Beware The Jabberwock, My Son
by Dixon Chance
Richard stayed frozen. This is nonsense, he thought. Am I afraid of a funny noise? Of nonsense? He formed a determined smile and decided to recite Humpty-Dumpty’s poem to himself. Maybe that would help him relax, fighting nonsense with nonsense. “_I sent a message to the fish/ I told them, ‘This is what I wish—’_” he said softly.
He had nerved himself up enough to go two steps when he heard the next sound. It was like a lady’s fan—one made of cellophane—being opened. Or a breeze being…folded?
The sound (_whiffle_) came again, and this time it definitely came from the mirror. Definitely. He could imagine its long, snaky neck pouring out of the mirror frame, those two pale unblinking eyes peering around his bedroom as it flew