Post by Natsuki on Oct 8, 2019 18:24:15 GMT -5
D-Rank Mission: A Fairytale While Babysitting
She glanced at the digital clock; it blinked at 8:30. Another hour at least, time enough for one more, she mused. A couple out on a date night wouldn't return early. Not that she cared. Their son seemed to enjoy being read to, and she wanted to tell another story. Reading to someone required proper pacing and tone after all - deliberately stilted - otherwise, the interest could wane. Although he may fall asleep before the climax of this particular one. Despite this knowledge, Natsuki told it; speaking in a hush, but pleasant manner.
'Once in a distant land, two siblings traded their crafts for a rarity then: a mirror. The old merchant only warned that they should never touch its crystalline form directly. In it, they gazed enamored by their reflection. Fascinated by their similar features, they brought the object home and gave it a prominent spot as the centerpiece of their common area. They spent hours attempting to figure out how it worked; never daring to touch the glistening crystal that encompassed its surface. They jested between one another about this, but would never outright declare their fears. Instead, they invited friends to share in their recently found curiosity.
Again and again, the siblings praised for their acquisition and artistic savvy, presented the mirror to guests gathered close. Soon, word of mouth spread, and their home became a popular tourist attraction for their quaint village. Day after day, travelers came and bartered with the siblings to glance upon themselves; they repeated the only rule a simple one: place no hand upon the crystal. And, as months passed, they decorated their house with all types of luxuries. No expense spared as their tastes evolved into more refined palettes than of their former selves.
One night, neither late nor early, the siblings awoke in fright - drenched in sweat and goosebumps along their arms. An intruder entered their home and sifted about below them on the lower level. In a frantic rush, they bolted down the stairs together. And although they lit no candle, a colorless glow brightened their passage: a lure of sorts that drew them further on towards their mirror. As they approached it, the footfalls shuffled about louder and more audible. Only a few moments passed before the siblings stood on either side of their favorite bauble, but they found no unexpected guest. Instead, the crystal shimmered and hummed at their presence. It never occurred to them: that the intruder had touched the surface.
The tremors grew creaking and quaking the floorboards beneath their feet. Gasping, the siblings jumped onto solid furniture as though the splitting cracks on the floor wouldn't engulf the entire room. The wooden panels opened up, slanting downward as the mirror fell backward. It landed flat its vibrations ever more present as crystal struck wood. A horrible screeching noise took all sense from their thoughts. All their trinkets and acquired wealth began to slip down into the growing chasm at the center. They watched it vanish but heard no crash where a person would guess falling momentum to end. Neither would remember who acted first, but act they did for they couldn't allow their entire home to be swallowed.
They needed to reach the mirror. Somehow, everything became wrong, and maybe the only way to fix things was to break a promise. Together, they built a bridge from their remaining treasures that allowed them to cross the pit. Without care of what riches they'd lose, they sprinted towards the mirror. The walls around them trembled with stress threatening them with structural collapse. Before they could reach it, the resonance reached a point of no return; the crystal shattered. Shards went every which way, and each of the siblings dove to retrieve them.
In the end, they saved only one remnant a piece. The rest fell into the nothingness beneath the house. They held their crystals close and peered into them. However, they no longer saw a reflection. Unable to linger, they retreated from their home and only turned to watch as the last bit of it fell. Where a village once stood, only a canyon of black spanned for miles. In horror, and perhaps awe, they gazed at endless destruction. They never would learn what became of their friends, nor the visitors, but they carried the memories of the mirror with them for the rest of their lives.
When the time came, and they both fell ill at ease with age, they reunited their shards. But, they never would let them touch. Instead, they wrapped their pieces individually in black cloth and locked them away in chests. Even out of fear, they couldn't bring themselves to destroy what they once loved. In their wills, they passed care on to their respective offspring on the condition that they never are opened. As fate would have it, one night, many years later, two siblings found boxes covered in dust. Fascinated by the ancient containers, they each slid the lids open without a second thought.
From them, thousand upon thousands of glass shards fell; in each, a reflection of a person twisted, distorted and blurry. The crystals slowly filled the room stacked to the ceiling. Then, with one significant vibration, they all shattered, releasing what they possessed. When the siblings finally could look in their boxes, they saw only themselves gazing back.'
Natsuki paused at the end, convinced that the boy fell asleep. She shifted to retrieve a blanket and cover them as the chills of autumn seeped through the thin walls of the apartment. Closing the book, she set it aside on the coffee table. Sighing, she felt the warmth as the child cuddled closer to her, and was surprised when her eyes met his, for he was wide awake. "What happened to them after?" He asked after several moments of silence. "Is that the end? It doesn't seem like an end." She smiled at this turn of events, but went ahead and shut the lamp off beside them, leaving the glimmer of the television as the only source of light.
"I don't know," Natsuki replied with the truth. "But, I believe you're right; it's not an end. It's not meant to be. You should get some sleep; your parents will be home in a bit." She glanced at the clock: 9 pm. When they arrived a half or so later, she moved just enough to leave the boy asleep on the sofa and answered the door. Pleased that their son slept for her, they asked how she managed that. "I told him a story," she explained. "I left the book. It's my spare copy, and he might ask about it when he wakes up." With that, she departed the apartment satisfied with the time she spent there. Maybe they'd ask her back another day.
