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“Screw the Looking Glass” by Zack Loup
A self-appointed psychopomp can't get a day off when there's ghosts who need help. Join us on a fun and frightful spiritual misadventure.
Today’s story is “Screw the Looking Glass” by Zack Loup. This story is an introduction to the ongoing Psychopomp comic series by Zack Loup, which you can read on both Webtoons and FurAffinity. If you enjoyed Zack’s writing, he’s currently working on a full length novel called Friendly Fire which you can read on his Patreon.
Read for you by Rob MacWolf — werewolf hitchhiker.
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Transcript
You’re listening to The Voice of Dog.
Speaker:This is Rob MacWolf,
Speaker:your fellow traveler,
Speaker:and Today’s story is “Screw the Looking Glass” by Zack Loup.
Speaker:This story is an introduction to the ongoing Psychopomp comic series by Zack Loup,
Speaker:which you can read on both Webtoons and FurAffinity.
Speaker:If you enjoyed Zack’s writing, he’s currently working on a full length novel called Friendly Fire which
Speaker:you can read on his Patreon.
Speaker:Please enjoy “Screw the Looking Glass” by Zack Loup,
Speaker:edited by Carmen Loup
Speaker:It was 8AM. A merle-coated mutt named Ray Gracey laid tangled in his bedsheets,
Speaker:still dressed in his clothes from the night before.
Speaker:A record spun on his turntable silently,
Speaker:the needle having reached the end hours before.
Speaker:If he had his druthers, it would be at least another four hours before he woke up.
Speaker:He would not have his druthers.
Speaker:Not today. "Bohemian Rhapsody" fandango-ed into his consciousness.
Speaker:He pushed aside a few empty craft beer bottles which clattered to the floor as he fumbled for his phone.
Speaker:He remembered thinking
Speaker:that making his favorite song his ringtone
Speaker:was a great idea.
Speaker:He knew better now.
Speaker:The caller ID read
Speaker:“Mom”. She was usually good about not calling him this early, it must have been important.
Speaker:“Hello?” he asked groggily.
Speaker:“I’m sorry sweetheart, did I wake you?”
Speaker:his mom asked in her charming drawl.
Speaker:“No,” he lied, she knew.
Speaker:“What’s up?” “I’m sorry to bother you,”
Speaker:she said. “But your father’s out of town, and I just had a man drop off a bunch of stuff for the auction.
Speaker:I’d wait for Greg to come into work at ten, but it looks like it’s going to rain
Speaker:and I don’t want to leave everything outside.”
Speaker:Ray groaned and hoped his mom hadn’t heard.
Speaker:He was definitely hungover, possibly still a little drunk.
Speaker:Only masochists and social media influencers were up this early.
Speaker:But he loved his mom, and dammit, he wasn’t going to leave her to haul all that stuff inside alone.
Speaker:“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,”
Speaker:he grunted. “Oh, thank you sweetheart,”
Speaker:she said. “I love
Speaker:you!” “Love you too, mom,”
Speaker:he said. He rolled out of bed with a huff,
Speaker:stretched, then shook himself out.
Speaker:His tail was stiff from sleeping on it.
Speaker:He wagged it for a moment, as if doing that would help work out the kink in his back.
Speaker:It did not. He looked at himself apologetically in the cracked mirror above his dresser,
Speaker:combing his head fur back with his claws into a loose rust-colored quiff.
Speaker:He straightened out the lapels of his leather jacket.
Speaker:At least he was already dressed.
Speaker:He grabbed his keys off the table and headed out to his car, a beat up black station wagon over a decade his senior.
Speaker:He sat back in the well worn seat, cobwebs of sleep threatened to overtake him.
Speaker:Some people had a morning coffee to wake up, Ray had a morning cigarette. He took a deep pull, his toes curling as the nicotine helped to take the edge off his misery.
Speaker:He started the car.
Speaker:Or at least, he tried to.
Speaker:The station wagon groaned in protest, refusing to turn over.
Speaker:“I know, buddy,” Ray sighed, patting the dashboard. “It’s
Speaker:too early, I don’t wanna be awake either.”
