《Lewy Body: The Demon in the Mirror [RRCM Winner June 2023]》 Chapter One Whenever Abigail brushed her hair, he could see the demon in the mirror. They¡¯d shared the apartment for as long as he could remember. Just him and Abby. Sometimes, their kids came to visit. Other times, Abby would drive them to the store. But most of the time, they stayed in their apartment. The first time he¡¯d seen the demon standing behind Abby had been¡­Christ, he couldn¡¯t remember how long ago it¡¯d been. But it¡¯d been standing right behind her shoulder, a few yards back. It had¡­black hair? And red eyes, of course. It was a demon, after all. Abigail hadn¡¯t seen it. She¡¯d just run her comb through her beautiful silver-gray hair. Swish. Swish. Swish. ¡°Abby. Abby! Somethin¡¯s behind you.¡± She¡¯d stared in the mirror. ¡°Lou, there¡¯s nothing there. Are you feeling alright?¡± He¡¯d looked again. Nothing. He¡¯d looked behind her. Nothing. He¡¯d looked around, eyes darting every which way. But there wasn¡¯t anything to see. Just his toothbrush¡ªminty green paste ready for him to use¡ªand his wife. His beautiful, beautiful wife. He¡¯d kissed the back of her neck. She¡¯d giggled like a schoolgirl as his lips brushed her wrinkled skin. ¡°I love you, Abby,¡± he¡¯d whispered to her. ¡°I love you too, Lou,¡± she¡¯d whispered, turning to kiss him back. ¡°Get your teeth brushed. We¡¯re going to the park to meet with Cynthia and her kids.¡± He¡¯d taken another good look at her beautiful face in the mirror. Her green eyes had peered through crow¡¯s feet a mile deep, her upper lip dented from a car accident when she was just a mother of one. Before Willem, Jeff, or even Cynthia. When they¡¯d only had Emily to look after. The scar was a reminder, every day, of what he¡¯d lost. And what he¡¯d been fortunate enough to keep all these years.
Lou sat on the exam table. He shifted, the paper crinkling under his weight. He¡¯d always hated the doctor¡¯s office. And this time was no exception. For some reason, Abigal wanted to talk to Doctor Stephens by herself. Without him. She hadn¡¯t done anything without him in a decade. Anything. But it was alright. He could see them down the hall, talking. She was facing away from him. He couldn¡¯t see her talking, but Doctor Stephens¡¯ brow wrinkled. He nodded. His lips moved, but Lou¡¯s vision wasn¡¯t good enough to read them anymore. Maybe it never had been. He looked away. He could trust Abigail. Whatever she had to say, he supported her. The room was tiny. A few posters of muscle groups on the walls. A sink with a paper towel dispenser. A rack of hammers for testing reflexes, stethoscopes, and thermometers. And a mirror. ¡°Lou, Doctor Stephens is going to check up on a few things, alright?¡± Abby asked. He pulled himself away from the mirror and looked at his wife¡¯s curly white hair. ¡°Of course. Anything for you.¡± He gave her a quick kiss. She was his wife, and he¡¯d kiss her whenever and wherever he wanted. And if the young Doctor Stephens didn¡¯t want to see two octogenarians kissing? Then he shouldn¡¯t be in geriatrics. His eyes drifted across the mirror. They widened. The demon¡¯s red eyes stared over Abigail¡¯s shoulder. Was it a touch closer to her? Nah. ¡°Alright, Mr. Korper, we¡¯re going to run through a few tests just for a baseline on your cognitive skills. It¡¯s pretty standard procedure for adults your age, so let¡¯s get started.¡±
Abigail tucked a few pamphlets into her handbag. Lou shrugged. Doctor Stephens had given them to her after another conversation in the hallway. Whatever they were, they weren¡¯t important. Not to him. What was important was the demon. He hadn¡¯t seen it in a while. Not since the examination room. As he sat in the waiting room, Abby paid the copay. The plexiglass barrier between his beautiful wife and the receptionist shone brightly in the fluorescent lights. Lou nodded approvingly. He¡¯d been a custodian back in Cleveland. Or was it Flint? Anyways, he¡¯d been a custodian, and whoever cleaned up Doctor Stephens¡¯ office was a good, hard worker. He approved. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. He shut his eyes and leaned his head back against his meshed fingers. Before he¡¯d been a janitor, he¡¯d served in the war. The big one against Germany and Japan. He¡¯d been on a ship but couldn¡¯t remember the ship¡¯s name anymore. But Captain Hawless. He could remember Captain Hawless constantly shouting about the mess in the mess. He and the rest of the crew had scrubbed for hours. They¡¯d paused to go to battle stations a few times, off some island with an ¡®O¡¯ name in the Pacific. He¡¯d hated every minute floating there, waiting for the planes. But the mess had gotten clean. He opened his eyes. The demon was back. It stooped over Abigail, moving its face closer to hers. Lou stood up, hurried over to her, and shooed its red eyes away from his gorgeous wife. ¡°Abby, we¡¯re leaving. Now.¡± ¡°Just a minute, Lou. I¡¯m almost done.¡± Lou had to save her. He grabbed her hand and started yanking, dragging her away from its ebon hair and bloodshot eyes. ¡°No, we need to go now. The thing from the mirror at home is back. Let¡¯s just get back into the car and go.¡± He pulled on her hand. As she followed him, she looked over her shoulder apologetically. What was she apologizing for, anyways? ¡°Sorry. We think it¡¯s LBD. Can I pay over the phone later?¡± ¡°Yeah, later is fine,¡± The receptionist said. ¡°Enjoy your day.¡± Abby couldn¡¯t see the demon! It was up to him to keep her safe.
