A STRONG north western breeze pushed its way through the remote village of Sandridge. It was a strange name for a place, given that the surrounding landscape was flat and comprised of clay and mud. It was a boring little village with a quaint little church, a leaning school house and a dark, musty and depressing little grocery store.
There was one bright spark to this backward place; Modesty. Modesty was a ‘lady of the night’. She was a big girl; big in every sense of the word. She could never be described as pretty no matter how generous you wanted to be. But she was a livewire. She knew everybody and everything about everybody. She never spared any words.

Most of her regular clients were from the city with a few exceptions closer to home. They were handled with great discretion because she was on good terms with the wives of all of them.
Her job dictated that she travelled the dark lonely roads late. She was accustomed to this and never worried about it.
Modesty was lumbering home one moonlit night when she met a beautiful young woman. Now it was not unusual to occasionally meet someone on the road. What took her by surprise was the fact that she did not know the lady.

She immediately felt threatened. This had to be competition from the city. She was young, slim and beautiful; not the kind of odds she favoured. She would have to do something about it.
Modesty began to show off; out came her mirror, out came lipstick and makeup. Out came the perfume. She would show this young upstart how it was done. The makeover began.
When she glanced at the young woman she was taken aback, to see a smile of amusement on her pretty face.
“Wat de hell you smiling at? You look like you need these more than me,” Modesty said.
The smile broadened and a soft voice reached her.
“All I would like to borrow is your mirror. It’s a long time since I used one,” the woman said.

This amused Modesty. “Ha ha ha ha. Yo right! Like yo ain’t see a mirror in years. Yo look a hot mess!”
The rude comment was answered with an icy glare.
Modesty, sensing danger, quickly handed over the mirror. Eager hands grasped the mirror and the stranger examined her face carefully. Things began to feel slightly odd.
Curiosity got the most of the big girl and she snuck a peek into the mirror.

What she saw there caused her to leap high into the air. Her eyes bulged, mouth sagged open in terror and her voice went up a few octaves. This might sound hard to believe, but Modesty left a large plume of smoke in her wake. Grunting and panting she motored home. Modesty reached home and trembling hands opened her door. There, lying on the floor, was the mirror. Modesty froze in horror.
“Thanks girl.”
It was the same soft, silky voice. In a flash, she summersaulted through the door, kicking it shut with a bang. A voice outside chuckled and murmured softly, “At least she fit.”