Speaker:Ray turned the key again and the car sputtered to life,
Speaker:as if it were groaning,
Speaker:“Okay, I’m awake.” The sun was entirely too bright for Ray’s liking,
Speaker:but the dark clouds in the distance looked like they’d fix that soon enough.
Speaker:Ray was looking forward to getting this over with so he could go home and let the rain lull him back to sleep.
Speaker:He pulled into the auction house’s dirt driveway
Speaker:and saw his mom was waiting for him outside.
Speaker:The graying husky mutt paced, eyeing the darkening sky to the east.
Speaker:“Thank goodness you’re here!”
Speaker:his mom said as he stepped out of the car.
Speaker:“Come on, help me get this stuff inside and then we can catch up over tea.”
Speaker:“I’d like that,
Speaker:mom,” he said. He, in fact, would have liked to get home as soon as possible, but he’d rather stay awake for seventy-nine hours straight lost in a 24-hour Walmart than risk hurting her feelings.
Speaker:The next few minutes were a blur of heavy lifting and fighting back waves of nausea.
Speaker:It wasn’t until Ray reached the last item,
Speaker:an old fainting couch,
Speaker:that he realized he was about to enter the 24-hour Walmart of his soul.
Speaker:There was a woman
Speaker:on the couch, a fluffy white cat in a long velvet dress with elegant pearls around her neck.
Speaker:She looked as if someone had opened a can of tuna and refused to share.
Speaker:Her distress wasn’t unwarranted.
Speaker:After all, she was dead.
Speaker:Ray sat down on the couch beside the ghostly woman.
Speaker:“Young man, where am I?”
Speaker:she asked. “I laid down to take my second mid-day nap, and then…
Speaker:then I woke up here.”
Speaker:“You’re at Gracey & Sons Auction House,”
Speaker:Ray said. “Yes, I’ve heard of it,”
Speaker:the lady said. “But what am I doing here?”
Speaker:Ray smiled sadly.
Speaker:He hated this part.
Speaker:“You uh… you didn’t wake up from that nap,”
Speaker:he said. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”
Speaker:“Oh,” the woman said, studying the ground.
Speaker:“Oh. What happens now?”
Speaker:“Well, I don’t really know,”
Speaker:Ray admitted. “From what I gather, you can choose a place to haunt, if that’s what you’d like. Or you can move on.”
Speaker:“Move on?” the woman asked, in a tiny voice.
Speaker:“Yes, into the light, or the great beyond,
Speaker:or whatever you want to call it,”
Speaker:Ray said. “Oh my,” the woman said.
Speaker:“What happens then?”
Speaker:“I’ve never been,” Ray said. “And I’ve
Speaker:never known anyone who came back.”
Speaker:“Well, that’s mighty inconvenient,”
Speaker:the woman said. “I’m sorry, ma’am,”
Speaker:Ray said. “Stop calling me ma’am,”
Speaker:the woman said. “My name’s
Speaker:Doris.” “Alright, Doris,” Ray said.
Speaker:“Is there anything I can do for you?
Speaker:Most people can’t see ghosts.”
Speaker:“Well, if I’m here,
Speaker:I suppose it means my good for nothing son William is selling all my stuff,”
Speaker:Doris said, her white fur bristling.
Speaker:“So there is one thing you can do for me.
Speaker:Take these,” she said, clasping at the pearls on her neck; except as she did,
Speaker:they melted away into nothingness.
Speaker:“Oh no!” she gasped.
Speaker:“Your pearls aren’t really here,”
Speaker:Ray said. “This form is just a memory of yourself in life.
Speaker:life.” “I see,” Doris said. “If that’s the case, why am I still such an old biddy?
Speaker:I may as well fix that.”
Speaker:Her form shifted gently before Ray’s eyes.
Speaker:She seemed to become fuzzy like an image playing through a staticy television before settling on a version of herself that looked to be about twenty years old,
Speaker:wearing a cocktail dress and a bow in her curled head fur.
