Summary: Spencer purchases an old-fashioned mirror. What will happen when Sam discovers that the mirror is more than it seems?

Disclaimer: Maybe in some other world, I'd rich, and famous, and Dan Schneider, and I own iCarly. But here, I do not. D=

iWent Through the Glass: Chapter 1

"And here—" Carly says as she and I head over to a corner of the room, Freddie following us with his camera. "—You'll see the new mirror that my brother Spencer got!"

The mirror isn't actually new—it's really old, in fact. Spencer picked it up from an antique shop. It's resting on clawed legs, and its frame is gold that appears to be slightly tarnished. According to Freddork, gold takes a long time to rust at all, so you can imagine just how old this thing is. Waving my arms in a mystical fashion, I speak. "We call this 'The Mirror of Truth'!"

"'Cause our ancient mirror here is around to show you the truth." Carly casts a mysterious look at the camera. "And if you view it through your computer screen—" Freddie raises his camcorder to give the folks at home a look in the mirror. "—You can see that you are…." She looks at me to complete the sentence.

Smiling falsely, I exclaim, "A scrawny dork with a camera!"

Freddie tilts his head away from behind the camera to give me a disapproving glare.

I beam at him.

"Well, I guess you do see our technical producer, Freddie," Carly says slowly. "But what I was going for is that you see the technical producer—not necessarily Freddie! In other words, you—"

"—Our fans—" I do a little hokey-pokey spin in front of the camera.

"—Are the true backbone of iCarly!" Carly beams.

"It's all your support that keeps us up and running!" Freddie calls happily from behind the camera.

"And it's your voice that ticks the hell out of me," I glare at Freddie. "So shush."

Freddie rolls his eyes but Carly laughs, knowing my insults are all in good fun. "Freddie is right! Without you, we'd be nothing."

I pull a long face. "Just a speck on the web."

Carly pulls an even longer one. "Just dust in the interwind!"

Our expressions go frightened. "Just a website with only dot-net level importance."

We look at each other slowly, both terrified. Then we snap back to the camera, clinging to each other and screaming in terror.

We separate, and I'm grinning. "So, to celebrate your awesomeness—"

"—We now present—" says Carly.

"—The newest attraction on iCarly…"

"The meatball catapult!" we shout together as Spencer wheels out the table containing three catapults and a box of meatballs.

"Watch as we fling spherical meats at our friend Gibby!" Carly calls, brimming with happiness.

Gibby enters the shot, shirt-free, as he poses and flexes for the camera.

Spencer squeals with joy from behind the table. "I'm so excited!"

We all took our stances behind the catapults and loaded meatballs onto them.

"Everyone ready?" Freddie asked.

"Ready, Freddie," Carly called cheerily.

"Fingers ready on the triggers?"

"Yep!" yelled Spencer energetically.

"Meatballs set to—?"

Rolling my eyes, I shouted. "Just count down, Benson!"

"Alright," he glared back. "Five, four, three, two—meat-a-balls!" he called in a horribly fake Italian accent.

All at once we pressed our triggers. As the first meatball just barely missed Gibby, we discovered they were much tougher than we wanted them to be—for instance, they made a hole in the ground where they hit.

Gibby ran in fear, as I was the only one who continued the meatball assault. Finally, one of them hit him in the head and he fell to the floor unconscious.

I scoffed. "Alright, shirtless nerd, 500 points." And then I reached down, grabbed the meatball that had pegged Gibby and bit into it.

Freddie's mouth hung agape in outrage. Placing the camera down on his "tech cart" and switching the angle over to the b-cam, he jumped into the scene and pulled the plug that kept the meatball catapult functioning.

"Hey, Freddweeb," I began with an eyebrow cocked in suspicion, my mouth pulling up on one side into a half-sneer as my hands landed on my hips. "What's the big deal?"

"The big deal," he says, spinning to face me. "Is you knocked Gibby unconscious! How are we gonna explain this?"

Carly stared back and forth between us nervously. She saw that this was escalating into a place where it shouldn't go—a very bad place. Unfortunately, Freward didn't share my best friend's precognition.

