The Face In The Mirror (Part Three)

A battle between good and evil.

The white horse continued walking down the submerged road. Ashley followed, paused when the water reached her chin, then took another step. And another. And another.

She had expected the water to be cold, but it wasn’t. It was pleasantly warm. She thought it would be too dark to see underwater, but it wasn’t. The horse gave off a golden glow that lit the way. She thought she would become buoyant once she was completely under water, but she didn’t. Her footsteps were as solid and sure as they would be on dry land. She continued walking, holding her breath for as long as she could. Finally, her lungs could take it no longer and she gulped in what should have been water. But it wasn’t. She was actually breathing air. Breathing underwater.

The horse continued walking, leading Ashley deeper and deeper and deeper. They passed a sign that said “Welcome to Pikeville”, then a Gulf service station, the pumps still standing there expectantly, waiting for the next traveler. They passed a store. A sign in the window said “Franz Foods, Open 8 am to 8 pm.” There was a barbershop with a candy cane pole out front. A café offered free coffee with breakfast. To Ashley Pikeville looked like it had been a friendly little village when it was alive. She wished she could have visited it before it became an underwater ghost town.  

The road was now several inches deep in silt. A large catfish swam by, eyeing Ashley suspiciously. The horse walked into the front yard and then up onto the wrap-around porch of an old house. It stopped and looked back at Ashley. She stepped up to the door, turned the knob, and walked in. The horse entered behind her, its glow illuminating the decaying artifacts of a family long gone. A picture on the wall. A broken wooden rocker. A well-worn sofa. An empty bottle of Falstaff beer swaying back and forth in the current.  

Ashley continued exploring the house, the horse always just a step behind her. The kitchen and dining room had been stripped bare when the residents moved out. Behind the kitchen there was a laundry room with an ancient wringer washer that was slowly dissolving into rust. They came to a bedroom and entered. There was nothing but an abandoned chest of drawers. Ashley opened the top drawer and found a lonely lost sock. The second and third drawers were empty. She bent down and opened the bottom drawer. A glint of metal reflected the horse’s glow. Ashley picked it up. It was a silver hand mirror, face down, with a delicate rose pattern etched into the back. What face would she see if she turned it over, and looked at the reflection? Hers or that other, beastly face? Could the white horse have really led her to salvation? She started to turn the mirror over but suddenly she couldn’t breathe. A searing pain cut through her lungs. The room started growing dark. She turned toward the horse.  It was fading away. 

 

Homer and Naomi stood at the water’s edge, looking out across the lake. “Why didn’t I stop her?” Homer asked.

“I don’t think you could have. She was determined.”

The music from the island was interrupted by a violent splashing noise out in the water.  Homer and Naomi turned, hoping to see Ashley reappear. And there she was, her head just breaking the surface. She was coughing and gasping for air. She disappeared below the water again. Homer jumped into the water and swam to the spot where he had seen his daughter. He reached down and his fingers brushed against her dress. He grabbed it and pulled. Her head bobbed to the surface again. She was coughing and retching out water. Homer held her tight and swam until he could feel the submerged road beneath his feet. Then he carried her ashore.

 She sat down heavily on the ground, with her head between her knees as she gulped in air. “Thank God you changed your mind about following that horse. Any longer and you’d have drowned for sure.”

“But I didn’t change my mind Daddy,” Ashley said. “I followed him all the way to Pikeville.”

Naomi reached down and rubbed Ashley’s shoulder. “But that’s impossible,” she said. “You were underwater for only about a minute.”

“No, no. You’re wrong. I went all the way to Pikeville.”

“Don’t talk now,” said Homer. “Just breathe.” Then he lifted his daughter’s face intending to kiss her on the forehead, but he froze when he got a glimpse of her face. Her old face. Her beautiful face. Restored. “Naomi, look!” he shouted.

“Glory be!” cried Naomi. “Thanks be to Jesus. Thanks be to Jesus.”

Ashley lifted her hand. She was clutching something. Homer saw that it was a mirror. Ashley looked into it and gasped. “Oh, no,” she said. “It didn’t work! It didn’t work! Mama Rose was wrong.”

Homer looked into the mirror. The angry, evil, beastly face was there. He looked back at his daughter’s face. Lovely. Warm.  “It’s only in the mirror,” he said to Ashley. “That face is only in the mirror.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Really, Ashley. Really. Your face is back.”

He took the mirror from her hand and, with all his might, threw it far out into the lake. Its splash mingled with the music and the happy laughter carried across the water by the lilac-scented breeze. Then Homer reached down, grabbed his daughter’s hand and, followed by Naomi, they walked back to the farmhouse. 

                              © 2016 Stanley R. Teater

                       All rights reserved

Reviews

[Valentine]

You led me neatly to an unexpected ending. Nice write. Valentine

[stych]

I really liked the story. Surely something different!