This story is part of a trilogy, the first portion is more like a horror story, and the 2nd and 3rd portions have the TG in them.

"You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of the imagination. Next stop: THE TWILIGHT ZONE." - Rod Serling

***

A cursed mirror begins our trilogy of an evil, vain young woman's trip into the unknown. Ending somewhere between there and here, where the known and unknown intersect. Only to play itself out inside...The Twilight Zone!

Part One
-One-

"Out of my way, stupid old hag!" she hissed as she pushed the ancient woman aside, causing her to fall into the street, directly into the path of a coach as it made its way through the city.

Under the hooves of the horses the old woman was trampled, and then crushed beneath the great weight of the wheels. The attractive girl paused and looked at the destruction she had caused, only giving it a mere moment of her time. "One less..." she muttered under her breath, feeling no remorse for the death she had caused. Turning back toward her business, she motioned for the stunned shopkeeper.

"I'll take that one!" she demanded, pointing to the ornate looking-glass with the long handle and carved wooden frame.

As he handed it to her, she studied her reflection while primping her hair. His eyes again were drawn to the crowd as they gathered around the old one, bent and broken, alive no more.

"You going to..." he began to ask, pointing over her shoulder at the dead woman.

She glanced back and shrugged, then returned to examining her reflection. "She got in my way, for that, she deserved what she was given. The way I see it, I did her a favor!"

"A favor?" he asked as he patiently waited for her to pay.

"She isn't hurting any more...she has no more worries where her next meal will be coming from...it's a favor, and I'm glad I was able to help her."

The shopkeeper stood silently disgusted for several minutes, then after a few additional seconds he softly spoke, "That'll be..."

"I'll pay this..." she interrupted as she tossed the coin at his feet. The man bent down and picked up the coin.

He hesitantly glanced upward at the beautiful woman. "Well, I uh...I was thinking that it would sell for something more, like..."

She glared at him, her stunning blue eyes bespoke contempt of his lower class. "You'll be happy with what I pay, or you'll get nothing!"

Another elderly woman rushed upon the scene. As she neared, she collapsed to the ground in her grief, crawling the last few feet to her dead sister. She looked at each of those surrounding her for the answers to her sister's death. Each pointed toward the young beauty who was still admiring herself in the shop's many looking-glasses.

Slowly the ancient sister stood to her feet, helpful hands assisting her as she regained her balance. With as much of a determined gate, she walked toward the primping girl.

"Was this your doing?" she asked, barely understandable from the loss of her teeth.

The girl saw the ancient sister's reflection in her looking-glass and scowled, slowly turned, and she placed a kerchief over her nose. "She was in my way...she must have stumbled."

"She was pushed!" The ancient one pointed a gnarled finger at the girl. "By you!"

"She stumbled!" the girl insisted with a sneer. "She was already dead anyway, she just didn't know it! Now go away - your old decaying stench is making me ill."

The old one scanned around ignoring her insult, disgusted at the girl's lack of remorse for her sister's death. "You will pay..."

"Oh, fine." She pulled a gold coin from her clutch and tossed it to the ancient one. "There...now bury her. While you're at it, try taking a bath!" She turned her back on the old woman, but still watched her reflection through the glass.

The withered old woman pointed a finger at the girl, "You caused her death, yet you do not feel any remorse for it!" The girl only laughed her response, not even turning to face her accuser. The ancient one continued. "You seem to be so entranced by your own reflection that you fail to see what goes on around you...so will be your sentence!"

The beauty laughed as the old woman continued. She was still pointing, speaking as loudly and as clearly as was possible without teeth. "Each time, wide eyed that you face your reflection...any reflection, a tiny little bit of yourself will be ebbed away until you are nothing more than a withered old shell like that of myself and what was my sister! Your very essence will be locked away in that looking-glass you seem to admire so much! And there it will stay until the day when it can be used on someone who might appreciate it much more than yourself!"

"Go away, old hag, you're bothering me!" She pushed her purchase into her clutch and scowled at the elderly woman. "I'm immune to your silly threats! They mean nothing to me!"