¡°Go faster,¡± Lou said. ¡°Lou, I¡¯m driving the speed limit near a park. This is as fast as we go. We¡¯ll be parked soon.¡± ¡°Not soon enough.¡± Lou glanced at the rear-view mirror. The red-eyed demon jogged along on the Chevrolet Cavalier¡¯s driver''s side, about twenty feet back. How the hell was it so fast? They swung into a parking lot. Abby unbuckled her seatbelt and waved as she slowly stepped out of her door. A woman in her forties, the spitting image of a younger Abigail but with Lou¡¯s nose and brown hair, waved back. Lou shot one last look in the rearview mirror. The demon had stopped. It just paced back and forth between the mirror¡¯s edges, always staring at Lou. No, at Abigail. He shuddered and hurried toward the park. Cynthia¡¯s kids were already on the playground. Jeremy was trying to push the girl¡­Caroline! Jeremy was trying to push Caroline on the swing, but he wasn¡¯t big enough to really get the toddler going. Cynthia and Abby hugged. Then Lou hugged his daughter¡ªa hard, strong hug. He pulled her in close and whispered in her ear. ¡°There¡¯s a demon after your mom. Keep an eye on her. I¡¯m gonna go push Caroline.¡± He walked over to the swingset as his daughter and wife sat on the bench and watched. Whatever they were talking about, he couldn¡¯t hear. ¡°Hi, Caroline¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s Carly,¡± the girl said, sticking her tongue out at him. ¡°Carly, sorry. Hi Jeremy. Let me give you a good push.¡± He grabbed the chains and pulled Carly back until she started getting nervous. Then he counted down from five¡ªthe way he always did¡ªand let go. The little girl giggled and shrieked as the world dropped out from under her, then scooped her up before she could hit the ground. When she swung back, Lou shoved his hands against the small of her back. Caroline catapulted back and forth, laughing wildly. ¡°That¡¯s high enough, Grandpa! Stop!¡± He stopped and watched. Caroline rocked back and forth while Jeremy pumped his legs to get higher than his sister. And, as he glanced over, Cynthia looked over at him and put her hand over her mouth. Her eyes looked horrified. Abby tapped her shoulder and turned Cynthia around. She said something, but Lou couldn¡¯t hear what. ¡°What was that?¡± He asked as we walked over. ¡°Nothing, Dad.¡± Cynthia lied. From the look on her face, it wasn¡¯t nothing. ¡°We¡¯re just talking about the wedding. It¡¯s coming up soon.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± He muttered. If his daughter wanted to keep secrets, that was fine. Abby would tell him later. ¡°What¡¯s his name again?¡± ¡°Daniel, Dad. His name is Daniel,¡± Cynthia said. She glanced at Abigail. ¡°Mom, you and Dad will be there, right?¡± ¡°Of course we will, Cynthia,¡± Lou said. ¡°Is Caroline going to be the flower girl? She¡¯d be a cutie with a basket and dress.¡± ¡°Yes, we¡¯ll be there unless¡­¡± Abby said. ¡°Unless nothing. We¡¯ll be there. Period. End of conversation. Where¡¯s it going to be?¡± Lou listened as his daughter gushed about her fiance for a while, watching her kids run around and play as kids do. After a while, Cynthia called Jeremy and Caroline over. ¡°Time to head home for dinner, then bed. School is tomorrow again. ¡°Aww, Mom, please!¡± ¡°Five more minutes! ¡°No, listen to your mom,¡± Lou said sternly. ¡°Caroline, Jeremy, it¡¯s time to go.¡± ¡°It¡¯s Carly, Grandpa. Carly.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Carly. I forgot.¡± Lou hugged his grandkids and Cynthia. Then he and Abby headed back to the Cavalier. As they climbed in, Lou felt relaxed and happy. And why shouldn¡¯t he? Cynthia was finally going to tie the knot. The grandkids were good. And he hadn¡¯t seen the demon in a while. Right. The demon. He looked out the rearview mirror as Abigail backed the car up. He tensed up and gasped in a sudden breath. The demon was backpedaling to avoid the car. It lurked just behind the car¡¯s bumper¡­just behind the driver¡¯s side. Chapter Two Whenever Abigail brushed her hair, he could see the demon in the mirror. They¡¯d shared the apartment for as long as he could remember. Just him and Abby. Sometimes, their kids came to visit. But most of the time, they stayed in their apartment. The first time he¡¯d seen the demon standing behind Abby had been¡­Christ, he couldn¡¯t remember how long ago it¡¯d been. But it¡¯d been standing right behind her shoulder, a few yards back. It had red eyes, of course. It was a demon, after all. Abigail hadn¡¯t seen it. She¡¯d just run her comb through her beautiful silver-gray hair. Swish. Swish. Swish. ¡°Abby. Abby! Somethin¡¯s behind you.¡± She¡¯d stared in the mirror. ¡°Lou, there¡¯s nothing there. Are you feeling alright?¡± He¡¯d looked again. Nothing. He¡¯d looked behind her. Nothing. He¡¯d looked around, eyes darting every which way. But there wasn¡¯t anything to see. Just his toothbrush¡ªminty paste ready for him to use¡ªand his wife. His beautiful, beautiful wife. He¡¯d kissed the back of her neck. She¡¯d giggled like a schoolgirl as his lips brushed her skin. ¡°I love you, Abby,¡± he¡¯d whispered to her. ¡°I love you too, Lou,¡± she¡¯d whispered, turning. ¡°Get your teeth brushed. We¡¯re going to the park to meet with Cynthia and her kids.¡± He¡¯d taken another good look at her beautiful face in the mirror. Her eyes had peered through crow¡¯s feet a mile deep, her upper lip dented from a car accident when she was just a mother of one. Before Willem or even Cynthia. When they¡¯d only had Emily to look after. The scar was a reminder, every day, of what he¡¯d lost. And what he¡¯d been fortunate enough to keep.
