The Scarecrow

I live on a small farm, far out in the country. Every year, my dad puts out scarecrows in our fields because he thinks they're effective in not only keeping the crows out, but evil spirits as well. I guess he's a little superstitious. The scarecrows he sets out are the same ones, year after year. After so much wear and tear, they were showing their age.

This October started out just like any other October. The weather was turning cool and the leaves were beginning to change into brilliant orange and yellow colors. One Saturday, us kids got together and decided to make a new scarecrow. Being creative, we gathered our supplies and got to work. This scarecrow was to be different. This was my special design. I wanted a creepy scarecrow, much scarier than the others. Hours later, we finished up. Indeed, he was the ugliest, most frightening scarecrow I've ever seen. I was so proud.

Mom called us for supper so we planted the scarecrow out in the cornfield, where I could see it from my bedroom window. Not giving it any more thought, we went in and ate. Soon, the wind picked up and it began lightening. No storm was forecasted but it looked like we were in for a rough night.

Light rain began falling as I went up to bed. I was worried about my new scarecrow so I peeked out my window. What I saw shocked me. He was there alright, but not where we had placed him. It appeared to me that he was several feet to the right. Puzzled, I stood at the window and watched intently. The lightening was bright and every time it flashed, I could see my scarecrow. The problem was, it looked as if he was moving when the sky was dark, only to turn up in another spot when the sky lit up.

Thinking that I must be imagining things, I put my pajamas on and went to bed. Later on, a loud CRACK of thunder woke me up. By now, the rain was pounding down, making it difficult to see out my window. I slipped on my shoes and snuck outside to check on my scarecrow. Not sure where he was, I walked around in the thunderstorm, half blinded by the cold, stinging rain. Clumsily, I stumbled over a fallen branch and fell face down in a patch of mud. When I looked up, there was my scarecrow glaring down at me. His eyes were huge and glowing red. I couldn't pick myself up fast enough. I ran screaming to the house and never looked back.

After tossing and turning the rest of the night, I woke up to bright sunshine and the smell of bacon. Not wanting to tell my parents what had happened, I sat quietly and ate breakfast. Anxious and apprehensive, I then went outside to look around. My dad was already looking for damage to the buildings but I was looking for my scarecrow. I could see the other scarecrows, all in their usual places but my scarecrow was nowhere to be found.

Full of confusion, I began crying. Not because of losing the scarecrow, but because of pure, unadulterated fear. My father told me that he probably blew away and would be discovered in a field during harvest. I knew better. Some how, some way, that scarecrow came alive. How, I don't know.

Ten years later:

Years have passed and to this day, I have never seen my scarecrow again. What happened that stormy night? Do scarecrows really keep out evil spirits or can they be possessed by one? I don't live on that farm anymore, but I've never ventured outside during a thunderstorm again.

Told by Karen

Superstitions, Omens, & Myths

What is Superstition?

According to Webster's dictionary, superstition is n. any belief that is inconsistent with the known laws of science or with what is considered true and rational; esp., such a belief in omens, the supernatural, etc.

Halloween is traditionally the time when common superstitions, folklore, myths and omens carry more weight to those who believe. Superstition origins go back thousands of years ago. Beliefs include good luck charms, amulets, bad luck, fortunes, cures, portents, omens and predictions, fortunes and spells.

Bad fallacies far outweigh the good, especially around Halloween when myths run rampant. When it comes right down to it, many people still believe that omens can predict our destiny and misfortune -- particularly for the worse.

Superstitions and Bad Luck Omens

Black Cats

Black cats have long been believed to be a supernatural omen since the witch hunts of the middle ages when cats were thought to be connected to evil. Since then, it is considered bad luck if a black cat crosses your path.

Broken Mirrors

An ancient myth our ancestors believed was that the image in a mirror is our actual soul. A broken mirror represented the soul being astray from your body. To break the spell of misfortune, you must wait seven hours (one for each year of bad luck) before picking up the broken pieces, and bury them outside in the moonlight.

Ladders

In the days before the gallows, criminals were hung from the top rung of a ladder and their spirits were believed to linger underneath. Common folklore has it to be bad luck to walk beneath an open ladder and pass through the triangle of evil ghosts and spirits.

Owls

If an owl looks in your window or if you seeing one in the daylight bad luck and death will bestow you.