The old one glared at her. Even with the onset of blindness, seeing only mere shapes and shadows, her look seemed to bore right through the much younger woman's body, directly into her very soul. "Then...it begins." From far outside of the city, a low rumble of thunder could be heard.

-Two-

"What is the matter, child?" the nobleman asked from his seated position, as his daughter entered the room. "You seem troubled..."

She sat down her purchases and frowned, "It was nothing, Father."

"Let me be the judge of that, Constance. Sit down and tell me what is troubling you." He motioned for her to sit on the couch opposite where he was resting.

The girl sat down. "An old woman was struck by a coach today - it was right before my eyes!"

He sat up, "You poor dear!" Quickly moving to his daughter's side, he took a seat upon the couch. "Tell me of it."

"She stumbled... Completely lying about her involvement....and fell onto the street. It was so horrible!" The girl, Constance, began to conjure up tears to sell her lie. "I tried to aid her, but it was already too late!"

"At least you tried to aid her." He sighed as he hugged his daughter, slowly giving her back a reassuring stroke. Behind them, in walked a young man.

"Did she tell you, Father?" he asked as he flopped down in the chair that his father had been sitting in earlier. "Did you tell him, Constance?"

She quickly glared over her shoulder at her brother. "Of course I told him!"

"Oh?" he replied with a smile, "Did she tell you...that many of those who witnessed the entire tragedy accuse Constance of pushing the old woman into the street?"

She wheeled upon her brother, "They lie!"

"I'm just repeating what they're all saying," he shrugged his indifference.

"They're all lying! They just hate me because I'm beautiful!" she hissed, the pure hatred of all people she considered beneath her, spewed through her words. She stood quickly and ran from the room, and her sobs were heard echoing down the richly decorated hallway.

The father sighed, "What do you think happened?"

Her brother stood, shrugged and dropped a coin to the table. "After it happened, Constance tossed this at the dead woman's sister. She told her to use it to pay for the burial. Most there considered it blood money and would not accept it, let alone touch it. I found it still lying on the ground where it fell." The young man stood looking at his father. "I think she was involved in the death of the old woman."

The older man's shoulders slumped. "The old woman...the sister you say, can you see to her aid?"

"I already have." His young son sighed. "I've taken care of the burial on behalf of our family." He scratched the back of his head. "Father, how can someone who is as beautiful as Constance, be so evil toward others?"

Under his breath, the tired man sighed, "I ask myself that same question, each and every single time she does something like this...something evil...or wicked!"

-Three-

Constance was still seething as she slammed her bedchamber door closed, and in a huff she threw herself upon her bed. Her anger now was focused upon her brother for interfering between her and their father.

She sat up and punched a diminutive fist into her pillows. "Were I a man, dear brother, I'd give you a thrashing you wouldn't soon forget!" She raged and then stood. "You keep interfering where you should just keep your nose out!" She growled, as she leaned out the window to watch the passersby on the street far below.

As she stood watching, an evil plot began to form in her mind. Constance knew that she lacked the physical strength to harm to her brother, but with a few coins, she could find those who would do it quite easily. A wicked smile formed on her beautiful face.

She quickly made her way to the bed where she had thrown her clutch in her anger. Reaching inside, she withdrew the looking-glass she had purchased earlier in the day, and also a handful of coins. Setting the glass aside, she began to focus on the gleaming coins. One by one she began to count them out, gradually her eyes were pulled toward the polished surface of the looking-glass and her own beautiful reflection.

A shudder ran along her spine, and goose bumps broke out upon her arms as she recalled what the ancient woman had said. She only pondered a moment as she decided with a haughty laugh that her words were nothing more than idle prattle.

Constance smiled into the mirror and fluffed up the front of her hair, first pushing it one way, than another until each strand was resting perfectly in its place. "Stupid old hag!" She spat her contempt out like a foul taste in her mouth. "You deserve to meet the same fate as your ugly sister." She glanced toward the coins spread about the bed. "Hummmm...I wonder if there's enough to take care of both my 'dear' brother and that decrepit old bitch?"

There would be enough time for fine-tuning her plot, but for now, she returned her gaze into the reflective surface of her looking-glass.

