Broken Mirror

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own. At first, I thought it was just a trick of the light or a smudge on the surface. But as I moved closer to get a better look, I realized that the image staring back at me was not a distortion, but a completely different person.

The figure in the mirror had the same features as me, but there was something off about it. Its eyes were too wide, too glassy, and there was a faint smirk on its lips that made me uneasy. I tried to look away, but I found myself drawn to the reflection, unable to tear my gaze from it.

Suddenly, the figure in the mirror began to move, its lips moving in a soundless whisper. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I watched in horror, unable to move or speak. And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the figure stopped moving and the mirror went dark.

For days, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled over me. I avoided the mirror, but I could feel its presence lurking in the back of my mind, like a dark cloud waiting to descend. And then, one night, I couldn't resist the urge to look again.

This time, when I peered into the mirror, the figure was still there, but it was clearer, more defined. I could see the details of its face, the way its hair fell in unruly waves around its shoulders. And then, just like before, it began to move, its lips forming words that I couldn't hear.

I tried to turn away, to break the connection, but I was transfixed, like a moth to a flame. And then, something shifted. The figure in the mirror seemed to grow larger, its edges bleeding into the room around me. I could see the room behind me reflected in the glass, but it was distorted, twisted, like a funhouse mirror.

And then, I saw it. Something in the distorted reflection that shouldn't have been there. A shadowy figure, moving just beyond the edge of the glass. I gasped, stumbling back from the mirror, but it was too late.

The room around me began to warp, to twist and contort as the alternate reality from the mirror began to bleed into my world. I could see shadows moving just beyond my field of vision, hear whispers on the edge of my hearing. And then, just as suddenly as it had started, everything went still.

For a moment, I was suspended in darkness, unsure of where I was or what was happening. And then, slowly, the world around me came back into focus. But it wasn't the same world I had known before. It was twisted, distorted, like a nightmare made real.

The air was thick with the stench of decay, and the walls were slick with some sort of slimy substance. I stumbled forward, trying to make sense of what was happening, but everything felt like a fever dream. And then, I saw it.

The figure from the mirror, standing just ahead of me, its glassy eyes fixed on me. I could see now that it wasn't a reflection of me, but something else entirely. Something dark and malevolent.

I tried to run, but my feet felt like lead, like they were sinking into the slimy floor beneath me. The figure was getting closer, its steps slow and deliberate. And then, just as it was about to grab me, everything went black.

When I woke up, I was back in my own world, lying on the floor in front of the mirror. For a moment, I thought it had all been a nightmare, a figment of my imagination. But as I looked up at the mirror