Reflections of Darkness

Emily didn’t know what drew her to the mirror. She’d found it at a forgotten corner of a dusty flea market, its wood frame twisted like gnarled roots. The glass was dim, tinged with shadows that shifted whenever she moved. It looked like it held stories, maybe secrets—and as she held it, she felt a strange chill crawl over her skin.

The vendor, an old man with vacant, clouded eyes, watched her with an unsettling smile. “The mirror remembers,” he murmured as she paid. She laughed it off and took the mirror home, mounting it on her bedroom wall. But that first night, as she passed by it, a cold shiver ran down her spine. Her reflection seemed somehow… off.

At first, she thought she was imagining things. The flickering lamplight, a trick of her eyes—anything to explain why her reflection seemed delayed, the movements just a fraction of a second behind her own. But soon, it wasn’t only that. It would blink when she didn’t, or turn its head slightly even when she was still. A chill began to settle deep in her bones each time she looked at it.

Then, one night, she noticed her reflection wasn’t moving at all. Emily’s heart stuttered as she stood there, staring. Her reflection’s eyes were locked onto hers, a strange gleam in them that felt sharp, hungry. She forced herself to turn away, but her skin prickled with the sense of being watched, of something just behind her.

She couldn’t ignore it any longer when, one night, she heard the sound. A faint scratching, like nails scraping over glass, broke the silence. Heart pounding, she turned to face the mirror. Her reflection wasn’t there. Instead, there was only darkness, deep and endless, as if the glass had opened into another world. She couldn’t move, couldn’t look away. Her own face emerged from the shadows, but it wasn’t her. Its eyes were too dark, too deep, and a twisted smile crept over its lips, stretching wider and wider until it looked like a split running across its face.

She heard a faint whisper then, like a soft breath against her ear: “Emily…” It sounded like her own voice, but distorted, soaked in something sinister. The whisper grew louder, filling her head, repeating her name until it became a dull roar. She wanted to run, but her feet wouldn’t move. She was paralyzed, locked in the stare of the thing in the mirror.

The reflection’s hand pressed against the glass, and then it pushed. The glass warped outward, bending as if it were soft, breathing, pulsing. And then, her reflection grinned wider and mouthed, “Let me out.”

Her hands moved on their own, reaching for the glass, even as her mind screamed to stop. Her fingertips touched the surface—it was warm, wet, like skin. Her reflection’s hand met hers from the other side, its fingers digging into her skin, cold and sharp, wrapping around her wrist. She gasped in pain as the reflection yanked her closer, her hand sinking into the glass as though it had turned to quicksand. She pulled back, but the grip was inescapable, drawing her further in until the mirror’s darkness swallowed her whole.

She fell through blackness, a hollow silence surrounding her, pressing against her mind. When she opened her eyes, she was on the other side. Her room was there, but it looked warped, twisted, the colors faded like a dying memory. She tried to scream, to break free, but her voice was soundless, trapped in the silence of the glass.

Through the mirror, she could see her reflection—no, the creature that had taken her place. It wore her face, but there was something wrong in the eyes, something old and monstrous. It lifted one hand and waved at her, a slow, mocking gesture, before turning and walking away, leaving her alone, locked in that dark, endless void.

Time lost meaning. She existed, suspended in cold silence, watching through the glass as her friends and family spoke to the creature that wore her face, laughed at its jokes, never knowing that the real Emily was trapped, screaming silently behind the glass. She pounded on the mirror, but no one heard.

Days, maybe weeks, passed. She didn’t need food or water; she just… existed. And then, one day, she saw a new face—a young woman, drawn to the mirror in that same helpless way Emily once had. The creature with her face was smiling at her.

Inside the mirror, Emily’s silent scream was lost in the dark. The mirror was ready for its next victim.