• It was one of those days in summer. The ones where the heat is uncomfortably sticky and my hair is plastered to my forehead by the beads of sweat I just can’t seem to wipe away. Clad in blue shorts and what was then a cute white cotton t-shirt and is now a steaming death trap, I wander between the booths of the carnivals, watching children screech for more money to get some unobtainable prize in a fixed carnival game run by either an acne-stricken gawky teenager or some fat, cigar-smoking balding man.

    Skirting around a clown whose face paint is runny from their incessant sweating, I find myself facing a tent with the badly painted words “Labyrinth of Mirrors” hanging above it. Peering through the entrance, I find myself drawn into the shady tent. The only light is the daylight poking through holes in the roof of the tent, creating bright beams of light distorted by the mottled mirrors. Walking inside, I peer into the mirrors, laughing as I end up looking like my great Aunt Gertrude, who isn’t great because she’s old, if you catch my drift.

    Moving past the great Aunt Gertie mirror, I find myself staring into one that makes me look like a fashion model; thin, tall and absurd. Shuddering as I recall the many popular girls who look like this, I rush past. Mirrors slide by, some making me into a pear, others into an hourglass and one or two here that just make me look frightening. Towards the back, tucked away in the shadows, is a peculiar mirror that makes me stop dead.

    Staring intently into it’s depths as I step closer, I analyze my faint outline. My skin is fair, paler than it’s normal milky tones. Willowy, my body is drowning itself in my clothes as my brown hair seems to be lighter. Alight with curiosity, my eyes stare intensely back at me, watching my every move with an eerie hunger. Looking down at my arms, I find the color translucent, allowing me to see every vein, every bone. Dazed by the unnerving sight, I look back up into my reflection’s eyes, my mouth going dry as I realize the color is fading into white. Tearing my dying eyes from the mirror, I force myself to look down at my arm and stifle a scream.

    My arm is fading. Just like in the mirror, the color of my body is running out. I can feel my bones beginning to weaken, making it harder for me to stand. Looking back into the mirror, I let out a weak, angry shout as I see the reflection growing stronger. Raising a hand, I slap it against the mirror, before jerking away in shock as it fades completely. The mirror holds my hand now.

    Mind reeling, I desperately try to think of something, anything to reverse this effect. Stepping backwards, I find myself standing in a beam of light. Strength twinges through me, and with a look to my once-invisible hand, I see the faint outlines of it. Hope courses through me, and I turned to run out of the mirrored labyrinth.

    At a brisk pace I jog, turning left, right, right, left, left, until I forget which way is which. Mocking me, the mirrors reflect my distorted image; harried and slowly evaporating. Taking a sharp left, I skid to a halt as I find myself staring into the mirror that has taken most of me besides my eyes. Uttering a curse, I turn back and try to take the opposite directions. Turning and twisting until I’m dizzy, I cautiously turn a corner and find myself peeking at myself in the thieving mirror.

    I run until I can’t keep up the pace, jog until my head spins, and stagger until I’m ready to faint, continually finding myself in the same place, watching my reflection grow clearer still. Wrenching myself from the nearly pure sight, I stumble past mirrors that barely show me as I go by, praying that this will end. When I’m ready to give up and lay down, I catch sight of a brighter light. Eagerly straining forward, I glimpse the exit, far ahead.

    As I rush, I feel the pull of the mirror, tugging me, slowing me, trying to keep me in it’s grasp. Faster, faster, faster, I must go faster. My feet slowly chew at the distance; twenty feet, ten feet, eight feet, four feet, two feet, five inches..... Reaching out an invisible hand, I close my eyes and pray for the warmth of sunlight.

    My fingertips brush against cool glass. Opening my dismal eyes, I find myself staring into the darkened tent, staring at mirrors that watch mine. Resting my forehead against the glass, I watch as a faint figure vanishes around the corner and suddenly understand. Draw in another, and free yourself from this trap.

    So I wait. Time has no meaning here. It could be days, weeks, years, centuries out there, and I wouldn’t know.

    Finally, a voice. “Mommy, where are you?” A child, no older than five, comes around the corner. Bright eyes, dimples and a head of curly red hair. Peering up into the mirror, she giggles and taps her hand against the glass.

    Dare I escape?