By David Carl
It all started innocently enough – a fleeting flash of light in my bathroom mirror caught my eye. It could have been a number of things. Maybe the air ventilation had disturbed the window blinds, causing a stray beam of light to hit my mirror. Maybe I was starting to get a severe headache and just hadn’t noticed yet. Maybe it was another random artifact of my corrective laser eye surgery, like how Christmas lights looked extra sparkly to me. It certainly wasn’t anything to worry about… was it?
That first time I saw an inexplicable flicker of light in my bathroom mirror, I brushed it away in the blink of an eye, my logical mind practically laughing at me for even giving it notice, but when it happened again the following day, I thought about it a moment more. Eventually, I couldn’t even walk into my bathroom without watching the mirror expectantly, and it didn’t disappoint. A flicker here, a glimmer there – day by day, it grew harder and harder to deny.
The day I counted ten separate appearances of the phantom light, my “ghostlight” as I’d started to call it, in the large mirror above the sink counter, I knew I could no longer pretend it simply didn’t exist. After I dried myself and put on a pair of boxers, I approached the mirror cautiously. Curiosity and trepidation warred within my mind. There it was! A flash of light in the upper left corner of the mirror. Now there! Another flash of light just above the sink.
I walked away.
My imagination battered me with all sorts of possibilities, most of which I realized were born out of one too many horror movies. Knowing that didn’t help much, however. Some part of me was downright terrified of going back into my bathroom. It’s not like I could move out or something. I had signed a two-year lease on this townhouse just a couple of months ago! With my paltry income, I literally had nowhere else to go.
*****
The morning after that first ghostlight freakout, I couldn’t bring myself to enter the bathroom to shower. I brushed my teeth and got ready for the day in the smaller bathroom by my living room. There wasn’t a shower in there, but it was a cool autumn day, so I wouldn’t get too sweaty, and no one would notice… I hoped. I couldn’t keep on like that, though. I couldn’t avoid my mirror forever.
As fate would have it, I was scheduled for a session with my therapist that evening. We talked about all the usual subjects – no: I was not feeling suicidal; yes: sometimes it was hard not to cry; no: I did not have any new traumatic memories to share; yes: I was still having bad dreams every night; no: I wasn’t having any adverse side effects from my medications… Wait!
“Okay, so… there is something weird I want to talk about”
“Feel free, Darren. This is a safe space.”
I took a deep breath. When I released it, it came out as a sigh. Dr. Nash had helped me more than anyone who’d come before. As silly as it sounds when I’d been baring my very soul to her for over a year now, I couldn’t bear the thought of her thinking less of me. I quickly rewrote the script weaving its way through my brain. “I’ve been seeing some lights lately,” I explained. “I know they’re not really there, but is that a potential side effect from either of my medications?”
“Interesting,” she quickly replied without a hint of judgment in her voice. “I’ve never heard of either of your current medications causing photopsia.”
“Photo-what-now?”
She laughed at my reply, but it felt like she was laughing at herself rather than me. “I’m sorry. I should have phrased that differently. Photopsia simply means seeing lights that aren’t there.” She gave me her serious look and held eye contact. “I promise I’ll look into this, Darren. I haven’t heard about your medications causing any other clients to see lights, but it’s certainly not impossible. Please don’t let it worry you. I’m confident we’ll figure this out.”
*****
Dr. Nash’s words stayed with me, and I returned to using the master bathroom as usual. The ghostlight flickered in my mirror more frequently than ever. Strange as it sounds, it felt like acknowledging it had allowed it to grow in strength.
My heart was filled with hope when, just a couple of days later, I received an email from Dr. Nash. As I opened the email, I expected to read that she would just change one med out for another, and everything would be fine. No more ghostlight, no more being afraid of my own damn bathroom… it was going to be totally fine.
My hopeful spirit crashed as I read. Neither of my antidepressants had any recorded cases of photopsia. Dr. Nash recommended seeing an ophthalmologist or my primary care physician to make the light go away. My gut told me it wouldn’t be that easy.
Late that night, I peered into my bathroom mirror, my countenance grim. The light had evolved, no longer a teeny glimpse every now and again but a bright, floating sphere with no apparent light source fluttering around the inside of my mirror.
I sighed. I closed my eyes. I leaned forward and rested my right hand on the mirror.
Whoa!
An electric sensation surged into my hand. It felt like I was holding a blender in place while making a milkshake or mixing cocktails. I pulled it away quickly and immediately looked at my palm. Nothing. I don’t know what I expected – a burn, a mark, anything – but there was nothing there. I felt lightheaded and had to grasp the countertop so I wouldn’t fall. I looked back up at the mirror.
