Unholy Trinity: Monstrous Reflection by Hannah Foster
Our church worships at the altar of the Unholy Trinity. Its gospels are delivered as a trio of dark drabbles, linked so that Three become One. All hail the power of the Three.
I.
The glass windows of the office reflected a hideous stranger.
Steven leaned back in his chair. His breath stuttered from his open mouth. Lukewarm coffee spilled across a manila folder as the porcelain mug clinked against his desk.
Behind the reflection, lights from the city twinkled in the darkness.
“Steve, you good? You should be celebrating.” Someone—he couldn’t remember the name—poked his head in as he unfastened his tie.
“I’m fine,” Steven muttered, staring at the stranger in the window.
The monster stared back for a moment, then slowly pointed an emaciated finger at the man facing him.
II.
The last mirror.
Erik’s gaze traced his features, the mottled, inhuman skin and protruding horns. Hideous.
“Erik?” His sister. She was peeking around the cellar door above him. “Come back. It’s freezing down here.”
“It doesn’t bother me,” he mumbled, staring at himself. That reflection.
Her hand touched his spined back. Her reflection joined his, a pale, delicate figure standing stalwart next to him.
With a roar, he slammed his horns into the glass. It splintered, sending shards everywhere. His sister shrieked and cringed away, blood smeared across her cheek.
The last mirror, and the last of his humanity, gone.
III.
The guard lay motionless in a pool of sunlight, veins branching dark across his cheeks and forehead.
I killed him.
The truth uncoiled in the princess’s mind.
My venom. My fangs. My fault.
Footsteps, three sharp raps on the door; she swayed in the middle of the room.
Please go away. I could hurt you.
But the transformation had begun, a twisting agony that started in her feet and took hold of her body.
Go away…I’m dangerous…I will kill you.
She saw herself reflected as she changed, fangs slick and inhuman eyes slitted with malice: those of a giant serpent.
Hannah Foster
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Originally from New Orleans, Shalini grew up with a love for the hauntingly beautiful stories, ideas and folklore that were enmeshed with the city. She also developed a deep love for words and a well-told story. Anytime those two can marry, she’s there for it. She loves stories that lure, that haunt, that pull at heartstrings or that wrap one up in fear, anxious to know what’s going to happen next.
