The Last Message

She found the old phone buried beneath the loose floorboard in the attic. The house smelled of dust and forgotten memories, the light from her flashlight trembling across faded wallpaper. The phone was cracked and worn, the kind that felt heavy in her hand — a relic from another time.

She hesitated, fingers hovering over the power button. Finally, curiosity outweighed caution. She pressed it.

The screen flickered to life, dim but alive. There was a single unread message waiting.

“Don’t trust anyone. Especially not yourself.”

Her breath caught. A chill ran down her spine. Who could have sent this message? Why was it hidden here, beneath the floor? Questions swirled in her mind, mixing with a rising unease.

As she stared at the glowing screen, the air seemed to thicken. The walls around her blurred and stretched, shadows growing longer and darker. It felt like the attic was closing in, swallowing the light.

A voice, barely more than a whisper, drifted from the corner.

“You’ve always known.”

She whipped her head around. No one. Just empty space and the soft creak of the house settling.

The phone buzzed again, vibrating in her palm.

“Look in the mirror.”

Her heart pounded as she turned toward the small, dusty mirror hanging on the wall.

In the glass, her reflection stared back — but her eyes weren’t her own. They glinted with something strange, something knowing.

And then, the reflection smiled.