THIRTEEN
REFLECTIONS
A Friday the 13th
Story #7
Some mirrors don’t
just reflect the world.
They trap souls.
And once you look
in... something else might be looking back.
“You
need to move your car. This is a crime scene,” the handsome dark-haired
man with a far too serious look said with an air of privileged authority.
“By whose authority? I’m parked on the street, not on the property,” she huffed, daring him to challenge her.
“This is my property, and you need to get off of it,” the man quietly ordered, his gaze piercing hers.
“I’m supposed to meet someone here,” Cari said, pulling out a slip of paper from her notebook. “A man by the name of Jackson F. Clairmont.”
“And you are?”
“Carousel Ryder, I’ve been doing research on the disappearance of Felicity Firestone in the 1800s.” Cari answered, closing her notebook. “Do you know Mr. Clairmont?”
“By whose authority? I’m parked on the street, not on the property,” she huffed, daring him to challenge her.
“This is my property, and you need to get off of it,” the man quietly ordered, his gaze piercing hers.
“I’m supposed to meet someone here,” Cari said, pulling out a slip of paper from her notebook. “A man by the name of Jackson F. Clairmont.”
“And you are?”
“Carousel Ryder, I’ve been doing research on the disappearance of Felicity Firestone in the 1800s.” Cari answered, closing her notebook. “Do you know Mr. Clairmont?”