The Forgotten Room

When Ivy inherited the family estate, she thought it was a windfall. The sprawling mansion was shrouded in ivy, its stone facade covered in moss. Inside, the place was a labyrinth of dark hallways and dusty rooms that hadn’t been touched in decades. She took it upon herself to restore it to its former glory, but one room, locked and hidden at the end of an obscure hallway, refused to yield its secrets.

The keys she'd found didn’t fit, nor did any amount of force seem to budge the door. She asked the groundskeeper, a man who’d worked on the estate since he was young, if he knew anything about it. His face went pale.

“That room was sealed long ago,” he whispered, his eyes darting away. “If I were you, Miss Ivy, I’d leave it be.”

But Ivy’s curiosity grew into an obsession. She could feel something behind that door, as if an unseen presence called to her, urging her to open it. Late one evening, after yet another failed attempt to force the lock, she slumped against the wall in frustration. And then, as if answering her persistence, the door creaked open.

The room beyond was surprisingly pristine, as if it had been frozen in time. Heavy drapes lined the walls, barely letting in any light. A grand four-poster bed sat in the center, its sheets untouched and smooth. The faint smell of lavender hung in the air, too fresh for a room that had supposedly been closed for so long.

As Ivy walked in, she felt an unnatural chill settle over her. The door swung shut behind her with a heavy thud. She tried the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. Panic started to well up inside her, but then she noticed the room’s only mirror—a tall, ornate piece leaning against the wall. In its glass, she saw herself…but not quite.

Her reflection was pale, gaunt, with hollow eyes that seemed to bore into her. And then, slowly, her reflection began to smile, a sinister curve that chilled her to her core.

“You finally came,” the reflection whispered, though Ivy’s lips hadn’t moved.

Ivy’s heart pounded as she tried to back away, but her feet felt rooted to the floor. The reflection tilted its head, observing her with a twisted sense of satisfaction.

“Don’t you know who I am?” it asked. “I am what they tried to forget. What they hid behind this door, but I’ve been waiting.”

Suddenly, Ivy’s body began to feel heavier, colder. She couldn’t move. Her limbs felt like lead, her breaths shallow. And in the mirror, her reflection began to step forward, as if trying to leave the confines of the glass.

In a flash of horror, Ivy realized the truth. The reflection wasn’t hers. It was something else, something that had been trapped and had waited decades for someone to release it. And now, it wanted a body of its own.

With her last ounce of strength, Ivy tried to scream, but her voice was silenced. Her eyes fixed on the mirror, where her reflection smiled back, now fully in control, relishing its new life in her body.

The next morning, the groundskeeper found Ivy walking the halls, her once-bright eyes dark and empty. She walked past him with a cold smile, the door to the forgotten room locked behind her once more, sealing away whatever—or whoever—was left inside.

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