The Smudge

As she was coming out of her bathroom, Sandra noticed there was a smudge on her new bedroom mirror. A dirty dark mark. “Now how did that get there?”, she thought out loud, rubbing the mirror with one of the cleaning cloths that she always carried around with her, so as to get rid of any tiny speck of dust or dirt that might be a blemish upon her beautiful home.

But there was something odd about this smudge. No ammount of rubbing seemed to remove it. Infact, the more she rubbed it, the bigger and darker it seemed to get. “Stupid mirror. Stupid smudge”, she thought.

The strange hippy lady in the shop had called it a Scrying mirror, whatever Scrying was. All she knew was that she liked the look of it and thought it would look lovely on her bedroom wall. “My looks may be starting to fade”, she thought, “But my taste in beautiful things will always remain impeccable”.

But then her thoughts returned to the smudge that had grown almost as big as her fist. “Scrying mirror, my foot”, she thought, “Some kind of trick mirror is what it is”.

Odd though, how smudges and shadows and those sort of things sometimes started to resemble shapes. This smudge was starting to look like some weird kind of creature.
“A smudge monster, you might say”, she thought.

But then, suddenly, she noticed that part of the smudge now seemed to be blocked out by her own reflection and dropping her cleaning cloth she screamed as she realized that the smudge hadn’t been getting larger, it had been getting closer; closer behind her.

She screamed again and the mirror was colored red.