Speaker:“That’s better,” she said.
Speaker:“ I do believe I could get used to this being dead nonsense.
Speaker:Anyways, young man-”
Speaker:“My name is Ray,” he said.
Speaker:“Ray,” she said. “Find my pearls.
Speaker:They have to be with the things William brought you.
Speaker:I don’t care about anything else, but don’t let him sell those. They’re
Speaker:a family heirloom.
Speaker:They belonged to my grandmother.
Speaker:I want you to find them and give them to my daughter Emily. She lives at 5212 Myrtle Street, the yellow house.” “I’ll
Speaker:do my best, Doris,”
Speaker:he said. “But for now, you may want to pick a different place to haunt. It’s about to rain.”
Speaker:“I’m going to go see Emily,
Speaker:then,” Doris said. “I’ll be waiting. I won’t rest until I know she has my pearls.”
Speaker:With that, she disappeared.
Speaker:The sky politely waited for Ray to drag the couch inside
Speaker:before turning the driveway into a splattering mud pit.
Speaker:“Just in time,” Ray’s mom said.
Speaker:“Should I get the kettle going?”
Speaker:“Yeah, I’ll be over in a minute,”
Speaker:Ray said. “I saw something cool in one of the boxes, I wanna check it out.”
Speaker:“Okay sweetheart,” his mom said as she went back into the office.
Speaker:“You’d like a chai, right?”
Speaker:“Yes, please,” Ray said.
Speaker:He began digging through the boxes.
Speaker:As he did, something niggled him, prickling his neck fur.
Speaker:His parents must have gotten in another
Speaker:haunted object. He’d have to look for that once he found the damn pearls.
Speaker:His fingers brushed over a velvet jewelry box.
Speaker:Jackpot. The pearls sat poised inside, ready for their
Speaker:debut at an auction they’d never see.
Speaker:He slipped the box into the pocket of his black leather jacket,
Speaker:then followed his growing sense of unease deeper into the auction house.
Speaker:Ray was no stranger to dealing with spirits;
Speaker:he’d been able to see them his whole life. The only thing that had changed as he’d grown up
Speaker:was that he learned not to mention it to folks anymore, lest they think he was crazy.
Speaker:It was hard to avoid sometimes,
Speaker:since he lived in an old city
Speaker:lousy with ghosts filled with bullet holes or covered in nasty boils as a result of wars and pestilences.
Speaker:The boils were the worst.
Speaker:He’d quickly got in the habit of checking an area for sickly ghosts before eating.
Speaker:The auction house frequently came into possession of items with unwitting guests attached to them, and Ray had made it his silent duty to help them out when he could.
Speaker:Ray wandered back into the storage room
Speaker:where less desirable items waited to be priced.
Speaker:It was dark as hell back there since there were no windows,
Speaker:and the rain roared against the tin roof so loud it would’ve put Revered Johnson, the old lion at the pulpit of Harcourt Baptist Church, to shame.
Speaker:The energy was oppressive.
Speaker:It was spooky, even to him, and he was pretty jaded with spooky.
Speaker:Ray was fine with dealing with ghosts,
Speaker:but he had the sneaking suspicion that whatever was back here wasn’t your typical disgruntled granny.
Speaker:It was almost--Ray hated to think it-
Speaker:-demonic. He had encountered evil spirits before.
Speaker:Things that had never been alive, but were able to arrange themselves into horrid, shambling shapes that mimicked life about as well as a mockingbird mimicked a car alarm.
Speaker:When he was a kid,
Speaker:he tried to pretend he didn’t see them.
Speaker:Spirits are like mall kiosk employees in that they know when you’re looking at them and they refuse to leave you alone if you do.
Speaker:But he’d seen twenty-five years worth of this shit and didn’t want whatever the hell this was anywhere near his mother.
Speaker:He’d become a ghost hunter of sorts.
Speaker:It wasn’t a job that paid, but it was rewarding work.
Speaker:Between shifts at the local record shop, he found himself drawn around the town wherever there was spiritual trouble.
Speaker:Most of the time he just helped spirits move on.