Oh. Great. The light had grown again.
*****
As tempted as I was to avoid my bathroom again, I opted for denial this time. It was business as usual the following day, a Thursday, and the Friday morning after that. Sure, there was a big ball of light flying around inside my mirror, but that’s okay, right?
I tried not to think about it. After work ended on Friday night, I grabbed a bite to eat and headed over to Johan’s house for our weekly game of Dungeons & Dragons. Amanda was already there, and Foster arrived soon after I did. We dove right into a fantasy world where monsters were real, but you could always stab them or hit them with a blast of magic. Everything was feeling more peaceful than I’d felt in a while, and it wasn’t just because of the cocktail Amanda made for me with a fair bit more rum than I really wanted. And then something Johan said hit a little too close to home.
“The noises of insects, snakes, and all manner of unseen dangers surround you as you make your way through the foreboding swamp,” Johan explained excitedly, arms gesticulating for emphasis. “Make a Perception check!” We dutifully rolled our dice, added our stat modifiers, and reported our scores. “Darren! You alone notice wisps of light darting among the trees. You…”
“SERIOUSLY!?” I yelled. All three of my friends looked at me with surprise. We’d been playing D&D together for years, and believe it or not, I was the level-headed one in this bunch.
Amanda rested her hand on my arm. “What was that, D? Talk to us.”
I took a deep breath and looked at my friends. “Guys, I know this is going to sound totally crazy, but there’s a light in my bathroom mirror.” Forbearingly, my gaming buddies allowed me to continue. “At first, I just caught a glimpse of it here and there, but now? It’s there all… the time. Literally.”
Amanda and Foster were quick with the platitudes, but Johan simply Hmm’d.
“There are plenty of stories of unexplained lights,” he admitted. “I researched some of them while I was preparing this part of the adventure. There are the Min Min lights in Australia, the Aleya ghost lights in India, the Hessdalen lights in Scandinavia, and the list goes on.”
“But that’s all just superstition and folklore… right?” I asked.
“Perhaps,” Johan admitted. “Perhaps not.”
My friends comforted me as best they could, but I’m sure they could tell my heart was no longer in it. We wrapped up the D&D game earlier than usual, and I made my way back home to my very own Will o’ the Wisp.
*****
I grabbed a chair from my small kitchen table and sat down heavily in front of my bathroom mirror. There it was, all right, plain as day.
“What are you?” I pleaded, never expecting a response. The ghostlight paused mid-swoop and the upper part of it tilted to one side, much as I had often tilted my head at someone questioningly. Then it began to… I don’t know… shudder? Dance? Cheer?
It was a frikkin’ light, okay? I don’t speak light!
Whatever else it was trying to communicate, I could tell the ghostlight was excited to be seen, to be addressed. I smiled sadly. “I get that, glow friend. We all want to be seen, don’t we?”
I reached my hand towards the mirror, and the light jittered even faster. Then my phone buzzed in my pocket. Johan.
Hey, dude. Sorry if I freaked you out with those light myths. I’m sure it’s nothing.
Don’t I wish, Johan? But there was a light in the mirror, and it looked… lonely?
I reached out again, and its energy increased immediately. When I placed my palm against the glass, I felt the familiar vibrating blender sensation, but I also felt something more – warmth, familiarity, and a personal connection that started to trickle into the gaping hole of loneliness in my heart.
*****
I woke up on my bathroom floor to the sound of the phone ringing. I pulled it out of my pocket and swiped to answer. It must be an emergency if someone was calling me this early. “Darren here,” I mumbled groggily.
“Where the hell are you, D-man? I’m stuck here with nothing but new hires, and they keep screwing everything up. Get your ass in here, pronto.”
My mind was foggy. “I’m not supposed to come in until four today,” I slurred. I tried to remember the work schedule. “Isn’t Jenny supposed to be there this morning? Surely, she can handle the morning rush. She’s got more experience than both of us put together.”
Trent laughed like I’d just told a hilarious joke. “Bro, it’s a few minutes past five… PM. Get your ass in here.” He continued laughing, and I could tell he had pulled the phone away from his ear. “That must have been some party,” he mumbled as he disconnected.
No, that couldn’t be right. I looked up at the clock. 5:07. Damn. I looked in the bathroom mirror. Double-damn. My jaw dropped.
