Mirror Maze: The Broken Mirrors Series, #1

By Erin Lee and M W Brown

Identical twins Amy and Zoe are devastated after Zoe's untimely death.

Separated for the first time, Amy believes the only way through her grief is to join her sister in death. She holds a razor to her wrist as her twin faces an uncertain afterlife.

Zoe finds herself caught in an eternal labyrinth of both fate and consequence that could alter Amy's destiny forever.  Faced with a mysterious game of both reflection and consequence, Zoe must complete challenges in order to communicate with her living sister through whispers and dreams.

Identical in every way, the twins must navigate their shattered lives. If Zoe can get it right and Amy can finally listen, the living twin will have a shot at a reborn life. 

But it won't be easy. Wrong moves will mean tragic ends and right ones don't guarantee resolutions. Sometimes, the only way back is through the mirror maze.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Crazy Ink
• Release date: Jun 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386730903

Erin Lee

Erin Lee lives in Queensland, Australia and has been working with children for over 25 years. She has worked in both long day care and primary school settings and has a passion for inclusive education and helping all children find joy in learning. Erin has three children of her own and says they have helped contribute ideas and themes towards her quirky writing style. Her experience working in the classroom has motivated her to write books that bring joy to little readers, but also resource educators to help teach fundamental skills to children, such as being safe, respectful learners.

Book preview

Chapter One

Zoe

A m I dead?

For the longest time, my question lingered, floating in an immense, dark void. I remembered Amy dragging me from the car. I remembered her terrified face screaming in desperation with words I couldn’t hear. And then there was nothing. No pain, no fear, no light. Just...nothing.

Eventually, a single word penetrated the nothingness, bringing with it an essence of shape and color.

Yes, it replied.

Colorful droplets fell around me like rain. They quickly washed away the darkness, and I found myself in front of a tall, neatly cropped hedge. A small screen nestled among its leaves crackled to life. White, jagged lines juddered across the black background picking up flashes of pink from the edge and dropping them into the center.

What’s happening? I asked.

I sensed a dark figure behind me lean in towards my ear.

Watch closely, Zoe.

Although his deep voice was calm, his breath weaving its way through my hair sent a cold ripple down my spine. I knew I should turn around, but my muscles refused to move. I didn’t need to see who or what was behind me. Not yet.

The colors on the screen quickly built up to reveal a woman sitting upright in the bath. Her long, damp hair obscured her face, but I recognized the unmistakable pink and black walls and the four missing tiles forming a yellowing L above the taps.

Are you going to show me clips of my life? Tell me where I screwed up and expect me to have an epiphany moment?

Watch, said the heavy voice.

I shuffled forward to stop his hot breath leeching through my pores and turned my attention back to the video. My onscreen-self tipped her head back and pulled her dark hair from her face with trembling hands. Tears trickled down her red, blotchy face from bloodshot, swollen eyes. I pursed my lips. I had always been an ugly crier. I envied those women that somehow still managed to look beautiful in the middle of hysterics.

Which one of my break ups is this?

The figure behind me remained silent.

On the screen I sunk down into the water and stared at my hands. The camera panned down to show a glinting razorblade held against one wrist.

This is bullshit. This never happened.

Look again.

The camera moved up. Clouds of steam swirled around, blurring my face. I stepped forward and brushed my hand across the picture, pointlessly trying to clear the image. Tiny, stuttering sobs drifted from the screen.

What are you showing me? This isn’t how I died. I died in a car crash. My sister was driving. We hit a— My words caught in my throat. The steam cleared, and I was staring at a mirror image of myself. That was just it—it was a mirror image. On the face staring back was a small mole above the left eye. I rubbed the small bump above my right eye. Amy always corrected people when they called us identical twins, saying we weren’t the same, but mirror images of each other, and she would point out the moles.

Is this Amy?

Bingo.

When did this happen?

I couldn’t imagine anyone causing her such despair. I was the older twin, by twelve minutes, and felt I should be the rock in our relationship, but Amy had more emotional strength. She had comforted me on countless occasions when my heart had been broken, while she seemed to coast through break ups, closing each chapter with a quick and firm shrug of her shoulders. To see her in such turmoil caused my heart to ache.

Amy. I brushed the tears on the screen, wishing I could brush them away for real.

Zoe, sobbed Amy from the screen. Why did you leave me?

It’s happening now, said my mysterious companion.

My stomach jolted and sent a wave of pins and needles through my body.

