One Rule

There was only one rule: don't open the door.

Leah had been repeating this in her mind ever since she moved into the small, creaky house. The landlord’s instructions were clear: everything was hers to use, except for the room at the end of the narrow hallway. The door was locked, the key nowhere to be found. The rule was simple enough.

For the first few weeks, life was calm. After a few weeks, once night had fallen strange sounds would creep from behind that door. It was always faint—a shuffle, a creak, as though something was pacing back and forth. Leah told herself it was just the house settling.

One evening, the noises grew louder—thumping, scraping, almost like whispers pressing through the walls. She couldn't shake the feeling that something wanted to be let out.

What could be so terrible that she was forbidden to open it?

Finally, she decided she couldn’t take it any longer. She grabbed a hairpin and worked it into the lock. The door clicked open.

Inside was a small, dimly lit room, completely bare except for a large mirror that covered one wall. At first, Leah saw only her own reflection. But then, her image began to shift—her reflection smiling back in a way she was not.

She stepped closer, her pulse quickening. The reflection moved toward her too, its eyes gleaming with something dark and hungry.

Suddenly, the reflection reached out and pulled her into the mirror while stepping out of the mirror at the same time.

Leah went to reach for the person who had her face only to hit a glass wall.

Glancing over her shoulder while walking out of the room, the fake Leah smirks “Thanks for letting me out. I am going to enjoy being you”.