My little flicker of light had grown substantially. She looked humanoid now, a glowing female apparition walking around my bathroom on the other side of the mirror. There was no mistaking her femininity. Glow-woman lacked detail, to be sure, but she had one hell of a curvy hourglass figure. Once I was staring directly at her, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, she… gave me a flirty finger wave. “Uh, yeah… ‘hi’ light ball that’s turned into a glow-woman.” She had no facial features, but the suddenly enhanced glow of her head-like area felt like a smile. I smiled back.
My heart caught in my throat when I finally noticed my own reflection. Wow. I looked way worse than I felt, and I felt like total shit. Okay, okay, I needed to prioritize. Muddle through a few mindless hours of work, and I’d figure the rest out later.
*****
Work was entirely uneventful if we ignore all the comments from coworkers about how crappy I looked. When I got home just after midnight, though, I marched straight to my bathroom. My glow-friend was a little dimmer than when I’d left for work, but she immediately brightened when she… saw… me? She even clapped, I think. There was no noise to let me know for certain, and it’s hard to make out the precise body language of light-based women.
She hopped up onto the counter beside the sink and patted the counter next to her. Despite the fact that I’d apparently slept for over sixteen hours last night, I was beat. I couldn’t bring myself to say no to her, though. I climbed up on the counter, literally sitting right through her if she’d existed on my side of the mirror. Wow. That feeling of warmth I felt last night when I touched the mirror suffused right through me. Mmm. That felt nice. I basked in the feeling, closed my eyes, and smiled.
When I opened my eyes again, glow-gal was smiling, too, or at least I think she was. I didn’t know if she could hear me, but I started talking about my day, which led to talking about work, which led to talking about my dreams of getting a better job, which ultimately led to the goal of someday having a career to be proud of. She was a damn good listener. She nodded, smiled, and even laughed… I think… at all the right moments. I felt more heard and less alone than I had in ages. My glowy goddess seemed as absorbed with me as I was with her.
At a particularly self-deprecating point in my monologue, she reached toward the mirror and tried to touch me, to comfort me, I think. I reached toward her wanting her warmth more than anything, no matter what it might cost me. Just before our hands “touched” on either side of the glass, though, I pulled my hand back. I wasn’t ready to pass out in the bathroom for another day. I thought she might get upset, but she simply nodded like she understood. I looked at the clock on the wall.
“Whoa, 3:17. I didn’t realize we’d been talking that long. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
She light-smiled softly, and I walked toward my bedroom. Then… I walked right back again and reached for my toothbrush. I am such a dork sometimes. The water flowed over my toothpaste, and I brought the rechargeable sonic toothbrush to my mouth. I blushed. Then I noticed a flicker. Was she laughing at me?
“You think that’s funny, do you!?” I demanded, pointing my toothbrush at her. I feigned anger, but I couldn’t stop myself from cracking up, too. “I still need to brush my teeth, oh bright one. You’re in my bathroom, after all.” I know it sounds crazy, but her responding nimbus of light felt like a goodnight hug.
I slept well that night. I didn’t have a single one of my usual nightmares, just a sense of peaceful calm.
*****
That Saturday was the happiest day of my life. I was supposed to meet up with Johan to play cards at the game store, but I backed out via text. I spent the whole day with my glow-gal. I only even remembered to eat when my rumbling stomach forced me to.
Despite the lack of sound from the other side of the mirror, I felt so close to her. It helped that she was remarkably good at pantomiming questions and responses as we “talked.” You would think it would be almost impossible without a face to emote with, but she used the brightness of her light along with flashes or flickers to convey what she was thinking or feeling. What was this beautiful creature, though?
“Are you some sort of a ghost – banshee, wraith, specter…”
Nope, definitely not.
“Are you a succubus!?”
She stomped her foot and folded her arms beneath her ample bust. Was she pouting? I smirked. Her crooked light-smile-radiance-whatever-thing told me she was smirking, too. She held her hands out and gestured.
Oookay. Whatever she was, she was not so innocent. “Yeah, you’re right. Succubi are known for having sex, but after that response, I think I’m going to go ahead and rule out angel, too.”
Her glare was like high beams on a dark road. I shielded my eyes and laughed.
“Wait. What about fae? There are tons of different kinds of faeries.”
She nodded. “Fae? Perfect! Now we’re getting somewhere. Let’s give you a name. How about Tink?”
Nope, okay, not Tink. “Agatha? That’s got some mystic connotations.” I laughed at her light show of irritation. “Okay, not Agatha. How about Lily?”
She glowed softly. “Hello, Lily.” We both reached towards the glass of the mirror, but I pulled my hand back at the last moment.
As afternoon rolled into evening, I raised the blinds on the bathroom window so she could see the sunset. I could tell she’d never seen one before, and she loved it. As the last of the light faded from purple to gray, she leaned her head against her side of the mirror. Without thinking, I leaned in, too, until we touched again across that silvered boundary.
