The Shadow in the Night

The night was cold when Laura stepped out of the taxi in front of the old mansion. The full moon illuminated the stone façade, highlighting the thick columns and arched windows.

The wind whispered among the garden trees, making the dry leaves dance on the ground. She hesitated for a moment before touching the heavy wooden door handle, feeling a chill run down her spine.

Laura had never been there before, yet the house felt unsettlingly familiar. She had been invited to an exclusive event—a rare antiques auction promising pieces never before seen by the public.

Her interest was purely professional, as she worked as an art restorer, but something deeper, an inexplicable calling, had drawn her to that place.

As soon as she entered, she was greeted by a tall, slender man dressed in an elegant black suit. His eyes were deep and unfathomable.

“Welcome, Miss Laura. We’ve been expecting you,” he said, with an enigmatic smile.

“Expecting me?” she asked, surprised. “But I only received the invitation yesterday.”

“Yes, but your name has been on the list for a long time,” he replied, leading her down a corridor lined with antique chandeliers that cast flickering shadows on the walls.

The auction room was majestic, its vaulted ceiling adorned with paintings that seemed to come alive under the candlelight. There were few guests, all dressed in refined attire, whispering among themselves as if sharing a secret.

The auctioneer ascended the stage and announced the first piece of the night: an ornate gold mirror.

Looking into its reflection, Laura felt a shiver run through her. The image in the mirror appeared distorted, as if a shadow lurked behind it.

For an instant, the lights flickered, and when they returned to normal, she swore she saw a fleeting silhouette within the glass. Her heart pounded.

“Is something wrong, Miss Laura?” asked the man in the black suit, now by her side.

“This mirror… where did it come from?” she asked, unable to take her eyes off it.

“From an old estate… one that, interestingly, has ties to your family,” he replied, watching her with interest.

Laura felt the blood run cold. She knew nothing about her family beyond a few vague stories her grandmother had told her. But before she could respond, the auctioneer struck the gavel, and the mirror was sold.

The auction continued with other intriguing objects: a pocket watch that always showed the same time, a key with no apparent lock, a ball gown stained with what appeared to be blood. Laura grew increasingly uneasy.

Then the auctioneer brought out the final piece of the night: a weathered leather diary.

“This belonged to Mrs. Beatrice Alencar, the last descendant of a lineage shrouded in mystery,” the auctioneer announced. “Its contents remain an enigma, for no one has ever been able to unlock the secret it guards.”

Laura felt a wave of vertigo. Beatrice was the name of her grandmother.

“I need to see this diary,” she murmured, feeling an uncontrollable impulse.

“Then place your bid,” said the man in the black suit, his eyes sparkling with playful intrigue.

Without thinking, Laura raised her hand. The bidding grew intense, but in the end, the diary was hers.

As soon as she held the book in her hands, she felt something strange—the lock opened on its own, as if recognizing her touch. A tense silence fell over the room.

Laura began to leaf through the yellowed pages, her heart pounding in her chest. The first words made her catch her breath:

“To my granddaughter, Laura. If you are reading this, then the time has come to know the truth.”

The floor seemed to vanish beneath her feet. How could her grandmother have written something meant for her in a diary that had been locked away for decades? The following words spoke of the house, of a curse that haunted their lineage—a spirit that sought something… or someone.

A noise echoed through the hall. The candlelight flickered. When Laura looked up, the golden mirror reflected something that made her scream: a dark silhouette was right behind her.

She spun around, but there was no one there. The diary slipped from her hands and fell to the floor, open to a page bearing only one phrase:

“Run, Laura. He is awake.”

The door of the hall slammed shut. All the candles extinguished at once. And in the mirror’s reflection, the shadow moved… advancing.