The Halloween Twin
The darkness, lit only by pumpkin ski,, her face shimmering a ghoulish green, her blood pumping in her chest, she draws her black gloved hand across the glassy surface of the oval mirror and wished for him to come.
In its blank space an image emerged, took shape; a face, a mouth, uncannily like he.
Outside the window of her room fireworks set the sky ablaze with colour.
Her pulse raced. Her heartbeat hammers against her ribs. She held her breath in anticipatory glee. The year had stretched and dragged since his last visit to her.
Her eyes probe the dark recesses of the room beyond; seeking him in the shadows cast by the oval mirror .Curious to discover why he came to her every Hallowe’en
Tonight she is going to ask him to explain
In the kitchen below the revellers pile in.The smell of pumpkin wine, the aroma of nutmeg and cinnamon spiked apple pie drift up the stairs.
Hallowe’en celebrations have begun.
His eyes a doppelgänger of her own stare back at her from the bevelled mirror his unwavering gaze drawing her in.
Is he real? Or does he exist only in her imaginings
His lips silently form the word ‘Twin’.
Twin!
Strange remembering’s assault her mind. Sensations jump and leap. Him and her in a deep warm void hearts beating as one in rhythmic pattern.
Realisations dawns. He is the other half of her. Her startled eyes fly wide
The question hovers in her mind. Why does he come only at Halloween?
His gaze draws her closer still.
It is the day they tore me limb by limb – separated us so you could live.
His sense of silent abandonment pulls her in.
She moves still closer to the mirror restitution offered
Desiring once again to be as one.
This Halloween she will not hear her father call
“Angelene/,”it’s your turn to strike the match and set the bonfire alight, my darling daughter.”
“This Hallowe’en we will be joined again,” she cries out. Her breathless promise blurs her twin’s reflection
The s jagged shard of the mirrored glass rips her throat from left to right
Dripping blood she searches in vain for him on the other side of the shattered mirror
And finds, too late, he is, after all, just a Hallowe’en figment of her imagination
Gemma Hill Writeyou Writeme 