## Would You Like To Buy a Silver Coffee Cup?

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![](https://images.ecency.com/DQmTx5sDoBkuvTuqFHcADYn6LmM6YCiBRvfRjiRhsDx9pzS/villa_g8b4120a69_1920.jpg)

[Source](https://pixabay.com/tr/photos/villa-ev-ac%c4%b1mas%c4%b1z-karanl%c4%b1k-3237114/)


The rain was falling and thunder was booming, with lightning flashing all around. The mansion stood tall in the middle of the stormy night, with only a single light on in its topmost room.
The rain and **thunder** kept getting louder and louder as it seemed to be coming from the very heavens themselves. It poured down on the town like a waterfall, and thunderous winds howled through the streets. The storm was so loud that it drowned out all other sounds.

A man was walking down the street when he came upon a house that appeared to be occupied. He walked up to the front door and knocked on it.

"Who's there?" asked a voice from above.
"I am a merchant," said the man. "I need your help.",
''I'm putting my child to sleep and my husband will open the door for you.'' said the woman.

The door opened and revealed an old man with long white hair tied back in a bun. 
"What can I do for you?" he asked suspiciously as he looked at him up and down.
''Hello, I'm running away from the rain and I'm looking for shelter. If you don't mind, can I dry myself in front of your fireplace for a few hours?''
''Who the hell are you?'' the old man asked.
''I'm a merchant from the next town. If you allow me to rest, I would be **honored** to offer you one of my products as a gift. Consider it a thank you.''
The man grunted and opened the door wide.
''Come in, come in.''

He led the merchant into the living room where there was a fireplace. The fireplace with a stuffed wolf on either side and thick blankets on the armchairs. It felt cozy.
He put his things down beside her and started to warm up.
The man came in with a **whiskey** in his hand.

After resting for a few minutes, the merchant opened his bag;
"You can look at my products. Here you are," but the old man interrupted him.
''No, **my wife** is upstairs and it will be better if she chooses. You can go up to her, I just gave her a whiskey. She's awake. She put our baby to sleep and she's combing her hair.''
''All right...'' the merchant said and picked up his bag.
He went up the **noisy stairs** and saw an open room.
The **reflection** of the rain and lightning outside fell through the open door into the hallway.

Even if he didn't say anything, the creaking of the stairs on his way up must have told her, but he was a gentleman and announced his arrival.
He approached the door;
"Madame?''
He poked her head inside. He saw a woman in the mirror. Her back was to the door. The glass of whiskey was left on the **vanity table** . It was possible to see her face in the **mirror** . She was combing her own hair.
The interesting thing was that she was in her forties. The man downstairs must be in his sixties, the merchant thought. Such an age difference is really not nice.
Anyway.
**None of my business...**

The woman spoke in a calm and soothing voice
''Come in, you can lay your products on the bed, I want to continue combing my hair'' she said, not turning her face away from the mirror. 

The man started unpacking his products, cutlery sets, coffee cups, small things for the house, and things that could fit in a backpack, expensive but light in weight.

She called out to him in the mirror without turning around.
''Hmm.
There wasn't much I **liked.**
Thank you, I don't want anything...''

The merchant got angry.

''Madam!
I **beg you** not to look at me with your back turned. If you take the trouble to look this way, ma'am, I'm sure there will be **something** you like!''

''Of course, you are right, **forgive** me'' she said.

Then she started to turn around slowly.
She had no face.
There was an empty **darkness** where her face should have been, her eyes looked dead like a white **ghost**, and her mouth was lost in the darkness and it was impossible to even make out her nose.
The woman was not there, was it a ghost? or was it some kind of monster, it did not look aggressive, but the merchant's eye reflected in the mirror, and the **woman's face was in the mirror**. She was a very pretty woman with **freckles** and red lipstick and combed hair, but she, slowly, **tilted** her head to the side as she started to speak.

Suddenly the trader felt a chill in the air as if the energy in the room was being **drained** from heat and goosebumps crept up his spine
The merchant was **shocked** by the woman's dark mouth that did not move, but the woman in the mirror was talking, the woman's mouth in the mirror was moving and...;
"I think we can get that set of silver cups.''
She said.
''Thank you.''

As he turned and **wanted** to run away, but he had to stay calm because so far nothing had happened. Some newspapers, clippings, and a picture caught the merchant's eye.
In the picture, the woman in the mirror and the man below looked like they did twenty years ago. They had a child in their arms. The merchant looked around and saw a baby cradle. He never dared to look inside.
Then he looked at what was written in the old newspaper 
**''SAD ACCIDENT. A WELL-KNOWN FAMILY OF OUR TOWN LOST THEIR WIFE AND CHILD IN A TRAFFIC ACCIDENT''**

https://images.hive.blog/0x0/https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/nane-qts/Eo23FrsBvwU6q4b8HRsRQnmDH8krjaN9qE4D3WcBzgySWQiwNiPpaNkM6en4n1xb69n.gif



Thank you very much for reading this post, this is my story with the prompt "mirror" that I wrote for,  Inkwell #27 Mirror. 
https://images.hive.blog/0x0/https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/nane-qts/Eo23FrsBvwU6q4b8HRsRQnmDH8krjaN9qE4D3WcBzgySWQiwNiPpaNkM6en4n1xb69n.gif


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