Speaker:Occasionally, he’d find a cursed object
Speaker:and have to cleanse and bury it where no one would ever find it.
Speaker:Downtown, he’d been panhandled by more spectral hobos than living ones.
Speaker:He found what he was looking for.
Speaker:A mirror. Of course it was a fucking mirror.
Speaker:The old mirror stood like a sentinel in the back of the room.
Speaker:Its wooden frame was black as if the wood had been burnt.
Speaker:It was reflecting what little light was available from the main portion of the warehouse. Only, it wasn’t
Speaker:reflecting the room; beyond the dirty glass was a desaturated view of a forest pathway,
Speaker:moss swinging in a breeze Ray couldn’t feel.
Speaker:Nope. Ray thought, looking for something heavy to smash it with.
Speaker:He grabbed an antique brass fire iron and stalked the mirror.
Speaker:His hackles raised as neared it,
Speaker:the cold wind from behind the glass spilling out to ruffle his fur.
Speaker:He lifted the iron, preparing to strike.
Speaker:A black blur bolted through the trees and launched at him,
Speaker:claws digging into his arm and forcing him to drop the iron which clattered on the concrete floor.
Speaker:The hand knew what it wanted.
Speaker:It slipped into his coat pocket, snatched the velvet box,
Speaker:and retreated back into the forest in the mirror.
Speaker:It was gone. And so, Ray realized now,
Speaker:were the pearls.
Speaker:Ray swore. He took a deep breath, trying to figure out how exactly he was supposed to climb inside of a mirror.
Speaker:“Ray, baby!” His mother called.
Speaker:“Tea’s ready!” It would have to wait.
Speaker:He hurried over to the office, still conspicuously bristled.
Speaker:“Are you okay, dear?”
Speaker:his mom asked. “I’m fine,”
Speaker:he insisted, sitting down in the chair opposite hers.
Speaker:“Just tired.” “I’m sorry I woke you up,”
Speaker:she said with a wink as she slid his mug across the desk towards him
Speaker:“I know you’re busy these days.” “It’s alright, mom,” he said, a bit embarrassed to know she’d seen through his little white lie.
Speaker:“Really. But hey, can I ask you a favor in return for the help?” “Of course,” she said.
Speaker:“What do you need, dear?”
Speaker:“Can I have that old mirror in the back room?”
Speaker:he asked. “I uh… need a new one for my room. Mine’s busted.
Speaker:busted.” “That old thing?” She laughed.
Speaker:“I thought you might like it.
Speaker:You’ve always liked creepy things.
Speaker:Take it. I can’t sell it for half a penny.”
Speaker:“Thanks, mom.” He smiled.
Speaker:An hour later, Ray was stuffing the horrible not-mirror into the trunk of his car.
Speaker:The driveway was more of a shallow bog now, but the rain had quieted to a tepid drizzle.
Speaker:If he hadn’t already promised Doris he’d bring her daughter the pearls, he’d have already dropped the damn thing and been done with it.
Speaker:He may have been many things, but he wasn’t a liar.
Speaker:An eeriness befitting his predicament darkened his trip home,
Speaker:a harsh contrast to the blinding brightness that morning.
Speaker:Once he got home, he hefted the mirror from his trunk and, hesitantly,
Speaker:brought it inside. .
Speaker:He hated the idea of playing host to an evil mirror,
Speaker:but he couldn’t risk leaving it outside.
Speaker:If some inconsiderate pup knocked it over or stole it, he’d never get those pearls back.
Speaker:He set it up in his kitchen thinking perhaps the eeriness of it might at least scare away the family of cockroaches that lived behind his cupboards.
Speaker:He stared curiously into the mirror again.
Speaker:The moonlit leaves beyond the glass shimmied smugly. Were they mocking him?
Speaker:They were. The trees were mocking him.
Speaker:“Haha,” they silently laughed like a cackle of hyena cubs.
Speaker:“You can’t smash me. I’ve got something you need.”
Speaker:He snarled in reply.