Salt

At one time salt was a rare commodity and thought to have magical powers. It was unfortunate to spill salt and said to foretell family disarray and death. To ward off bad luck, throw a pinch over your shoulder and all will be well.

Sparrows

Sparrows are thought to carry the souls of the dead and it is believed to bring bad luck if you kill one.

Unlucky Number 13

The fear of the number 13 is still common today, and avoided in many different ways. Some buildings still do not have an official 13th floor and many people avoid driving or going anywhere on Friday the 13th.

Good Luck Superstitions

Horseshoes

To bring good luck, the horseshoe must lost by a horse and be found by you, with the open end facing your way. You must hang it over the door with the open end up, so the good fortune doesn't spill out.

Another origin of the 'lucky horseshoe' is the belief that they ward off witches. Witches, it was once believed, were opposed to horses, which is why they rode brooms and pitchforks instead. By placing a horseshoe over a door, the witch would be reluctant to enter. (Hat tip: Iris)

Four Leaf Clover

Clover is believed to protect humans and animals from evil spells and is thought to be good luck to find a four leaf clover, particularly for the Irish.

Rabbit's Foot

These lucky charms are thought to ward off bad luck and bring good luck. You mush carry the rabbit's foot on a chain around your neck, or in your left back pocket. The older it gets, the more good luck it brings.

Wishbones

Two people are to pull apart a dried breastbone of a turkey or chicken and the one who is left with the longer end will have their wish come true.

Common Myths and Folklore

• If the flame of a candle flickers and then turns blue, there's a spirit in the room.
• If a bird flies through your house, it indicates important news. If it can't get out, the news will be death.
• If you feel a chill up your spine, someone is walking on your future grave.
• A person born on Halloween will have the gift of communicating with the dead.
• A bat in the house is a sign of death.
• If a bird flies towards you, bad fortune is imminent.
• If your palm itches, you will soon receive money. If you itch it, your money will never come.
• Crows are viewed as a bad omen, often foretelling death. If they caw, death is very near.
• Many Romans wore lucky charms and amulets to avert the "evil eye."
• If a person experiences great horror, their hair turns white.
• A hat on a bed will bring bad luck.
• Eat an apple on Christmas Eve for good health the next year.
• The superstition of knocking on wood for good luck originates from pagan beliefs in regards to trees.

The Ouija Board

John was only twelve years old when he discovered the mysterious ouija board in his attic. He didn't even know what the bloody thing was, which is why he decided to take it downstairs and ask his parents about it. They were watching a reality TV show at the time, but he was about to interrupt.

He walked in there and showed them the board. "Where on earth did you get that board? Drop it, drop it immediately," screamed his mother with a shock on her face. John explained where he found it and his mother looked at Paul, his father. "Molly Dear, I told you I was puttin' it in the attic, you know how nosy our son is. Why did you send him up there?" moaned the father with disapproval voice.

The next day he got it out and showed it to his friends. He was surprised to learn that they knew what it was. They started playing around and suddenly the room got very cold. Things started moving on their own. Just then, John lifted off of the floor, levitating. He was flying around the room, frantically screaming for his life. His mother and father came rushing in, grabbed the board and threw it out of the upstairs window, so it would smash on the concrete floor.

Their life never was the same from then on. Strange this kept happening, things got moved, others were still levitating in the house, John's mates never dared to enter the house again.

The family finally decided on exorcism but unfortunately, it didn't work. Reluctantly, they were forced to move out of the house. Nobody ever saw or heard from John again, for he moved from Scotland to Kent, and that is a very long distance for ghosts or demons to travel. OR IS IT? 

Story by Bradley Archer

The Train Ride

I was getting the train home from my friends sleepover and I was running down the platform as the train was about to leave. So I jumped onto the nearest carriage of the train. As I looked around, it was empty apart from three girls sitting on one side of a six-seater. As I didn't know when my stop was, I went and sat opposite them so I could ask them if I needed to. I sat down and looked at the girls, they were all linking arms.

The girl on one side of the girl in the middle was listening to music and the other was reading a magazine. But the girl in the middle was just staring at me. I started to get a bit freaked out when the ticket inspector got onto the train and came over to me and asked, "Excuse me miss, can I see your ticket?" I said " Yea sure" and I showed him my ticket.

He then said, "You need to come with me, your ticket is fake." I knew it wasn't fake as I had bought it two minutes ago from the ticket place at the station. I said, "What! You can even ask the lady with the black hair at the ticket place, I bought it like two minutes ago." He placed a hand on my arm and said, "If you don't come with me now, then I will call the police." Frightened, I got up slowly and followed him off the train.

