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JOSE GERVIC LABE, JR.
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Daily Flash Fiction #1064620 added February 21, 2024 at 8:45pm
Restrictions: None
Reflections of the Past
Danara hated hospitals, their starkness were a painful contrast to her mother's fading health. Her reflection in the window was pale, mirroring the bleak winter day. On her mother's bedside table, she spotted a misplaced envelope. "My Danara, for when my voice is gone," it read in her mother's shaky hand.
Tears welled as Danara opened the letter. It wasn't a list of instructions, but a memory – a story of a worn, antique mirror Danara remembered from her childhood home. Her mother wrote of its cracks, and how they revealed a magical world behind the glass. A faded, embroidered curtain in the reflection became the setting for whimsical tales.
A wave of longing washed over Danara. Had she dismissed her mother's stories as childish fancy? The letter ended with a plea, "Find it, Danara. Find your way back to wonder."
Driven by a newfound purpose, she searched their old garden shed. Cobwebs and dust gave way to the mirror, its silvered surface dulled. Behind the broken glass, she gasped. A vibrant patch of embroidered flowers bloomed – the curtain from her mother's stories. Had it always been there?
The curtain moved, rippling, and a small hand emerged, reaching. Danara gasped, her heart pounding, and closed her eyes. When she opened them, the curtain was still. The hand was gone. But a sense of peace bloomed within her. In that impossible realm behind the mirror, her mother's stories weren't just tales–they were a bridge, a testament to the love and imagination that even illness couldn't erase.
WORD COUNT: 255 Words
WRITTEN FOR: "Winner for 2/20 and prompt for 2/21" 
PROMPT: Write a story that includes the words: mirror, letter, curtain |
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