Explore Horizons’ Young Writers’ Award 2015 – Winning Entry!

May 22, 2015

Young Writers' Award winner 2015

Mireya Campos – Watauga Middle School – 8th grade

I wait patiently sitting on the couch. For some off reason I always have the need to wait until a certain time. I feel as if I don’t, something bad will happen. It gets lonely here often. I get up from the couch and start to pace back and forth as I usually do. You might say it’s sort of a habit of mine. I walk around my living room when I notice the mirror.

It kind of gives me an off feeling. It’s a round, rusted mirror that has beautiful antique designs on it. As I pace closer to it I think I can hear muffled voices. The sounds gets louder when I pass it. I can’t help being attracted to it and I turn back around and start to approach it again, seeing my reflection come into view as I get closer.

I walk past it once again but I notice something this time. I stand in front of it and I wave my hand as the other side mimics me. My arm goes up at the same time the reflection does, and goes down in perfect unison. However when my head turns right, the other side turns the wrong way.

I get nervous and both of us jump back. The reflection looks worried or afraid, the same expression as my face. We both stand closer to the mirror again. When she begins to talk I move my lips in synch with hers not actually speaking. “Hey mom can you come over here? I think something is wrong.”

I wait patiently and the mother appears in front of me, standing behind her. I look behind my own shoulder and see no one there. “Okay what’s the problem honey?” Her mother asked. She begins to speak again as I move my lips with hers. “I don’t know. I think there is something wrong with our mirror.” She said with concern evident in her tone.

The mother spoke again. “Oh you’re just seeing things honey. There is nothing there, so stop worrying.” Then the mother walked away. She eventually walked away as well. I stood there not saying anything. I was just staring into the mirror waiting for her to come once again. Like I said it gets lonely here.

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