Have you ever heard the story of Bloody Mary? The real Bloody Mary, not the queen or the one that’s summoned with a little rhyme at slumber parties along with Baby Blue, and definitely not the demon version of the Virgin Mary. She is within us all, whether we realize it or not, she’s that little piece that eats away at us when we stare into the mirror, wondering why we can’t reach a certain level of beauty no matter how hard we exercise or how well we eat. She lives there, within the mirrors, whispering sickeningly sweet songs of wrathful envy and vain self destruction.  

     Every once in a long while she becomes bored with the more conventional methods of corrupting a mind and destroying it’s body (anorexia here, bulimia there, maybe a bit of masochism spread out between towns). Sometimes she wishes to do something with a stronger effect, have some fun once in a while, and enter our world, the perceivable world. This is where the real story begins.