Speaker:Since he was already in the kitchen, he microwaved a frozen burrito for breakfast which, even at this hour,
Speaker:was more like an extremely late dinner. Then he
Speaker:sat down at his computer to
Speaker:try to figure out what the hell to do.
Speaker:He scoured the internet to see if anyone in the history of ever had experienced something like this and lived to tell the tale,
Speaker:but if they had they weren’t sharing.
Speaker:Several hours, a pack of cigarettes, and half a case of beer later,
Speaker:he was nowhere closer to an answer.
Speaker:He’d have to wing it.
Speaker:He returned to the kitchen,
Speaker:armed with a few white chime candles
Speaker:and a plastic water bottle filled with holy water
Speaker:that he’d stolen from the cathedral down the street.
Speaker:He wondered briefly if stealing holy water negated the holiness.
Speaker:Probably. Better than nothing, though.
Speaker:First, he’d tried casually strolling right into the mirror,
Speaker:but all he’d gotten was a painful bump on the snout.
Speaker:Then, he doused it in holy water, which netted him
Speaker:a damp mirror. He lit one of the cleansing white candles he’d bought from the local witchcraft shop.
Speaker:Zilch. The shadowy thing hadn’t reappeared.
Speaker:The smug leaves seemed to be enjoying his unwitting attempts to get in.
Speaker:At some point, he’d flipped a switch from “creeped out” to “pissed off”.
Speaker:It was noon now and he needed a nap.
Speaker:The mirror would still be there when he woke up. Probably. He guzzled another beer, finishing off the pack, and let the steady pitter patter of the rain lull him back to sleep.
Speaker:It was just starting to get dark and still raining
Speaker:when he woke up. He felt better.
Speaker:The word “good” even swam around his head for a moment. He felt
Speaker:good. A new idea came to him and he smiled.
Speaker:That mirror’s ass was his.
Speaker:The idea had come to him in his sleep, as if the thing in the mirror had planted it there itself.
Speaker:Perhaps it had. Spirits could be sneaky bastards.
Speaker:A trade. Why not? He had
Speaker:plenty of old trinkets,
Speaker:little tokens of thanks from spirits he’d helped.
Speaker:He rifled through the junk drawer in his dresser and pulled out a silver pocket watch. That would do. Not that he had anything against the poor watch, but he had more watches than he could fetch a stick at,
Speaker:and this one was decidedly the plainest.
Speaker:Sorry, watch. He marched back into the kitchen with his offering.
Speaker:“Alright, I’ve got something to trade for the pearls,”
Speaker:he declared, brandishing the watch with a smugness that put the leaves to shame.
Speaker:A cold wind blew from the glass,
Speaker:like the breath of a fresh corpse.
Speaker:Taking that as a kind of disgusting welcome,
Speaker:he approached the glass.
Speaker:Nothing happened.
Speaker:He proffered the watch,
Speaker:and his hand phased right through the glass and into the chilly night beyond it.
Speaker:He retracted it quickly.
Speaker:It was getting darker inside the mirror world.
Speaker:If he was going in, he wasn’t going in without a light. He grabbed a flashlight from the cabinet above his sink. He lit a cigarette and took a deep,
Speaker:slow drag which he tried not to think about as his last.
Speaker:Then he clicked on the flashlight
Speaker:and stepped through the mirror.
Speaker:It felt almost like jumping into cold water,
Speaker:but he could still breathe on the other side.
Speaker:The woods surrounded him.
Speaker:Cicadas sang in the trees, screaming despite the unseasonable cold.
Speaker:The scent of rotting oak
Speaker:made him crinkle his sensitive nose.
Speaker:Panic took him as he registered what he’d done.
Speaker:He looked behind him and saw his kitchen reflected back at him from a mirror that looked exactly like the one he’d gone through.
Speaker:He took another drag of his cigarette, an anchor to the real world. Or his world, at least.
Speaker:He began to walk.
Speaker:Hopefully the mirror would still be there when he needed to get the hell out of here.
Speaker:The leaves crunched beneath his paws as he followed the path through the trees.
