• Chapter 4 - The Girl in the Mirror

    MacArthur led Bree and Tarren through the museum until they came to a long hallway. It was the largest hall Bree had ever seen, with stone angles and paintings lined up on it. At the very end of the hall was a person who looked the same age as Bree.

    When they got closer, Bree gasped. Not only was this person the same age as her, she looked exactly the same! Her hair was the same color and length and her face was identical as well.

    “Hello Brittirb, how are ye doing in your duties?” asked MacArthur.

    “Better than you I believe,” she replied, her voice echoing in the hall. It was strange, hers was the only voice to do that.

    “Ah, ye heard of the cake then?”

    “And the flour.” Brittirb sighed. “I know you like flowers MacArthur, but next time it would be much easier for everyone if you were to find the correct ones when asked.

    “Aye,” said MacArthur, looking embarrassed. “How did ye…?”

    “The cook told me,” said Brittirb. “Or rather, he screamed it at me. It was a bit frightening really and I did not appreciate it.”

    “Ah…well ye knows I have no control over him, don’t ye?”

    “True.” Brittirb turned and eyed Bree and Tarren with interest. “Who have you brought today?”

    “I’m Bree,” said Bree quickly.

    “How wonderful,” said Brittirb. She turned to Tarren. “And you are?”

    “Bored,” said the cat with a yawn.

    “Tarren!” said Bree. “That wasn’t nice!”

    “Wasn’t it?” asked the cat mildly.

    Bree hoped that Brittirb was not offended, and tried to think of something to say to distract her. “Why do you look the same as me?” she asked.

    “Do I? That’s new,” commented Brittirb. “Whoever I look like, it’s surely my own business, isn’t it?”

    “But how would you know to look like me? We’ve never met before!”

    “My dear, I look like many people. It’s nice that I look like you, but you’re hardly the first so I beg you not to lose your head like poor Yorrick did.

    “What happened to him?” asked Bree.

    “His head popped right off in surprise,” said Brittirb. “It’s now kept on display in the Shakespearian Hall.”

    MacArthur looked a bit uncomfortable at this and Bree found herself wishing for something different to talk about. Brittirb went back to the task she had been working on when she was found: She had a large painting with an elaborate frame which she was setting up on the wall. The painting was of a lovely young Greek maiden sitting by a pool and who, much to Bree’s amazement, seemed to really be alive. She moved her head and blinked and sighed and from her shy glances, Bree could tell that she seemed to want to be closer to a portrait of a handsome Victorian man hung directly across the hall from her. Brittirb ignored the maiden’s sighs however and finished hanging the painting as quickly as she could.

    When she had finished, Brittirb said, “At the risk of seeming rude, I’m afraid I must be off. Please excuse me,” and then turned to a nearby mirror. As Bree watched in amazement, Brittirb took a running start and leapt through the air, into the mirror. She then turned left and walked out of sight.

    “She just went into the mirror!” cried Bree, tugging at MacArthur’s sleeve.

    “So?” asked Tarren from the corner she had been washing herself in. “She does that all of the time.”

    “‘Tis how the lass travels,” MacArthur explained.

    Bree thought about this for a moment. She decided that it made sense after all. If Brittirb were a reflection, that would be why she looked just like Bree.

    In the corner, Tarren yawned, curled up, and began to fall asleep. MacArthur looked ready for a nap as well, but glanced at his watch and said “Mah stars, is that the time? Lass, I’m afraid ye’ll have to excuse me, I have a garden to be watering.”

    Bree nodded. She was busy watching the painting of the Greek woman, so busy that she hardly noticed MacArthur leaving. The maiden was very upset at where she was hung and kept giving Bree reproachful looks.

    “Well don’t be mad at me,” whispered Bree. “I didn’t hang you there!”

    The maiden looked angry and then there was a sudden, loud, “BANG!” that went through the hall: The painting the maiden was in had, without warning, fallen off of the wall and was now lying flat on the floor.

    Bree thought frantically of what to do. MacArthur and Brittirb were both gone. Tarren was asleep and Bree knew that she probably couldn’t be of much help even if she were awake. There seemed only one thing to do. Carefully, Bree held the thick frame of the painting and lifted it up. The maiden gave Bree a sad look and Bree took pity on her.

    “Oh alright then,” she sighed and dragged the painting across the hallway to portrait of the gentleman. As soon as they were close, the painting leapt from Bree’s hands and attached itself firmly to the wall. The maiden was all smiles for a few seconds, until she realized that from her new position, she couldn’t see the gentleman at all as her frame blocked her view.

    “Have you learned your lesson then?” asked a voice from behind Bree. She turned and found that Brittirb had returned.

    “I’m sorry!” cried Bree quickly. “She seemed so upset and then she dropped off of the wall, so…”

    “Don’t worry a bit about it,” said Brittirb calmly. “Most, if not all, paintings are flighty like that. This one’s learned her lesson well and I think she will have no problems in her old spot now.”

    Brittirb began to take down the painting. “By the way,” she added, “Have you had a chance to see our newest exhibit yet?”

    “No I haven’t,” said Bree. “What is it?”

    “It’s a mystical monster from many long years ago,” panted Brittirb, struggling with the painting. “It’s the Harkencrack.”

    “What sort of a monster is it?” shivered Bree. She wasn’t sure she wanted to meet one, at least at that time of the day.

    “You’d have to see it to find out. Anyway, at least go to read the epic that goes with it. It tells how the Harkencrack was defeated those long years ago.”

    Bree still was a bit nervous about visiting a monster exhibit, but decided that it sounded too good to pass up. “Which way to it?” she asked.

    “Down the hall, turn left, and then through the third door,” said Brittirb, dragging the painting across the hallway. “Now go and don’t come back until you’ve had a nice long gander.”