The Mirror in Room 12

It was a rain-heavy evening when Emily Rourke pulled her suitcase through the muddy gravel lot of the Hollow Pine Inn. She hadn’t meant to stop in the tiny town of Delmere, but the storm had grown too intense to drive through, and the glowing Vacancy sign felt like a beacon in the dark.

The innkeeper, a pale woman named Marian with a permanent frown, handed over an old-fashioned brass key.
"Room 12," she said, avoiding eye contact. "Top of the stairs. Don’t use the mirror."

Emily blinked. "Excuse me?"

Marian looked up then, her eyes rimmed red, as if from sleeplessness.
"You’ll see it, but don’t look into it. Especially not at night."

Emily half-laughed. “Is this some local legend thing?”
“No,” Marian said quietly. “It’s just a warning.”

Brushing it off as a tired local’s strange humor, Emily climbed the creaky staircase. Room 12 was at the far end of the hall. The key stuck slightly before turning with a reluctant click.

Inside, the room was cleaner than she expected—warm, even cozy, with a large bed and a vintage writing desk. But as soon as she stepped inside, she saw it: the mirror.

An ornate, tall, oval mirror stood in the corner. It had a thick black wood frame carved with twisting vines and faces — or what looked like faces. It dominated the room, drawing her attention like a magnet.

Emily stared for a moment. Her reflection stared back. But something felt… off.

Shrugging off a chill, she turned away, unpacked, and got ready for bed.


---

At midnight, Emily awoke to a creaking sound. The wind? A tree branch?

She sat up. The room was dark, save for the flickering glow of the streetlamp outside — which cast just enough light for her to see the mirror.

Her reflection was not in it.

Instead, a tall figure stood inside. Pale. Eyeless. And smiling.

Emily froze. The air felt thick, heavy like water. The figure didn’t move—but the moment stretched, crawling over her skin like insects.

Then, slowly, it raised a finger and pointed at her.

She blinked, and it was gone. Her own frightened face stared back.


---

In the morning, she convinced herself it was a dream. Lack of sleep, stress, or maybe a trick of the light. She decided she’d check out early—but Marian was nowhere to be found.

Emily tried the front desk bell, knocked on doors, even stepped outside. The town was eerily quiet. Not even a car on the street. Her phone had no signal.

Frustrated, she returned to Room 12. The mirror stood as it had before — but now something was different.

A smudge.

No — a handprint. From the inside.

She snapped a photo with her phone, but the screen stayed black.

That night, she didn’t sleep. She sat on the bed, lights on, watching the mirror. Just before 3 a.m., her reflection blinked — but she didn’t.

Then it grinned.

And stepped forward.

Emily screamed.


---

When Marian returned in the morning, Room 12 was silent. The bed was made. The suitcase gone.

But the mirror had changed.

Now, two figures stood in it. One eyeless, smiling. The other, wide-eyed and open-mouthed — a scream frozen forever.

Marian didn’t enter. She never did. Instead, she hung a small sign on the doorknob:

“Out of Order.”

But she didn’t take the room off the books. She never did that, either.

Sometimes people needed a place to stay. And some things… well, some things need company.