Speaker:Giant oak trees created an archway around him that should have been beautiful, but words like “beauty”
Speaker:hadn’t followed him into this world.
Speaker:Moss dripped down from the branches like flesh slipping from a rotting corpse.
Speaker:It grew steadily darker and darker as he walked until his flashlight just
Speaker:barely illuminated the skeletal branches which reached for him.
Speaker:Finally, he came to a clearing.
Speaker:His flashlight illuminated what might have once been a beautiful mansion, but, beauty having ditched this world long ago, was now a burnt out shell.
Speaker:The wood was charcoal black,
Speaker:just like the mirror.
Speaker:As he approached the old house, every fur on his body stood on end.
Speaker:He really, really didn’t want to go in there, but the thief hadn’t made another appearance.
Speaker:The steps creaked underpaw, and he was passingly surprised that they didn’t crumble beneath him.
Speaker:The porch seemed to sag beneath his weight as he approached the door,
Speaker:but it held. The door swung open as if
Speaker:beckoning him inside.
Speaker:“Guess I’ll let myself in?”
Speaker:Ray laughed nervously.
Speaker:He dropped the butt of his cigarette,
Speaker:nearly stomped out the smoldering cherry,
Speaker:then realized the damage had already been done.
Speaker:There was nothing left to burn here.
Speaker:The floor of the parlor was absolutely littered with dusty treasures, unmarred by flames.
Speaker:Clearly, the shadowy thing hadn’t started collecting stuff until after the house had burned down.
Speaker:Now, all he had to do was find the thief
Speaker:and make the trade.
Speaker:“I brought something to trade,”
Speaker:Ray said, not in the mood for screwing around.
Speaker:He let the watch swing out on its chain.
Speaker:“Give me the pearls.”
Speaker:He felt the ground
Speaker:shift beneath him, and a moment later the thing was before him.
Speaker:He’d seen a lot of shit, but he still wasn’t really prepared for that. The inside of the
Speaker:house was dark. This thing was darker,
Speaker:just a smooth expanse of void-black skin shrink-wrapped around a too-skinny form.
Speaker:It’s face was almost canine,
Speaker:but its teeth were far too large and far too sharp.
Speaker:It didn’t have any eyes,
Speaker:but Ray knew it could see.
Speaker:Massive horns spiraled out of its skull. It was twice his height
Speaker:even hunched over as it was,
Speaker:and its cloven feet were bigger than Ray’s
Speaker:head. The pearls draped over its claws like a fancy Christmas garland
Speaker:on the world’s ugliest tree.
Speaker:“Here,” Ray said, holding out the watch.
Speaker:It’s enormous gnarled claw grasped the watch surprisingly gently. It gave a horrible screech,
Speaker:dropping the watch as its skin bubbled and steamed.
Speaker:The pearls dropped from its claws along with some of what looked like oil but was almost definitely
Speaker:flesh. Ah, damn, thought Ray.
Speaker:Should've known this thing would be allergic to silver.
Speaker:In Ray's defense, most spirits loved silver.
Speaker:Evil spirits were a different kettle of fish chips all together.
Speaker:He cursed. “Sorry man, I didn’t realize-”
Speaker:The beast gave him a seethingly malicious look.
Speaker:It definitely didn’t have eyes, but that made the fact that it was looking at him so much worse.
Speaker:“I’m just gonna take these,”
Speaker:Ray said. He dove to the floor to grab the pearls.
Speaker:As he did, the flashlight slipped free of his grasp and clattered somewhere off to the side.
Speaker:It illuminated the room just enough for him to grasp the pearls,
Speaker:and then for him to roll out of the way just before one of the beast’s massive hooves
Speaker:came down where his head had been a moment before.
Speaker:He scrambled back to his feet and ran out of the mansion.
Speaker:The charcoaled stairs gave way under him as he fled, sending him tumbling into the grass.
Speaker:He’d lost the pearls in the fall.
Speaker:He ignored the pain in the knee he’d landed on and clawed desperately at the ground, looking for the necklace.
Speaker:Behind him, the beast shrieked again.
