We step through mirrors and take you

away. Don’t be afraid, it’s just business.

Your soul or an eye, a lifetime or a night.


You’ll be washed of your old fragrances:

the midnight trysts and false promises,

the cash payments and casual heartbreaks.


The room where we’ll take you

has a mirror. Peer into it and see—

how we wear your skin and button up


your uniform, drag your baton across walls

graffitied with names the city wants

to remember, names you’ll surely recognize.


We’ll crack your luxury timepieces,

turn back the minute hand and undo

your mistakes: the perfumed gifts


and silent footsteps, the tinted windows

and red streaked across your windshield

like claws.


Ask your mother if she misses you.

Did we mention we visit her, too?


We’ll phone her like you never do, fix her

TV so she can watch her true crime documentaries.

A TV screen is just another mirror.


Pretty soon, she’ll see you onscreen,

choked by shadows, cut up by the moon.


Don’t be afraid—it’s just business.

Nothing can harm you after us:

no hotline tips or suspicious neighbours,


no chewed-through duct tape or alleyway

escapes. No harsh chemicals to get the stains out,

no stolen IDs, snipped and thrown away.


It’ll just be us,

you, and the mirrors,

and we’re happy


you’ll stay.


(Editors’ Note: “Mirrors” is read by Erika Ensign on the Uncanny Magazine Podcast, 47B.)





Millie Ho

Millie Ho’s short stories and poems appear in The Puritan, Lightspeed Magazine, Nightmare Magazine, Uncanny Magazine, Augur Magazine, and elsewhere. She was a finalist for the Ignyte and Rhysling Awards. Find her at

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