Scars of Our Own Making by Sophie Spruce

The matron dropped another pile of dishes in the sink, causing the soapy water to splash onto my shirt. I took one look at my callused hands and almost laughed from the sheer madness of it. Growing up, I’d heard tales of princesses in disguise but never thought I would be one. Now, I worked in the same palace I’d grown up in.

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The Labyrinth of Broken Mirrors and Fatherless Daughters by Macy Miles

I am beginning to believe there is no way out of this labyrinth. In the maze of affliction, I am a sliver of a fragment, a lost cause the world is desperately trying to rescue. To be young and depressed in this era of good vibrations and photoshopped social media portraits, it is surprising (even to myself) that I have found comfort in isolation. I am content in my manic-pixie wonderland, though I do not recognize the Alice in my mirror’s reflection. I am often afraid that I have fallen too far down the rabbit hole, past all of the whimsical beings—and straight into the belly of the beast.

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Reflection by Nessa SK

Daniel Richard stood in front of his mirror, watching his reflection stare back at him. He stood an even 6’0” at 175 pounds, with blue eyes and artificially shaped brows. His face was clean shaven and his thick black-painted hair was combed back. A black suit hugged his frame, kept from his strict diet and exercise. A grey tie perfectly pulled to his collar was clipped in place to his white dress shirt. Daniel knew he was a handsome man. It would not be hard for him to remarry and find a suitable maternal role model for his late-in-life young son. He had a smile that would dazzle his face and charm a woman.

For a short period.

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Life in the Mirror by Jake Bilardi

There once was a boy. He was young and happy and growing strong. On his first day of school, he climbed on his stool on the floor in his bathroom that he shared with his three siblings, and he looked into the mirror. He scanned himself, and he thought about how his classes would be. He thought about his classmates and his teachers and the subjects he’d study. He beamed with excitement. 

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A Savage Reflection by Joshua Eller

The man dragged a body down the steps and into the damp, dark, dungeon of a cellar. The body twisted and wretched in agony and pain with each sequential thump down the frigid stairs, which posed to bring him further into the hell that he was already a part of. A bag over his head, and with arms and legs tied, this victim was powerless to stop his ever-present descent. Eventually the bottom of the steps was reached, and with a heave the captive was thrown forcefully into the corner. The man slowly removed the bag and looked this younger man in the eyes.  

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