Speaker:The wood groaned audibly beneath its weight as it climbed out onto the porch.
Speaker:There was a crack like thunder as the wood, presumably, gave out beneath it.
Speaker:Ray wasn’t about to look back.
Speaker:Ray’s fingers finally curled around the pearls.
Speaker:He clambered to his feet and booked it for the woods.
Speaker:Behind him, the thing let out what sounded like a frustrated yell.
Speaker:The sound of wood cracking like broken bones signaled its escape. The beast surely knew he would head back for the mirror, and since it had no eyes it likely didn’t mind the dark.
Speaker:Ray was at quite the disadvantage.
Speaker:Without his flashlight, Ray could hardly see.
Speaker:It was only marginally brighter outside of the house,
Speaker:in that he could tell the dark blobs around him were trees.
Speaker:After running blindly for a few moments,
Speaker:he realized that he’d been screaming nonstop for god knows how long.
Speaker:He decided quiet was more prudent, and instead swore quietly as he ran through the dark woods.
Speaker:Suddenly, his leg caught on an outstretched root,
Speaker:and he tumbled to the ground.
Speaker:The smug trees were having one last laugh at his expense.
Speaker:Pain radiated through his skull as his snout smashed into the dirt.
Speaker:He tasted blood in his throat
Speaker:as he slipped around in the dead leaves for a moment,
Speaker:struggling to gain enough traction to right himself.
Speaker:He felt the cold breath of the beast ruffling his neck fur.
Speaker:That was enough motivation for his legs to launch him upwards, gravity be damned.
Speaker:The thing’s claws dragged across the back of his coat,
Speaker:missing his fur by atoms.
Speaker:He felt blood running down his lips from his nose, staining his favorite band shirt.
Speaker:More of it pooled in his throat.
Speaker:His lungs protested as he took breath after breath of cool, musty air,
Speaker:begging for a rest and a hit of nicotine instead.
Speaker:His legs betrayed him and he began to slow down.
Speaker:He wasn’t going to make it.
Speaker:Then, Ray caught sight of the soft glint of light in the distance.
Speaker:It was the dingy yellow light of his disgusting, roach infested kitchen.
Speaker:The sight of home motivated his legs enough to carry him forward despite his overwhelming urge to throw up and then pass out in the weeds.
Speaker:He prayed to whatever god was listening (he’d learned by now that there had to be more than one)
Speaker:that the mirror-portal back home was still open.
Speaker:He leapt towards the mirror.
Speaker:Suddenly he was skidding across stained laminate.
Speaker:He slammed hard into the tackily papered wall and sent a few boxes of cereal tumbling off the shelf.
Speaker:“Thank you!” he shouted to whoever had helped him.
Speaker:He’d have to burn some incense for them or something. Gods liked that,
Speaker:he’d heard. Not yet, though.
Speaker:First, the mirror had to
Speaker:die. Ray kicked open his flimsy porch door.
Speaker:As he turned back toward the kitchen,
Speaker:he saw a clawed, black hand reaching out of the glass.
Speaker:With a speed he was surprised his tired body could achieve,
Speaker:Ray grabbed the mirror by it’s frame
Speaker:and hurled it outside.
Speaker:The glass shattered on the concrete driveway.
Speaker:He heard the beastly shriek.
Speaker:The mirror’s frame vibrated as it’s inhabitant struggled to escape the closing portal to its world. Ray snatched a perfectly good bottle of vodka from his kitchen,
Speaker:then dumped the full bottle onto the charred wooden frame.
Speaker:He ran back inside again and grabbed the nearest piece of paper, which happened to be a crumpled flier
Speaker:for his friend’s band’s latest show.
Speaker:He pulled out his lighter,
Speaker:and lit up the flier.
Speaker:Little tendrils of darkness began to creep up from under the frame,
Speaker:whipping around as if blindly grasping for him
Speaker:as he approached the mirror one last time.
Speaker:“Fuck off,” he said,
Speaker:dropping the flaming flier onto the mirror.
Speaker:The fire spread quickly.