I looked back at the girls and the one in the middle was still staring at the seat where I was sitting. The ticket guy took me into his office and sat me down. He took a deep breath and said, "Look, your ticket wasn't fake, the two girls not sitting in the middle are serial killers and the girl in the middle was dead, they strangled her before you got on the train!"

Story told by Maddy

Never Alone

For just about my entire life, I have had insomnia and migraine headaches. I normally do go to sleep, but wake up again around 2:00 am. The only medications I have taken in my life has been for depression and migraines, all prescribed by doctors.

Up until about a year ago, I have awakened to find other people in my room. I'm sure that they weren't actual people. If they were spirits or just my imagination, I honestly don't know. When I saw these "apparitions", they were usually the size of a human and slightly transparent. I could feel them there, but nothing actually was.

As a child, I was always afraid of whatever these things were, and could barely shut my eyes from fright. As time went on, the only thing that would happen when I saw one was that it startled me. For a while, I thought I was crazy and even tried to talk to them or send thoughts to them. I seemed to know things about these "spirits" that you just couldn't know by looking at them but that was probably just my overactive imagination.

For example, I remember seeing an old couple (probably someone's grandparents) sitting at opposite ends of my bedside table, playing chess. If they had been real people, this would have been impossible because my bedside table is blocked off on the sides they were sitting at. Sometimes, I would wake up to find them sitting right next to my bed, just staring at me. They always seemed to be looking at me in a sad way.

Sometimes there would be a person so huge that it filled up my whole room. Like "Alice in Wonderland", that writer also had migraines and there is a certain type of migraine headache that can make you see that type of thing. Of course, ordinary things would look like them; a laundry basket filled with white clothes transformed into a baby or a dress hanging in the closed would be a woman with long brown hair.

The worst incidents were the ones I couldn't get away from, such as when I would go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and come out to see a man or something watching me.

I know that location has nothing to do with it. I have seen them at friends' houses, in different states, and even different countries. When I visited Guatemala for Christmas, I shared a bed with my cousin and woke up to see a man with a large hat leaning against the wall, staring out the window. I don't know what this means, or why it happens, but it's the truth. 

Story told by Charolette

The Intruder

My friend's sister frequently babysat. One night, she was watching three kids, whose parents were going to be out until about 2:00am. She fed the kids and then they watched some movies. Around 8:00pm, she put the two-year-old to bed. At 8:30, she put the four-year-old to bed and at 9:00, the eight-year old.

She was still hungry so she went back downstairs to make herself a sandwich. When she was almost done, she heard the eight-year-old crying and calling her name. She went upstairs to see what was wrong. When she got up there, the child said she was cold, so the babysitter looked around for another blanket.

As she was doing that, she noticed that the window was open. She thought she had closed all of them but didn't think anything else of it. She closed the window, gave the little girl another blanket, and checked the other windows in the other two children's rooms to make sure they were secure, and then went back downstairs.

When she went back to the kitchen, she noticed that her sandwich was gone. She just brushed it off and blamed it on the dog. She made herself another sandwich. Again, she heard crying, but this time it was the four-year-old. She went to his room, and he too said he was cold. She noticed the window was open again. She was worried this time because she knew she had locked it. She didn't want to scare the child so she just shut and locked it.

She returned downstairs and turned on the alarm system. When she went back to the kitchen, she discovered that her second sandwich was gone. She was really worried so she decided to call the cops. When she told them that her sandwiches were disappearing, they thought she was crazy. She then told them about the windows opening repeatedly and they said it was probably just the kids doing it. After she hung up, she made herself a third sandwich.

She soon heard the two-year-old crying and went up to see what was wrong. Her window was also open. At this point, she was very frightened, so she gathered all of the kids, the cordless phone, and took them into a pantry closet in the kitchen. She called the police again, saying that she was really scared because someone keeps opening the windows and stealing her sandwiches, and it's not the kids. They told her not to be worried, that they would be over in a few minutes to check it out.

She hung up the phone and held onto the kids tightly. A few minutes later, she heard a noise in the kitchen, and saw the knob turning on the pantry door. She was about ready to scream when a cop opened the door. She asked why they came so fast. He had a worried look on his face and told them to get out of the house. He then told her that while on the phone, he heard a double click.

