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Mirrored In Time
Jessie Lamont is a 50 year old, overweight, divorced/widowed woman who’s life is completely turned upside down when one fall day she visits a Gypsy psychic who tells her that she must begin her journey by going back to where she came from. She then finds herself going back to her old apartment where the tenant (who knew that she would be coming) gives her an old Victorian photograph of a younger, slimmer, version of herself. She takes the photograph home and while staring at the likeness of herself is suddenly transported back to 1890 and into the body of a 20 year old, slim, beautiful, Jessie McKirnon. In 1890 the photograph that she had been looking at becomes a mirror, which reflects her image. With the photograph and the mirror Jessie is able to travel through time in hopes of helping her friends, saving their home, and finding out exactly who she is or was.
"Racer & I walked out the front door. Racer’s leash was wrapped around my arm and I carried a large, oval picture of a “twenty something” image of an 1890’s ME.
This is crazy I thought and put ME in the back seat. Racer climbed into the passenger side, we backed out of the driveway and headed down the road.
I tried to make sense of what just happened, but I couldn’t. This was getting weirder as each day progressed.
I looked at Racer. “Racer, do you know that yesterday, a gypsy told me that I had to begin my journey by go back to whence I came. I go back to our old apartment, meet some guy named Elvis who ends up giving me a picture of ME from a long time ago. Is this the beginning of some journey or is my imagination getting the best of me?” I rubbed his head. “Well, I guess this is going back to someone’s beginning. Maybe I was reincarnated?”
Racer shook his head as if he couldn’t understand it at all then reached up and licked my hand. “I love you too, Racer, thanks for hangin’ in there with me.” Racer barked and we headed home.
When I reached home, Racer and I got out of the car and went inside. I actually had to turn around and remember to take ME out of the back seat. We went inside and I sat MYSELF on a side table in the living room. I stared at ME. “Well, you look younger and you look better,” I critiqued her. “Actually your face looks thinner than mine too.” I just kept looking at myself and MYSELF didn’t answer. I stood up (as I had sat down on tan leather chair across from the picture) and walked over towards the picture to get a closer look. I kept looking at her face or MY face and the resemblance was still amazing.
“Jessie, if you keep looking into that mirror, you’re going to break it,” I turned around to the voice and almost fainted.
There stood a woman, probably in her mid-thirties, dressed in a white long sleeved high collared blouse, a long slate blue skirt, wearing her salt and pepper hair gathered on top of her head in a bun with a brilliant smile on her face. “Who are you?” I asked in amazement. “And how did you get in here?” I stared dumbly at her, “Racer, Racer!” I began to call.
“Jessie, good heavens, have you lost your mind?” the woman questioned me. “Come over here and sit down.” I blindly watched as she took my warm hand in her cool one and she led me to the couch. No, not a couch, a sofa. I looked around and suddenly realized that something was wrong, very wrong. I was not in my house, I was not in my clothes and I was not here with Racer.
“Who are you?” I asked again. “Who are you?” I was panicking. I really thought I might faint.
“Good heaven’s, child,” she answered patiently. “I’m your Aunt Jane, remember, honey. I came last week to help you. I know you haven’t seen me for some time but it hasn’t been that long, good grief.” She sat beside me and started patting my hand.
“I don’t have an Aunt Jane,” I told her.
“Oh, yes, you do,” she kept smiling and patting. “On your father’s side, oh dear, oh dear,” she kept saying.
Suddenly an older black lady came into view. “What’s wrong here, Missy Jane?”she questioned with great concern in her voice.
“Oh, Hattie!” My “supposedly” Aunt Jane almost cried. “Jessie must be so upset about all this that she can’t remember me.”
“I’m sorry, Missy Jane,” Hattie answered her. “She’s been pretty upset, ever since she found out.”
“Found out what?” Suddenly my curiosity was getting the best of me. I was pretty shaken and confused but still curious. “ Found out what?” I repeated. “And who are you really and why are you in my house?”
“Aunt” Jane sighed, “Hattie, please talk to her, I can’t right now.” She looked as if she was either going to start bawling or faint too. She got up then and left the room.
Hattie smiled patiently at me. “Oh, child,” she said. I noticed that these two women were calling me a “child” and I was fifty years old. I even figured I was older than Hattie. And why in the heck were they in my house and where was Racer? I looked down at my legs and noticed for the first time that my jeans were gone, replaced with a long black skirt. My arms were covered with long black sleeves as I was buttoned up (very neatly) in a long black blouse. I was wearing black button up shoes. Okay, I was going crazy. I had turned fifty and I was going crazy."