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The charming breeze of spring caressed my face and made everything more attractive—the red and purple blossoms, white clouds and blue sky, the bubbling stream and chirping birds.  It was like a beautiful painting.

I was walking down the street with my poodle and basket, picking flowers.  I had no worries or tension or problems. I thought myself like an emperor of that land.  I climbed steps and found more flowers and picked them for my basket.

Far from us there was a small wooden house. I had thought for years that no one must live there but I wanted to find out for sure. We got nearer to the house and the noon became afternoon. Gradually, I reached the old house.

I was so excited at finally getting to see what the house was like inside; happiness surrounded me. I knocked on the door, but the door didn’t open.  Again, I knocked on the door, yet still no one answered. The third time I knocked, the door suddenly opened. I heard the graceful sound of music and I thought that someone was playing the flute.

It was such an amazing sound that I put my basket down and tiptoed inside.  I was surprised at how grand it was since from the outside I had thought it so small.  There were colorful paintings on the walls in frames that I stared at. I had seen in the paintings of beautiful nature and some portraits showing former society people. Then I thought I saw a person.  Yes! I saw a person. The person was charming with two beautiful eyes. I smiled at the person. I thought the person was excited to see me as well since she smiled back.

A harsh storm was coming up; I could feel the wind blowing the trees. I left, but I vowed to go back and look again inside the house.

The next day I walked that way again, beside the stream, listening to the birds’ songs until I reached the wooden house.  This time the door was open.

I went inside but I didn’t see the person I’d seen before.  I thought she must have fought with the storm and the storm had beaten her.

But then I saw the broken glass—the pieces of a mirror. Ohhh my God. I realized the person I had seen was me. I wasn’t familiar with my own face. It was the first time that I had seen myself in a mirror. The charming person I found inside the old house was me. A fateful storm cracked the mirror after I left the house and I could no longer see that charming person with the pretty eyes.

By Beheshta

Photo by John Perivolaris