Hall Of Mirrors: A Tale of Hellraiser and Candyman

By Christopher Thompson

This work is being offered at no charge as it is not affiliated with Clive Barker nor with any of the current license holders of the Hellraiser or Candyman film or literary properties.

Any assumed affiliation is the responsibility of the reader and should not be inferred or implied.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christopher Thompson
• Release date: Apr 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463685198

Book preview

Hall Of Mirrors:

A Tale of Hellraiser and Candyman

By:

Christopher Thompson

Based on characters created by Clive Barker

This work is being offered at no charge as it is not affiliated with Clive Barker nor with any of the current license holders of the Hellraiser or Candyman film or literary properties.

Any assumed affiliation is the responsibility of the reader and should not be inferred or implied.

Contents

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

Epilogue

I

Candyman.

Nicole sat in the dead end hallway of the labyrinth of mirrors, surrounded on all sides by reflections of her own seated position. Her uncovered, chocolate skin gleamed under the pale lights hidden somewhere far above. Droplets of sweat slowly traversed from her forehead down, over her eyebrows to drop to her cheeks and travel beyond. A dark mess of thick, black hair streaked with purple ran amok atop her head.

Seated in the lotus position, Nicole held a small, ornate box, cradled gently in the palms of her soft hands. As she spoke, she twisted a part of the box that appeared previously to be of a solid mass, and unmovable. With the small twist of wood and metal, she felt a twinge of energy run up her arms, causing the fine hairs there to stand on end.

She shivered as a cool breeze brushed at her back where the thin material of her sun dress clung to her flesh, held in place by the sheen of sweat which had risen from her body at the first moment of contact with the strange puzzle box. She blinked against the salty drops falling across her eyes and glanced to her left and right. Twin reflections watched her every movement from the mirrors to either side. The only thing which caused one to stand out from the other was the way her discarded sandals lay in front of the mirror to her right.

Candyman.

A second calling, a second movement of the box. This one drew a section free of the whole. A piece of the ornate puzzle rose on its own, free of the rest of the cube. This newly released section shifted along the expanse of the puzzle until it came nearly in contact with Nicole’s fingers where they rested on the smooth surface. After a moment, the piece slid slowly back into place, and Nicole gently pushed it down.

A stronger tingle of energy, almost electric in its power, ran from the box up the girl’s arms. This time something felt different. Not the strange static discharge of the first movement, but a stronger, more powerful charge moving up her body and into her deepest nerve endings. Warmth grew suddenly between the girl’s legs as the charge traveled through her; sought out the deepest recesses of her body; taking what it wanted and leaving her with a pleasant after-glow which caused another involuntary shiver to pass through her.

She slowly turned the box over in her hands, feeling blindly for the next movement point as she stared at her own sweaty reflection in the mirror directly ahead.

Candyman.

The box seemed to turn itself about in her grasp; almost as though it was helping her to solve the intricate puzzle hidden within its solid mass.

Nicole stared deep into the mirror, looking past her reflection and into herself. How had things come to this point? At only eighteen years old, how had things gone so horribly wrong for her?

Everything seemed to lead back to Melanie’s birthday party last week.

II

There had been ten guests that night, all of them feeling a pleasant buzz that can only come from alcohol and revelry, a pleasant mix of boys and girls. Many of them had been together, in some form or another, since early childhood, as happened in suburban schools, and they had shared a lot of experiences which had bonded them quite strongly over the years. They had all been sitting in a circle in Melanie’s parents’ basement when the subject of conversation had suddenly shifted from who had made out with which other guest and which of the boys was the best kisser (giggles and red faces all around), to the strange world of urban legend and weird myth passed from generation to generation.

As conversation goes, this one flourished quite readily in their rabid teenage minds, and, as is known to happen at parties such as this, soon the challenge had arisen to face your fears of these myths and challenge their existence.

A tingle and a shift