It can’t be. You have to stop it. My panic overcame my reluctance to see my dark escort, and I spun round to face him.

Vivid yellow eyes stared back from beneath a heavy brow. Shades of red and orange glowed through the cracks in his dark, rocky skin like a cooling lava flow. He lifted his arm, and his skin made the sound of grinding rocks thundering down a jagged mountain. My brain screamed run, but I had to find out about Amy.

With a flick of his wrist, he said, Pause. He folded his arms, sending more boulders crashing down the mountainside. We have time to talk now.

Although I was terrified to take my eyes from the ominous figure, I risked a quick glance over my shoulder. On the screen, Amy was frozen in her despair. What do you mean ‘pause’? How can you ‘pause’ it if it’s happening now?

You’re still thinking of time in a linear form. It’s the way you all make sense of your lives. Here, it’s more malleable. Think of each moment of time as a box. I have just opened a box, so we can look inside.

So, Amy’s okay. She’s still...alive?

For now.

Can we look at future boxes? I had to know my sister would be alright, that she wouldn’t make that fatal cut. My chest tightened.

What happens here will decide which boxes come next.

I squeezed my eyes shut and rubbed my forehead with my clenched fist. I wanted to believe this was just a dream but as certain as I had been that I was alive every morning when I awoke, I was now as certain that I was dead and in some sort of twisted afterlife.

Is this Hell? Are you the Devil or some sort of demon?

I’m not a demon. I’m just your guide. My name is Charon.

You look like a demon.

I look how you expect me to look. You have one screwed-up imagination. His dark lips creaked and moved into what I presumed was a smile.

Amy said that too, I muttered. So, where am I?

The life you led created this place.

That’s not very helpful.

Charon shrugged. A small glowing ball of lava rolled down his chest and dropped onto the ground with a hiss.

I shook my head to get rid of the million questions flooding my brain. Amy needed me. I had to stop her from slicing her wrists.

I have to help my sister. Can I stop her?

Charon folded his arms and straightened up. His huge figure towered over me by at least two foot.

Ahead of you is a maze. The path you choose will dictate the way you can help your twin.

I turned around. On either side of the screen, the hedge parted with a rustle to reveal two long paths through the maze.

What do I have to do? Just choose a path?

If you take the left path, you may move one thing in the room. Take the right path and you may whisper one word in her ear.

That’s it? One thing? One word? That’s not enough.

These are your choices.

I leaned left, then right as if looking down the identical passageways would help me decide.

With each choice comes a different test.

What sort of test? I asked turning to face Charon.

The test will be dictated by each turn in the maze.

I clenched my fists and thumped them into my temples.

Stop talking in goddamn riddles. What do I have to do to save Amy?

Choose a path.

I flung my arms to my sides and spun back to the entrances to the maze.

The right side looked like it had been strung with fairy lights. Tiny sparkles filled the hedges and crisscrossed from side to side like a glittering cobweb. I took a step closer. My chest tightened, and my breath froze in my lungs. They weren’t lights. They were razorblades. I stepped quickly to my left and tentatively peered down the other path. I recoiled backwards in horror. The dirt floor had been replaced by a river of blood. Pink bubbles bobbed along the surface. The hedge had been replaced by the pink and black tiles of our bathroom.

Blood or razors. A movement or a word. Those were my choices.

Wh— I struggled to push the words through my dry throat. I gulped painfully. What if I don’t choose? What if I don’t take one of these paths?

Then this will follow.

The screen flashed bright red and showed Amy, white skinned and slumped back in pale red bath water, staring out at me with vacant, lifeless eyes.

I closed my eyes to hold back the tears and took deep, trembling breaths.

Charon’s deep voice filled my head.

If you give up or fail to reach the end before the box closes, Amy will die.

I could do this for Amy. I had to do this for Amy. I straightened my back, lifted my chin, and opened my eyes.

I’m ready.

I stared down the path of blood. There was no way to tell how deep it was. Would I have to swim? A metallic smell filled my nose and swept down my throat making me gag.

Take your path.

I moved forward and at the last minute, sidestepped to the right. I needed more than just to move something. I had to speak to Amy. It was as simple as that.

I stepped onto the razor strewn path.

Through the diagonal crisscrossing lines of blades, I could see the end about 300 feet away. If I took things slowly, it shouldn’t be too difficult. There seemed to be enough space to manoeuvre between the bizarre bunting. I reached out and touched the first string. I snatched my hand away. It wasn’t string but hard...and sharp. I held out my finger and watched a thin, red line of blood appear. One step at a time. I could do it.

