We have a lot of fears. Some make sense; others, not so much. This latter type will be featured once monthly until we run out of material, at which point, we might begin accepting the fears of our readers. 

I have a love-hate relationship with a mirror. Yes, of course I gaze lovingly at my own reflection for shameful amounts of time, but if I am feeling personally haunted or anxious at the time, a mirror becomes a terrible threat to my sanity. Ever since I was a small child and first heard of the “Bloody Mary” scary story, mirrors became menacing. My grandma’s guest bedroom had a big mirror facing the bed, and I learned to sleep facing away from it in case Bloody Mary could be seen in the distance, waiting for me to be brave enough to summon her, which of course I never was. Eventually, and I am not sure how this happened, I decided that Bloody Mary wasn’t real, but what if mirrors were a portal to a backwards dimension from ours, and what if our reflections were doomed to copy us, and watch us jealously? Was that a Twilight Zone episode? Is this all Rod Serling’s fault?

I forgive him.

But I still won’t look in the mirror in the dark just in case I can see myself watching me from where I should not be.