The Mermaid’s Shadow Lamp

by Nora B. Peevy

part 3 of 4

Miriam Manchester is a bitter spinster and so rude that she is known as the Witch of Shorewood and is suspected of having sinister powers. One day she espies and purchases a musical shadow lamp in an antique store. Its beauty and music comfort her. It also has powers that surprise even a witch.

The next night she donned a new Ralph Lauren outfit and they ate a delicious gourmet meal at Bartolotta’s as planned.

“Did you enjoy dinner?” Tom sipped his coffee with slow relish, eyeing Miriam’s tasteful yet revealing ruby camisole. It brought out the green of her eyes. Her deep red lips matched her top, offsetting the dramatic sweep of her dark tresses. Tiny rhinestone pins in her hair caught the light from the chandeliers as she pouted like a 1920s silent film starlet.

“Yes, I did, thank you. It was very nice.”

“You look good enough to be dessert, you know.” Tom winked at her, the blue of his eyes striking, complemented by the crisp white shirt he wore.

She stopped eating her canoli long enough to blush, before taking a sip of her own coffee. “Why, Tom, you flatter me. If you’ll excuse me, I need to powder my nose.” As she left the table, she thought Tom looked a bit older, and hoped the low-light of the chandeliers was more flattering to her. She would check her reflection in the bathroom to make sure the effects of the shadow lamp were holding strong.

Faint fingers of musk teased Tom as she wove her way through the tables. He watched her, savoring his coffee. The scent of her perfume awakened a few lustful thoughts as he waited for her to return.

Before Miriam left the bathroom, she patted her hair in place, though anyone watching would not have noticed a single hair in disarray, and applied a fresh coat of lipstick to her lips, noting the beginnings of what she called “the prune shrivel,” the thing she dreaded most about growing older, that puckering wrinkled mouth. She could already see the wrinkles seeping back into her skin like water stains on fine silk wallpaper, creeping back into her life in their spidery glory, and she grimaced, pulling the skin of her cheeks taut with two polished fingernails. Their deep red luster made her cheeks look even more vampish.

She squinted. If she stayed in low light, the aging wouldn’t be as obvious. With steady caution, he would be none the wiser, and she would have a chance to use the shadow lamp before their next date. Steeling herself against the fine marble countertop, she smiled at her reflection. She could do this. She could pull this off. And Tom seemed enamored with her. Lady Luck was on her side this time around.

* * *

The next Friday, Tom asked her out again. Miriam played the shadow lamp’s music all afternoon while she read and preened for her date, even treating herself to a luxurious bubble bath, which she hadn’t done in years because of her fear of slipping on the stairs leading down into the marble tub. The gardenia scented bath salts were the perfect relaxing accompaniment as she listened to Für Elise.

Above the generous vanity, the wall-length mirror showed youth turning back the time of aging. Miriam smiled as her breasts settled firmer and higher, her nipples perkier beneath the bath bubbles, the flesh of her thighs supple once again, the startling depth of her sweeping cheekbones becoming more pronounced as her face firmed. She could easily pass for a fit woman in her early forties.

Tonight was a special night, her third date with Tom, and she looked forward to it. They were going to see a high school production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Tom’s niece was playing Titania. Miriam loved Shakespeare’s works, especially his comedies. No man understood love more than William did.

She smiled, applying a soft shade of rose to her lips. When she first met Tom, she’d only wanted to show the town how beautiful and charming she could be on the arm of her lover before snuffing them out like the nasty vermin they were, but now she only wanted Tom. She’d found true friendship with him.

* * *

Tom and Miriam pulled up to the three-story brick high school with a dramatic stone entranceway and a long flight of stairs flanked by centurion maples with a few browning cedars in need of water. Hordes of indolent youth skulked outside the school, polluting the atmosphere with their too baggy pants and their untucked shirts and mohawks and purple hair — a travesty.

She frowned as Tom led her inside on his arm, and tried not to brush up against any of the hooligans on her way in. Miriam swore she saw one boy with an earring in his ear and a ring in his upper lip sneer at her. She shuddered, grateful for the escape of the auditorium, even if it did smell like sneakers, dust, and stale popcorn.

Proceed to part 4...