"Mirror, Mirror"

By R. Wm. Gray

"I would kill to be twenty-nine again." That said, would you? The sixty year old woman in this story uttered those words, not realizing, the Devil was listening. She made a deal with the Devil. Did he get her soul in the end, or...

• Language: English
• Publisher: R. Wm. Gray
• Release date: Nov 16, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301254507

R. Wm. Gray

I was born in Astoria, Oregon in 1950. Raised and educated in Oregon. Met my wife Susan in 1970, married and had two sons. We've been married 42 years. We have been living in Baja, Mexico for the last twenty-one years, in a little town called Heroica Mulege'. A year ago, I decided to pursue writing seriously, at the age of 62. I currently have three books published, At this time I am working on three full length novels, in various stages of completion:two political thrillers, and a thriller. Ambitious I know...and I'm enjoying every minute of it...

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Mirror, Mirror

R. Wm. Gray

Smashwords Edition

Mirror, Mirror

Copyright © 2012 R. Wm. Gray

All rights reserved

Cover Design by Laura Shinn

http://laurashinn.yolasite.com

Except as provided by the Copyright Act [date, etc.] no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Mirror, Mirror is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

How far would you go to regain your youth? Perhaps as far as making a deal with the Devil? That is what this woman did. However...did she outwit the Devil, or did he get her soul in the end?

This is the story women do not want told. Women will not appreciate seeing their quest for youth revealed...

Be careful what you wish for...the Devil might hear you...

Chapter One

The old weathered woman tending the patient is a retired nurse. She retired at the age of sixty, but with her husband gone for many years, and no children, she found herself alone and isolated from the world. Her husband had passed away from cancer, when she was fifty-five. Early in their marriage, she was unable to give him the children he so desperately wanted, so now she was very much alone. Nevertheless, she was a good wife, a loving wife, and with her husband gone, and no children, she soon became desperately lonely. She had no one to share with, to care for, and to love.

At the hospital she had previously been employed, the woman began volunteering to keep herself busy and fill her time. The hospital was typically short-handed, so her offer to volunteer was greatly appreciated and immediately accepted.

Her patient is an old man, simply dying of old age. His emaciated body is twisted and deformed from arthritis and age. His skin has the look of parchment, almost transparent. You can easily see the veins, like a roadmap, just under the skin. His wrinkled skin, dried like a prune, covers his body. It seems his mind has gone the same way...shriveled and dried up. He does not recognize anyone, or even what day of the week it is. He is barely aware of the world around him.

The woman could not help but wonder; What kind of life did he have? Did he love and was he loved. Did he have friends and family who cared? Then she realizes...apparently not...there wasn’t anyone here to be with the old man as he waits to die. He is not on oxygen. He is not being nourished intravenously. There is a Do not resuscitate order on his chart.

Reaching for a washcloth from the nightstand, she leans in towards the old man, and tenderly wipes the drool running slowly down his cheek. His eyes are open but unmoving. She notices his chest movement is barely discernable. In the background, she can hear the slow steady beep of the heart monitor. If not for that, she would think he were dead already. Sadly, the nurse thinks to herself, It will not be long and that will be me, with someone standing over me, watching me die a slow death. It’s hell getting old, and being alone.

* * *

Later that evening, after having a tasteless microwave TV dinner, she sits alone in her living room, staring at a dark television