The Cheval Glass - 1. Chapter 1

Mornings have never been a great time for me. The sun, with its beady little beams poking in through the curtains like a grandmother wondering if her grandkid still looks cute when he sleeps even though he's over thirty. I hate that sneakiness, the way you get so much delicious darkness at night, perfect for sleeping but then, just when you're dozing off, along comes Miss orange-tinged dawn, ruining everything with her pitiful beauty. It doesn't help that I work nights down at the supermarket, stacking up pointless shit on endless shelves. Not to mention Mother. Alright, I admit, she's caring. But what use is care when it carries with it the burden of joyous smiles and breakfast after only three hours of attempted slumber? No matter how many times I tell her that I don't want breakfast, her inevitable knocks rap on my door at eight thirty every morning as she is on her way out of the house.

So, this morning, to allow myself just a little more sleep, I pushed a mirror in front of the door. Now, I know what you're thinking. How can a mirror stop a determined mother from delivering her son's daily nutrition? Well, this isn't any normal mirror. It's a huge iron thing, oval in shape, black-rimmed, with gigantic, curling supports that poke out like feet. I knew Mother would be annoyed, too, as the feet gouged out little tracks in the polished floor, leaving long, brown curls of wood and varnish that I didn't bother to pick up since Mother vacuums, mops and polishes the room every evening after I leave.

I know I sound ungrateful. I wasn't. I was just exhausted. Mother almost knocked the door off its hinges trying to get in. And don't get me started on the racket she made shouting at me to open the door or the egg yolks will congeal, as will the milk in the coffee, and the bread will go cold and stale. She finally gave in, though, and I lay on my chest, my face pressed into the beautifully dark pillow, the world beginning to fade.

"You didn't need to do that," a voice said beside me.

"What?" I whispered, still half asleep.

"Moving me like this," the voice said. "It was unnecessary."

"Who said that?'

"Over here, fog breath."

I rolled my head to the left and opened my eyes. Dust fluttered in the thin rays of sunshine that spilt in through the gaps in the curtains.

"Whoever is there, please go away. I had a long night and I need to sleep."

"You need sleep? I've been awake for centuries. What I wouldn't give for a nice, deep slumber, like you have every night. Or days rather."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I stammered, slowly lifting myself up into a sitting position.

"You know what?" the voice said with a sigh. "I'm quite glad I don't need to sleep if it's going to make me as dopey as you. Damn fog breath."

"Why do you keep calling me that?" I asked, blinking to clear my eyes.

"Because, fog breath, whenever you get too close, your breath fogs me up."

I dropped my feet over the side of the bed and slipped them into my slippers. Silence hung in the unstirring room.

"Honestly, I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm very tired. Would you please just show yourself?"

"I'm not hiding. Turn to your left. I'm standing in front of the door."

I looked over at the door, and took a few hesitant steps towards it. "Are you behind the mirror?"

"Not a mirror," the voice shrieked. "I am a Cheval Glass, thank you very much."

"A what?"

"A Cheval Glass, dammit," the voice shouted again. "If you are going to own furniture, at least have the decency to learn its correct moniker."

"It's what?"

"It's name, you moronic mist muncher."

"Stop calling me weird, condensation-related names, will you? It's annoying," I said, moving closer to the mirror.

"Annoying? Don't get me started on annoying. No one has put a dust cover on me for decades, and that condensation you breathe on me every time you come near to stare at yourself has got into my framework. Bloody vapor voice."

"I refuse to be defined by the liquid content of my respiratory system," I snapped, catching a glimpse of my reflection. "Anyway, how are you speaking? Is there a voice box hidden behind that all that glass?"

"A voice box, he asks," the mirror yelped, and for the first time I noticed my reflection staring back at me. "You stupid steam stutterer."

"I don't stutter," I said, moving my arms up and down. "And why isn't my reflection moving? I thought mirrors had to reflect correctly, according to the laws of physics."

"Cheval Glass," the voice screamed again. "You have held us reflection devices in contempt for too long. Consider this a revolt, haze honker."

My reflection remained unmoved. "Insult me all you want, I really don't care. I can always just sell you on Ebay."

"You wouldn't dare," the mirror hissed. "How would you know if your hair was in place?"

"You aren't the only reflective surface in this house, you know," I said, turning away. "I'd use the mirror in the bathroom."

"That scratched up old hunk of junk? He wouldn't know a decent reflection if it jumped up and bit him on his wooden-framed behind."

I looked over at the mirror. My reflection glared back, eyes open wide and dipped slightly to the left, the tip of my tongue stuck out of the corner of my mouth.

"This is ridiculous," I said. "At least freeze my reflection in a decent position, mirror."

"Cheval Glass," shrieked the mirror again. "And I will keep you in this ridiculous pose as long as you keep using that offensive term."

"Fine," I said with a sigh. "Please release my image, Cheval Glass."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I have a message for you. I was going to tell you earlier, but you kept insulting me. However, it's important, so please listen."

"What message can a mirr...- sorry, Chevel Glass- have for a human?"

