Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from Weird Tales August-September 1936. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
The Diary
of Philip Westerly
By PAUL COMPTON
A strange, brief tale of the terrible fear inspired by aman's horrendous reflection in a mirror
t has been ten years since my uncle, Philip Westerly, disappeared.Many theories have been advanced as to why and how he vanished sostrangely and so completely. Many have wondered why a man shouldvanish and leave nothing behind him but a smashed mirror. But none ofthese theories or wild imaginings are half so fantastic as the story Igathered from the diary which some whim prompted him to keep.
But first a word about Philip Westerly. He was a wealthy man, and alsoa cruel, selfish man. His wealth was attributed to this same crueltyand selfishness. He also had many whims. One of them was keeping adiary. Another was his love for mirrors. He was handsome in a cruelsort of way and almost effeminate in his liking to stand before themand admire himself. This eccentricity was borne out by the fact thatcovering one whole side of his room was a mirror of gigantic size—thesame mirror that is linked with his disappearance. But read theexcerpts from the diary of Philip Westerly.
ug. 3rd. Afternoon: Billings asked for an extension on that notetoday, but I saw no reason why I should grant him any such thing. WhenI told him this, he began cursing me in a frightful manner. He said Iwas cruel and that some day I would be called to account for the way Itreated people. I laughed outright at this, but at the same time Ifelt a vague sense of uneasiness which even yet I have not dispelled.
Night: A remarkable thing has happened. I had gone to my room todress for dinner and I was standing before the mirror tying my tie. Ihad begun the usual procedure that one follows, when I noticed that nosuch action was recorded in the mirror. True, there was my reflectionin the glass, but it followed none of the movements that I made. Itwas immobile!
I extended my hand to touch the reflection and encountered nothing butthe polished surface of the mirror. Then I noticed a truly remarkablething. The reflection in the mirror wore no tie! I stepped backaghast. Was this an illusion? Had my mind and vision been affected bysome malady that I was not aware of? Impossible! Then I regarded thereflection with a more careful scrutiny. There were a number ofdifferences between it and myself. For one thing it wore a stubbygrowth of beard on its face. I was positive that I had visited thebarber that very day and passed my hand across my chin to verify this.It encountered nothing but smooth skin. The lips of the man in themirror drooped in a display of gnarled, yellow fangs, while my ownbared nothing but two rows of gleaming, well-cared-for teeth.
I was filled simultaneously with a feeling of disgust and fear, andlooked for further discrepancies. I found them. The feet and handswere abnormally large, and the clothing of the thing was old, ba