  He looked up into Kyna’s eyes.  He did not think; only acted.  He pulled her quickly into his arms.  The space where Kyna had been was quickly replaced with the surface of the mirror.  It was then that Kian heard Kyna for the first time.  In the most perfect, angelic, yet innocent and tender voice Kyna said one word, “Kian.”