I am the girl.

I am the “fairytale” story that those with common sense refuse to talk about. You know the little not-so-nursery rhyme, the one that the little girls and boys repeat with the intention of scaring their friends? I will always be the one behind it. They say my name in front of the mirror three times, flicker the lights, stare into the glass. Their faces when I actually appear… ha… priceless. But I wasn’t always this way. At one point, I wasn’t even living to tell anyone anything. So, I’m going to tell you how this happened to me, before my mind erases what is left.

This is my story.

I was called to this profession since birth. You see, I was stillborn. My mother, a witch, was enraged when she saw her first daughter dead before she even had the chance to know her. So she made a deal, with the Devil himself. Oh, don’t act so surprised. Do you really think all fairy tales have happy endings? Probably because the Devil is never mentioned in any of them. I think there was one, but he was given another name… rumple-something? I don’t know. Anyway, in exchange for my life to be restored, I was to be trapped in the World of Mirrors, and stay for all eternity. I was to forever live torturing children, dragging them into the mirror with me, or killing them, or both. At first, I was hesitant. How could I kill people that have never wronged me in any way? But then I began to understand. They were mocking me. They were telling my story to all of their friends, most of the time getting it all wrong. They would laugh and continue to believe that no harm would come to them.

Of course, that’s when I would prove them wrong. I would emerge from the mirror, taking their miserable little lives away from them. And the ones I spared? I would make them my… “friends.”

They live inside the mirror, banished; just like me. I am their gatekeeper. But it is still not enough. They age and die, and have the ability to escape from this glass prison. I, however, aged to the age of twenty, but never got any older.

My mother being a witch, and the fact that witches are not very clever, ultimately led to not only my demise, but to the demise of many others who questioned my existence. I am forced to watch through millions of mirrors, to see millions of people making fun of me and those who actually believe in my existence. Now… I wait. I wait for the next unfortunate victim that has doubted for far too long. That takes their life for granted.

I wait for them to say it.

Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary.