Two women, a diary, a mirror. That's all you need to know. [Short Story]
I swore loudly, massaging my head. Then I picked up the diary which had rudely interrupted my attic cleaning session. It was very old, something you are likely to find in a museum. It had a spoilt, leather cover and parchment used for pages. I opened it. Written on the first page in careful, curvy handwriting -
This is the Property of
Larol Smith
I went to the first entry. It was dated 'March 1, 1857'. Wow. This diary was almost one-fifty years old. I read through the entries, skipping many. I guessed she was around twenty five when writing this. It was mostly the mundane laments of a wife in the 1850s. I suppose this was the only safe place for her to vent about her husband. I wasn't until 'September', when Larol finally started gaining my interest.
September 6, 1857
Something is going on. My lovely plates and china dishes break all of a sudden. Many of my things have gone missing. I thought it was Joseph at first, but as surly he may be, he possibly couldn't have broken the dishes all the way from work! This is not the work of a burglar, why would he break things instead of stealing them? I will talk to Joseph about this.
September 8, 1857
I am starting to hear voices. Joseph doesn't believe me. Of course. As if he can't see all the missing crockery items. But I do not think this is normal. Nor is this a burglar. I am sure of it. If this continues, I will convince Joseph to call Father Jason. I heard he has performed many cleansing rituals.
September 11, 1857
I have heartbreaking news! Mouschi has gone missing! I have looked for her everywhere, but she has simply vanished! Joseph is going to be so angry. Meanwhile, the voices keep getting louder. I hear things like, 'What are up to?' or 'How are you?' very frequently. Other times it's just meaningless murmurs. With Mouschi missing and voices in my head, I do not know how much more I can take. I will definitely convince Joseph this time or else I will go to Father Jason myself.
September 21, 1857
I have seen her! I have seen the spirit haunting my home! Oh, my poor nerves! There I was doing laundry and minding my own business when suddenly, a pair of piercing, light blue eyes appeared at the window, accompanied by inky black hair and very red lips. Her skin was extremely pale and she was very tall. Then she tilted her head at various angles, as if admiring herself. I was rooted to the spot and could only watch her perform her little act. Then she left. I immediately went to Father Jason. The cleansing is on October 13. I do not know how I will survive till then.
Her diary ended here. I was left hanging and intensely curious. I spent the next week researching my family tree to find any trace of a women named Larol Smith. After all, we shared the the same last name, so I figured we must be related somehow. However, the closest name to Larol I could find was my own - Loral.
A week went by and I found nothing about this woman. I lost interest and moved on, but Larol's last entry remained in the back of my mind.
********
It was Halloween. I was getting ready for another meeting with a client. I decided to wear a simple black dress which was formal enough for the meeting and sparkly enough for a party I was hoping to attend later. I tied my hair up in a ponytail. I went to the mirror to do my makeup. I applied my trusty red lipstick which went so well with my ink black hair and baby blue eyes. I looked up to take a final look at myself when I saw a shadowed figure behind me.
I quickly turned around. There was no one. I looked back in the mirror, but it was not myself that I saw. My hair was no longer a ponytail but an elegant updo. My dress was now a corset and my room antique. And it hit, like running into a wall at full speed. Larol-Loral. 13-31. In that case...21-12. 12 September, my first meeting with the client. The day Larol had seen me. I froze to the spot. Larol left the mirror and Father Jason stepped forward to start the cleansing...
October 13, 1857
She is gone. Father Jason performed the ritual. The voices have stopped. I look forward to going back to my old life, before all this mess.

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