Whoa. I lifted my head immediately. I thought it was magical when our palms touched. This was so much more intimate. She scooted her yummy, curvy body toward the mirror and leaned her full back against it. I couldn’t help myself. I had to know what that would feel like. I tentatively took off my shirt and scooted toward her. I hesitated momentarily before leaning back against the mirror, but I was all in. Damn the consequences.
It was magical. I wish I had the words to explain the euphoria of it. It was everything. It was like we were enjoying an early-morning sunrise and moonlight glistening on gentle sea waves and skydiving in the bright light of afternoon. We were embracing and also slow dancing and also snuggling up on the couch. And I could feel her. Boy, could I feel her. I didn’t want the feeling that banished my loneliness to ever end. I wanted to melt right into her.
So, I did.
*****
I have no idea how long I was out, but when I finally came to, I was in my bathroom… or so I thought. Something was ever-so-slightly off about it. I looked at the clock and gasped. It was backward – a mirror image of what it should have been. Oh, and the clock on the other side of the mirror? It wasn’t mirrored. My head twitched, and I felt like the signals in my brain were causing a short circuit. “Impossible,” I whispered repeatedly as I looked around. The evidence all around me battered down my denial – I was inside my bathroom mirror. On the other side of the mirror, things were the right way round, and here? Everything was backward.
I went to the window and raised the blinds. Yup, that was the view from my bathroom, mirrored, of course. I tapped on the window. Strange. It didn’t feel like a windowpane. It felt like a mirror mounted against a solid wall. I tried to open the window, but it wouldn’t budge.
My breath came in ragged gasps, and my stomach fluttered uncontrollably. I ran to the door and reached for the handle but pulled my hand back with a yelp when it started to turn on its own. I pressed my back against the wall opposite the door and held my breath.
The door opened agonizingly slowly, and I could feel my lungs begin to burn. The figure in the shadows beyond the door was familiar, though, and I gratefully let out my breath. “Lily,” I sighed.
“Hello, my dear Darren,” Lily responded melodiously. Her sing-song voice sounded like wind chimes clinking in the breeze.
When she stepped into the bathroom, my breath caught once again. She was no longer a creature of light, but her pale skin had a slightly yellowish hue that reminded me of daffodils. She wore a gossamer sun dress of brighter daffodil yellow, and she was even more gorgeous than I had imagined from her lightform. She had large green eyes and a constellation of light green freckles on her cheeks. Her ears came to cute little points, and her teeth were more pointed than a human’s as well. That struck me as being a lot less cute, but who was I to judge?
She giggled at my dumbstruck stare. “Come, Darren,” she beckoned in her wind chime voice, taking my hand and pulling me toward the bathroom door. I was wholly unprepared for the scene that greeted me.
I’d gone camping before, so a forest is nothing new to me, but this forest, this lush, primeval forest that was right outside my inside-the-mirror bathroom blew me away. Lily closed the door behind us, and when I heard it click, I looked towards the sound. The door was gone.
The forest was alive with sounds, more than I could recognize. I heard birds, insects, frogs, and leaves rustling in the breeze, but that was just scratching the surface. Lily pulled me through the trees, her feet barely touching the ground while my awkward steps trampled through the undergrowth beside her.
Before long, we reached a clearing with a few small houses. I saw more whatever-kind-of-fae Lily was, all female, all with beautiful luminous skin in varying pastel colors, and a human male stood beside each of them, some younger, some older, from all across the globe if I wasn’t mistaken. Lily reached up to loop her hands around my shoulders and kissed me on the cheek. I swooned as that euphoric magical feeling of togetherness rushed through me. Her melodic voice was laced with promise when she whispered, “Welcome home.”
David Carl resides in the Charlotte metro area with his patient wife and precocious daughter. If you ever meet his wife, you will understand why so many of his likable female characters are both brilliant and curvy. And if you ever meet his daughter, you will understand why so many of his youthful characters are more snarky and clever than one might expect given their age.
David loves games and books in equal measure and has spent countless hours working on new games, new stories, and new worlds in which they can reside. Once a full-time game developer, he now works as a full-time father, part-time writer, and part-time game developer. It may seem cliche if you’ve read other indie authors’ bios, but he is immensely grateful to his wife and daughter for their ceaseless support along with anyone who’s ever supported his work with a positive rating or review online.
Please check out his work at https://davidcarlbooks.com/, join his mailing list, and start reading many more imaginative stories featuring unusual characters. Thank you!
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