My grandmother raised me with the belief that one thing was necessary to provide safety; that safety lies in never sleeping with your face directed at an uncovered mirror. She explained that a mirror was not really a piece of furniture but was instead like a door to another world — a place where restless spirits existed, observing your every move and biding their time to intrude on your life.
In my youth, her descriptions provided a backdrop for my frequent nightmares and were the reason why I feared the dark.
As an adult, I regarded those fears as folly.
However, this was my very first bad decision.
After being married to my husband Ryan and moving into our new home, everything was perfect; the furniture was contemporary, there were ample windows allowing plenty of natural light, and a new beginning was upon us. Yet, it felt like there was an empty hole in my heart; it was as if the house was waiting — waiting for something.
That’s when I figured it out.
We didn’t have any mirrors at all.
Definitely not a standard mirror; rather, I was searching for something vintage and something that had a history or story. A mirror that would make a statement. Ryan finally agreed to go with me to Raven Alley Market; this is where you can find antiques and items that no one wants and are forgotten by everyone else.
The market bustled with sound and activity. The vendors called out over each other, clouds of incense hung in the air and made it feel thick, suffocating. I was disappointed that I hadn’t yet found anything looking in numerous stalls. Just as I began to lose hope a lady appeared before me, she came out of the darkness.
“You are searching for a mirror.”
She made it sound like a statement instead of a question.
She guided me to her stall, where the lighting was poor, there was a large amount of smoke creating a feeling of dread or foreboding about the place, and as soon as the veil covering the mirror was lifted I felt as if I was going to die from shock.
It was a stunningly crafted piece of dark wood with numerous odd characters or symbols adorning the frame. When I touched it, I felt as if it was breathing.
“I saved this just for you,” she said.
Before I could respond, she leaned in and said something that almost caused me to faint.
“You carry within you the life of another,” she said.
I was with child, and I had not yet informed a single soul about this fact.
She talked about her daughter, who was pregnant and hopeful, but she never got to see her baby. When she asked me to take this mirror, she pleaded with me for the mirror and her voice broke as she spoke. My insides were screaming, “No!” but my hands reached out anyway.
When Ryan and I went home, the mirror was put in our basement by Ryan. I could not sleep that night since the woman’s voice was repeating in my head.
The next morning when the morning light hit my face; I screamed. The mirror was directly in front of my bed.
I saw something in the mirror move, it was a shadow. Ryan just said he moved the mirror upstairs from the basement because rats were destroying everything in the basement. I wanted to trust him, but my chest was so tight from fear.
After that day the house changed.
The prayer lamp caught fire spontaneously. There were footsteps in the house when no one was in the house. Many times I heard a child laugh — it was soft and far away and strange. Every time I walked by the mirror the mirror felt closer to me than before.
I stayed alone at home that night because Ryan had to work late. At midnight, I heard something unusual. It sounded like a child crying as if it had just lost something. I began to panic. I was not alone, as I thought I was, but I didn’t want to be scared. Suddenly, the lights flickered and went out completely. The temperature in the air dropped, causing me to shiver. A flash of lightning came from outside, and when I looked in the mirror, I saw a young woman standing behind me with horrible injuries to her body and a baby. I felt an overwhelming sense of dread wash over me. When Ryan knocked on the door, I didn’t know what to do but feel relieved. I wasn’t alone after all. However, when I called to him, I realised that he had to work late again. Then I heard the whispering behind me of the child who had been crying only moments ago. Again, I was filled with dread and terror as I was pulled toward the mirror. As I got closer to it, I recognised the old woman I had seen at the market place earlier that evening. When she pulled her veil from her face, I could see that her eyes were burning with fury. She turned her head toward me and asked, “Don’t you remember the night you drove home after drinking too much alcohol?” “Do you remember the woman and the baby you killed?” She had also referred to the injured woman standing behind me at the time that I was looking in the mirror. The woman was her daughter, and the baby was her grandson. The old woman had trapped both of their souls inside the mirror until I had been drawn into the mirror by my own actions. I had brought my punishment home with me that night. I fell to my knees. I begged for forgiveness. I wept.
Through shattered glass, their cries pierced the air. Crimson stained my senses; I dropped to the ground when the mirror detonated into fragments. For a moment, there was total silence. Eventually found me slumped over in a stupor. Anne was gone; this house was at last eerily still again. However, from time to time, late into the twilight hours, they return… “Little star, I see you hail from above…” Thus, I will always turn away before I gaze at my reflection.
Disclaimer
This story is a work of fiction created purely for entertainment purposes. All characters, events, locations, and incidents described in this blog are imaginary. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
The beliefs, folklore, and supernatural elements mentioned in this story are part of fictional horror storytelling and are not intended to promote superstition, fear, or harmful beliefs. This content does not claim to reflect reality or scientific truth.
The story is meant for a mature audience and may contain themes that some readers could find disturbing. Reader discretion is advised.
The author does not intend to offend any religion, culture, tradition, or belief system. This blog is published solely for creative expression and storytelling.