Sitting alone in my chamber, where the sunlight never ventured into the deeper recesses, I studied the chess board in front of me. The chess pieces were not where they were supposed to be; in fact, they were not present at all. I brooded somberly, considering where my pieces might have gone, vanishing without a trace and leaving no clue of their whereabouts. At that moment, a stray trickle of light found its way to my mirror--that mirror! Ah, that fiendish mirror! It was an antique mirror, towering, unwieldy, and tarnished from years of neglect. I averted my eyes, not daring to look at my reflection, not chancing a glimpse of what I have become. Finally, however, my mind's perverse curiosity won out, and I raised my head to meet my reflection.

The mirror had gradually cracked over the years, and the surface was warped, giving my forgotten face and heinous hair even more of a bizarre appearance. The mysterious corners of my chamber were reflected at weird angles, and the sheet-covered furniture around me was distorted into lurid forms, ghastly beings grouped together, possibly plotting my demise. I could not stand the phantasmagoric images, and, reeling in disgust, I ran to the mirror with the intent of smashing it to to smithereens--shattering it into slivers--that my countenance would be irrevocably irretrievable.

As I raised my fist to destroy that mirror, a feeling of great retribution came over me. I laughed--hoarsely, but a laugh, nonetheless--my voice straining from disuse. My fist came flashing down, and I struck the mirror with glee. Ah, what was this?! My fist had gone through the mirror, and it appeared as if my arm ended in nothing! Terribly frightened, I tried to pull my hand out from this silver void of the unknown, but, alas, it would not budge! At this point, I was exceedingly alarmed, and I panicked, imagining the rest of my life with the added burden of the mirror. In my afflicted agitation, I kicked a stack of books against the mirror, and they disappeared! I was terrified to think that such a strange portal existed in my chamber; it had never entered my mind that such a thing could be possible. With a growing fascination, I unconsciously decided that I would leave my troubled world and see where my mirror took me. I gingerly stepped into the mirror; my heart thumping loudly. While I was in the mirror, I saw psychedelic black shapes rotating and changing. It was with great relief that I arrived at the other side.

I looked about in wonder at my new surroundings--rather, my reversed surroundings--for the room I had entered was just like my own. The only difference was that everything was backwards, and it seemed so trite and so obvious that I began to wonder if the whole thing was just a grisly fantasy in my mind, projected into reality by some drug-induced daze. I picked up a book sitting on a nearby table, and I noted the arabesque designs engulfing the whole book. I opened the book to a random page and tried to decipher the smudged print. "'Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore"'," I muttered to myself, suddenly recognizing my book of Edgar Allan Poe's works. I decided there was nothing in the room that interested me, so I strolled toward the baroque doors of my chamber and forced them open.

Peering out into the misty gloom, I saw beings--strange, incongruous beings--cavorting in the shadows. Creeping nearer for a better look, I found myself face-to-face with the ill-favored face of the Red Queen! She had a sour face accented by an unsightly nose and revolting yellow teeth. Her shrewd, calculating eyes glittered at me as she gave me three hard raps on the head. I started to protest, but she silenced me with her condemning words, "You vill never haf vat eet takesss to be a Qveen!"