-Four-

Two full days passed and although the commotion she had caused had died down somewhat, Constance continued to focus her anger directly upon her brother. She found him wandering in their gardens, trying to compose a letter to his fiancee.

"Well hello, dear brother!" she chirped sarcastically.

"Go away, Constance..." He replied, not even giving her the benefit of a glance.

"Oh, Eric, still trying to compose your vows for your wedding?" she laughed, and the venom in her voice made his skin crawl.

"I said go away!" he glared at her, covering his writings from his sister's view.

"What's wrong, brother dear? Afraid your little harlot won't be interested in you...especially now, since she already has another?"

"There is no other!" he snapped angrily.

"What would you call her brother, then?" she laughed.

"What are you driving at?" he scowled at his sister.

"It's obvious that she has been experimenting with her own brother...at least that's what I've been telling everyone!" She broke into a fit of evil laughter. In anger, Eric picked up his paper, jar of ink and quill.

"I must find a place where I can be alone!" As he stood he smiled, took the jar of ink, and poured it over her head, then laughed as it rolled down her face. "Now your face is as black as the window to your soul...dear sister."

Constance bolted to her feet as her brother walked away; ink rolled down her chin and dripped upon her best dress. She balled up her fists in anger and stormed toward the garden's fountain, knowing that if she hesitated too long, the ink would set and stain her skin and hair. Furiously she washed her face and hair with chemicals that were strong enough to strip paint. As she did so, she became determined to enlist the aid of a street thug to put her brother in his place.

With dripping hair and soaked dress, she stormed into the house and up to her bedchamber. Once inside, she tore her dress from her body and hurled it into the corner of the great room. She crossed to her dresser and picked up her looking-glass to see how much of the ink had stained her skin. Thankfully, there were only a few areas where the ink had darkened enough to remain. Those she expertly covered with pale facial powders.

Her hair was another matter entirely, because once rinsed, it appeared that there were several strands of hair that were almost bleached white, intermixed with her pale blond. She tightened her jaw and fumed, as she looked upon the result of her brother's anger. She groaned when she noticed that her newest corset had also been stained.

She dropped the glass and pulled off her ink-stained corset and undergarment. She walked naked to the closet where she kept her belongings; there she paused before the reflective surface that covered her doors. As she gazed upon her lovely body, a form she never tired of looking at, she noticed a black dot of what appeared to be ink, on the inside of her thigh.

She frowned, then stared at it. Under the vast amount of petticoats and the thick material of the dress, there was no way that the ink could have gotten past them. She ran her finger over the area.

What she thought had been ink, turned out to be a huge dark mole! She shuddered, touching it from where it extended out from her soft thighs. It must have been sticking out almost a quarter of an inch away from her skin. Surely since it was as large as it was, it had been there for far longer than she remembered. Somehow she had missed it during her recent baths.

Constance immediately decided that she would meet with her father's physician and schedule a removal of the hideous mole. As uncomfortable as its presence was, she made an effort to put it from her mind. She bent down to pull a clean corset from her drawer and was strangely taken back by the odd way her breasts swung.

She stood and looked down at them. They both seemed to be elongated and sagged uncharacteristically for her young age. She hefted them and then released them. Both flopped down against her chest, like those of a woman her mother's age.

She pushed the closet door closed and studied them in the reflective surface of it, and then she noticed that a small flabby pouch seemed to be collected behind her once flat stomach. "What is happening to me?" Constance gasped with uncertain fear.

She quickly threw open the doors once again and pulled the clothing she needed, trying to avoid seeing how her beauty seemed to be evaporating before her eyes.

Dressing in a hurry, she flopped down upon the bed. The effort to get dressed alone caused her breathing to become labored. It was as if she had raced up a many flights of stairs. "What's wrong with me?" she said, panting for air.

She suddenly remembered the words the old woman had said, and like a bolt of lightning she raced toward her looking-glass. "No!" she cried at her reflection, seeing darkened bags that lay beneath her tired eyes.

Closer inspection made her heart leap with fright! Gone was the crystal blueness that had once been the admiration of many, replaced by a watery gray color. It almost looked as though one eye was slightly clouded over, as if it were the precursor of a serious eye ailment. "This isn't possible!" she screamed, throwing herself upon her pillows.

