Tansy Undercrypt
Author, Illustrator, Purveyor of Doom & Whimsy


January 5th 2018 in Microfiction

Verna heard the sighing and, peering into the bedroom, saw the trembling lower lip. “Don’t you trust that mirror,” she said, coming through the doorway slowly to stand behind her granddaughter. “It’s all lies and bitterness.” “Wha- what?” Charlene reacted, trying to act nonchalant. “Lies, all lies,” Verna said, putting her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “Look there!” Charlene looked at the reflection of both of them together and smiled. “I worried about my hair for years; it were too thin, it were too stragglin’,” she whispered. “But I could wear hats; my, yes. Shape o’ my skull lent itself to every kind of hat like a movie star … and I turned many a head on a Sunday, if I may say.” Charlene smiled, remembering all of the hats stored up in the attic. “An’ see here,” Verna pointed. “This darn fool thing shows me that I got chicken legs and some big ol’ feet, when I know FOR A FACT that I was the fastest thing my college track had seen in a good long while – and still the boys insisted on chasing me.” She smiled a broad, crooked grin. “You do have big ol’ feet, Grandma,” Charlene laughed. “You shush,” Verna said, giving her a squeeze. “What I say is that this mirror don’t show nobody the truth about themselves; it just sits in the corner, wonderin’ how it’s gonna get you to believe that the packaging is the extent of the gift. Oughtta break the thing but, well, that’s bad luck.” Charlene turned and gave her grandmother a big hug. “Ain’t nobody decorative, Charlene,” Verna whispered, giving the mirror the finger.

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