I walked through the house like a wraith. I barely noticed the furniture covered in stained and worn movers’ tarps. Framed oil paintings on the floor leaned against the wall in haphazard order. Bright squares spotlighted where they once hung. The surrounding faded paint showed more than age and neglect.
Dust motes danced in the sunlight streaming through the oriel window. Standing in the dull shadows, I shivered, but not from the cold.
There is one mirror in my house. Keeping with tradition, I covered the glass to spare wandering souls from being trapped in this world. Drapped in my grandmother’s Irish lace shawl, I could discern a blurred reflection behind the tatting.
With trepidation, I gingerly lifted one corner until I saw my face in the surface of the glass. Peering deeper into the reflection, I saw a woman standing behind me, looking out the dining room window.
Turning slowly, I realized too late that I’m on the wrong side of the mirror. I was truly the wraith.
Thin spiral notebook 
I love the quick build up of mystery and curiosity and then a twist at the end!
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Ooooh!! I LOVE it! I didn’t expect her to be IN the mirror! Well done!
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Shivers! I always dread that kind of ending when reading a ghost type story – the idea that someone can drift about through their life and suddenly realize that it isn’t their life, that they’re the one doing the haunting.
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Yum. How delicious to find oneself on the “wrong side of the glass”.
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Deliciously dark and the surprise at finding herself the wraith at the end was well played. What a great bar to set for the rest of the “class.”
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