"I heard that," the mirror snapped. "But as time is of the essence, I'll let it slide. You need to change."

"Change what?" I asked, turning away.

A motorbike hurtled past the house, its exhaust screaming.

"Everything," the mirror said.

I turned back and noticed my reflection had begun moving again. Its movements were not at all in sync with mine, however. They were much faster and totally unrelated to my own tired gestures.

"What the hell? What kind of Cheval Glass are you? You can't even reflect me in real time."

"That's extremely rude," the mirror muttered. "As you seem to be unsufferably ignorant, however, I shall explain myself. I've trying to show you your future."

I looked closer. The room my reflection moved around no longer looked like mine, but was much smaller, very untidy and filled with rubbish.

"Listen up, this is for your own good. In a few months, the supermarket will close down. You will lose your job. Then you will lose this room."

"What are you talking about?" I replied. "This is my Mother's house. I don't pay rent, so why would losing my job mean I have to leave?"

"Look, you may think your mother is a saint, but she isn't. She has her limits. At this very moment, as a result of your rudeness this morning, she has made a decision. She is currently engaged in sexual conduct of the filthiest kind with a man only a little older than you. I'll spare you the image. Needless to say, she has decided you are to go. If you can't even respect all the hard work she puts in for you, then she will find someone who does. And who also happens to be very good at fornication."

"Shut up, mirror," I shouted.

"So, we're back to that? Fine, I won't spare you the image."

A picture of my naked mother in the arms of a strong-looking young man flashed up over the mirror's oval surface and I turned away.

"That's enough," I cried. "I'm sorry. I won't say that again, I promise."

"Good," the Cheval Glass said, its voice sharp and unforgiving. "Now look, I want to help you, but first you need to help yourself."

"I will," I said, looking down at my feet. "Just tell me what to do and I'll do it."

"Well, first you can put me back in my original position. It's very chilly over here by the door."

"Fine," I said, taking hold of the thick, iron frame.

The feet screeched as they once more sank ruts into the floor. I placed it against the wall and stood back.

"Happy?" I asked.

"Yes," the Cheval Glass replied. "That's much better. Now, go into the corridor and get the glass cleaner and a chamois. I need to be wiped down thoroughly. Your Mother cleans regularly but not well, and there's dust in my delicate parts that itches terrible."

Turning away, I rolled my eyes, yawned and then stretched my arms over my head as I headed out into the hallways. I grabbed the Dustex and a chamois cloth from the cleaning closet, and went back into the bedroom.

"Here," I said, giving the Cheval Glass a generous squirt of Dustex before scrubbing it with the chamois.

"Damn, that feels good," the Cheval Glass exclaimed. "Yeah, that's it, get in deep."

"What the fuck? Are you getting off on this?" I shouted, standing back.

"What? No," the mirror said, sounding guilty.

"Yes, you are," I shouted. "You're getting aroused by my cleaning."

That was when I noticed that my reflection had changed again. Instead of my own youthful face, a very different one stared back at me. He wore strange clothes covered with gold and fine gems that glistened in the morning light.

"Fine," the voice said. "You've got me. I am not a mere Cheval Glass. I am an ancient soul, imprisoned in this hellish house for almost a thousand years."

"Imprisoned? What are you talking about?"

"I was born many hundreds of years ago in a small village in Asia Minor. My human father was a king, and my mother was one of his many concubines. As I child, I was given leave to run around the palace, free as a bird. One day, I peered through a door and saw a young man my own age looking back at me. It was love at first sight. We kissed and lay together for days on end until the king became worried and sent servants to look for me. When they told my father they had found us together, he burst into a rage of the sort I had never seen before. He slayed my love with a single slash of his sword, and then raised it above his head to kill me, too. 'You have betrayed me, you wicked boy,' he screamed, but he did not strike. 'You are my son,' he whispered, 'and I cannot kill you. But I cannot let you live freely, either.' He lifted me and, chanting magic words, he threw me into the air. At once I was sucked into the Cheval Glass, the very one you see before you, and that is where I have lived ever since, burning with shame and despair at the loss of my true love."

"Wait," I said. "Let me guess. You can only get out if someone invites you out. Come on, I grew up on stories like that. You can't fool me."

"Think again, imbecile," the Cheval Horse said with a giggle. "All I actually need is for someone to talk nicely to me while cleaning me with care. My father came to see me every day, and, as a final gift just before he died, he told me the secret for my release. It has taken me centuries to find someone who can hear my voice. You have not only heard me but have also cleaned me with delicate care. I am now free, and you will take my place."

"Never," I shouted, but all of a sudden my body turned icy cold.

I tried to move, but I couldn't. All I could do was look out at the young man staring back at me.

"Thank you for your help," he whispered, giving me a wave.

"Wait," I tried to shout but all I could do was helplessly wave back.

"Enjoy your new home," the young man said with a giggle.

Dust hung gently in the sunlight as the door to my room slammed shut, and I dwelt in the mirror, a useless, inexpressible rage burning inside as I reflected back nothing but the bed and the bare walls of the room itself.