Copyright 2003 Jane Ann Mortkowitz. All rights reserved. No portion of the following work of fiction may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without writen permision from the copy right holder. The following is a work of fiction. Any resimblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirly coincidental.

Record of the Cursed mirror

By: Jane Ann Mortkowitz

Entry One

The boy who met his fate (PART ONE)

The whole situation was scaring him. Terrifing him like nothing he'd ever been forced to face before. Anna, his little sister was coming to 'Claim his soul' as she put it. Yet there was nothing he could do of it. The whole senario reminded him terribly of something that might come out of and Edger Allan Poe story. He could just imagine it now. "The case of the possessed baby sister out to kill elder brother."

"Where are you, big brother?" her voice was soft, but he knew that it was filled with pure evil. He wasn't sure just what had happened except that she had awakened him with a carving knife to his throat. "I know you're here somewhere, Alexander." He knew it now. She could sense his presence, there was no escape.

She rounded the corner and he saw her soft pink lips curve upward into a cruel smile, morphing her soft pale face into something shadowed and evil. Her eyes, which had once been as pale as her flesh, a light shade of robbing egg blue, were transformed. Narrowed and shadowed to a charcoal colour. Her hair was changed too. Once curling blonde locks now hung limp and raven black around her boosim. Energy crackled like lightening around her sheet white hands. Dark aura raged around her like some sort of cyclone, determined to swollow her whole. He croutched down in a small corner, between a statue and the purple paisly papered wall. A piece of his own brown hair falling down into his eyes. He had to get out, he had to escape, but he couldn't. She would see him no matter where he attempted to go. He had no choice, he'd have to fight. Crawling out of his hiding place he stood to meet her black, emotionless eyes.

"Why are you doing this, Annie?" He questioned her, glaring into the evil face that had once been his little sister.

She let out a merciless laugh. More of a bark than anything else. Just one short "Ha." Suddenly she was right in front of him. Reaching out, she grabbed his neck, cutting off his air supply. He cringed as the black lightening, sparking off of her hit his own skin. Leaving fresh, bleeding red welts where it hit.

"Why ask me such a thing, Alexander?" She asked him. "You know the answer, do you not?" He remained silent, trying to let the small amount of oxygen he had left last as long as possible as she strangled him to death. When she heard no reply, the terrible smile widened and she giggled playfully, as though he were just some doll that she was tired of playing with. "Because I can."

Then with one last amount of applied pressure. He heard a aweful cracking noice of his windpipe being crushed under her icy fingers.

"Just because you're gone, Alexander, don't think this will end." He faintly heard her saying. "It won't stop, I shall live forever!"

The large house had been empty for many years now. The villagers had heard of the possision of the young girl that had taken place fifty years before, and the murder that had followed. The people swoar that the boy's soul still wondered those halls searching for the innocence that had left his sister so long before. The neighbors had heard the screaming and reported what had happened to the police. She had been sentenced to death. They were convinced that no exorsist could remidy this possession. The village was south of Aberdeen Scotland and was still very...closed minded about certain things. An American tourist had once said that they were like the "Old Salem of Scotland." But the boy, Alexander Gray was rumored to still be in that house. Not a corpril being, mind you, but there none the less. Which was why it was such a major event when the new family moved from London England to the haunted house on the hill. Mr. Allan Harrison had stated that they "Did not believe in any such rubbish as ghost stories." But the villagers were still wary. For the past fifty years they had called the haunted house Silence Grave, and now that Mr. and Mrs. Harrison and their son Nicholas were moving in, it seemed that Silence Grave would be noisy once again. Particually if Anna Gray kept her vow never to let her murderous nature die with her mortal body.

Nicholas Harrison gave the house a bleak stare as he entered. The walls were covered with peeling purple wall paper and there was shattered glass everywhere. China on one side of the room, over in the corner the polished plaster of a expensive vase or statue that had shattered. The windows seemed to have exploaded and the glass fronting of picture frames was struned across the floor. The wooden frame were in small piles from where something, or someone had dropped them from their suspended placement on the walls.

"Well..." Mrs. Natilie Harrison said, carfully. "It could use some fixing up, don't you think so, Allan?"

"Indeed." Nicholas muttered, stalking, careful to avoid the glass shards carpeting the floor. "Lovely place, dad. I'm sure the health department wouldn't care about the hazard of bleeding to death." he added sarcastically. "I mean sure there's glass everywhere but-" He stopped suddenly. A slight chill running down his spine accompanied by a soft voice, the voice of a young man.

"I never thought I'd see living humans in this house again." The young man said quietly. "In fact I'd rather hoped I wouldn't."

Nicholas stiffened and turned to see just who was babbeling in his ear. Standing behind him was a young man with dark brown hair standing behind him. Coldly he met the half concerned, half angry look from those robbin egg blue eyes.

"Who're you?" Allan asked, mockingly. "The gardener?"

"You wouldn't believe the truth, even if I told it to you, would you Allan?" The boy asked calmly.

"Try me."

"I am Alaxander Gray. This is my house, and you shouldn't be here!" The boy's voice took on an urgent tone. "Leave now, before she notices you! You won't make it out of here alive, should she discover that you're here."

"Who?" Natillie asked him softly. "Who are you so afraid of?"

"Annie!" He snapped, as though this were the most obvious thing in the world. "Now, please, leave qucikly, before she sees you!"

"Are you really Alexander Gray?" Nicholas wished to know.

"Yes, now will you leave?"

"Alexander!" Someone, a girl, only slightly younger than the boy, called from the landing upstairs. "Why are you being so rude to our guests?"

Nicholas' gaze shot up to the upper landing. There stood a bord looking yong girl, around fourteen. Her hair was long and black, her eyes charcoal and her flesh deathly white.

"They're not guests!" Alexander shouted helplessly. "They got lost and were just asking for directions." Then his eyes narrowed, Nicholas pivited his gaze from Alexander to the girl. "I know what you're thinking. Don't you dare touch them Annie!"

The girl's soft looking lips curled up into a cynical smirk. Calmly she decended the stairs to cross the glass covered floor. Nicholas cringed when she stepped foot onto a particuarally sharp piece of glass, but then realized that she was not bleeding. It was almost as if the piece had passed right through her foot. Finally she reached where Alexander was standing.

"I'll make sure you never order me around again, big brother." She then grabbed him and lifted him up by the throat.

"What's she doing to him?" Natillie shrieked, grabbing a hold of Allan's arm.

"I...don't...know..." Allan whimpered.

"D-don't...j...ust s-...stand t-there!" Alaxander choaked out. "R-...ru..run!"

"Yes mortals." Annie cackled mischieviously. "Get out while you still can. The doors lock in a few minutes and no one who has stepped foot in this house has ever made it till dawn!"

"We can't just leave him here!" Nicholas shouted, pointing at Alexander. "We can't just leave him to die!"

"Y-you're a...bit t-too late f...for that..." Alexander panted, trying to wrestle Annie's hand off of his windpipe. Wincing as welt after bloody welt rose up along his face, neck, arms, and hands.

"Shut up! Now!" Annie's eyes widened. "TIme to say good-bye to the freedom of free speach...or speach at all for that matter."

"DEVIL!" He shouted, before she clamped her mouth down on his. A few moments later she witdrew and spat something red and slimy out onto the glass covered floor.

The thoughts of what the red thing was processed to Nicholas about the same time that he heard his father struggeling to catch his fallen wife. Then there was a SLAM and a CLICK as he heard the doors being shut and locked for the night.

"You lot should have run while you had the chance." Annie grinned maliciously. "Now you are all going to die!"