A Mirror Showing a Different Person

The mirror arrived in a dusty crate without a sender’s name. Amelia had just moved into her grandmother’s house after her passing. The cottage was old, tucked away in a quiet village, filled with antique furniture, creaky floors, and the scent of lavender.

The crate sat on the porch with a small, yellowing tag: “For Amelia. Don’t ignore this.”

She dragged it inside, curious. As she peeled away the layers of packing straw, her breath caught. It was a tall, wooden mirror, elaborately carved with symbols she didn’t recognize—stars, moons, and a single eye etched at the top center.

She tilted it upright and stood before it.

And froze.

The reflection was not her own.

The room behind her was the same, down to the flickering lamp and crooked picture frame. But the girl in the mirror was older, with streaks of silver in her hair and a scar across her brow. Her eyes, though… her eyes were identical to Amelia’s.

“What the hell…” Amelia whispered.

The reflection smirked.

“Hello, Amelia,” it said, though Amelia’s lips hadn’t moved.

She stumbled back, heart racing, but the reflection remained—calm, watching her.

“I’m you,” the woman in the mirror said. “Or at least, a version of you.”

Amelia stared, breathless. “Is this some hallucination?”

“No. You’ve inherited the mirror. And the responsibility.”

“What responsibility?”

The woman leaned closer, her voice turning grave. “To change what’s coming.”


Amelia avoided the mirror for days, throwing a cloth over it and keeping the door to the spare room shut. But every night, without fail, the cloth would be on the floor, the door ajar, and her reflection—the other her—waiting.

Finally, unable to take it anymore, Amelia faced the mirror again.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “What do you want from me?”

The older version of herself sighed. “I didn’t listen. When I was you, I ignored the warnings. I made the wrong choices. And it cost everyone.”

“Warnings?”

“You’ll meet a man next week. He’ll seem perfect. Charming, smart, kind. He’ll offer you help with your writing, with your dreams. But he’s not who he claims to be. He’s part of something darker.”

Amelia frowned. “That sounds like a bad movie plot.”

The woman’s eyes sharpened. “He’s the reason I lost Mom. Lost everything. I made a deal I thought I could control. He only wanted the mirror.”

Amelia shook her head. “This is insane.”

“You don’t have to believe me. But remember this—he will say his name is Elijah. And he’ll know too much about you.”


Exactly a week later, in the local bookstore, she met him.

“Elijah Kane,” he said, offering a charming smile. “You must be Amelia. I’ve read your short stories online.”

Chills ran down her spine.

He was perfect. Too perfect.

Over the next few days, he helped her polish a story, sent her editor contacts, made her laugh. But something always felt…off.

One night, she caught him in her grandmother’s study, staring at the old mirror.

“This is a remarkable piece,” he said. “Do you know where it came from?”

Amelia played dumb. “No idea.”

Elijah looked at her. “Some mirrors are more than reflections. Some are doors.”

Her blood ran cold.



That night, she spoke to the mirror again.

“I think I believe you now,” she whispered.

The older version of her smiled, but it was a sad smile. “Good. Then you must make a choice. Burn the mirror… or use it.”

“Use it how?”

“To trap him.”

“What?”

“Elijah is not human. He hunts the Seers—people like you and me who can speak across time through the mirror. He collects their mirrors, their power.”

Amelia stared. “Why me?”

“Because you’re the last. The bloodline ends with you.”



Elijah returned the next evening. But Amelia was ready.

She led him into the spare room. The mirror stood tall, uncovered, glowing faintly in the lamplight.

“You were right,” she said, forcing a smile. “It’s more than a mirror.”

Elijah grinned. “You finally see.”

As he stepped closer, the mirror shimmered. The reflection in the glass changed—now it was Elijah’s face, but distorted. Older. Monstrous.

He froze.

“What—?”

“You’re not the only one who can use the mirror,” Amelia said softly.

The mirror’s surface rippled like water. A hand—her older self’s hand—reached out, grabbed Elijah by the wrist, and yanked him inside.

The room went silent.

Only her reflection remained. The older Amelia looked tired, but peaceful.

“You did it,” she said. “You’ve changed our future.”

Amelia nodded. For the first time, she truly saw herself in the mirror.

And smiled.