"Beyond the Mirror"



It was exactly midnight. In the farthest corner of a silent village stood an old abandoned mansion of a former landlord. After many years, lights had once again flickered on inside. A young researcher named Aranya had arrived to study old Bengali history. Rumors said that the landlord who once lived there practiced black magic. But to Aranya, such stories were nothing but superstition.

On the first day, while looking around the house, Aranya noticed a particular room. The door was locked, and a sign that read "Dangerous" was above it. Don't go in."

Naturally, his curiosity spiked. He asked the old caretaker, Haripada, who replied in a trembling voice,

“Sir, there’s nothing good inside that room. I’ve seen things with my own eyes… Please, don’t go in there.”

But Aranya’s curiosity got the better of him. On the second night, he sneaked in with a set of old keys.

A massive, antique mirror stood in one of the room's corners. After wiping the dust off, he noticed something off. He was clearly visible in the reflection, but there was a shadow of someone else behind him. He turned around. Nobody was present.

He tried to shake off the chill that crept down his spine. But from the next night onward, things took a terrifying turn.

At night, while sleeping, he began hearing soft sobbing. At first, he thought it might be a dog outside. But when he listened closely, he realized—it was a woman, crying in pain.

One night, he woke up and found the room’s door ajar. He stepped out and saw the door to the mirror room wide open, on its own.

Inside stood a woman before the mirror. Her face covered by a veil, draped in a red-bordered white saree. But she had no feet—she floated above the ground!

Aranya screamed, and just then, the woman melted into the mirror and vanished.

Terrified, he ran to Haripada and told him everything. Haripada’s eyes widened in horror.

“You entered that room… you don’t know, that mirror is cursed. The landlord burned his wife alive out of jealousy, and her soul got trapped inside the mirror. Since then, whoever stares into the mirror too long—disappears into it.”

Aranya laughed nervously, “That’s just folklore. No one lives inside mirrors.”

Haripada simply said, “Then wait till tonight. She will return.”

That night, Aranya sat before the mirror, determined to prove there was nothing supernatural. Slowly, the glass began to fog. Within the mist, the woman reappeared. This time, she lifted her veil.

Her eyes were hollow black pits, and her face was scorched and twisted. She whispered,

“You entered my room… now you will be mine…”

A hand reached out from the mirror. Aranya tried to move, but he was frozen. The hand grabbed him, trying to pull him inside.

The next morning, Haripada broke down the door and found the room empty. On the mirror’s glass—there was a handprint.

On the floor lay Aranya’s diary. The last page read:

“Tonight I will prove there’s nothing inside the mirror… But no one can hear my voice… I… I am trapped inside the mirror…”

The mirror still stands in that room of the old mansion. And every night at midnight, someone can be seen pressing a hand from the inside—someone who still hasn’t been freed…