id="u3dbbbb5f-090f-5fe5-afeb-c07f6bb3476f">
SPARKLING NEW STORIES
FROM PRIZE-WINNING AUTHORS
Mirrors
EDITED BY WENDY COOLING
ILLUSTRATIONS BY
SARAH YOUNG AND TIM STEVENS
CONTENTS
Elizabeth Laird: The Fateful Mirror
Gaye Hiçyilmaz: The Mirrored Garden
Lesley Howarth: Mirrors dot com
Jeremy Strong: Never Trust a Parrot
Vivian French: Selim-Hassan the Seventh
Melvin Burgess: Whose Face do you See?
Kate Thompson: The Dragon’s Dream
Alan Durant: Rochefault’s Revenge
Mary Arrigan: The Disappearance
Berlie Doherty: The Girl of Silver Lake
Mirrors and reflections have played their part in stories from the ancient tales of the basilisk and the story of Snow White, to the present day story of Harry Potter. The mythical basilisk could turn a creature to stone with just a look and could only be destroyed by seeing its own reflection in a mirror. Snow White’s step-mother appeals to her all-seeing mirror for confirmation of her beauty. Harry Potter finds the Mirror of Erised and sees in it what he desires most in life – his family.
The dictionary definition of ‘mirror’ is something that gives a faithful reflection. In fiction, mirrors do not have to play by the rules! This book contains fifteen newly written stories in which a mirror plays a vital part. One is a beautiful re-telling of the story of Narcissus and his reflection – perhaps the oldest mirror story of all – and the rest, brand new stories that reflect the imaginations of some of today’s finest writers. Read the stories in any order, then maybe you’ll want to go on and look at some of the novels written by these authors.
Enjoy!
Elizabeth Laird THE FATEFUL MIRROR
The Story of Echo and Narcissus
In ancient times, when the old gods ruled from Mount Olympus, a handsome young hunter roamed the earth, trapping in his nets any prey that came within his reach.
He was sixteen years old, and already many young women, and men too, had fallen in love with him.
His name was Narcissus.
In the forest where he hunted, a young girl wandered, looking for flowers. She talked as she ran about, and her tongue, like her feet, was never still. But her speech was meaningless, for the goddess Juno, angered by the girl’s endless chatter, had cruelly condemned her only to repeat the words that others spoke.
Her name was Echo.
One day, worn out by the hunt, Narcissus lay down in the shade of a spreading tree and closed his eyes. Echo ran past and saw him. She stopped at once when she saw the boy, then crept towards him and stood looking down at him, at the dark curls falling over his high forehead, the blush of red on his cheek, and the slender strong hands that still held his nets as he slept. And as she gazed at him, she fell in love.
She longed to touch his hand, to wake him and tell him that she loved him, but she could not. The only words she could utter would be echoes of his own.
She crept away and hid behind a tree.
I’ll wait, she thought. When he wakes up I’ll follow him and listen. Perhaps he’ll say something I can repeat, to show him that I love him.
At last Narcissus opened his eyes, sighed, sat up and stretched himself. Then he looked round. With the sharp senses of the hunter he knew he was not alone.
‘Who’s there?’ he called out.
Echo trembled at the sound of his voice, lightly shaking the branch she was holding. The leaves rattled and a leaf fell to the ground.
