Disclaimer: There are some lines from Alesana songs in "The Emptiness" album.
As was the nature of most things, the mirror was once beautiful.
It was made by a man in Sweden by the name of Albinus Ehrenström who was a hunched elder with crippled hands and a kindly face. There was nothing remarkable about the man except for his work. Throughout the town and various surrounding countries, Ehrenström was spoken of in the highest regard. Dukes ands Lords ordered commisions, always offering more money than the entire country of Sweden was worth. Yet the man only asked for the mirror to be loved. Those that were greedy bought the mirrors and sold them for so much more than they were truely worth. Because of this, the man saved his best work to give to the poor. He took great pleasure in giving them what the children called "solid water". Dispite his love for people and his art, Ehrenström always engraved a saying on the back of this mirror. In his words, the sayings were fortunes- they told of love, of family, of hate. And the truth of your soul. He was quite fond of handing the mirror away and watching as their eyes puzzled over their fortune. Whenever he was asked what it meant, he simply replied with "Your eyes are the mirror to your soul, and it takes another mirror to show you the soul."
Just three days prior to his death, Ehrenström created an ovaled mirror with golden foil around the edges. On the back, he had engraved the fortune of "The Emptiness Will Haunt You", he then passed it along to a girl of five years who had nearly white flowing hair and large clear blue eyes. She had taken the mirror carefully with both hands and looked at the words with a hurt expression. She explained to him that she could not yet read, but she was sure that his words were true. As she walked away from him, Ehrenström had whispered that he had hoped they never would. After she left him, he started to create a mirror supreme beauty that he dreamed would show the most beautiful things ever. As he began to carve a fortune, he fell upon the mirror and shattered it into six pieces, his heart speared on the largest of them as he bleed out into oblivion. A few years later, the country of Sweden was torn apart into six- the man's ghostly house became the village center of the large peice of land.
That girl with blonde hair and blue eyes (that received Ehrenström's last mirror) lived on for fifty more years. She had three children that survived past the age of six; her two eldest sons and her youngest daughter. On her deathbed, she asked her daughter to bring the mirror to her. While her daughter ran to retreive it, she whispered to herself that the fortune had never come true. By the time her daughter returned with the mirror, she was dead. The child hung up the mirror across from her mother's bed and there it stayed for the next fifty years.
The mirror had once been beautiful, nearly a hundred years before. But now there were spiderwebs throughout the glass and the water was broken. The foil had silver spots showing it's true age. But the fortune had finally come true.
He stood in front of the mirror, the wall behind him a light yellow with flecks of red placed artistically around the bed. Upon the deep red sheets laid her, Annabel Lee. His dearest Anna. The one he truely loved.
His handsome and pale face was framed by his semigreasy black hair. Johnathon stared at his own reflection and smiled a sinister smile. He stood there for some time, simply flicking his eyes between his reflected face and the body of his love. He finally spoke. "Annabel, my beautiful Annabel. Tell me why you called me here to your room."
He imagined her saying to paint her, to tell her how beautiful she was, to tell her he loved her. She never tired of hearing those words. Instead "Tell me a story." floated to his ears.
"Alright, a story." He smiled again and turned his head ever so slightly to see her. Despite the fact he could not see her beautiful face, he heard her giggle and tell him to turn around (for she was not dressed for company). He did as he was told, as usual. He turned back to the mirror and faced his own darkened eyes as he thought of a story to frighten her, as Annabel was always in the mood for a scare. "I am here to tell you a story. A story that will torture you thoughts by day and poison your dreams by night. And though I will do my best, there are no words that can be written, nor brush strokes laid on canvas, that can describe the stark and utter horror of the night that Annabel died."