When curious young Charlotte stumbles upon an old mirror deep in the forest, she doesn’t see her reflection — she sees Agatha, a girl trapped within. As Agatha slowly reveals cryptic truths and quiet warnings, Charlotte begins to understand: the mirror holds the souls of others like her. Their brief, unsettling exchange leaves Charlotte forever changed — burdened with a secret only the woods and the mirror will ever know.

The Mirror Beneath the Tree

A child named Charlotte finds an old, rusted mirror buried beneath a tree in her backyard. When she looks into it, she doesn’t see herself—she sees someone else’s life, unfolding like a memory from long ago. And somehow, she feels strangely connected.

A Voice from the Other Side

One night, the reflection begins to speak. It’s a little girl, probably around Bathsheba’s age. Although it feels frightening at first, the reflection reassures her softly.

“I mean you no harm.”

Charlotte stiffens. “What’s your name?” she asks.

The girl in the mirror has big, round hazel eyes that draw her in. She’s dressed in old-fashioned clothing—Victorian, Charlotte thinks.

The reflection smiles sweetly.

“My name is Agatha. Nice to meet you! Mind telling me yours?”

Her voice feels far away, yet close enough to be heard clearly.

“Charlotte. Nice to meet you too.”

Charlotte watches her carefully, trying to make sense of it all. Why is Agatha trapped in the mirror? And why does she look so pale?

“You must be curious,” Agatha says. “A bunch of questions must be running through your head, right? Well, allow me to enlighten you.”

“I was born in 1904—yes, that was a long time ago. I look like this because I had an illness no one could cure. And as for why I’m here… my soul was absorbed by this beautiful, yet horrid mirror. Why? That, I can’t tell you.”

Charlotte blinks, confused. She isn’t sure what to process first.

Then, a branch snaps to her right. She flinches as a deer leaps across the yard and disappears into the trees.

Turning back to the mirror, she doesn’t ask about the illness or the mirror. Instead, she says:

“Are you okay now?”

Agatha lights up.

“Well, that’s a first. I knew you were special—but hearing it out loud? Thrilling!”

She claps her hands, bouncing gleefully.

Then it’s her turn to study Charlotte.

“You’re not much of a talker, are you? That’s alright. Everyone used to call me a chatterbox—guess I’ll live up to it. And by ‘everyone’… I mean, I’m not alone in here.”

“There are others like me. Trapped in this harsh, endless, and timeless void we now call home. But yes, I’m okay. I don’t feel physical pain anymore.”

She leans in, gently.

“Now. Ask what you’ve been holding back. Don’t worry—I won’t be mad. I’ll answer as truthfully as I can.”

Charlotte doesn’t hesitate.

“How many of you are in there? Do you feel hungry? Or thirsty? How can I see you? Hear you?”

Agatha smiles, almost fondly.

“Ah… the questions of the living.”

“I’ll answer—but only in half-truths. You’ll have to piece the puzzle together. Still, you needn’t worry about us—you’re the one who still has a heartbeat.”

“There are hundreds—maybe thousands—of us. I stopped counting at 347. The space is limitless, yet we all feel trapped.”

“No hunger. No thirst. Which is good… but we’ve forgotten what food and water even taste like.”

“You can see the mirror—and me—because you carry a certain trait.
A belief in life beyond the human kind.
And you can hear me because I chose to speak to you.”

“There’s something in your energy. Familiar.
A hunger to know more than what the world is willing to give… am I right?”

Charlotte’s eyes widen. She feels seen—truly seen.

She glances at the sky.
What was once dusky lavender has deepened into amber.

She should hurry. Her mother will start to worry.

The Price of a Wish

But Agatha’s voice cuts in again, quieter this time.

“That’s not the question you truly wanted to ask.”

Her eyes bore into Charlotte’s—soft, but insistent.
Charlotte straightens up, takes a deep breath, and says:

“What did you do… to get trapped in the mirror?”

Agatha sighs. Her shoulders slump. Her eyes flicker with something that looks like sorrow.

“I knew you’d ask. Part of me hoped you wouldn’t.”

“I’ll answer you… but like I said, only in half-truths. Not because I don’t want to tell you everything—but because I can’t. That’s the mirror’s rule.”

“I’m here because I wished for something I couldn’t control. I defied the rules of the universe. That’s all I can say.”

“Now, you must run home. And don’t look back.”

“Think about what I’ve told you—and be very, very careful what you wish for, from this day on.”

“This is the only time we’ll see and speak to each other. Will we meet again? That’s up to the universe.”

Charlotte opens her mouth to reply, but Agatha hushes her with a gentle wave.

“We’ll be okay. So will you. Now go—it’s dangerous out here. Go!”

The Secret She Carries

Charlotte doesn’t wait. She runs—fast, as if something is chasing her. She doesn’t stop until she sees her mother sweeping the front yard.

“Where were you, Charlotte? I was so worried!”

Charlotte hesitates.
Tell the truth? Or protect the moment?

“I saw a butterfly,” she says. “Purple and black. Like the universe. I chased it… and lost it. I’m sorry.”

She crosses her fingers behind her back, hoping her mother won’t ask more.

Her mother softens.

“You and your pretty things and your galaxies. Just be more careful next time, alright? You could get lost out there.”

“Yes, Mother. I’ll go wash up now.”

Charlotte rushes to the bathroom. She locks the door, turns on the tap, and splashes her face. The water is cold. She whispers:

“Was that real? What did she mean—be careful what you wish for?”

She stares at herself. No Agatha. Just her.

Real or not, she vows to remember this strange, astonishing encounter—for the rest of her life. She’ll hold onto Agatha’s words, carry them with her, and piece them together one day.

She turns off the tap and heads downstairs, ready to sit with her family—quietly holding a secret no one else will ever understand.