Mirror Mirroi
Charise de Becker is a fledgling author from Colchester, Essex. She, unlike many aspiring writers, does not have a ‘novel in her’, but rather a million short stories, vying for attention. Her writing achievements to date have included flash fiction posted on 101words. org and placing third in the Chorley and District Writers’ Circle Writing Competition.
by Charise de Becker
I was thirteen, when my mother died. All the doctors tried to save her, but not knowing what they were saving her from, they ultimately failed. Her death was messy; she was feverish and delirious. She didn’t even call out to us at the end (like she’d forgotten who we were), instead her last word was ‘Kagami, kagami…’ Over and over until her last breath.
I knew it was Japanese, but I had no idea what it meant, I was almost afraid to search for the meaning, not sure I wanted to know the truth.
After staring at the blinking cursor every night for weeks after her funeral, I finally blinked away tears and typed it into the translator. Even in English, the word didn’t seem to make any sense – ‘mirror’?
I spent late nights searching for answers, it was an easy distraction from feeling that raw, sharp stab to my heart every time I thought of her, saw her picture or forgot to not remember her. It was pointless. Nothing made sense.
It was a senseless time for us (my father and I). We had the centre of our universe ripped from us, we’d drifted out of our orbits and were free-falling through the unending vastness of our own grief.