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Tuesday, June 3, 2008, 4:29 AM

When I opened my eyes, I noticed a face staring down at me. I gasped; this face was more beautiful than anything else! It was a little boy of about 12 (the same age as me) with a face so round and perfect that it looked painted, and with short, cherubic locks the colour of creamy chocolate.

His hazel eyes were like deep pools of water, so clear, mysterious and shining. He carried a smile on those perfect lips that would have been a girl's had they been any more well-shaped. He stared down at me innocently, and I saw that a sleeve of his shirt was torn off.

"Fair maiden, where dost thou reside?" His english was a little funny. Only then did I realise that he was all dressed up in Edwardian garb, from the jewel-encrested vest to the fine boots. Not a poor fellow, I must say. He looked so gallant though young, almost like a prince.

I stared down at my foot which had been hurting before, and noticed that his sleeve was wrapped around the wound tenderly with a blood-covered shard of glass laying nearby. Had he really bandaged my leg for me? Who was he? Was he from another era, and what did the mirror have to do with him? As he started to speak again, I fell silent, hoping my questions would be answered.

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