Behind The Reflection

You call my name without knowing who I was.
Without knowing my past,
Without knowing my thoughts.
A fragment of history known to only those who look.

When all lights have died away
The creatures of the night come out to play
After the clock has sung of the witching hour,
They walk through the house with candles.

One alone enters, to stand before the mirror.
Twisting and twirling she begins her chant.
Spinning, she calls my name
Spinning, she taunts me.
Speaking of a child I shall never have.

She screams at the thing in the mirror,
Its long scraggly hair curtains an illuminated, red face.
Shrieks run through the house.
Invading ears,
Strangling chests.
It fades away to a defining silence.

Dear girl,
Did your mother never tell you the myths are just smoke and mirrors?
Have you not yet learned only fear lurks in the dark?
I was real;
This creature is not.
It was created by hatred ,
Spread by fools,
And believed by the ignorant.

Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, I stole your child,
Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary…..the first of England.