The Cemetery Mimic

There's a defiled cemetery in the outskirts of Ciudad Juarez, Mexico, the city I was born in. People who can't afford to pay funerary services often bury their loved ones here. In Mexico, there's no such thing as medical aid for low income workers. People that come from out of town are not used to the ever changing weather and as a consequence, many children die in the winter and end up buried in the old cemetery.

When I was about ten years old, four older friends and I decided to check it out. We walked for hours and when we finally arrived, it was almost dark. We started walking around and nothing seemed out of place. The air was getting very heavy and we heard a strange noise from an old, rotted tree. As we got near it, the tree started shaking. We all got really scared and ran. Later on, we found out that it was one of our friends playing a prank on us.

We were laughing when suddenly the old grave keeper showed up. He said "Boys, I know you are all just here to have fun and fool around, but please understand that horrible things happen here! I live in that house over there (about 100 feet from the cemetery), and every night that those high school punks come and drink and make their mess, weird things begin to happen. Last time there were loud voices and someone was knocking on my door at 2:00 am. I thought it was those punks, but no one was there. I am very tired and I really would like to sleep tonight, so if you have no business here, please leave." We felt bad for the poor old guy and left.

We never returned to that place until I was seventeen. I was with my high school punk friends in a truck and we were looking for the old cemetery. After ten years, the place had really changed and we were having trouble finding it. The trail was wet and muddy and there were so many of us that the truck got stuck in the mud. When we got out of the truck, we soon found out that we were inside of the cemetery.

My friend left the truck in neutral so we could push it, when suddenly the truck began moving by itself. After we saw that, we were so scared that we just got in the truck and drove off. When we finally decided to stop, we noticed that the truck was marked with tiny foot and hand prints all over. Then the grave keeper showed up and said "I remember you, you don't understand what is going on, do you?" The spirits will chase you for a long time."

I really didn't pay much attention to what he said until I later learned that there hadn't been any grave keeper there for years. I got really freaked out when my friends started telling me that I looked different. The said they would run into me and I would have a disturbing, "evil" look in my eyes. The weird part is that I was never even at the place and time they would tell me they saw me.

One of my friends said he chased me all the way into a dead-end alley, and that I would just disappear without a trace. Even my girlfriend said she would sometimes see me near her house, dressed in black, with a disturbing glare, when I was actually out somewhere drinking, with someone else.

My sister says that sometimes she hears me when I get home, and watches me open the door and go into the living room with the light turned off. She would see me lay down on the sofa from across the hall, and suddenly I would begin ripping my clothes off like some wild animal. When she turns the light on, there's no one there. Hours later, I would arrive home, leave my keys on the table and go to my room. All of this happens as if someone, or something was imitating me -- like a mimic.

The Bloody Bride & Groom

One night, I was at home alone, just talking on the phone with my friend about school and stuff. I had just come upstairs from watching a scary movie and I decided to just relax on my bed. I went to my parents' bedroom to turn the light on (I have to pass it to get to my room.) As I turned it on I saw a disturbing figure as I blinked my eyes.

There, coming towards me faster and faster was a bride with a bloody and torn up dress holding a knife and grinning at me with fierce eyes. I blinked in horror but every time I blinked she got closer.

Finally I got to my room and just sat on the corner of my bed and told my friend what I had just seen. She didn't believe me but I was still scared and made her promise to stay on the phone with me until my parents got home.

About a week or so later, I was in the washroom washing my face when I heard footsteps coming down the hall. I looked up and coming from my parents' bedroom, was a dark figure. I blinked and I could make out a man in a groom's outfit that was also bloody and torn everywhere. He held a knife high up above his head and grinned menacingly at me. My dad came into the doorway and the image faded away.

I didn't see anything else until my birthday two months later. Me and four of my closest friends were sitting downstairs discussing stuff when my friends got hungry. We decided to go upstairs, but we were going to have to turn on the basement light first. I went first and as I turned it on there was a little girl at the top of the stairs. As if waiting for me, she showed me a small knife and I stared at the torn little dress she wore.

I haven't seen any more things like this, but when I'm alone, or have one person with me, if I listen carefully, I can hear the sound of footsteps coming towards me and sometimes, my friends will be able to see dark figures coming towards them.