Holding my breath, I ducked and swung my body in a wide arc under the first obstacle, only breathing again when I was certain I was clear. One down.

With an exaggerated stride, I stepped over the next, lower line of razorblades. Then, like an acrobatic thief negotiating through a laser beam alarm system, I moved slowly down the path. With each twist of my body, I thought about the word to say to Amy and how she would hear it. Would it be a whisper in her ear or a voice in her head? Would she even know it was me? I had so much more to say to her it made my heart ache to only be allowed one word. Perhaps I could string a few words into one if I said them quickly. Would Charon be able to stop me?

A siren sprung to life, sending its eerie wail through the maze and making the blades vibrate like butterfly wings. Surprised, I stumbled. A line of blades sliced neatly through a lock of my hair. I twisted to the side, and my hand went out automatically, trying to grab the hedge for support. Pain ripped through my fingers and palm as fine blades sliced into my soft skin. I shrieked and dropped to my knees clutching my hand.

Stinging, red crescents sprung up on my hand and seeped droplets of blood. Red lines dripped down my fingers and a sticky pool quickly welled up in my palm. I shrugged my jacket off and wrapped a sleeve around my hand. My breath hissed between my clenched teeth as a fresh wave of sharp pain flooded my throbbing fingers.

You have one minute left to complete your task. Charon’s voice boomed over the howling siren.

Hundreds of 59s appeared on the surfaces of the razorblades around me. They flashed and changed to 58.

The countdown had begun.

My heart hammered against my ribs. My pulse throbbed in my neck. The end was maybe one hundred feet away. A cold wave rushed up from my stomach. Could I make it? Amy’s lifeless face sprung into my head. I had to.

I spun my uninjured hand around the free sleeve of my jacket. The jacket swung clumsily between my hands but at least I had some protection to my exposed skin.

51...

I lunged forward, using my padded hands to guide me between the deadly strands. Flashing razors filled my vision with the insistent countdown. I used their steady beat to make my steps.

48...

Two steps...duck to the left.

47...

Two steps...lean and slide.

46...

A flash of pain sliced through my right shoulder. No time to think about it—I focused on the end. My foot caught on a lower strand and sent me stumbling forward. With a twist of my shoulders, I missed the next line of razors by millimetres. I felt a small sprinkle of sheared hair fall down my cheek. My blood pounded so loudly in my ears that it drowned out the horrendous siren. Scorching air burned in my chest as I held my breath.

31...

The razor cobwebs became denser but still I hurried through my perilous obstacle course. I felt more and more burning slices on my arms and legs as my panic drove me recklessly forward. Razors pierced my clothes and flesh with each step, but I didn’t slow down. I couldn’t.

22...

The end was tantalizingly near but the gaps between each strand were so close there was barely enough space between them for me to fit my body. As I negotiated the next line, my jacket became entangled.

17...

I didn’t have enough time to fight the mess of material and razors. I freed my hands from my jacket with a twist. My breath burst from my chest in short stutters. There was only a metre or so left, but the strands formed a dense net. I cried out in desperation.

15...

I was so close, but how could I make it without my skin being sliced to ribbons and my limbs being entangled like a hopeless fly caught in a web?

14...

Amy—I’m sorry. Suddenly her voice filled my head with her favorite saying.

All these people looking to the sky for answers when often the solution is right at their feet.

13...

I looked at my feet and an idea hit me.

Thank you, Amy, I whispered.

I dropped to my knees and slid onto my side. I could see the end of the path between the lowest line of razors and the ground. The gap was only a foot at the most, but it might just be enough for me to squeeze through.

10...

I reached out, grabbed at the earth and dug my toes in behind me. Scrambling like a Marine, I pulled myself along. Chunks of earth forced their way under my fingernails, stinging dirt filled my bloody cuts and grazed my cheek, but I scraped my way along the ground.

5...

The strings of razors vanished from above my head. I was nearly free. With a final burst of strength, I propelled myself from the menacing mesh of razors and stumbled to my feet.

2...

Ahead of me a small screen flickered in another hedge. I lunged forward and slammed my bloody hand onto the frozen image of Amy.

1...

I made it! I shrieked.

The maze around me dissolved and I found myself in the small bathroom in our apartment. The sweet scent of rose bubble bath