Mirror

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own. It was a dark, shadowy figure that seemed to be lurking just behind me. I spun around, but there was no one there. I turned back to the mirror and saw that the figure was still there, staring back at me with hollow eyes.

I felt a chill run down my spine. Something wasn't right about the mirror. It seemed to have a life of its own, and I didn't want to be a part of it.

But as the days went by, I found myself drawn back to the mirror, unable to resist its pull. Every time I looked into it, the figure seemed to be closer, almost as if it were trying to escape the glass.

Then, one night, I woke up to a loud banging sound. It was coming from the direction of the mirror. I stumbled out of bed and walked over to it, dreading what I might find.

As I approached the mirror, I saw that the figure was no longer inside it. It was standing right in front of me, its long, twisted fingers reaching out to grab me.

I screamed and tried to run, but the figure was too fast. It grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me closer, its eyes boring into mine.

"Help me," it whispered. "Please, help me."

I was paralyzed with fear. The figure seemed to be pulling me into the mirror, into its world of darkness and despair. I knew that I had to break free, but I didn't know how.

And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the figure vanished. I was alone in the room with the mirror, shaking and trembling with fear.

The next day, I tried to get rid of the mirror. But no matter how hard I tried, it wouldn't budge. It was as if it were rooted to the spot, unwilling to let go of its hold on me.

As the weeks went by, strange things started to happen in the house. Objects moved on their own, doors slammed shut, and I heard strange whispers in the night. I knew that it was the mirror, but I couldn't get rid of it.

Then, one day, I woke up to find that the mirror had disappeared. I searched the entire house, but it was nowhere to be found. I thought that maybe, just maybe, the nightmare was over.

But I was wrong.

That night, I heard a sound coming from the hallway. It was a soft tapping, almost like someone was knocking on the door.

I got out of bed and walked over to the door, hesitating before opening it. But when I did, I saw the mirror, standing there in the darkness.

I tried to close the door, but it was too late. The mirror had already entered the room. I could feel its cold, lifeless energy surrounding me, suffocating me.

And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the mirror was gone. But it had left something behind. A mark on my forehead, in the shape of the figure that had haunted me for so long.

I knew then that I was cursed, that the mirror had taken something from me that could never be replaced. I was trapped in its world of darkness, unable to escape.

And so, I live with the mirror, day in and day out, waiting for the moment when it will take me away forever. I know that I can never be free, that I will always be trapped in its reflection, a prisoner of its curse.