Abby knew something was wrong, but Lou wasn¡¯t going to tell her what. If she didn¡¯t believe he was seeing things, keeping the demon at bay was up to him. It wanted his beautiful wife, wrinkles, curled hair, and all. So he couldn¡¯t let it have her. Dress shopping for Cynthia¡¯s wedding dress shouldn¡¯t have been this easy, though. There were mirrors everywhere, and it was hard to avoid them. But it was fine as long as Abby stayed in her seat as their daughter modeled white dress after white dress. He only saw the demon behind Abigail, after all. And all the mirrors were focused on his pretty youngest daughter. Abby¡¯s dress had been better than any of these. He could remember it vividly, even though it¡¯d been so long ago. A white veil, the bare minimum of breast showing, and wonderful, puffy sleeves. The trail had dragged behind her so far that her little sisters had to hold it up; otherwise, it swept the flowers away behind her. She¡¯d been radiant¡ªmaybe a tiny glow from being a few months pregnant with Emily, but he wasn¡¯t going to say anything to her father about that, and neither was she. Cynthia wanted modern cuts. Lou rolled his eyes and frowned. All cleavage and legs. What kind of wedding dress showed leg? The dresses made his daughter look like a slut. ¡°No, they don¡¯t, Lou. Cynthia, you look beautiful.¡± Lou flinched. Had he said that out loud? He looked at his daughter¡¯s hurt expression as Abby stood up and started adjusting Cynthia¡¯s dress straps. He hadn¡¯t meant to hurt her, but the pain in her eyes was real. He almost didn¡¯t see his wife lean in to whisper something in the bride-to-be¡¯s ear. The demon was back. Just behind Cynthia this time, but with its bright red eyes fixated on Abigail. Lou stood up and walked toward the mirror. He stared at the demon, trying to get in between it and his wife. ¡°Sir, what are you doing?¡± It was no use. Every time he got between Abby and the glowing crimson eyes, it just jumped to another mirror. ¡°Lou! Lou, stop it. Go sit back down. I¡¯ll just be a minute.¡± ¡°No. You go sit down! It¡¯s there, and it¡¯s looking at you!¡± Lou shouted. He hobbled from mirror to mirror. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. ¡°Sir, I¡¯m going to have to ask you to leave the store if you can¡¯t stop interfering,¡± the tailor said. She gestured to the chair. ¡°Please sit back down. I¡¯m sure your daughter will be disappointed if¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s after Abby, and I won¡¯t let it take her!¡± He tried to whack at the scarlet eyes with his cane but stumbled instead. ¡°You can¡¯t have her.¡± ¡°Dad! Stop!¡± ¡°Lou, let¡¯s talk over here,¡± Abigail said, grabbing his arm. He stopped. If Abby wanted to get away from the Demon, he wouldn¡¯t argue. He let himself get dragged over to the cocktail dresses. ¡°Lou,¡± Abigail hissed at him. ¡°This is a big day for Cynthia. It¡¯s important to her that we¡¯re here for it. It¡¯s important to us that we¡¯re here for it. But if there¡¯s something wrong and you can¡¯t be here, that¡¯s fine. We can go home. Is that what you want?¡± No. It wasn¡¯t what Lou wanted. But the demon was here. He took a deep breath, then another. ¡°No. ¡°Good. Calm yourself down, Lou. We¡¯ll be here another half hour. An hour at most. I know it¡¯s not your favorite thing in the world, but it means a lot to Cynthia and me.¡± ¡°Will you sit with me?¡± Lou asked. He reached for her hand and squeezed it in his own liver-spotted fingers. ¡°It¡¯d help a lot if you stayed close.¡± ¡°Yes. I¡¯ll stay with you. Are you ready to go back?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± He was ready to go back. As long as Abby was with him, he could keep her safe. He reached out with his free hand and stroked her cheek. ¡°I love you, Abby.¡± ¡°I love you too, Lou. Now, go find your seat, and I¡¯ll be right there. I just need to say something to Cynthia, okay?¡± Lou followed behind her, watching the way she walked. Even after sixty years together, she still had everything she¡¯d had when they met in 1953. You¡¯re still a real dame, he thought to himself. And I¡¯m the luckiest old man alive. He sat down. Abby walked back to Cynthia, careful not to step on the tailor, and whispered something in her ear. In the quiet dress store, Lou could make out a single word. ¡°...Louey¡­¡±
¡°Louey! Keep running, Louey!¡± Lou threw the stick aside and started running toward the parked car. The ball he¡¯d hit bounced down the street, other boys running behind it to get it as he sprinted as fast as his eight-year-old legs would carry him. What am I doing back here? He wondered. He touched the car just as the ball flew toward him. ¡°Safe! I¡¯m safe!¡± ¡°Awww, jeez, Merle, can¡¯t you throw faster than that?¡± Lou blinked. Was Merle here? He hadn¡¯t seen Merle in decades, not since before the War. He¡¯d been at his funeral, for Christ¡¯s sake. Why was he thinking about stickball with Merle in 1934? In the middle of a Chicago summer? A car roared its way down the street, shiny and bulky like they used to make them. Lou grinned. They just didn¡¯t make cars like they used to. Their Chevy Cavalier had nothing on a Ford 1932 model, and it never would. He stared at the beautiful blue car driving through the stickball game. And then he saw them. In the little round mirror. Two glowing red eyes.
