The Mirror in Room Six

M Mehran

When traveling for work, Daniel never expected much from the hotels he stayed in—sterile lobbies, thin walls, and coffee that tasted like cardboard. But the motel he checked into that rainy Thursday was stranger than most.

The clerk barely looked up as Daniel signed in, mumbling, “Only one room left—Room Six.”

The hallway was dim, lined with peeling wallpaper. Room Six creaked when he pushed the door open. Inside, everything seemed ordinary enough: a bed, a chair, a lamp that flickered. The only unusual thing was the mirror.

It was full-length, framed in dark wood, and leaned against the far wall. It wasn’t dusty or cracked like the rest of the room—it gleamed, flawless, as though it had been polished moments before.

Daniel didn’t think much of it until he unpacked. He glanced at the mirror and froze.

His reflection was smiling.

But Daniel wasn’t.

He stepped closer, his stomach lurching. Slowly, cautiously, he raised his hand. His reflection raised its hand too, in perfect sync. But the smile lingered, stretched unnaturally wide.

“Long day,” Daniel muttered to himself, trying to laugh it off. “Just tired.”

He turned away, but unease prickled his skin. He left the television on for noise, but every time he glanced at the mirror, the reflection’s smile seemed sharper.


---

At 2 a.m., a noise jolted him awake. A faint tapping, like fingernails on glass.

The room was dark, the TV off though he hadn’t touched it. His gaze slid to the mirror.

His reflection was standing closer than he was—right up against the glass.

The tapping grew louder. The reflection lifted its hand and knocked, once, twice, three times.

Daniel’s breath caught. His body felt heavy, pinned to the bed.

Then, in a voice that didn’t echo in the room but bloomed inside his skull, the reflection whispered:

“Let me out.”

Daniel scrambled off the bed, heart hammering. “This isn’t real,” he hissed. “I’m dreaming.”

The reflection tilted its head, the smile never faltering. “You don’t belong out there. You’re tired. Worn down. Let me take your place. Rest. Just rest.”

“No,” Daniel whispered.

The mirror rattled. Cracks spidered across its surface though it didn’t break. The reflection’s smile widened until it split the face unnaturally.

Daniel grabbed his bag, fled the room, and didn’t stop running until he was in his car, the rain soaking him through. He drove through the night, not caring about the headlights or the storm.


---

By morning, he had convinced himself it was exhaustion and stress. Lack of sleep. Maybe even a fever dream.

But when he stopped at a diner for breakfast, he caught his reflection in the window.

It was still smiling.