Bloody mary

1  Mary Tudor was the jewel of England. The prized possession of her parents, King Henry Tudor VIII of England and Queen Katherine (Catalina) of Spain and Aragon. When The Queen could not provide a son by the time Mary was 10, King Henry sent her away to one of their castles in the marshes. She died a number of years later with out seeing Mary before her death.

Mary was around the age of 19. In those seven years, Mary had been turned into what only could be called an bastard child. The king had also taken up a mistress, Anne Bolen. She gave birth to Elizabeth I. Edward VI was from another mistress that was soon crowned Queen. She later died. When Mary would not submerge to the Kings rule, accepting Anne as the Queen and declaring herself a bastard child, he made himself head of church so she could not refuse him. Mary had to sign the contract or be faced with death.

When still, she obeyed her mother's wishes for her to become Queen and not a bastard child, King Henry declared himself head of church over the pope. She signed and avoided the death penalty. When Henry died, leaving only bastard children, Mary became the first female Queen of England. She made the pope head of church again.

She killed the people that opposed her and still wanted things to be like they where when her father ruled. She killed so many for the sake of England. She later fell in love with a Prince Philip, but he soon left her to return to his hailing county. Some say she went mad like her Aunt Juana when her husband died. The truth may never be reveled about the real Bloody Mary. This story may not be accurate, but It is the best I have come up with.

2  The legend of it here in Jackson, Michigan goes like this: A long time ago there was a little girl named Mary. She must have gotten in an accident because she went into a coma. At that time, doctors didn't know what a coma was, so they thought she was dead. They buried her alive! Every night Mary's mother thought that she heard a scream coming from Mary's grave, but no one believed her.

Finally one day, Mary's mother convinced them to dig up her grave. When they did, they found scratches on the top of the coffin and Mary's fingernails were all bloody. There are many different things that I have heard that will happen when you say "Bloody Mary" in the mirror. The most popular one here is that you will see Mary in the mirror walking down a case of stairs. She may be holding a knife. If she is, you must turn on the lights or she'll kill you. Also she could be holding a rose or teddy bear, and then she won't kill you.

Mary's "so called" grave is also here in Jackson. I have been to it. It's out in the woods and you have to walk through a lot of trails to get there. When you finally do, you have to walk up a big hill and there is a big tombstone on top that just says Mary. There are also other tombstones, too. Mary's grave was removed recently because the coffins were beginning to stick out of the ground.

3  Once, a girl named Mary lived in a castle with her step-sister and her step-sister's boy-friend. Mary and her sister hated each other. One day, Mary stole her step-sister's wedding ring and ran away. Her sister sent out guards to find Mary. When they found her, they brought her to the castle of the prince (the step-sister's boyfriend / fiancée). That night when the guards came back with Mary, the step-sister and the prince were sitting in front of the lit fireplace. The step-sister grabbed the ring and threw Mary into the fire. When the fire was out, all that was left of Mary was a part of her throat, the esophagus.

To this day, Mary is still looking for her sister to kill her. Of course, her sister is already dead but her spirit still exists. Go into the bathroom, in front of the mirror. Take a candle with you and light it. Turn off all of the lights except the candle and say her FULL name thirteen times (bloody...) and open your eyes, you might see her. But be careful, because every eight years is FRIDAY the 13th of February and if you ever mention her name in your life, on the 13th she will give you a fright night because that is the night she got killed. The last time that it was a FRIDAY the 13th, was this year, 2004. If you want to talk about Mary, say her name like this: "B-Mary.

