The Dark Within

The Dark Within

It started with a whisper.

Very soft. Almost like a breath. But Mira heard it—cold and strange, like smoke slipping into her ears.

She stopped typing and looked around her small, dark apartment. Rain was tapping on the windows. The TV was off. The red clock showed 2:37 AM. The only sound was the quiet buzz of her laptop.

But that whisper... it was real.

"Help me…"

Mira froze.

She listened. Nothing.

She gave a nervous laugh and closed her laptop. She had been working day and night on her new thriller novel, The Shadow That Follows. No breaks. No sleep. Her brain was tired. Maybe she was just hearing things.

Then she heard it again.

Closer this time.

Clearer.

"Let me in…"

Mira’s heart skipped a beat.

She looked around. The air felt heavy, like something invisible was watching her.

Trying to stay calm, she stood up. “It’s just my imagination,” she whispered to herself. Maybe it was a leftover sound from a scary podcast she listened to earlier.

She turned off the light and walked toward her bedroom.

As she passed the hallway mirror, she stopped.

Something was wrong.

She looked at her reflection. It looked like her... but different.

She leaned closer.

Her reflection didn’t move.

Her whole body went cold.

The version of herself in the mirror tilted her head slowly. Her eyes were empty. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

Mira read the words on her lips:

“Let me in.”

Mira gasped and stepped back fast. She hit a table, and a vase fell to the floor and smashed. The noise echoed down the hallway.

But she didn’t care. She ran into her room and slammed the door shut.

Lock it. Now.

She turned the bolt and stepped back, shaking.

Every sound felt louder now. The creaking floor. The moaning pipes. The wind scratching the window.

She grabbed her phone. She needed help.

She called her best friend, Taylor.

Voicemail.

She called again. Still nothing.

Then—a knock.

Not on the front door.

From inside the room.

She turned slowly.

Her closet door. It had been closed before. Now, it was slightly open.

“Mira…”

The voice was back. But this time, it wasn’t coming from the mirror.

It was in the room.

And it sounded like her.

But deeper. Broken. Wrong.

The closet door creaked open more.

And something stepped out.

It looked like Mira—but it wasn’t her. Same brown curls. Same hazel eyes. But the skin was too pale. The lips were cracked. And the eyes were black in the center, like ink in water.

The thing smiled.

“You let me in when you wrote the ending,” it said.

Mira stepped back, terrified. “W-What?”

The thing walked closer. “You thought it was just a story,” it whispered. “But you created me. And now... I want to live.”

It jumped at her.

Mira screamed.

But everything around her started to disappear. The walls melted into shadow. The floor vanished. Soon, she was floating in complete darkness.

She was alone.

With herself.

And the dark.

Two Days Later

Taylor was worried.

She hadn’t heard from Mira in two days. No calls. No messages. Nothing on social media.

So she went to her apartment.

The door was unlocked.

The lights were off. Dirty dishes sat in the sink. Mira’s laptop was open on the table, the screen still glowing.

It showed the last thing Mira wrote:

She stared into the mirror, and the mirror stared back. But what stared wasn't her... not anymore.

Taylor looked around the apartment.

No sign of Mira.

Only the hallway mirror. It was cracked.

Taylor sighed and turned to leave.

And for just one second...

Her reflection didn’t move.