Constance struggled upright, slowly working her way off the bed. Grabbing her clutch, she headed for the door. "I have to find that old witch before its too late! I have to convince her to reverse these changes!" she exclaimed to herself as she limped down the stairs.

-Five-

The day wore on, but Constance could find no trace of the old woman. Her fears began to build as she remembered the thug whom she hired only a day prior, perhaps he had already done his job and pushed her crippled body into a bog just outside of town!

As darkness fell, she made her way home and found herself laboring as she climbed the stairs toward the bedchambers. About half-way up, she met her brother coming down.

"You look...awful!" he commented as he saw his sister. "Are you ill?"

"I...I'm...just tired," Constance gasped, worn out from her climb...and only half way to the top.

"Let me go get Father. He will summon his physician!" Eric replied with genuine concern.
"Don't you dare get father! I'll be fine," she snapped back. "Just help me to my room!"

He took hold of her arm, supporting her as they slowly made their way up the steps to her chambers. Eric couldn't help but wonder at the frailness of her grasp, almost as though she was years older than her true age. There was also a strange odor, a pungent mix of sweat and something he couldn't place his finger on...almost the heady smell of decaying flesh. He scowled, trying to hide his reaction from his sister. "How can she not smell it too?" he thought to himself as he assisted her up to her room.

As they reached her chambers, she fell into bed without even removing her garments. "Now go...and leave me so I may change!" A puzzled Eric lit candles for her and exited his sister's room, hesitantly pulling her door closed. In his heart, he was unsure if he should go and get their father from his bed or do as his sister wished.

Once her breathing steadied Constance sat up, using the corner post to assist her into a seated position. Her youthful hands were aching with arthritis, as she fumbled with the dress, struggling to unbutton the buttons which held the collar and bodice closed. As they fell open, she was taken back by the stretched skin that pulled down at her breasts. It seemed that she somehow had aged at least 30 years since morning!

She stood and pushed her dress down, and gingerly stepped out of it. She began to work at the strings of the corset, fumbling with the knot at the top. As she dug with her pained fingertips she yanked against the knot, her hand came free and struck her mouth hard.

She sat back upon the bed and waited for the room to stop spinning. Slowly the knot gave way to her efforts and she was able to remove the corset, throwing it down onto the floor. A drop of blood fell onto her pale thigh; she wiped it with a finger and then touched her lip where she had struck herself. There was no blood coming from her lip. "Where then?" she wondered aloud.

Taking her finger, she traced along the inside of her mouth and felt a strange chunk of something. Using her tongue, she worked it out and spit it into her hand. It was a tooth!

She felt her body tremble as she sought out the gap with her tongue. Another molar rolled forward, followed by yet another! She spit them into her hand, which now contained three in total. Trembling, she raced toward her looking-glass and looked inside of her mouth. A great gap was in her mouth, almost an inch long from the third tooth on the right...back toward her molars.

As she began crying, another tooth fell onto her dresser, this one had been on the very front of the right side. This left only a two teeth on the upper right side of her mouth, the second one from the middle, and one at the very back.

Her crying became harder, and bloody drool fell onto the dresser, "Why?" was all she could ask, and her voice sounded weakly hoarse. Yet Constance knew the reason for all of these events. She then tried to straighten up, but her back ached so much that it caused her to hunch in pain, making it almost impossible to straighten up.

One by one, she removed the pins from her hair. Gone was the silky feeling - it was replaced by a dry and brittle feel. With her trembling hand, she picked up a brush and began to pull it through her hair. With each stroke, more and more hair remained in the bristles of the brush.

As her arm moved, she noticed more of the little moles gathered under her pits and on the side of her breast. A quick check revealed several more on the other side. Each armpit had a thin long hairs growing outward, oddly white and like that of an elderly person. "Nooo!" she cried, throwing the brush across the room.

She spun away from the mirror and threw herself down upon her bed, the effort knocking the wind from her body. Constance lay gasping for air, and slowly her breathing returned to normal with the onset of sleep.