The wrong Cat

IT WAS RAT, NOT HUMAN, INSTINCT that made Breen snarl. The cat only stood, its gaze baleful and sinister. After what seemed an eternity it turned, tail twitching, and slowly walked away
Dazed, Breen spent a moment just breathing. The beast, he knew, had not been the slightest whit afraid of him. It was just that the cat was not a cat, but his cousin Druin, and it/he had more important things to do than obey feline instincts to kill a mere rat. In fact, from what the enchanted youth heard upstairs, it was a safe bet that Druin was doing something vital tonight, some critical move in this dark battle of wizards. And he hasn't any notion I'm not a real rat!
I think.
Breen knew he ought to follow, to learn what the enemy was up to. Forcing himself, he set off after that bigger, tail-high prowler of the dark. The trail led through a maze of empty night-shrouded streets. A cat paced haughtily. A rat followed, scuttling, scurrying, moving from this bit of cover to that. Although now and again he caught a glimpse of the cat's tail, for the most part Breen trusted his sense of smell. Before he could be sure of their destination, the cat slipped through a gap between a high stone wall and a massive iron gate. The rat followed with more ease. On the other side he gazed about, his pulse quickening and eyes widening; they were on the ground of the Royal Palace!
Breen's nose screamed at him: DOG! The palace grounds he knew were guarded by ferocious Nevinian dogs big as small ponies. Still, the cat was racing on through the tall wet grass, heedless of this danger. Because he knew something, perhaps?
Breen followed.
Up broad pink-marble steps the cat sped, past the feet of a dozing guard and through an ornate grillwork door into the palace. Abruptly the guard awoke. Hazel eyes focused on the rat that came leaping up the stairs. The man started to lift his heavy pike and this time Breen had no choice. He raced for dear life. The weapon sped down at him, aimed well, but he was faster than a just-woken man. Iron crash-grated on the marble a hand's breadth behind Breen. Inwardly he exulted, for his human mind had known that once he was inside the weapon's reach he was safe. The guard threw a futile kick, then cursed as his foot slammed into the door, The rat had sped under it.
His hand-like paws waded in a plush carpet of gold and plum and nacarat, in a brightly lit hallway tapestried in deep plum velvet. He saw no sign of the cat. The carpet was a staggering confusion of odors.
In one direction the corridor led toward the great Dining Hall, where the sound of the last few drunken revelers could be heard. In the other direction -- Breen's whiskers twitched while he sought to remember. Yes! It led up the broad stair to the sleeping area. The hall was clogged with drunks; if something important were happening here tonight, it would probably be in a bedroom.
Keeping to the side where he tended to be hidden by the drapes, Breen scuttled down the corridor. On the stairs he caught a whiff of cat scent and was sure he had guessed aright. He scampered up -- to pause in bafflement at the top of the steps. This corridor, tapestried in luxurious gold and green, was long, marked by more than a dozen doors. Where had Druin gone?
The floor gave off feline scent. Breen blinked. This was a female's spoor! Drood's Arms! Queen Islaina has several cats! Any of them's liable to attack me! Why did that lackwit Ebbern make me a rat instead of something practical?
Breen was frightened and angry. He was also determined. From door to door he went, peeking under each as he zig-zagged up the corridor. Again and again he found only an empty dark room ... until at last he blinked at light and heard the sound of voices. By wriggling deep into the carpet's fine pile he was just able to force his head all the way under the door for a good view. The chamber was illumined by the yellow-gold light of an extravagance: a dozen candles in a chandelier of crystal prisms. Oh, the eerie shadows it threw! The tall canopied bed extended from one corner, covered in lavender silk sheets over goose-down pillows.
The center of this house-sized bedchamber was dominated by a great mirror large enough to show several people in full length reflection.
All this Breen took in at a glance. Now his attention fixed on the woman who sat before that tall mirror. Clad only in a negligee of diaphanous black silk and cobwebby lace, Queen Islaina was unquestionably the most beautiful woman: in the realm. She sat on a high stool in fine display of her superb figure. Finely formed arms and long legs were bare as the day she was born, and much improved since then. Her back was to Breen. As her fingers ran a gold-chased ivory comb through the spun gold hair that streamed down past her shoulders, the youth could see the beauty of her smile in the mirror. The negligee, only casually draped about her, parted with her motions. Breen swallowed.
Behind the queen, a male throat was cleared.
Startled, Breen looked in the direction of that sound and his eyes went wide in amazement. At attention just behind Her Majesty stood three palace guardsmen, all in full dress uniform of red and gold and jet!
Damnation! I'd heard things were a bit odd here in the palace, but .... the Queen? Carelessly showing herself naked to her guards?
"Have you," she whispered in delicately soft tones, "completed the task I assigned
you?"
"Aye, Your Majesty," the tallest guard answered mechanically. "All is in readiness. The packing crate is strong, well cushioned, and large enough to hold Your Majesty's mirror. It awaits downstairs, and a squadron of the Royal Lancers is ready to mount, beside a wagon with four of our best horses hitched to it. As soon as Your Majesty gives the word, her mirror can be in the crate, the crate on the wagon, and all on their way to safety."


