The Cursed Reflection

I had always been fascinated by antiques, and when I came across an old, ornate mirror at a flea market, I couldn’t resist buying it. It was large, with a heavy wooden frame, intricately carved with strange symbols. The seller told me it was from the 1800s and had a history, but they refused to say more. “Some things are better left unsaid,” they muttered. I brushed off their warning, eager to add the mirror to my collection.

Once I got it home, I placed it in the hallway, directly opposite my bedroom door. At first, it seemed like any other antique—a relic of the past, worn by time. But as the days passed, I began to notice strange things.

The First Night

The first night, I woke up to the sound of soft whispers. At first, I thought it was the wind. But when I opened my eyes, I saw a figure standing in the hallway, its outline barely visible in the dim light. I blinked, thinking I was still half-dreaming, but the figure didn’t move. My heart raced as I realized it wasn’t a person—it was a reflection in the mirror.

I jumped out of bed and flicked on the hallway light, but the figure was gone. I convinced myself it was just my imagination, maybe a trick of the light, and went back to sleep.

The Unwelcome Presence

Over the next few nights, the strange occurrences escalated. Objects would move on their own—a book I had left on the table would be on the floor by morning, and the door to the hallway would creak open in the middle of the night, though I had locked it. The mirror, however, was the worst of it.

Each time I looked into the mirror, my reflection seemed slightly off. The eyes were a little too dark, the smile a little too crooked. It wasn’t me, not really. I started to avoid it, but that only seemed to make the atmosphere in the house heavier, more oppressive. The whispers became louder at night, growing more distinct, though I couldn’t understand the words. It was as if someone—or something—was trying to communicate with me.

The Haunting Escalates

One night, I woke up to the feeling of cold breath on my neck. I bolted upright, but the room was empty. When I glanced at the mirror, I froze. My reflection was still lying in bed, fast asleep.

I stumbled back in shock, my mind racing. I tried to convince myself that it was just another trick of the light, but I knew deep down that something was terribly wrong. My reflection stirred in the bed, opening its eyes and staring directly at me. A sinister smile crept across its face as it slowly sat up. I felt paralyzed with fear, unable to move or look away.

The figure in the mirror stood and walked toward me, its movements slow and deliberate. My chest tightened as it raised a hand and pressed it against the glass, its eyes locked on mine. The whispers intensified, filling the room with a cacophony of voices.

The Final Confrontation

In a panic, I grabbed a heavy book from my desk and hurled it at the mirror. The glass shattered, the pieces scattering across the floor. For a moment, the room was silent. But then, from the shards of broken glass, a thick, dark mist began to seep out, filling the air with a suffocating cold.

I stumbled backward, my heart pounding in my chest. The mist swirled around me, and I heard a voice, clear and cold, whisper in my ear: “You’ve freed me.”

The lights flickered, and suddenly the room was plunged into darkness. I could feel the presence closing in on me, its cold breath against my skin. I ran out of the house, not daring to look back.

The Aftermath

I never went back to that house. I sold it as quickly as I could, leaving everything behind—including the broken mirror. But no matter where I go, I can still feel its presence. At night, when everything is still, I hear the whispers again, growing louder with each passing day.

And sometimes, just for a moment, I catch a glimpse of something in the reflection of a window or a puddle—something that isn’t me.

This chilling tale reminds us that some things, especially those with a dark history, are better left untouched. What we perceive as harmless can often hold unspeakable secrets waiting to be unleashed.