Her Reflection:Time and Memory

I've been re-reading my published short stories; not sure why. Perhaps I'm trying to determine whether my writing's improved with age like fine wine, or turned sour. It remains an open question; the jury's still out.

Back in 2011, "Halfway Down the Stairs", a quarterly literary magazine, published my short story "Her Reflection." The magazine's issues follow a theme; "Her Reflection" was categorized under "Time." It's still available free online. Here's a brief excerpt.

Gaze into the mirror too often and you’ll see the Devil. She had smiled at their reflection when she said that. Forty years later, Max Niemand thought he saw her reflected image, poking over his right shoulder. Long, silky, strawberry-blonde hair, sharp hazel eyes, sensual red lips. Her full breasts with erect nipples pressed against his bare back, her tapered fingers teased the short hairs on the nape of his neck. Her warmth enveloped him, like a down-filled comforter on a winter night.

Niemand blinked and the vision vanished — nothing but an illusion, a mirage haunting the desert of his imagination. Neither the Devil nor the woman dwelled in his mirror. He sniffed for her scent, inhaling the astringent bite of mentholated shaving cream; he rubbed his back where he thought he had sensed the press of her flesh and felt nothing but a dull ache in his aging bones.

Red-rimmed eyes glared at him, as if resenting what they had been duped into seeing. Why conjure her now? Time and distance had separated them beyond recall. What’s dead is dead.




https://halfwaydownthestairs.net/2011...