"Relax, Benson," I chided. "We don't have to explain anything."

"Oh, really?" he asked, nodding in disbelief and left me no time to answer. "Then what are we gonna do, huh?"

I hate being cut off. And that quick transition to another question when I couldn't even answer his first—even if that answer was just a simple, "Yeah, really,"—definitely counted as me being cut off. Glaring, I spoke in a voice coated with venom. "Simple—we get rid of all the complainers." And then I promptly hit Freddie over the head with the boulder-like meatball.

The nerd fell to the ground and I nudged him with my foot.

Carly's eyes were wide as saucers and her voice was shaky when she spoke to the camera I had forgotten was still on. "Uhhh, and that's it for tonight! We'll see you next week!" Quickly running behind the camera, she shut down the live feed. "Sam, what did you do?!"

Shrugging, I answered nonchalantly. "I knocked him out."

"But why?" asked Carly in a hysterical, panicked voice. "That's not a good thing to do! You should know that!"

I wanted to tell her that I did know and that I just didn't care. But I didn't. Instead I just asked, "Why didn't you stop me, then?"

"I'm not your mother!" she answered back.

I scoffed. "Thank ham for that."

"Spencer," Carly called. "You're the oldest person here—why didn't you say something; anything?"

There was a stretched silence. I turned towards Carly's brother and he was just now lowering his head, switching his gaze to us from where it had been on the ceiling. "I'm sorry, what?" he asked. "I was distracted." Then he pointed upwards enthusiastically. "There is a spot up there that looks exactly like Randy Newman!"

Another long pause. Spencer seemed to have a talent for inducing long, confusion-filled silences.

Carly sighed. "Come on, Spencer. Let's go carry Freddie's body across the hall." Then she murmured, "Can't wait to hear the fit Mrs. Benson pulls when she sees him."

I waved a hand. "Oh please. She's known us long enough. Trust me, you won't need to explain a thing," I said with genuine confidence.

"Well if she yells at me, I'm blaming you!" Carly shouted back with a frightened/very displeased look on her face.

I just shrugged. "Kay." My eyes fell to the floor. I didn't really feel bad about what I did, but I didn't want to get Carly in trouble. My gaze drifted to Gibby. "I'll bring Gibby downstairs in a second, alright?"

Carly and Spencer were already halfway down the stairs carrying Freddie when Carly yelled back a very annoyed sounding, "Whatever."

I rubbed my hands together in preparation of dragging Gibby into the elevator when suddenly I could've sworn I heard my name being called. It was being said in a whisper, and the voice was so low that it was impossible to make out whether it was a guy or girl addressing me. I was sure I had heard it though—like the sound of wind rushing through an empty playground.

For some reason my eyes lifted to the mirror. It had a fog over its face, like a thick layer of dust, as if it had not been touched in years.

My eyebrows knit together in perplexity and then I rubbed my eyes, sure that I had to have been just seeing things. I must've been right, because when I lowered my hands, the fog was gone.

The room had grown uncomfortably colder, however, so I grabbed Gibby as hurriedly as I could and called for the elevator. As soon as its door closed with me inside of it, I swallowed the lump that had grown in my throat.

Something had, apparently spooked me, but I didn't know what it was.

I was going to find out, though. Not many things freak me out, so if something does, it should not be taken lightly.

As I exited the elevator on the first floor, my gaze flitted to the hanging mirror that rested there.

The lump reformed in my throat and the cold feeling returned to the room as I was overcome with irrational fear. In one smooth movement, I managed to tape my hoodie to the wall, over the tiny mirror.

--

AN: =O You voted, and here's the first chapter for iWent Through the Glass! I hope it was enjoyable. I have to tell you, that while I actually laughed along with my writing (something I do not often do—but my favorite part was with the spot on the ceiling that looked like Randy Newman) I actually creeped myself near the end. It was very late when I wrote that bit and I had the song "Dreaming" from the Coraline soundtrack (AKA the Other Mother's theme) running through my head at the same time. –Shudder- Anyway, can't wait to see your feedback, guys! =) Until next time—

-Fictions