The Mirror in Room 306

Michael checked into the old hotel just before midnight.

It was cheap, run-down, but he didn’t care. He just needed a place to rest for the night. The receptionist handed him the key with a warning.

"Room 306 has a mirror. Don’t look into it for too long."

Michael chuckled. "Why?"

The receptionist just shook his head. "Just don’t."

Unnerved but exhausted, Michael took the key and headed upstairs.

The room was small and plain—bed, desk, TV. And the mirror.

It stood across from the bed, large and old, its frame covered in strange carvings.

Michael frowned. What was so special about it?

Curiosity won. He stepped closer, looking at his reflection.

Nothing unusual.

But as he turned away—

His reflection didn’t move.

Michael’s breath hitched. He spun back.

Now, the reflection was normal.

Shaking his head, he blamed exhaustion. He climbed into bed, turning away from the mirror.

Then—

A faint tapping sound.

Like fingers against glass.

Michael’s skin crawled. Slowly, he turned over.

His reflection was standing up.

Michael wasn’t moving, but his mirror self was.

Then it smiled.

Not a normal smile.

A wide, unnatural grin that stretched too far.

Michael shot up, heart hammering. The reflection copied him again, but its eyes—

They weren’t his eyes.

They were black.

The tapping grew louder. The mirror shook.

Then—

A whisper.

"Let me out."

Michael bolted for the door. But before he could escape—

The lights flickered. The air turned ice cold. And the mirror—

SHATTERED.

Glass exploded everywhere.

Michael gasped, shielding his face. When he looked up—

His reflection was gone.

The room was silent.

Too silent.

Michael slowly turned around—

And there, standing behind him, was himself.

But with black, empty eyes.

The last thing Michael heard before everything went dark was a voice.

"You looked too long."

The next morning, the hotel staff found room 306 empty.

The mirror was intact.

And a new reflection stood inside it.

Trapped.

Waiting.