The Mirror Under the Stairs — Under the safest stair in the house, Soren kept a tin compass that clicked softly when he shook it. Read the full story →
Under the safest stair in the house, Soren kept a tin compass that clicked softly when he shook it. One windy evening, it skittered out of his pocket, tick-tick-tick, and rolled into the front hall, where the floorboards smelled like old rain and candle smoke. He could have waited for morning. Instead, he took one step past the stair post, then another, pretending the webs were only lace no one had dusted.
The compass had vanished. A cold draft breathed through the open doors, tugging at the hats on their hooks, and Soren’s sock found a sticky web that clung like gray thread. That was the price: one sock, sacrificed to the hallway. Then the crooked mirror gave a tiny clink. Not a ghost clink. A hiding-place clink. Soren whispered, “I heard you.”
Behind the mirror, where nobody ever looked because everyone was busy watching the dark doorways, sat his compass beside a folded map of the house. A red X marked the stair post. Soren carried both back to his safe spot, but he did not tuck himself quite as far underneath it. Next time you notice the mirror leaning crookedly, keep this between us: it may still be pointing toward the safest stair in the house.
