Short Stories

Crack on the mirror

Raising the cold blade to her long-lashed lids, she snipped.

Outside the door, a trimmer was heard.

A finger was immersed into a bottle of kohl. There was the noise of glass on glass as the hand withdrew, toppling the bottle.

The green eyed cat sharpened his pointy ears and after a threatening mewl at the world, curled its paws and slipped back to sleep

The skirt gathered at her feet. A knife was lowered to a breast, bouncing like daisies in breeze. They stood watching the valley below, smooth and calm but a valley that the traveller wanted to be held by, home.

A sharp tipped earring dug through the earlobe flesh. Teeth dug into a full lower lip. Blood oozed.

The door creaked as it opened.

The tiles reflected her, upside down, in shock.

Her feet left red stained footprints as they left the house. She never bothered to shut the door.


“Is everything alright sweetheart?!”, he called out in alarm as he heard his three-year-old cry. He rushed to the door.

Rum stained the beige carpet as his glass fell.


He opened the door and without a second thought, shut and bolted it.


“What the fuck did you do to yourself, Ana?”, he asked watching her agape.

“Do you love me?”

“Like, ehm, what, —–….”



She walked back….

She stripped slow. Peeling one blood stained cloth after the other from her mutilated body.

Her head shone bald. Lash-less eyes lined thick with kohl that ran down her cheeks along with tears.

Lips swollen and bruised gave her mouth a lopsided look.

Breasts bore cuts all around. Blood trickled off them down her flat waist.


She walked closer. Her breathing heavy, her voice coarse as she spoke- “Do you love me?”

There was no reply. Irritated, she shouted- “ Do you love me now? Now that them breasts no more pretty, the mouth no longer kiss-worthy, the eyes no longer drown-able, tell me! Do you still love me?!”


The mirror looked on as she fell to her knees.

“To love me for me and not for this case of me, is it really so hard?”

Crawling up to him, she pulled herself up. Leaning her spoilt frame against his, she brought her mouth close to his. His lopsided, laterally inverted mouth.


The mirror cracked at the sides.

About the author

Anan Ashraf

Anan Ashraf

Anan Ashraf is an intern at TheWOOMag and is pursuing Journalism and Mass Communication at English and Foreign Languages University.

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