¡°So then, she says, ¡®Look, Dave O¡¯Reilly, I don¡¯t care who you are, you¡¯re not getting lucky tonight,¡¯ and I look at her, and I says, ¡®Ma¡¯am, I don¡¯t know what you¡¯ve heard about me, but I¡¯m not here to get lucky. I¡¯m here to find a wife to be with my whole life.¡¯ She¡¯s looking at me like it¡¯s total baloney¡ªall-in¡ªwhich of course, it was. But then she nods and says, ¡®One dance, then, Mr. O¡¯Reilly. But if you try anything uncouth, I¡¯ll let the whole party know about it,¡¯ and we¡¯ve been together ever since.¡± David nodded at Lou. ¡°Fold or see?¡± ¡°I see your bid and raise it the rest of mine,¡± Lou answered. He slid his pile of M&Ms into the table¡¯s center, near Dave¡¯s. I¡¯ve got a crazy wife story too, boys.¡± ¡°Alright, let¡¯s hear it. Fold,¡± John said, throwing his cards in. ¡°Okay, so I¡¯m at my daughter¡¯s dress fitting¡ª¡± ¡°She¡¯s getting married, huh? Congratulations, old-timer!¡± ¡°Thanks. Anyways, I¡¯m there, and Abby¡¯s there with me. We¡¯re watching the lady measure Cynthia, and suddenly, Abby¡¯s up there talking to her. Now, I¡¯m not a superstitious man. I¡¯ve never been afraid of ladders or anything, but¡­have you boys ever seen anything¡­strange in the mirror?¡± ¡°Nah, just my face before a shower! Ahaha! Fold.¡± ¡°Well, boys, she¡¯s up there, talking to Abby, and I see two glowing red eyes in the mirror behind her. I¡¯ve been seeing them an awful lot. And they¡¯re real, but she¡¯s either ignoring them or can¡¯t see them. But it¡¯s a monster or something, and it¡¯s gonna¡­I don¡¯t know what it¡¯s gonna do, but I¡¯m gonna stop it.¡± ¡°Uh, Lou?¡± John stopped. ¡°You won.¡± ¡°Oh. Alright.¡± Lou scooped the M&Ms toward him with both arms. ¡°You want back in, Dave? I¡¯ll spot you a few dozen candies to get you going.¡± ¡°Deal. Now, a few years into courting Martha, I¡¯m getting deployed to Korea. What a mess that was.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have to tell me twice. I was at the island where airplanes were falling from the sky. Can¡¯t remember the name, but that¡¯s for the best. War is hell.¡± Lou looked across the dining room to where his wife was talking to her friends. His blood ran cold. In the full-wall mirror, he could see the demon closing in. Chapter Three Whenever Abigail brushed her hair, he could see the demon in the mirror. They¡¯d shared the apartment for as long as he could remember. Just him and Abby. Most of the time, they stayed in their apartment. The first time he¡¯d seen the demon standing behind Abby had been¡­Christ, he couldn¡¯t remember how long ago it¡¯d been. But it¡¯d been standing right behind her shoulder. It had red eyes, of course. It was a demon, after all. Abigail hadn¡¯t seen it. She¡¯d just run her comb through her beautiful hair. Swish. Swish. Swish. ¡°Abby! Somethin¡¯s behind you.¡± She¡¯d stared in the mirror. ¡°Lou, there¡¯s nothing there.¡± He¡¯d looked again. Nothing. He¡¯d looked behind her. Nothing. There wasn¡¯t anything to see. Just his toothbrush¡ªpaste ready for him to use¡ªand his wife. His beautiful wife. He¡¯d kissed the back of her neck. She¡¯d giggled as his lips brushed her skin. ¡°I love you, Abby,¡± he¡¯d whispered to her. ¡°I love you too, Lou,¡± she¡¯d whispered, turning. ¡°Get your teeth brushed. We¡¯re going to the park to meet with Cynthia.¡± He¡¯d taken another good look at her beautiful face in the mirror. Her eyes had peered through crow¡¯s feet, her upper lip dented from a car accident when she was just a mother of one. When they¡¯d only had one to look after. The scar was a reminder, every day, of what he¡¯d lost.
Ballroom Dancing: 1:00-3:00, September 27. Bring a partner and comfortable shoes, and be ready to have fun! The piano player plinked away in the dining room¡¯s corner. Lou squeezed his wife¡¯s hand. She¡¯d worn a dress¡ªnot fancy- but one she still looked just stunning in. He wasn¡¯t interested in dressing up, not for something like practicing dancing, but he¡¯d worn a button-up shirt and slacks. Abby wanted him to dance with her, which was enough reason for him to show up. But he didn¡¯t have to like all the eyes on him. And on Abigail. Not just their friends either, but the demon in the mirror. She led him out into the cleared floor. The building¡¯s staff had moved the tables¡ªeven Lou¡¯s card group¡¯s favorite spot. They¡¯d stopped playing the last few weeks, but Lou hoped they¡¯d pick up again soon. He missed John and¡­and¡­dammit, what was his name? The other guy, who told stories. He leaned against Abby¡¯s head and whispered, ¡°Who do I play cards with?¡± ¡°Dave, John, and Carl,¡± Abigail said, looking into his eyes. ¡°You didn¡¯t want to go last week, so I didn¡¯t remind you this week, but Dave swung by yesterday to ask how you were doing. You were in the shower.¡± ¡°Oh. What¡¯d you tell him?¡± Lou didn¡¯t think he¡¯d ever not want to play cards with the guys, but Abby might be right. ¡°Did you tell him about the demon?¡± ¡°Lou, what demon are you talking about?¡± The music started again, and she moved his hand to the small of her back, pressing in against his chest as they spun in slow circles. ¡°I didn¡¯t tell you? I thought I told you in the bathroom. There¡¯s a demon that keeps following you around in the mirrors. It keeps getting closer, but you don¡¯t need to be afraid, Abigail. I know it¡¯s there, and I¡¯m going to find a way to keep it away from you.¡± He felt her stiffen in his arms. He stiffened too. How hadn¡¯t he told Abby about the demon? Why hadn¡¯t he told Abby about the demon? ¡°Lou, if it¡¯s mirrors that are a problem, we¡¯ll figure something out. I¡¯ll call Doctor Stephens today, and we¡¯ll see what he can do for you, okay?¡± Lou thought about it. Was making the demon go away with medicine the same as actually stopping it? Abigail seemed to think so. And what the hell? Now that she knew it was in the mirrors, she could start protecting herself from it even if she couldn¡¯t see it. ¡°Alright, babe. If you think it¡¯ll work, I¡¯ll try it. But if it doesn¡¯t work, I¡¯m going to protect you from that demon.¡± "I know, Lou. You¡¯ve always taken care of me, though. After the car crash, you didn¡¯t leave the hospital for a month, remember? Now I¡¯m going to take care of you, alright?¡± ¡°Alright,¡± Lou said. It wasn¡¯t alright. But Abby¡¯s brow had wrinkled the way it always did before she started crying, and as scared of the demon as Lou was, he was more afraid of making Abigail cry. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Wonderful. Now, shut up and dance with me, you big fool.¡± And so he did. They spun slowly around the dining hall as the piano softly plinked away in the corner. And Lou tried not to notice the pair of red eyes in the full-wall mirror. Watching. Always watching.
