Mirror Mirror...

Every mirror in the place was shattered. Everyone knew it was bad luck, but still every time you found an abandoned house all of the mirrors were broken. The thrill of breaking things over ruled the fear of seven years bad luck. 

And that was it right? Breaking things. Smashing them. There was something primal about it. Any window, mirror, plate, glass, cup, anything that could be smashed was. And then any pieces that were big enough to break further, were. 

Eventually there was nothing left but shattered slivers of glass. Reflecting bits. Clear bits. Crushed porcelain. What did you do when there wasn't anything left to break? Maybe that was when the seven years of bad luck actually started. 

When you reached the point where there was nothing left. 

Or maybe that was when the house was well and truly abandoned. 

Because an empty house wasn't the same as an abandoned one, was it? 

Houses were empty for all sorts of reasons. Someone just moved out. It's new and nobody has moved in yet. The people who live there are on vacation, or maybe a temporary work assignment and didn't want to rent it out. An empty house is a temporary thing.

But an abandoned one? That was a bigger deal. Nobody temporarily abandoned a house did they? Abandoned was forever. You could never just move back into an abandoned house. You had to repair. Or rebuild. Gut it and start again. 

Clear out the smashed glass.

Start the clock again, hoping the seven years bad luck went with the person who smashed the mirrors and didn't stay with the house.

But for now. Every mirror in the place was shattered. Every bit of glass that could be broken was broken. Anything that could be smashed was smashed. 

If you saw your reflection in these mirrors it probably said something very sad about you. 

Empty was different than abandoned. 

Temporary was different than gut and rebuild. 

Once the mirrors were gone, what was left?

Every mirror in the place was shattered.