THE WATCHING BREEN WAS PUZZLED. Only vaguely annoyed that he was in the wrong form to appreciate properly the queen's nudity, he felt the beginning clutch of fear. Something was surely very wrong."Very good," the queen whispered. "The time, however, is not yet. Bide here a while."
As she spoke, Breen shuddered. His rodent ears were not playing tricks on him. The queen's soft voice came not from her lips, but from her reflection in that mighty mirror.
Knowing that something of surpassing evil was hidden in the scene he watched, Breen stared in horror and fascination. The queen was still combing her hair; her mirror image, however, dropped its comb. It rose, unconcernedly letting the negligee fall from her/its body. Stark naked and truly golden-haired indeed, the image stood and stretched her limbs And then she walked off leaving the queen still combing before an empty mirror.
Breen felt the hair standing erect, all over his diminuitive body. Terrified by this most unnatural of events, he bit his tongue to keep from squealing and rapidly pulled his head from under the door. For a moment, when his head caught, he knew terror. Then he had twisted free.
In the cavernous corridor, he was strongly tempted to run away and run some more. Best to forget the whole incident. He wanted no such knowledge and the worry it brought. He realized now that he had been tricked into the role of pawn in a nightmarish war between powers beyond the human and the natural. Those powers were castled at opposite ends of the board; Breen was very much in the open between them, and all but helpless.
Still, tricked or no, the fact remained that he had set out this night to learn what his cousin Druin was about, and Breen had a strong predilection toward finishing what he started. Not without some tremors, he scurried down the carpeted corridor. A boy in a rat's body with a man's resolve. Since Druin wasn't in the queen's chamber, the next logical place to seek him was the king's apartment. That, Breen reasoned, should be next door.
Upon pushing his head under the door, he saw only darkness and heard only snores. Further, the room seemed empty save for moon-softened shadows. He was about to withdraw to look elsewhere when something furry brushed past his face. He froze while it prowled sinuously past: a large cat, blacker than darkness.
How Druin had gained entry to a closed room was a further mystery. However accomplished, Breen was sure Druin was here to do the king no good service. A dozen half-forming plans flitted through his mind like swirling water (with a bit of mud) while the cat paced across the room. With the easy grace of its kind it hopped onto a table in the darkest corner.
Breen saw only the eyes, eerily seeming to float high above the floor. From there the cat spoke, in the strong, clear voice of Sir Druin: "King Thilloden! Awake! King Thilloden!"
"Uh? Hrum? Gumph huh what? Who -- who's there?"
The cat's tone was cold as death. "Druin, son of Aradam, the man you had murdered for a jar of polish. My crossbow is leveled at your heart."
The king stayed where he was. "You can't get away with it!" he warned, but the terror in his voice betrayed him,
"That is my concern, ignoble king. Before I shoot you, however, there is one thing I'd like to know. Unworthy monarch, what was so important about that polish?"
Lady of death, Breen swore mentally, beginning to comprehend. Could Druin be innocent of the massacre at Paragas?
After a period of silence, Druin spoke again, softly and seemingly without passion, "Thilloden, I know. If you tell me what I don't know, I shan't release this bolt. Otherwise I'll shoot you now and depart."
"No no! It -- it wasn't my fault!" The king was babbling. "All her doing -- the Queen's! All! Ever since she acquired that accursed mirror, she has been different ... strange!"
"The polish," Druin insisted.
"It was her idea. Your father had a jar of rare and extremely fine polish -- you know there's no other like it! She wanted it to make her mirror absolutely perfect."
All those lives, Breen thought sickly. Her doing for that awful mirror!
"Ahhh," Druin murmured in a vastly appreciative tone. "I believe I understand. One question more: for all that Zadok and Thesia are nominally at war, I know of your treaty with the king of Thesia. You are secretly at peace! In exchange for a bit of gold and certain other considerations, His Majesty of Thesia sends his soldiers here to slaughter those of your subjects you find inconvenient. The city is invested, but I know your agents have left these walls -- and returned. Why? Why see that your own capital city is besieged by foreigners who might ... slip?"
"It was her idea!" the terror-stricken monarch bleated.
With each hideous new revelation Breen's head spun the more in a horror of unbelief. He scarcely noticed the first tap on his tail ...
Abruptly that tapping became sharp pain and he was being dragged backward. His head thumped the door's bottom and a whisker hurt him sore. In the corridor he twisted his head to see a horrific monster towering above him, its fearful teeth closed on Breen's tail: One of the palace cats! How pleased the violet-collared monster looked!
Breen fought whelming terror. This was the wrong cat! Not his cousin Druin but a real cat that killed and ate rats!