-Six-

Morning found Constance laying crossways in her bed; beneath her lay the looking-glass. She struggled up into a seated position, and wiped the drool from her cheek. She glanced downward at her naked flesh; breasts now hanging almost flatly above her flabby waist; her breasts resembled that of an eighty-year old woman! Her upper chest was covered in wrinkles where her breasts pulled at the skin, dragging it down with what looked like years of weight. Beside that, she found she was covered with a mass of freckles and brown spots that made her begin crying once more.

Her thighs had become very skinny, and appeared to be more bone than flesh. The knobs of her knees made an obvious bulge in the middle of her leg. Beneath them was spindly and bereft of muscle or mass. There were several more protruding moles, seemingly coming up like mushrooms between her thighs. She covered her face in terror, not understanding the power of what was happening!

Constance drew her hands to her face, and through blurry tears she could see that they were also now covered with the strange dark spots like those upon her chest. Both had become gnarled and withered with painful arthritis. One foot had become bent from the deformity of a great bunion, pushing her toes out strangely and to the side. Constance knew she had to find the old woman if she were still alive! Finding the old hag was the only chance she had of reversing the powerful curse the woman had placed upon her. As quickly as she could, she hobbled toward her closet. Her knees and hips ached in sheer pain as she moved.

She grasped the edges of her large doors to her closet, and her loose skin sagged down between her elbows and armpits. In her reflection from the doors, she gazed upon a woman looking much older than she had been. While she could still see a resemblance of herself, she now appeared to look more like her maternal grandmother.

Her jaw was set; a slight indent was apparent where she had lost even more teeth last night. Slowly she parted her lips to reveal the sight that set her stomach to lurching. A ghastly amount of festering disease covered areas of her gums, and what teeth did remain were dark and decaying!

"Nooooo!" she hoarsely cried, and her knees gave out, causing her to fall to the floor. The sound of her voice was lacking the youthful timbre that she once had, making it sound like that of a ship straining against its mooring!

"What has that old witch done to me?" The words were hard to distinguish, sounding much like the toothless ranting of an old woman. Constance knew what she had wanted to say, but what came out made her sound almost deranged.

Constance tried to stand, using the door's knob, but instead, crawled to the post of the bed where she was finally able to get to her feet. Once standing in a semi-erect position, she picked up the hand-held looking glass and studied the wrinkles upon her face. It, too, was covered with the brown spots of age - her nose and upper lip had grotesque moles protruding outward. Sparse hairs grew from different areas of her upper lip and chin, giving her the appearance similar to that of the old woman she had pushed. Her ears too had become elongated at the lobe, about an inch past where they once had been.

Using the post, she tried to straighten up further, yet her shoulders slumped forward greatly, like that of an old woman. "That…that witch...she's stolen my beauty! She's made me like her and...and her sister...a...a hag!" she cried out in painful rage.

Forgoing the corset and countless petticoats, she dressed in what would fit and limped down the stairs. In her hand was the looking-glass. She was determined to locate the old hag, and beat her to death with it. Thankfully she met no one as she limped out of the house and began to hobble down the street, wearing an ill fitting gown made for a much younger woman.

-Seven-

Constance knew there would be no chance that anyone would recognize her now. She kept to herself as she paused from time to time to catch her wind! After several hours of searching, she found her way to the area where the old woman had been killed. As she rested on a bench beside a shop, she spied her reflection in a giant barrel of rain water.

Her hair was now almost entirely white, going in every direction but the way intended, all splayed in a confused array. The very top of her head was thinning and she could see through to the baldness of her scalp. No longer was she able to remain with her head steady, now it shook slightly from a palsy-like movement. Her jaw dropped at the appearance of her reflection, it seemed that her very beauty had been sapped over the past several days. A strange odor permeated the air around her, like that of something rotting in the breeze. The ‘once' beauty shuddered, because she knew the smell was coming from her own body.

Tears begin to form in the vain woman's colorless eyes as another blackened tooth dropped from her mouth and fell into the water, slowly spiraling toward the bottom of the barrel. Great veins climbed along her hands and neck as she sought to pull her gaze from her reflection. She feared what each look was doing to her, knowing the prediction the old woman had at their end result. The vain addiction she had to seeing her own reflection caused her to return again and again to its mirror-like surface like some drug which supported an evil habit.

