I haven't always lived in such a small town, like Fence Brook. Once we lived in a huge city with traffic and skyscrapers and so many people it would make your head hurt, but after mom died my dad wanted a change. He wanted to move somewhere new, someplace where no one knew us and could feel sorry for our loss. Daddy doesn't like people feeling sorry for us, he doesn't like feeling small. So he packed us up. We stuffed our clothes in old dusty boxes and taped them shut, put the china in bubble wrap and loaded Mr. Fluffy, our cat, into his carrier and off we went in our extra large U-Haul, heading for Fence Brook, Iowa. Fence Brook, the smallest town any one has never seen!

It was late July when we finally moved into our new house. It was the biggest house on the street, a wood colored old cape, but it still only had two rooms and one bathroom, the realtor said it had character. All I saw was a bunch of over-sized spiders. We spent the first week unpacking and eating lasagna that the neighbors brought by. A couple of our neighbors had kids my age but I never bothered to meet them. It wasn't that I’m shy, or anything. It’s just that I was pretending that this is like a little vacation and one day we will just pack up again and move back home to the city, were my friends and family still are.  I spent my days in complete solitude locked behind the paint chipped door to my room, watching countless movies on Netflix. It went on for weeks like this. My dad was busy working and we barely even saw each other, unless I came slinking down the stairs looking for food, that’s when we would exchange a few awkward words and I would slowly retreat back into my cave. And that’s just how things were for me.

Around  week three, an eerie sound echoed from my door. It slowly creaked open and my dad stood there quietly, he walked in and sat at the edge of my bed. He motioned for me to take my headphones off, so I reluctantly did. I kind of zoned out but from what I could gather he was worried about me, barely eating, being alone all day, and I had not even left the house in a week. I snapped out of my trance when he told me he was taking me to see a therapist. I jumped off of my bed,

“Dad, I, I don’t need to see a therapist! I’m fine.”

“Haley, you haven't left your room in weeks, you don’t talk to anyone and you seem really depressed. To be honest, you're scaring me, I know its been tough after your mom… you need help.”

“ I don’t need help. I’m not depressed, I just like being alone that’s all. If you really want me to I can like go and try to meet people, or like maybe clean out the attic. The old owners left all their stuff up there. But really I’m fine.”
“As long as you're doing something and not just sitting up  here all day. But you have to promise me you are going to do something, and the second you go back to looking depressed I’m taking you to see that therapist. Ok.”

“Ya ya. I get it. I’ll do something.”

And with that he left. I sighed and flopped down on my bed. Great! Now I have to make an effort. So after I had gathered all the motivation I could, I got up and rummaged through the house looking for stuff I could use to clean out the attic. After finding a broom and some trash bags I made my way up the old creaking stairs. The people who used to live here must have been antique collectors or something. There were about ten old trunks with some kinda cool looking things in them. One had a bunch of old glass bottles. Another had tons of dresses, like the really old ones that you see in movies. Some had clocks and watches, shoes, hats, pictures. I sat looking at the pictures for a while. I found this one black and white photo of a girl that looked about my age 15 or 16, she was sitting on a stool in front of a vanity with her back to the camera. The vanity had this huge elaborate mirror that the girl seemed to be staring into, the strange thing was that there was no reflection in the mirror. I tucked the photo into my jean pocket and continued cleaning. I cleaned for the rest of the day till my dad called me down for dinner. We ate another frozen Lasagna that night and for the first time in a while we actually talked to each other. He told how we might take a trip next month to visit everyone back in the city. After dinner I helped clean the dishes I said goodnight and headed back up to my room. The next morning after breakfast I went back up the old stairs and continued cleaning. In the back there was this huge wall of boxes it took forever to clear them out, most of them just had pretty lame stuff like old trophies and family stuff from the old owners, But after clearing a few boxes I realized that the boxes had been arranged in a way that it created like a secret little room. Behind all the boxes there was something covered in an old dust covers tarp, I walked back and ripped the tarp off, a puff of dust and moths filled the air. After the dust had settled I saw the old table the tarp had been covering a small stool sat in front of it. The table was made of old wood and had golden handles on the draws. I walked around the table noticing a package that was leaned against the back of the table. I bent down and carefully unwrapped the package. inside was a huge gold mirror. A little note fluttered out, it read The mirror of Beyond. What ever that meant.  I picked up the Mirror and walked back to the front of the table. Noticing that on either edge of the table there were these little edges that looked like they once held something, I held the Mirror up and the edges of the table slid perfectly into the frame of the Mirror.  Stepping back I whipped out the photo of the girl who was sitting in front of a vanity. It was the same mirror as the one in the photo.  Walking forward I slip my hand over the dusty surface of the table and slid the stool out from under it. I sat down staring into the mirror. But like the girl in the photo I never saw a reflection.  Holding up the photo again, my heart stopped. There was a reflection in the photo now, not the girls but mine. I reached out a shaky hand and touched the glass.