A Mansion Upon A Hill
 

There she sat, staring out the frost bitten window watching the delicate crystalline snowflakes float elegantly to the ground. Her thin, frail frame was embraced by the red knit blanket her grandmother made her for her twelfth birthday last year. Winter was Claire Dillard’s favorite time of the year. It was the one season that kept the children from taunting her with their laughter and games outside her window, for it was too cold to spend time outdoors. The smell of freshly baked bread and the faint sound of Mrs. Dillard humming in a sweet tone floated up the stairs into Claire’s room as Mr. Dillard called Claire and her brother, Robbie, down for lunch. Reluctantly, she emerged from her red cave of warmth and safety and walked down the winding staircase and through the cold stone hallway into the kitchen.
“Mama, can Robbie and I go play in the snow today?” Claire asked as she sat down at the table.
Mrs. Dillard quickly gave her husband a concerned look as she replied, “We’ve gone over this Claire, there are dangerous things out there in the world. You may look outside but you may not leave the protection of this house and that is that.”
Claire’s mother then continued to hum an old church hymn as she placed bowls of steaming hot soup and a plate of fresh bread on the table. Claire looked longingly at the heavy lock on the door to the backyard and then to the locks on the kitchen windows as she picked apart her bread in an uninterested manner.
Following lunch Claire went upstairs again to work on her studies while her brother stayed downstairs to work on reading with their father. As Claire sat down at her desk to complete her daily bible reflection she heard a faint noise coming from the closed door of her closet. Confused and scared, Claire stood up and crept slowly over toward the door. As she approached her closet she realized that the noise was that of a child’s laughter. She quickly swung the door open to find her dresses hanging neatly from their rod and her shirts folded perfectly on their shelves. Nothing seemed out of place and there was no sign of any presence in her closet. She turned back to her desk to see a young girl smiling back at her from the desk chair.
“Hello Claire!” the young girl said, her voice like wind chimes blowing in the breeze. Claire noticed that she appeared to not be sitting in the chair but to be floating above the ground like a cloud. Terrified, Claire tried to let out a scream, but no noise came out, as she simply stood there with her mouth open staring at the little girl in the flowered dress.
“Don’t be scared Claire, I’ve come to be your friend,” she said with that same innocent grin on her face.
Claire closed her eyes for a moment to calm herself down and when she opened them again she was looking at an empty chair.
“I need to get some rest, I must be going crazy.” Claire thought to herself as she walked cautiously over to her bed and collapsed into the safety of her blankets. Before long she was in a deep sleep.
Claire dreamed of what it must feel like to have the warmth of the sun hitting her face and the breeze blowing softly against her back. She often dreamed of this feeling since she had never experienced what it was like to be outdoors. She opened her eyes to find herself on an old wooden swing set. Oh how sweet it was for her to feel the purity of the fresh air pouring through her lungs like a creek running freely through a field. As she looked to her right she saw the little girl in the flowered dress. The little girl got off the swing set and began to walk in the opposite direction. Curious, Claire stood up as well and followed the little girl. They were suddenly in a small room with a tiny light against one wall. Claire continued to follow the young girl toward the light, they seemed to be moving in slow motion through the musty air. When they reached the light, the young girl turned to face Claire, and then looked at a shiny object hanging on the wall.
“Look in the mirror. Look at yourself,” the young girl said, almost in a whisper, as she pointed eagerly at the wall.
Just as Claire was about to raise her eyes to be level with the mirror hanging on the wall she was awoken by the sweet hum of her mother’s voice.
“You must be sick, darling. You are sweating up a storm and you were making noises in your sleep.” her mother said in a concerned tone.
“Just a bad dream, that’s all,” Claire said as she sat up in her bed. 
“Would you like me to brush your hair, Claire? I know it always makes you feel better.”
Claire nodded her head as she followed her mother into the bathroom. She at down on the creaky wooden stool in the middle of the floor as her mother grabbed the brush off of the counter. Suddenly Claire heard the young girl’s voice in her head “look in the mirror Claire” Claire began to raise her head to meet her reflection.
“Claire Dillard!” her mother yelled, “you know you are not to look in the mirror with other people in the room. I’ve always told you how rude it is. Looking at your own reflection in the presence of others is selfish.”
“Yes ma’am,” Claire mumbled as she lowered her head again to look at the ground like a young puppy being reprimanded.
Her mother began to hum her typical church hymn and proceeded to brush Claire’s hair gently. After a few minutes the voice returned to Claire’s head. But this time it was the innocent voice of the little girl, this time it was loud and stern like thunder booming in her head. “Claire, look in the mirror. LOOK IN THE MIRROR. LOOK IN THE MIRROR.” finally Claire couldn’t resist the pressure. She quickly raised her head until her eyes met the her reflection staring back at her.. She could only see one thing in the mirror, her face, she searched the reflection but was unable to find the gentle, loving face of her mother. She turned around quickly to see her mother standing there with a tear falling from her right eye. Again when Claire turned back to the mirror all she saw was her own deep brown eyes looking back at her and the otherwise empty bathroom. She heard the last note of the church hymn she had heard a million times, when suddenly everything began to fade and spin around her. When her eyes focused again she was sitting in the floor of her bathroom, but this time it looked different. The room was dark and empty, a layer of dust covered the counter like a fresh layer of snow on a winter morning. She stood up and walked into her bedroom. The room was completely empty. There was paint peeling off the walls and several floorboards were missing. In a panic, Claire ran from room to room to find the same thing every time.
“Robbie! Mom! Dad!” she yelled as she sobbed in anger and fear.
Claire walked into what used to be the kitchen and found the wooden table with a newspaper sitting on top, covered in a layer of dust. She picked up the paper, shook it off, and read the headline Car Crash Takes the Lives of A Local Family, She noticed that the date was from seven years ago. She skimmed through the article until she landed on the sentence that made her heart stop. “Mr. and Mrs. Dillard were in a car accident, taking the lives of them and their son, Robbie. Their young daughter, Claire, was the only member to survive.” Claire looked around to realize she was all alone, living a dream in the mansion upon a hill.