I Found a Mirror in the Woods, But My Reflection Didn’t Follow Me Home

I went hiking last weekend to clear my head. Just me, my phone, a thermos of coffee, and a long trail that cut through the dense forest behind my town.

About six miles in, the path vanished into a mess of thorns and wild trees. I should’ve turned back, but curiosity pulled me forward.

That’s when I found it.

A mirror. A full-length, antique mirror with a dark oak frame, standing upright in the middle of the forest.

It wasn’t leaning against anything. Just standing there, perfectly balanced on uneven ground. No signs of anyone else around.

And it was clean. No dust, no cracks, not even a fingerprint.

At first, I laughed. I assumed it was some weird art installation.

Then I looked into it.

My reflection stared back, but something was off.

It didn’t blink when I did.

I raised my left hand. It raised its right.

I waved.

It smiled.

I didn’t.

I took a step back. So did it. But that grin never faded.

Goosebumps crawled up my neck. I turned away and started walking fast, back to the main trail.

When I got home, I went straight to the bathroom, heart still thumping, and stared into the mirror above the sink.

My reflection blinked when I did. No grin. Everything normal.

I tried to laugh it off.

Until that night.

At around 3 a.m., I woke up to a thud downstairs.

I live alone.

The house was dark and silent. I grabbed a flashlight and crept toward the noise.

The front door was open.

Outside, wet footprints were leading from the woods to my porch—bare, human footprints. But the ground had been dry all day.

My hands shook as I closed and locked the door. I checked every room, every closet, every corner. Nothing.

But when I got back to my bedroom…

My mirror was gone.

Instead, there was another one. Not mine. Not the one from my bathroom. This was the exact mirror I found in the woods.

Standing in the middle of my room.

I dropped the flashlight.

Inside the mirror was me, same clothes, same tired eyes, but still smiling.

I wasn’t.

I smashed the mirror with a chair. It cracked, but didn’t break.

My reflection didn’t crack. It stood still, then slowly raised one hand and waved—the exact way I had done earlier in the woods.

I ran.

I spent the night in my car, parked at a gas station 10 miles away.

The next morning, I returned. The mirror was gone. My room looked untouched.

Maybe I dreamt it. Maybe I was overtired, hallucinating.

Until I checked my phone.

There was a photo in my gallery. One I didn’t take.

It showed me sleeping in bed.

And behind me, in the reflection of the cracked mirror, was another me. Grinning.

Now, every night, I check all my mirrors.

Sometimes they feel normal.

Other times, the reflection is just a second too slow.

I’ve tried throwing them away, replacing them.

Doesn’t matter.

The grin always finds a way back.

And last night, I recorded myself while sleeping.

At exactly 3:03 a.m., the camera shows me tossing in bed.

Then, in the corner of the frame, a figure walks into view.

It looks like me.

It’s grinning.

It walks up to the mirror in my room, touches the glass, and vanishes inside it.

The real me? I never moved.

I think the forest mirror wasn’t just an object.

It was a door. And I opened it.

Now I don’t know which version of me is real anymore.

But I do know this:

One of us has to go.

And the other is already smiling.

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Submitted By : Shinwari khan

Email Address: [email protected]

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