¡°...man and wife. You may kiss the bride.¡± Lou had to hand it to the young man. He¡¯d picked one hell of a venue to get married at, even if it wasn¡¯t a church. As they kissed, the autumn colors rippled in the breeze behind Cynthia and her brand-new husband. They¡¯d picked a mountain lodge somewhere in¡­Virginia or Vermont or somewhere¡­in October. The colors contrasted with Cynthia¡¯s white dress¡ªstill not the style he¡¯d have chosen for her, but he could see how it made her glow. As they parted and the wedding ended, the photographer started snapping pictures of the happy newlyweds. After a dozen photos of them and the wedding party, Cynthia called Lou and Abigail. ¡°Mom, Dad, come on! It¡¯s picture time, so we can remember this forever!¡± Lou stood up from his seat. He¡¯d hobbled down the aisle to give his daughter away. Not that she¡¯d have cared whether he approved of the wedding or not, but the young man was a good match for Cynthia, and they¡¯d really hit it off. He and Abigail stood on either side of the bride and groom, smiling into the photographer¡¯s camera. Just before the flashbulb went off, Lou saw them in the lens. Two red eyes. They were foggy, but they were there. ¡°Alright, that one was no good. Make sure we¡¯re all smiling, okay? One¡­two¡­three!¡± ¡°Sorry,¡± Lou whispered to Cynthia. ¡°I saw something I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d see, and it¡­reminded me of something bad.¡± ¡°It¡¯s¡­okay, Dad?¡± Cynthia didn¡¯t look upset. She just looked confused. The same eyebrow shape as Abby and the same caring eyes. ¡°The reception¡¯s starting. Try to have a good time, okay?¡± ¡°You got it, baby girl,¡± Lou grinned. He wandered off toward the lodge. He¡¯d checked it over the day before, and sure, the rooms all had mirrors in the bathrooms, but there weren¡¯t any in the whole hall. It¡¯d be safe. She¡¯d be safe. He could relax as long as the camera didn¡¯t get too close. He grabbed some hors d''oeuvres from one of the caterers¡ªjalapeno poppers and fruit kebabs¡ªand snacked up a little. Then the music started playing. A slow song, perfect for ballroom dancing. Abby sat down next to him. ¡°Are you ready?¡± She asked. ¡°For what?¡± She looked at him, mouth just a touch agape. ¡°We talked about it on the way up. Daniel¡¯s going to dance with Cynthia first¡ª¡± ¡°So that¡¯s his name!¡± He¡¯d been wondering who the kind young man marrying his daughter was. ¡°¡ªAnd then you dance with her second. It¡¯s why we¡¯ve been practicing at home.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± That explained a lot, actually. Lou shrugged. Abigail would want him to do his best if he was supposed to dance with Cynthia. And he would. He¡¯d always done his best for his family. After the car wreck, he¡¯d held it together for a year while Abby recovered. He¡¯d kept it together even during the funeral, been her rock. And they¡¯d visited their first daughter¡¯s grave as much as she¡¯d needed to, even though it killed him every time. They¡¯d waited a decade for the twins, and every day of that wait, in their silent house, had been torture. But he¡¯d done his best for her. And for himself. ¡°Are you crying, Lou?¡± Was he crying? He reached up to touch his eyes. Yep. He sure was. ¡°I¡¯m just happy. We finally did it. The kids are all married, with lives of their own. We were pretty good parents when it came down to it, weren¡¯t we?¡± ¡°Yes, we were,¡± Lou saw the pain flash across Abigail¡¯s face. It hadn¡¯t ever gone away. They watched as Cynthia and the fine young man in the tuxedo danced. Around and around they went. And then the music stopped. ¡°Your turn,¡± Abigail said. ¡°Alright. Here goes nothing.¡± Lou stood up, leaving his cane behind, and walked onto the dance floor. He put his hands right where Abby¡¯d shown him, and the music started up again. They danced, swaying back and forth and turning in a slow circle. ¡°I¡¯m proud of you, baby girl,¡± Lou said. ¡°He¡¯s a good guy.¡± ¡°Thanks, Dad,¡± Cynthia said. She looked ready to say more, but a pair of red eyes flashed in the side of Lou¡¯s vision. He flailed out with his hand and hit something¡ªdemon or camera? He wasn¡¯t sure which.
Lou sat in his armchair. The TV silently flashed as he watched the news. Boys were killing each other in some sand-covered country far away, and the president was giving another speech. He wasn¡¯t even sure who the president was anymore. Somehow, a lot of that had stopped mattering. Abby rolled over in the other room. Lou looked over his shoulder to make sure she was okay, then went back to staring at the TV in the dark. Abby hadn¡¯t talked to him the whole way home, except once. To ask if he was taking the medicine Doctor Stephens had prescribed. ¡°Of course I¡¯m taking them,¡± he¡¯d said, ¡°you¡¯re handing them to me and watching.¡± He hadn¡¯t been, though. The demon faded when he did. But it didn¡¯t go away; the pills made him sweaty and stiff everywhere. So he¡¯d been hiding them under his tongue and spitting them out later. He¡¯d been hiding all his medication under his tongue and spitting them out later. He smiled bitterly. They were under the bed right now, in a big pile. If he had to choose between seeing his enemy and being unable to, he¡¯d prefer to see the two crimson eyes locked in a glare, staring at his wife. But he could also choose to do more than that. Much, much more. He took a deep breath and pushed himself out of his La-Z-Boy. Then he walked to the bathroom and glared right back into the mirror. Right in the demon¡¯s eyes. ¡°I¡¯ve never been a killer, even during the War,¡± Lou explained. He hefted his cane in one hand. ¡°But you¡¯re threatening my family.¡± He smashed his cane into the mirror over and over, ignoring the shards of glass that flew back and cut his face. He kept beating its curved handle against the glass until Abby ran in. He was still hitting it when two building employees grabbed him and dragged him out of the bathroom. Chapter Four Whenever she brushed her hair, he could see the demon in the mirror. They¡¯d shared the apartment for as long as he could remember. Just him and her. The first time he¡¯d seen the demon standing behind her had been¡­Christ, he couldn¡¯t remember how long ago it¡¯d been. But it¡¯d been standing right behind her shoulder. She hadn¡¯t seen it. She¡¯d just run her comb through her hair. Swish. Swish. Swish. ¡°Somethin¡¯s behind you.¡± She¡¯d stared in the mirror. ¡°Lou, there¡¯s nothing.¡± He¡¯d looked again. Nothing. There wasn¡¯t anything to see. Just his toothbrush and his wife. He¡¯d kissed the back of her neck. ¡°I love you,¡± he¡¯d whispered to her. ¡°I love you too, Lou,¡± she¡¯d whispered, turning. ¡°Get your teeth brushed. We¡¯re going to the park.¡± He¡¯d taken another good look at her beautiful face in the mirror. Her eyes had peered through crow¡¯s feet, her upper lip dented from a car accident. The scar was a reminder, every day, of what he¡¯d lost.
