Broken Reflections
New Tales of the Gobi Desert
CIS, Jae Lamb, Fiction: Group 3
I
close my eyes, letting the heat seep into every wound in my body; letting myself free from
all kinds of worries and doubts that have contaminated my mind for the last eighteen years.
It was a color. A color that made me warm, comforted, safe. Powerful, yet something
you could rely on. It was a color, delicately painted on silk, wrapped around bright, blinding
threads of light, then finished with a layer of velvet.
All colors fade, eventually.
Every morning, BaBa sets off to herd the few livestock that we have left.
“Stupid girl,” he grunts, pulling at my hair with his greasy, dirt stained fingers, “Do
something useful today.” Jie Jie busies herself with preparing Baba’s favorite drink, airag and
cooking our next meal.
“Always daydreaming, an absolute waste of space,” She sneers every morning, slamming my
breakfast on the table, not daring to look me in the eye.
As the clouds roll past in the endless Mongolian sky, my mirror, a present I was given at birth,
becomes my companion. Every Mongolian owns a mirror. The mirror that I own is embellished
with pink lilies on golden vines creeping from the edges of the frame, elegantly beautiful.
Polished to brilliance, it wards off the evil spirits of death, a symbol of safety.
My mirror is useless. If it can send evil spirits away, then why did my mother leave us? My
mother died when I was six. I don’t remember much; but every night, I hear Jie Jie crying quietly,
her back faced towards me. I once touched her shoulder gently and told her that she could share
my bed. She slapped me on the face and never spoke to me again.
I was once told that a mirror reflects everything, a person’s deepest secrets and thoughts, fears
and hopes. I have been mesmerized with this simple gift ever since. Sometimes, when the weather
is dry and the sun is out, I take my mirror and hold it directly under the light. The rays, bright
and scorching, reflect on the flawless glass and for a second, my eyes are filled with a color that I
have never seen before, an explosion of warmth and happiness.
Then it all disappears, and I am only left with a sad, pathetic reflection of myself, and this
sick feeling in my stomach. I tried to explain this to Jie Jie and BaBa at the dinner table once, but
my only response was a scoff indicating that I was crazy.
I turn eighteen tomorrow, but I don’t bother telling my family. They wouldn’t care any ways.
I stare at the reflection in my mirror, and all I see is a young girl, uncertain of her fate and what
the long, winding paths in life will lead her to. The girl in my mirror is only just an insignificant
dot in a vast desert, ignored and pointless.
I try to stay awake under the gentle breeze that threads its way through the dusty desert
atmosphere. Jie Jie milks our only two goats, mumbling curses under her breath.
MaMa always did the housework with a kind smile in her gaze. She would balance me on her
hip, bouncing me up and down playfully, so that I would go dizzy with giggles.
“MaMa! Stop it!” Jie Jie would circle us, waving her arms about, “You’ll make her vomit!”
“She’ll be fine!” MaMa would sing, her raven black hair dancing in the wind, “Stop worrying!”