She finally forced herself away from her reflection before it was too late and her very life was extinguished into the water. Once more, she struggled to her feet, only to then fall back onto the bench again. It was as though she were in her nineties, in her opinion she was acting like a tottering old fool.

As she struggled with standing, it was as though her very thoughts were being distracted...like a strange dementia was settling into her brain. She suspected that complete senility would soon follow, rendering her a mindless, withered shell as had been the woman she accidentally killed. She had to hurry before there was nothing left to save!

A young man came over and helped her to her feet, the fact that he helped without making a commotion over her smell, was a testament to his intestinal fortitude.

With not so much as a thank-you, Constance limped toward the shop where she had purchased the ill-fated looking-glass and met the old hag. Along the river's edge the path took her, what she saw brought her ancient feeling body to a complete stop. Only a hundred feet further stood the old witch who caused all of this to happen. The toothless grin on the old woman's face proved she knew what was happening to Constance.

Slowly the old woman made her way to Constance's side; the former beauty was struggling to maintain her shaky balance. "How are we feeling today, my dear?" she cackled and walked a slow circle around the transformed girl, now ancient and hunched over with age.

"You! You did this to me..." she gasped out her hate, pointing a crooked finger at the old witch. Constance was barely able to keep her thoughts on track, so rapidly was the senility overtaking her mind.

Unfortunately, no one would have been able to understand the ranting of the ancient toothless woman whom Constance now appeared to be. "I'm intending on beating you to death with the very looking-glass you placed your curse on!" the former beauty croaked. As she spoke, another tooth fell from her lip and rattled onto the stones. Constance glanced down with despair, as her once beautiful smile had been rendered to very few teeth.

The once-girl shakily raised the looking glass over her head. Her intention to strike the old hag dead with her own cursed looking glass... but, the much sprier hag grasped Constance's frail wrist, and wrestled the glass from her weakened and withered hand.

Constance staggered through the grass toward the old witch from the force of their struggle, her arms outstretched at neck level. Her mumbling sounded like a lunatic as she staggered forward. The witch held her at bay with her arm, pushing against Constance's chest. Slowly the witch turned the looking-glass toward Constance, whose eyes became unable to remove their clouded gaze from its polished surface.

Constance sank to her knees in the grass beside the water's edge. "Hold this, you tottering old fool!" the witch cried. "Since you've enjoyed your reflection for this long...you may as well enjoy it the rest of the way to your death!"

Constance was unable to remove her gaze. She sank to her side in the grass as more and more of her essence was ebbed from her body. Tears rolled from her eyes as her nose elongated further and became more bulbous, extending slightly past her lip. Her remaining teeth fell into the grass...her chin closed upward until her toothless gums met, distorting her face even more.

"I think you should live for awhile in the life you despised so much, even if it will be such a short one...old woman!" The witch bent down and took the glass from Constance. "Who's the ancient one now?" She smiled. "How does it feel to be a toothless, hunched-over, old senile hag...so precariously close to your own death? Embrace it now...hag, live the life you loved to hate!" She began cackling as she walked down to the water's edge, leaving the former beauty to lie in the grass.

Constance began struggling to her knees, the effort she experienced was even more painful than before. The old witch laughed at Constance's attempts, then turned her back upon her and threw the looking-glass as far out into the water as she could. Constance knew by now, that she could never return to her former beauty, and her blood began boiling in her ancient veins.

By the time the witch turned back around, the formerly beautiful girl was standing behind her. "Now, ancient hag...it's my turn!" Constance mumbled in her now toothless way, but the old witch heard her clearly enough to be very worried.

She grasped the witch by the arm and pushed as hard as she could. The old one clutched out desperately, grabbing onto the white wispy tendrils of Constance's hair, grasping them only as she fell backward into the water. The momentum pulled Constance off her feet, causing her to fall forward, following the hag into the water. As they both sank quickly beneath the surface, the ripples in the water slowly calmed; after several long seconds, they became less and less noticeable at all. By the time a full minute had passed, no one would have been able to tell there had been anyone standing along its bank at all.