He stood over her bed. The machines kept beeping. Just a beep every so often. Whenever her heart beat. He groaned and shifted his weight off his hip. He hadn¡¯t told the doctors yet. Whatever he¡¯d done to himself¡ªwhatever the wreck had done to him¡ªwasn¡¯t important. He leaned over and kissed Abby on the forehead. ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere, babe,¡± he said. She was comatose. She might snap out of it in a few days. It might be months. It might never happen. But no matter what, he¡¯d be here. He¡¯d already called the base. They understood; thank God his deployment to¡­somewhere that started with a V¡­was being delayed. It helped that they were pushing the Communists back toward China, where they belonged. There wasn¡¯t a need for an old seaman like him in the US Navy right now. So he could stay. Here. With Abby. He couldn¡¯t tell her, though. Not until she was better. Until she could take it. He could piece the accident together. It¡¯d been a wet night on the turnpike. He¡¯d been driving slowly, but the headlights barely made it through the downpour. It was a ¡®32 Ford like he¡¯d seen when he was a kid. The truck was a deuce-and-a-half military rig. It had sideswiped them? Yeah, sideswiped them. Forced them off the road. The police had found them halfway down the embankment. He¡¯d been thrown before the rolls got too crazy. Abby hadn¡¯t been so lucky. And their daughter? No, he couldn¡¯t tell Abby about their daughter. So instead, he just sat there, holding her hand and listening to the hum and buzz of the machines. Every beep told him his wife was still fighting. A beep. A beep. A beep. A beep.
Beep. Beep. Beep. He opened his eyes. A doctor stood over him. Was it Doctor¡­Steel? Stern? Shit, he couldn¡¯t remember the doctor¡¯s name. But no, this one wasn¡¯t his doctor. This one was a woman. They¡¯d had woman nurses in the war, and woman nurses had helped Abigail get better after the accident, so women could be doctors as far as he was concerned. He¡¯d just always had man doctors. ¡°Where¡¯s Abby?¡± He croaked. God, his voice was terrible. And there was something over his mouth and nose. A mask. ¡°What the hell is this?¡± Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. ¡°Mister Korper, you¡¯re at Grace Memorial Hospital. You just came out of emergency surgery. Do you remember what happened? You were in the bathroom when your wife found you.¡± Lou froze. Did he remember what happened? Yeah. Yeah, he did. Why did he remember that and not the name of his doctor? ¡°No. No, I don¡¯t.¡± It¡¯d be easier to lie. He could just say he had no idea what¡¯d happened. That he couldn¡¯t remember. It¡¯d be easier than explaining the red eyes. But¡­would it be, though? No, it wouldn¡¯t be. There was something wrong with him. And whatever it was, it was making it hard for him to keep the demon away from Abby. Ah well. It was too late now. ¡°Alright, we¡¯re going to talk to Mrs. Korper, then we¡¯ll bring her in to see you, okay?¡± The doctor didn¡¯t wait for a response. She just left, bustling out the door with her black hair tucked up into a funny hat. Lou stared at the door for a while. He tried to get up, but he couldn¡¯t. His muscles just felt so goddamned tight. He could see Abby talking with the doctor outside his room. This was just like with Doctor¡­shit. His doctor at the office. Except now he desperately wanted to know what the hell she was saying to Abby. And he couldn¡¯t. The door wasn¡¯t shut. It was cracked. People were just being quiet. Very quiet. He felt himself drifting off to a familiar sound. Beep. Beep. Beep.
¡°Mrs. Korper, lab results are in. Your doctor prescribed an anti-psychotic, correct?¡± ¡°Yes. I was making him take them. He¡¯d stopped fighting me on that.¡± Lou smiled, still half-asleep. Abigail hadn¡¯t found his hidden pills below the bed yet. But why an anti-psychotic? That made no sense. He wasn¡¯t a psycho. His face wouldn¡¯t stop itching, though. That¡¯d drive him to the madhouse soon, but he couldn¡¯t move to scratch it. ¡°Well, our doctors found less of it in his system than we expected, given that you stated he¡¯d been taking them for weeks. It¡¯s not rare for patients with memory issues to stop taking their medication and hide it instead. You might want to look for it when you get home or have one of the staff look if you¡¯re not able to. Regardless, his reluctance to take his pills may have saved his life. His type of dementia¡ª¡± His heart dropped. He wasn¡¯t going psycho. But all the little things? The slips? They all made sense all of a sudden. He couldn¡¯t remember her name. His own daughter. And he couldn¡¯t remember. ¡°¡ªresponds strangely to antipsychotics. He¡¯s lucky he got a smaller-than-expected dose of them, but he should make a partial recovery. Expect him to move poorly. He¡¯ll have muscle problems and kidney issues. Keep an eye on that. We¡¯ll keep him here for a few days to ensure he recovers enough to go home alone.¡± ¡°I see. I¡¯ll stay here, then.¡± Lou smiled. The doctor didn¡¯t sound so enthusiastic. ¡°Ma¡¯am, we don¡¯t have any beds for you. Grace Memorial is full.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fine. I¡¯ll stay in a chair. He didn¡¯t leave me after our accident, and I won¡¯t leave him now.¡± Lou cracked open his eyes. His wife¡­his beautiful wife¡­was standing over him. He reached out a hand slowly, and she took it. He squeezed, and she squeezed back, then sat down. ¡°Hi, Lou. How are you feeling?¡± ¡°Terrible. Like I got hit by a train. The best, because I¡¯m with you and you¡¯re with me.¡± Lou hadn¡¯t lied to Abby in as long as he could remember, and he wouldn¡¯t start now.
