Shadow #1

In a small village, far from the hustle and bustle of the city, there stood an old house with wooden shutters and a yard overgrown with weeds. The house belonged to Laura, a reclusive painter who had spent most of her life there. She didn’t have many visitors, but everyone spoke of her unusual taste in art and the bizarre collection of mirrors adorning her walls.

The mirrors were of various shapes and sizes—some with gilded frames, others cracked with age. Laura claimed that the inspiration for her paintings came directly from these mirrors.

One morning, while working on a painting, one of the mirrors in her studio shimmered oddly, as if someone was on the other side. Laura paused her work and moved closer. In the glass, alongside her reflection, the outline of a shadow could be seen. It was faint—just a silhouette that didn’t belong to anything in the room.

Laura stared at it. "A trick of the light," she whispered to herself, though she wasn’t convinced. As the days passed, the shadow grew clearer, and Laura’s paintings became darker. She began painting faces she had never seen before—haunted, silent figures, as if they were watching her through the mirror.

One evening, she decided to gather her courage and investigate further. She extinguished all the lights in the house except for a single candle and stood before the mirror that captivated her the most. The candle’s flame flickered as the shadow on the other side of the mirror moved independently of her.

Laura leaned in so close she could feel the cold glass against her forehead. "Who are you?" she whispered. Her voice was quiet, almost unconvincing. The response was silence, but not an ordinary silence—a silence that felt like pressure.

The next morning, Laura’s friends from the village came to visit. They found her in the studio, sitting before her latest canvas. On it was a scene no one could explain: a house, but not hers. It was old and decrepit, with all its windows covered by mirrors. Each mirror showed a different face.

Laura couldn’t remember painting it. "I just followed what I saw," she said in a quiet voice. People thought she was odd, but no one challenged her—because in each mirror, shapes occasionally appeared that didn’t belong to anyone in the room.

To this day, stories about Laura and her mirrors circulate in the village. The house now stands abandoned, but those brave enough to peer through the cracked glass swear they see faces looking back at them.

The house eventually became a local legend, a place avoided by both adults and children. Even the bravest rarely dared to approach it. Those who did swore they could hear faint footsteps inside, even though the windows and doors were tightly shut.

One night, a young man named Marko, who had recently moved to the village, decided to uncover the truth about Laura and her house. Armed with a flashlight and a camera, he was determined to document whatever he found. Marko didn’t believe in ghost stories; he thought they were just fabrications by the villagers.

As he reached the house, something about the atmosphere felt off—a chill that didn’t match the warm summer night. The door was shut, but as he turned the handle, it creaked open loudly. Inside, everything was untouched, as if Laura had stepped out only briefly. The walls were still lined with mirrors, covered in a layer of dust, but each reflected something different—not just Marko’s image but faint shadows in the background.

As he wandered through the hallways, he noticed a mirror standing alone in a corner. His reflection appeared normal at first, but as he moved closer, he realized that his eyes in the reflection didn’t follow his gaze. Alarmed, he stepped back, but the mirror shimmered as if beckoning him closer.

“What is this?” he muttered, feeling a cold chill down his spine. When he looked again, he saw Laura standing behind him. He spun around, but no one was there. The image in the mirror remained. Laura smiled at him, but it wasn’t a comforting smile—it was the smile of a shadow, cold and alien.

Suddenly, his flashlight began to flicker, and the door behind him slammed shut. Voices began to echo in the room, overlapping whispers that were indistinct but filled with warnings. Marko’s heart pounded as he tried to find his way out, but the mirrors surrounded him, each reflecting a different version of himself—older, distorted, or completely unrecognizable.

Somehow, he managed to escape the house, leaving his camera behind. The next morning, villagers found him sitting on the house’s steps, pale and dazed. He didn’t speak for days, and when he finally did, he only said: “She’s still there... watching.”

Since then, no one has dared to enter the house. Villagers began to notice that the mirrors in the house’s windows sometimes glimmered in the moonlight, as though something inside was watching their movements. Those who lingered too long outside swore they could hear Laura whispering: “Come in... and become part of my paintings.”