The Shadow Behind the Mirror

The afternoon air in the interior of the swamp kembang hamlet feels different. Not only because of a gust of wind that carries the smell of old wood and moist soil, but because of the quiet way to creep into pores like fog. Aira stood on the edge of her grandmother's yard, staring at the old colonial architecture with a mixture of disbelief and worry. The house stands like a living creature who is watching back - diam, but full of secrets. "This is your house now," Grandma said while fixing the location of her batik shawl. His voice was hoarse but warm. Aira nodded slightly. His hands held the backpack tightly. His eyes followed the large windows that were partly weathered eaten by age, peeling cream-painted walls, and the main door waiting to be opened like a mouth that stores too many stories. He did not want to come here, to be honest. But after the sudden departure of his father and his mother who knows where since he was a child, Grandma's house was the only place left. "In the past, your mother liked to go up to the attic," grandmother murmured suddenly while opening the door. Aira turned around. "Attic?" Grandma did not answer, just walked in. The aroma of old wood, chalk, and something that cannot be explained welcomes Aira as soon as he stepped in. The house is spacious, but feels narrow by heavy silence. The wooden floor creaked slowly in every step. The evening light slipped through the window lattice, reflecting a long shadow on the wall. "Your room is above, near the attic stairs. Tomorrow start school, so clean your items tonight," Grandma said while walking towards the kitchen. Aira dragged her feet up the steep wooden stairs. The walls of the stairs are filled with old photos, most of them are dull. He stopped in one photo: a young woman standing next to a much younger grandmother. That woman ... her face resembles Aira. Very similar. Aira's heart was beating abysmally. "Ma'am ..." he whispered softly. He looked into his eyes in the photo. Eyes that seem to store something that has never been said. He wanted to touch him, but immediately continued his steps-to be spared if he stayed too long, the memories would swallow himself round. The room prepared by grandma is quite simple. Wooden beds, small tables, old cabinets, and windows facing the backyard. But what attracted the attention of Aira was the narrow wooden ladder in the corner of the room, sticking out to the ceiling-the attic. Since that night, something in him felt he continued to be pulled up. But he tried to ignore it. He tidied up his clothes, storing books on the shelf, then stared at the wall clock that had shown nine at night. Silent thickened around him. From the outside, only the sound of crickets and occasionally wild dogs who broke the night. Can't sleep. His eyes kept glancing at the wooden ladder. Finally, he got up and decided to check it. The ladder creamed in every footing. Aira turned on her cellphone flashlight and pushed a small wooden door on the ceiling. Dust falling. When the door opened, cold air welcomed him. He climbed slowly and finally entered a completely dark room. The attic is full of old stacks of items - wooden tristers, suitcases, broken photo frames. However, in the middle of the room, standing a striking object: a large mirror with an old silver frame carved with strange symbols. The surface is covered in dust, but still reflects faint light from Aira's cellphone. Aira approached. When he rubbed the dust on the surface of the mirror, his breath choked. The reflection ... looks strange. His eyes remain the same. Her hair too. But highlight in his eyes ... no. Something in the mirror stared at him back. Not with the same expression. Not just reflection - but something else. And then, the reflection smiled ... earlier than Aira. Aira gasped backwards, her heart hit the ribs. He blinked, hoping it was only the effect of light. But when he looked back, the reflection was back to normal. He swallowed and retreated slowly. The mirror ... whispered. No, not in words, but in taste. As if there was a sound that could not be captured, but was captured by something deeper than the mind. As if ... the mirror called him. The sound of footsteps below makes Aira frozen. "Aira?" call grandma. "You haven't slept yet?" Aira immediately went down, closed the attic door, and pretended just from the bathroom. "Yes, soon to sleep, Grandma." Grandma nodded, but her gaze had the chance to lead to the ceiling-right towards the attic. His eyes receded for a moment, then returned ordinary. "Do not go up to night. Lots of dust," he said quietly, almost too slow to hear. Aira nodded and returned to the room. That night, he didn't sleep well. In his dream, he stood in front of the mirror in the attic. But this time, he was in the mirror, while another figure - who was like himself - stared from outside. The figure smiled ... and whispered something that was not heard, but shook his heart. When he woke up, a small pale blue pendant he had never seen before, was on the table beside his bed. Aira looked at the pendant for a long time, her heart beat faster. The shape is simple - a pale blue stone in the form of water droplets, tied with a fine carved metal frame. But there is something unusual from him. The stone seemed to store light, throbbing softly like a breath that was almost dead. He touched it slowly. Cold. But not ordinary cold - more like the sensation of ice that infiltrated the skin, then dripped into the bloodstream. His body responded with fine trembling. "This ... where did it come from?" he whispered. He was very sure that the pendant was not in the previous room. He also never had it. And there's no way the grandmother who put it without saying anything. His instincts said this pendant was related to the mirror in the attic - and strange dreams he had just experienced. Aira picked up the pendant slowly and wore it. Strangely, when the pendant touched his skin, the cold that had pierced, was replaced by a strange warmth that propagated slowly from his chest. There is a vibration that is barely audible - not sound, but a kind of echo ... in his own mind. He stood up and looked at the small mirror in the corner of his room. The reflection is normal. Nothing strange. However, for some reason, he felt that he was in the mirror ... not feeling "ordinary". With slow steps, Aira approached the window. The backyard is shrouded in a night shadow. But from there, faintly, he could see the attic roof soaring above the room where he stood. And from the gaps of the old boards, there is a thin light ... blue ... like a pendant pulse on his neck. Aira bit her lips. Fear and curiosity collided in his chest. He knows one thing: there is a big secret in this house. And for some reason, it all started from an old mirror and pendant that somehow appeared without explanation. He pulled the curtain slowly, returned to the bed, and lying down without closing his eyes. In the darkness of his room, the pendant still throbbed softly-if he lived, and was waiting for something. Aira closed her eyes, but her mind remained restless. This house holds answers ... but maybe also dangerous. And that night, without realizing it, everything had begun. ---