¡°So you want me to cover the mirrors up?¡± Abby asked. ¡°All of them?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± The idea had hit Lou like a bolt out of the blue. If the demon needed mirrors and reflections to stalk Abby, all they had to do was not have any mirrors. But destroying them¡­hadn¡¯t helped. The doctor¡¯s office hadn¡¯t put any mirrors in his room, true. But there were too many shiny surfaces. The bathroom sink. The tray he ate off of. Even the damn piss-pot the nurses emptied for him until he could get back on his feet. But if they could cover up the mirrors, that¡¯d surely stop the demon. ¡°Alright, Lou. If you think it¡¯ll help, I¡¯ll cover them all up. Except for the hand mirror. I need one for myself.¡± Lou frowned. ¡°Didn¡¯t I just explain this? It¡¯s in the mirrors. If you have a mirror, it can get you. And I don¡¯t know what happens if it gets you, but I know it¡¯s bad.¡± He tasted something bitter in his tone, like anger. He¡¯d never been angry with her before. Abby looked at him. Her eyebrows seemed strange. Like she was deciding what to say. Then she nodded slowly. ¡°Let¡¯s cover up some mirrors.¡± ¡°And the shades stay down.¡± ¡°And the shades stay down, sure.¡± Abigail was up and about, covering anything that might be reflective. She draped a sheet over the hutch with the shiny silver dishes and spoons in it. His grandpa had brought the plates over from¡­wherever he¡¯d been from, somewhere in Europe. They¡¯d been a prized possession, but now they were just a way for his enemy to hunt. The bathroom mirror and the mirrored sliding door on the shower went next. Abby got it half-covered, then frowned and walked over to the phone. ¡°Hello, this is Abigail Korper, room 174. We need more sheets. A lot more sheets. It¡¯s for Lou, his LBD is acting up, and I want him to be comfortable, even if it means I won¡¯t be.¡± As she talked and talked with the orderlies, ordering sheets for their room, Lou couldn¡¯t help but feel like he¡¯d won. And you know what? To hell with her comfort, anyways. Her comfort didn¡¯t mean anything to him if she wasn''t safe. Safety, then comfort. Chapter Five Whenever she brushed her hair, he could see the demon in the mirror. They¡¯d shared the apartment for as long as he could remember. The first time he¡¯d seen the demon standing behind her had been¡­Christ, he couldn¡¯t remember how long ago it¡¯d been. But it¡¯d been standing right behind her shoulder. She hadn¡¯t seen it. ¡°Somethin¡¯s behind you.¡± She¡¯d stared in the mirror. ¡°Lou, there¡¯s nothing.¡± He¡¯d looked again. Nothing. There wasn¡¯t anything to see. Just his toothbrush. He¡¯d kissed the back of her neck. ¡°I love you,¡± she¡¯d whispered, turning. ¡°Get your teeth brushed.¡± He¡¯d taken another good look at her face in the mirror. Her upper lip was dented.
¡°Hello, this is Lou,¡± said Lou. He sat in his chair while the news blared at him. Someone had shot someone else in Chicago. He¡¯d grown up in Chicago. Sears Tower, the river going green on Saint Patrick¡¯s Day, and the Navy Pier. He hadn¡¯t been back in a while. Some country in Europe had offended the Muslims. And, of course, the president was giving another speech about the economy. ¡°This is Cynthia. Are you two coming to the park?¡± ¡°Well, young lady, I have no idea. Were we supposed to go to the park?¡± The voice reminded him of someone he¡¯d known when he was younger. He muted the TV to listen. His wife¡­his beautiful, lovely wife, stepped out of the bathroom. She finished putting an earring in. ¡°Who¡¯s on the phone, Lou?¡± ¡°Uh, Cynthia? She says we¡¯re supposed to go to the park.¡± ¡°Is that Mom? Hand the phone over to her, Dad,¡± the phone squawked. Oh. Oh right. Cynthia was his¡­daughter? That¡¯d make sense. ¡°Sorry, Cynthia. I didn¡¯t recognize your voice for a bit there. So, how have you been?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been good, Dad. Daniel¡ªmy husband¡ªis out on a business trip to Seattle. I made plans with you and Mom and the kids. We¡¯re meeting at the park. Is she there? Could I talk to her for a bit? I¡¯ll have her hand me back when we¡¯re done.¡± ¡°Hold on a minute, now. Anything you need to say to her, you can say to me. I deserve to be as involved in the planning as anyone else.¡± ¡°Dad, Mom told you about it already. I was listening the last time I called.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t lie to me. No one tells me anything. God dammit!¡± Nobody talked to him anymore. He hadn¡¯t even gone down to play cards with¡­the guys¡­in forever. ¡°My friends don¡¯t talk to me, the folks here don¡¯t talk to me, and you don¡¯t talk to me either, woman!¡± His wife held out her hand, grimacing. ¡°Lou, hand me the phone. I promise I¡¯ll tell you all about it when Cynthia and I finish up. It¡¯s just a quick chat, and I¡¯ll be right in, okay?¡± Lou breathed deep and clenched his fist. Then he threw the phone at his wife. She picked it up off the floor, breathing deeply herself. ¡°Thank you, Lou.¡± Then she stepped out into the hall outside of their little apartment. As the door shut, Lou slumped back into his chair. The TV screen rambled silently on and on. Some disease was running rampant in Africa¡­the Congo. Where in Africa was the Congo? If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. And why wouldn¡¯t¡­his wife let him talk to Cynthia? She¡¯d seemed like a nice enough girl, even if she¡¯d been rude about not wanting to talk to him. His throat got tight. It had to be because she thought he was an asshole. And he¡¯d proved it by throwing the phone. Well, if everyone thought he was an asshole, he¡¯d show them what one really was. He opened his mouth and started bellowing a song. ¡°I¡¯m an asshole, I¡¯m an asshole! I¡¯m an asshole ¡®till I die! Until I die, I¡¯m an asshole! I¡¯m an asshole ¡®till I die!¡± The door clicked open again, and¡­his wife¡ªfuck, why couldn¡¯t he think of her name? His wife came in, glaring and covering up the phone¡¯s mouthpiece. ¡°What are you doing, Lou? Please, just calm down.¡± ¡°Calm down? Everyone thinks I¡¯m an asshole!¡± He tried to push himself up out of his chair, but his damn arms were too tight. ¡°The woman on the phone thinks I¡¯m an asshole, the neighbors think I¡¯m an asshole, and so do you!¡± His wife sighed. ¡°Lou, the neighbors only think that because you sing that song. And Cynthia and I don¡¯t think it at all. Here, I¡¯ll get you a piece of chocolate. That makes things better, right?¡± Lou thought about it while his wife headed to the kitchen. Yeah, those chocolates did help, even though they tasted funny. He adjusted his ass in the chair and waited for the chocolate¡­and the water. He¡¯d seen the green leaf on the chocolate bag once, but after that, he had no idea where she¡¯d hidden them. He just knew that the damn chocolates tasted funny.
