The Darkness in the Mirror

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own. It was an old man, with wrinkles etched deep into his face and eyes that looked as though they had seen too much, and wanted to see more. And then there was the blood. I shuddered and turned away, wondering if I was losing my mind. But as I glanced back, the reflection was still there, staring back at me with a look of malice.

I knew that something was wrong, but I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was. It was as if there was a darkness surrounding me, inside of me. An unseen force that was slowly closing in, closing my throat. I tried to shake the feeling, but it only grew stronger.

As I sat in my living room gasping, the darkness seemed to consume me. I could hear whispers in the shadows, voices that were not my own. They were telling me to do things, terrible things that I couldn't even imagine, but wanted to make real.

I realized the old man in the mirror was my missing neighbor, Mr. Thompson. He had always been a strange character, with a reputation for being a recluse and a bit of a crackpot. But a few days ago, I saw him lurking outside my window one night and I realized just how bizarre he truly was.

After that, I had started seeing him everywhere, always watching me with those cold, calculating eyes. I knew then that something was wrong with him, and I began to taste the fear.

One day, as I was carrying a misdelivered package, I found myself at Mr. Thompson's crooked doorstep. He answered the weathered door with a smile, but I could sense something sinister beneath the surface. He invited me inside, claiming he had something he needed help with. Against my better judgment, I followed him into the house.

Once inside, I noticed an odd smell emanating from everywhere and nowhere. It was then that I realized something was terribly wrong. I tried to leave, but Mr. Thompson was too quick. He grabbed me by the arm, showing unbelievable strength, and pulled me into the living room.

That's when I saw the knife gleaming in his hand.

Mr. Thompson held it up to the light, his eyes shining with excitement. I tried to flee, but he was too strong. I was trapped.

He drew close to me, the knife glinting in the dim light. I turned to run, trying to pull away, but I braced myself for the worst.

But as the knife plunged into my back, strange pain jolted me. I felt a surge of energy coursing through my veins, and I knew that this was no ordinary knife. It was infused with darkness that Mr. Thompson had harnessed for his own twisted purposes.

As he carved me up, I felt my consciousness slipping away. But even as I faded away, I could feel the demon inside Mr. Thompson calling to me, drawing me to it.

It wasn't until days later that the police discovered my remains in Mr. Thompson's house. By then, he was long gone, vanished into the night without a trace. They searched for him for months, but he was never found. For he was now in my mirrors reflection.

In the end, I realized that the demon had been inside Mr. Thompson all along. It had consumed him, driven him to madness and murder. And even though he was gone, I knew that the demon would never truly be gone. It would continue to haunt the living, feeding on their fear and their pain through me, forever searching for its next victim.

And as for me, well, the mirror now shows a reflection that is my own, and the blood splatters I create. For there is darkness in this world that should never be touched, lest it consume you whole.