The Mirror of Chandler Dorian

This is just a small piece of my short story that I wrote for my creative writing class last year...i think its good, but of course, i cant find the whole story, so heres just a little piece for you

The Mirror of Chandler Dorian

October 27

Dear diary,

Guess what? Mom just bought me a mahogany bureau for my new room, complete with a large mirror and everything. Apparently it was made sometime in the eighteenth century, and was owned by some Lord of England or something. Very pricey and hard to come by, but, that’s mom for you; the antique collector.
It’s the oddest thing, though. I don’t think Lucy likes it very much. She won’t ever come in my room anymore, and when she does, she is always looking up randomly like she’s seen a ghost. I have no idea what’s going on with that dog, but she’s just staring up at something with a frightened look on her face. It’s really starting to freak me out.
Oh well, I’m not going to dwell so much about it. Perhaps Lucy is just paranoid about the new room change.

-Alesia
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I ignore it.

I have convinced myself that there is nothing wrong with the mirror, and that I am just being paranoid about the whole thing. I tend to do that a lot, so I guess it’s nothing stranger then usual. Last year I convinced myself that I was so sick that I had to miss three months of school…only to find out that I wasn’t sick at all and it was all in my head.

It’s probably just the new room change into my brother’s old room. Yes, that’s it. A new environment would definitely cause this anxiety that I’m having. The walls are closer together, that’s it. Perhaps it’s just a simple case of claustrophobia. Oh, and the walls are a different color too! And there are fewer windows too! Yes, that must be it.

Lucy won’t even come near my room anymore. And when she does, she will start to growl and get this mad look in her eyes. I experimented the other day, bringing her food bowl into my room to see if she would take the bait. She did…but not without barking like a mad dog with rabies once she entered the room. After eating, she started jumping in the air, barking viciously at some unseen force of nature that bothered the German Shepard mix to the very core. Something I can’t see.

I ignore it.

The other night there was this huge torrential downpour, one of the biggest storms that have been this way for a long time. The streets are flooded to the maximum, even going so far as to close them off for unknowing drivers. Oh, and our basement flooded along with it. And our basement has never flooded before in the fifteen years that my family has lived here. My brother and I spent all last night scooping up rain water with old coffee tin cans; though he managed to make it a bit more enjoyable by singing some slave songs as we worked.

Oh, and did I mention that we live on a hill? Talk about defying gravity. How does that even work?