The Darkness Abounds: Part 5 - The Final Silence

The 911 call came in at 3:17 AM.

Neighbors reported hearing what sounded like a thunderclap, though the night sky had been clear. When firefighters arrived at Mark's apartment building, they found the third-floor windows blown outward, glass glittering across the parking lot like malignant stars. The flames, curiously, only consumed one unit - Mark's. The rest of the building stood untouched, though every mirror within a half-mile radius had cracked simultaneously.

The official report called it a gas leak.

The unofficial truth was far worse.

Firefighters found Mark's body in the bathroom, his palms pressed flat against the medicine cabinet mirror. His flesh had fused with the glass in some impossible alchemy of heat and darkness. The coroner would later note the precise, self-inflicted cuts forming occult symbols on his forearms - the same symbols James had awoken with days earlier. Most disturbing was Mark's expression - not pain, but grim satisfaction, his lips frozen mid-whisper.

No trace of James Mercer was ever found.

•••

At the insurance office, James's cubicle became a makeshift shrine. Co-workers left cards and stale donuts for weeks, swapping theories during smoke breaks.

"Witness protection," claimed Richards from accounting.

"Nervous breakdown," countered Lisa, eyeing the still-flickering overhead light above James's empty chair.

"That creepy shit with his reflection," muttered the janitor, who always crossed himself when emptying James's trash.

Then, on the 17th of the month, James returned.

Lisa nearly dropped her coffee when he stepped off the elevator. He moved differently - each motion precise yet slightly off, like a marionette learning its strings. His smile stretched just a fraction too wide when greeting colleagues.

"You're... back," she managed, suddenly aware of how cold the office had become.

James tilted his head at an angle no human neck should achieve. "Did I ever leave?"

•••

His computer logged in without a password. His desk remained exactly as he'd left it, though someone had replaced the shattered lamp. As the day progressed, coworkers noticed unsettling details:

James never blinked during conversations

His shadow sometimes moved independently of his body

The office temperature dropped fifteen degrees when he passed

Every reflective surface near him developed a persistent fog

When the new intern asked why he kept whispering to himself in what sounded like multiple voices, James turned with terrifying smoothness. The intern quit that afternoon, later telling police James's eyes had been "all black, like a shark's."

•••

Back at James's old apartment, the new tenants lasted exactly four nights.

They complained to management about:

Phantom footsteps pacing the bedroom

Faucets turning on full-blast at 3:17 AM

The unbearable cold spot in the master bedroom

The persistent smell of burning hair

The final straw came when the wife awoke to find every mirror in the apartment covered in the same phrase, scrawled in what looked like frozen breath:

"HE'S HOME NOW"

The apartment remains vacant. The rental listing now includes the curious stipulation: "No night owls."

•••

At St. Agnes Hospital, Dr. Rachel Wu reviews security footage for the third time. The timestamp reads 3:17 AM when a familiar figure appears outside Room 217 - the one housing Mark's former paranormal investigation partner, committed after screaming about "doorways" and "things wearing human skin."

The figure stands motionless outside the door for exactly seventeen minutes. When it turns toward the camera, Dr. Wu freezes the frame.

James Mercer's face stares back, his eyes completely black.

The next morning, they find the patient in Room 217 catatonic, his arms covered in the same symbols Mark had carved into his palms. When he finally speaks weeks later, it's in a voice not his own:

"Almost time for the grand opening."

•••

Tonight, as you read this, consider:

Have you checked your mirrors recently?

Do your electrical devices behave strangely at 3:17 AM?

Does your reflection sometimes... linger?

The darkness isn't gone. It's simply wearing a better disguise now. It's learned from its mistakes. Grown more subtle. More patient.

And it's waiting for the perfect moment to invite you across the threshold.

Don't worry.

It's probably just your imagination.