Lou lay back in the passenger seat and relaxed. The frigid wind blew through his strands of white hair. Something on the breeze burned his nose¡ªnot like chemicals or smoke, but like cold. The brown grass at the park poked through the thin, crusty layer of snow as his wife¡ª ¡°Honey, what¡¯s your name?¡± He asked suddenly. For just a second, he could see how much the question hurt her. But then the woman smiled¡ªa brittle smile, not really happy, but faking it. She parked the car. ¡°I¡¯m Abby. I¡¯m your wife.¡± ¡°Well, I know that! Lou giggled, then started laughing. He slowly exited the car, and as he shut the door, something red glinted in the mirror. He stared for a minute, but his wife¡ªAbby¡ªcame around the front with his walker. Why was there a red thing in the mirror, anyways? He scooched his way over to the playground. The wind whipped at his coat, and he stopped to button its buttons. There wasn¡¯t any reason to be at the park today. Not in February. The playground sat empty except for two kids. The boy¡ªat least, he was taller, and his puffy coat was blue to the other¡¯s pink¡ªwas a bit older than the girl, and they ran back and forth, dashing up the stairs and throwing themselves down the slides. Lou recognized the game as tag, though with only two, it couldn¡¯t possibly be as exciting as the kids had hoped. The woman on the bench stood up as he and Abby arrived. She hugged Abby, then opened her arms to give Lou a hug. He hesitated long enough for her arms to start slumping. ¡°Hi, Cynthia! It¡¯s good to see you again. Your dad¡¯s happy to see you, too,¡± Abby said. Ah. Cynthia¡­that¡¯d be his daughter. Why the hell couldn¡¯t he remember his own daughter. ¡°Sorry, it¡¯s good to see you, Cynthia. How have you been?¡± he mumbled. His brain felt foggy, and he sat down on the bench. ¡°I¡¯ve been good. Jeremy¡¯s in fifth grade now, and Carly¡¯s in kindergarten. It¡¯s been a few years, but Daniel and I are going on vacation to celebrate two years of marriage. It¡¯ll be really exciting. It¡¯s my first time away from the kids in over a year.¡± ¡°Yeah, they seem¡­high energy,¡± Lou hedged as he watched the little girl sprint after her jogging older brother. His hood flew off, revealing brown hair that matched Cynthia¡¯s. ¡°That trip¡¯s coming up in a couple of weeks. Are you two still okay with watching the place?¡± Cynthia asked. ¡°We¡¯re going to have to cancel on that,¡± Abby said. ¡°Things at the apartment aren¡¯t great, and I¡­we can¡¯t leave right now. I¡¯m sorry.¡± Something flashed across Cynthia¡¯s face. He couldn¡¯t quite see what it was, though. ¡°I understand, Mom. We¡¯ll find someone else.¡± Lou stopped paying attention. His brain felt foggier than usual, and even though Abby wasn¡¯t telling him everything, he just didn¡¯t care. He just sat and watched his¡­grandkids? Yeah, he watched his grandkids play until the first snowflakes started to fall.
Lou¡¯s arms were stiff. His legs were stiff. Even his neck was stiff. He sat in bed listening as his¡­wife¡­finished her shower and got ready for another day. Soon it¡¯d be his turn. The news wasn¡¯t good. It never had been for as long as Lou could remember. Something about going to war in the Middle East. Weren¡¯t they always going to war in the Middle East? He slowly, painfully moved to the bed''s edge and stood up. Then he hobbled toward the bathroom. Something felt wrong, and he knew what it was the moment he saw her reflection in the uncovered mirror. He screamed in anguish. In confusion. In terror. Chapter Six He could see the demon in the mirror. The demon¡¯s face covered the old woman¡¯s, and for the first time in decades, he didn¡¯t recognize her face in the mirror anymore.
I originally planned this story to be about Alzheimer''s Disease in honor of my grandpa, who died after a seven-and-a-half-year battle with the disease several years ago. The demon was supposed to be a metaphor for memory loss, nothing more and nothing less. But as I was getting started, a member of my writing discord linked me to the Lewy Body Dementia Association website. I¡¯d never heard of it, and I was devastated to hear that, for some people, the demon in the mirror behind Abigail is real. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Lewy Body Dementia is an actual disease with three possible symptom paths. The first appears very similar to Parkinson''s Disease. The second initially presents very similarly to Alzheimer¡¯s Disease. And the last begins with hallucinations, behavior problems, and difficulty with complex mental activities, according to the LBDA website. Regardless, all three paths end up with similar symptoms over time. While there are treatments, there isn¡¯t a way to stop it, and more research is needed into how LBD attacks the brain. If this story has made an impression on you, consider donating to the Lewy Body Dementia Association at the following link: https://www.lbda.org/donate/ Thanks, Aest Belequa