The Horrid Mirror

“I hate you”, Emily said to the horrid mirror as she hefted the hammer.

It hung off-center, above a crooked mantle and reflected her father’s room, who had disappeared when she was but a girl. It was a gift, he had said kindly, from elsewhere. It went elsewhere.

Oh how she missed him. Oh how it would pay.

Emily growled and leaped at the mirror. Its surface parted smoothly as a curtain and she was through. Her hammer glowed here like a holy relic.

“I hate you,” Emily said, her face alight, “and I’m coming to take my father back.”

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Friday Fiction picked up this week from Darleen at protein wisdom and Matthew of Old Line Elephant. My story might not be the creepiest this week.

UPDATE: Nope. Not the creepiest at all. Here’s the entry from Moe Lane at…well, you know.  The theme everywhere else appears to be MUUUUUUUUUURDER! Not here! Nope, nope! Here’s we’re all grim determination and heroism!

UPDATE 2: Gator wrote in with an entry. Wait…why is my foot tapping?