Speaker:The beast screeched so loudly that Ray was sure that
Speaker:his neighbors would be calling the police to check on him.
Speaker:Then, slowly, the sound faded away into nothingness.
Speaker:Ray sat on the porch,
Speaker:smoking a well-earned cigarette
Speaker:as he watched the frame burn down to ash.
Speaker:The next day, Ray went to Myrtle Street,
Speaker:following a midnight talk with the cops about not starting illegal bonfires in his yard,
Speaker:a witching hour trip to the churchyard to bury the broken glass leftover from the mirror,
Speaker:an early morning chat with his landlord about the scorched grass,
Speaker:and a mid-morning shower to remove the ash, blood, and dirt from his fur.
Speaker:He was dressed in the suit he’d worn to prom ten years before;
Speaker:it was the nicest outfit he owned,
Speaker:and he liked to look good when he brought gifts from deceased loved ones. Ray realized with a tinge of guilt that had forgotten Emily’s address. Fortunately, there was only one yellow house on Myrtle Street.
Speaker:It looked like it had once been a very nice bungalow, but now it was sort of shabby chic
Speaker:with lots of hanging plants and quirky decor
Speaker:covering the home’s obvious defects.
Speaker:He approached the front door and rapped the knocker against the wood three times.
Speaker:“Just a second!” a woman’s voice called out.
Speaker:His fingers traced over the pearls in his coat pocket nervously.
Speaker:He’d gone through a lot of bullshit to get them.
Speaker:He really hoped they’d be appreciated.
Speaker:The door creaked open a moment later, and a middle aged cat peeked out curiously.
Speaker:She was fluffy and white,
Speaker:almost the spitting image of her mother aside from the brown points on her ears and nose.
Speaker:“Yes?” she asked. She seemed prepared to slam the door in his snout any moment.
Speaker:“Are you Emily?” he asked.
Speaker:“Yes,” she said, opening the door slightly.
Speaker:“Who are you?” “I’m Ray Gracey, of Gracey & Sons Auction House,”
Speaker:he said. “Your brother William recently brought us some of your mother’s personal effects,
Speaker:but it came to my attention that she wanted you to have these.”
Speaker:He pulled the pearls out of his coat pocket and held them out to her.
Speaker:“Oh!” Emily gasped, her paws covering her mouth.
Speaker:“Mother’s pearls! Where?
Speaker:How?” As she opened the door wider, Ray noticed Doris lingering behind her,
Speaker:literally glowing with happiness.
Speaker:Emily reached out and gently took the pearls into her paws,
Speaker:holding them as if they were a holy artifact.
Speaker:She hugged them to her chest
Speaker:and began to cry.
Speaker:“Tell her that I love her very much,”
Speaker:Doris said. “And I’m proud of her.”
Speaker:“She loved you very much,”
Speaker:Ray said. “She wanted you to know that she’s proud of you.”
Speaker:“Thank you,” Emily said quietly.
Speaker:“Thank you so much, Mr. Gracey.”
Speaker:“You’re very welcome, Emily,”
Speaker:Ray smiled. He’d gone through hell to get them,
Speaker:but Emily’s delicate smile was worth it.
Speaker:Doris’ ghostly form
Speaker:wrapped around her daughter in a hug,
Speaker:one that Emily couldn’t feel but
Speaker:no doubt could sense.
Speaker:Then, she was gone.
Speaker:As Ray headed back to his car, his phone began to ring.
Speaker:“Hey, mom,” he said, picking up the phone.
Speaker:“Hey baby, I just wanted to see how the new mirror was working out.”
Speaker:“Oh, you’ll never believe it,”
Speaker:Ray laughed. “But I dropped it as I was bringing it in.
Speaker:Guess I’ll just have to stick with the old broken one.”
Speaker:This was “Screw the Looking Glass” by Zack Loup, read for you by Rob MacWolf, your fellow traveler.
Speaker:You can find more stories on the web at thevoice.dog,
Speaker:or find the show wherever you get your podcasts.
Speaker:Thank you for listening to The Voice of Dog.
