The Vanishing of Audrey Lane

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Detective Grace Holloway stared at the small, weathered house on Audrey Lane. The morning sun cast long shadows across the front yard, but Grace couldn’t shake the cold knot of dread in her stomach. A week ago, Charlotte Mills had vanished from this house without a trace, leaving behind nothing but a cup of cold coffee and a cryptic note.
The note sat now in an evidence bag on the seat beside her: "They’re watching. I can’t stay here."
Grace had read it a dozen times, yet the words refused to give her any answers. Charlotte was a quiet woman, a freelance writer with no family nearby and few friends. The neighbors hadn’t seen or heard anything unusual. No forced entry, no signs of struggle. She had simply… disappeared.
Grace stepped out of her car and approached the house. The door creaked open at her touch; the forensics team had cleared the scene days ago, leaving the house eerily silent. Dust motes floated in the air as she stepped inside, her boots echoing on the hardwood floor.
Charlotte’s living room was sparse but tidy—a beige couch, a small bookshelf, a coffee table with a few scattered magazines. But Grace’s eyes were drawn to the walls. They were covered in dozens of sticky notes, each one filled with frantic, scribbled writing:
"They’re always there."
"I can feel them watching."
"The mirror is the key."
Grace frowned, her fingers brushing against one of the notes. The writing was chaotic, as if Charlotte had been in a rush—or terrified. She moved deeper into the house, her hand resting on the holster at her hip.
The bedroom was much the same. More sticky notes lined the walls, along with pages torn from notebooks and pieces of printed text. A large, ornate mirror hung on the far wall, its surface so clean it almost seemed to glow in the dim light.
Grace approached the mirror, unease prickling at her skin. Something about it felt… wrong. She could see her reflection perfectly, but as she moved closer, she noticed something strange. The room behind her in the reflection didn’t match the room she was standing in.
In the mirror, the walls were bare, and the bed was unmade. A dark smudge marred the corner of the room, like a shadow that shouldn’t be there. Grace turned sharply, but the room behind her was exactly as it should be—sticky notes and all.
She faced the mirror again, her pulse quickening. The shadow in the reflection was moving now, creeping closer to the center of the room.
"Charlotte?" Grace called out, her voice steady despite the fear clawing at her chest.
The shadow paused. For a moment, the reflection seemed to ripple, as if the glass were water disturbed by a stone. Then, in the blink of an eye, a face appeared in the mirror—Charlotte’s face.
Grace stumbled back, her heart hammering. Charlotte’s eyes were wide and desperate, her hands pressed against the inside of the glass. Her lips moved, forming words that Grace couldn’t hear.
Grace leaned closer, her breath fogging the surface. "Charlotte, what happened? What’s going on?"
Charlotte’s reflection trembled, and the words came clearer now, faint but audible:
"Don’t let them find you."
Before Grace could respond, the mirror darkened, the surface turning opaque and swirling like ink in water. The reflection of the room was gone, replaced by a vast, empty void.
A low, guttural whisper filled the air, and Grace felt a chill run down her spine.
"She belongs to us now."
The mirror cracked. A thin, jagged line split the glass from top to bottom, and the oppressive presence in the room lifted. Grace staggered back, her head spinning. When she looked again, the mirror was just a mirror—cracked and ordinary.
She called for backup, but by the time they arrived, the mirror had disappeared. The sticky notes on the walls were blank, the cryptic messages erased.
Charlotte was never found. The house on Audrey Lane was boarded up and eventually condemned, but rumors lingered.
Some said they’d seen a woman’s face in the windows, her mouth silently screaming for help. Others claimed the house had a mirror that showed things no one should ever see.
Grace left the force a month later. She never spoke of what she’d seen, but late at night, when the world was quiet, she’d find herself staring into her own reflection, wondering if the shadows behind her were moving.