The Mirror in the Basement Wasn’t Empty…
She went into the basement to explore. She never came back out.
1. The House Nobody Wanted
Emily had just turned sixteen when her parents moved into a dusty old house at the edge of town. It was big—three stories, a huge garden, tall windows—but something about it felt... hollow. Cold.
The neighbors stared when the moving truck pulled up. A few even crossed the street to avoid it. One woman whispered as Emily walked by, “The basement… don’t go down there. It watches.”
Emily rolled her eyes. Ghost stories? Please.
But that night, her dreams were filled with shadows. And whispers.
2. Knock, Knock...
On the very first night, the wind cried outside like it was mourning something lost.
Emily tried to sleep, but then—
Knock... Knock... Knock.
She froze.
The sound wasn’t from the door. It came from below.
Beneath the floorboards.
From the basement.
She held her breath, heart pounding in her chest like a war drum. Her mouth went dry.
Silence.
Then again:
Knock. Knock.
She covered her head with the blanket. “It’s just old pipes,” she muttered. But she didn’t believe it.
3. Into the Dark
The next day, her parents went shopping. Emily was alone. Curiosity burned through her fear like fire on paper.
The basement door was at the end of a narrow hallway. When she touched the handle—it was cold. Too cold.
The stairs creaked like they were crying. The air was damp, thick, and smelled like something dead.
She pointed her flashlight around. Dust everywhere. Crates. Cobwebs.
And then—the mirror.
Seven feet tall. Black wood frame. Strange carvings along the sides—symbols she couldn’t read.
It didn’t belong there.
It didn’t belong anywhere
4. Something in the Glass
She stepped closer. The mirror reflected her face, pale and nervous.
But something was wrong.
When she lifted her hand, the reflection lagged—just slightly.
She smiled.
The reflection didn’t.
She blinked.
It stared.
Then the flashlight flickered. Darkness swallowed the room for one breath, maybe two.
When the light returned, Emily’s reflection was gone.
Instead, there was a woman in the glass.
5. The Woman in Black
She stood tall behind the empty space where Emily's reflection had been.
Her skin was gray. Her eyes hollow. Her long black hair hung like ropes.
And her dress—white once—was soaked in red.
Emily turned around—nothing. Just the cold air wrapping tighter around her.
She turned back.
The woman was closer.
So close, Emily could see her smiling.
The woman’s mouth moved. No sound at first. Then a whisper—so soft, it felt like it touched her neck.
“You see me now...
Soon, I’ll see you.
Emily ran.
6. Not Alone Anymore
That night, every mirror in the house made her skin crawl. She covered them with towels. Taped paper over the hallway one.
Except the one in her phone screen. It lit up at 3:11 a.m.
LET ME OUT, it typed. By itself.
She screamed.
Her parents rushed in. They didn’t believe her. “You’re tired. It’s just stress,” they said.
But Emily knew the truth.
The thing in the basement had seen her. And now, it wanted her.
7. A Dead Woman’s Name
The next day, she walked to the town library. Dust and silence filled the air like fog.
In an old newspaper, she found it:
“1955 – Evelyn Black Found Dead After Mirror Ritual. Locals Suspect Witchcraft.”
The photo?
The same woman from the mirror.
Evelyn had lived in the same house. They said she tried to trap her soul in a mirror to live forever.
Her final words were written in the article:
“I’ll never leave.
Someone must take my place.”
8. Midnight Mistake
That night, Emily blocked every mirror. Every screen. Every reflection.
Except one.
The hallway mirror.
She forgot.
At midnight, the light went out.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Not on the door. Not on the walls.
From inside the mirror.
Emily heard her name in a whisper:
“Come see me…
Emily…”
Her feet moved. Not her will. Not her choice.
She stood in front of the mirror.
Her eyes widened.
Evelyn was there.
Smiling.
Waiting.
9. Into the Glass
The mirror rippled like water.
Emily tried to scream—too late.
A pale hand reached through.
Grabbed her.
Pulled her inside.
She vanished into the mirror’s dark glass as if she had never been real at all.
10. The Reflection Remains
Her parents never found her.
But the next morning, the hallway mirror showed Emily.
Standing still. Staring. Silent.
Trapped.
Behind her, Evelyn stood, smiling proudly—like she had won.
The family replaced the mirror.
Sold the house.
Moved away.
But mirrors… don’t forget.
11. Still Watching
Now, in every mirror of that house, someone always appears.Not
your reflection.
Not entirely.
If you ever visit and hear knocking... if you feel watched...
Don’t look.
And whatever you do,
don’t answer when she whispers your name.
Moral of the Story
Mirrors reflect more than faces.
Some reflect souls.
Some reflect traps.
And some?
They keep you.
Forever.
About the Creator
Umar Amin
We sharing our knowledge to you.
The Voice That Waited
Seen (1) At the edge of a quiet town stood an abandoned radio station, forgotten by time and avoided by locals. The building had been shut down for over twenty years, yet people claimed that at exactly 2:17 a.m., a faint broadcast could still be heard on an old frequency. No music. No news. Just a voice. Daniel was a small content creator who specialized in audio storytelling. He didn’t believe in rumors, but he believed in stories. When he heard about the mysterious broadcast, he decided to investigate—not for views, but for curiosity. One cold night, Daniel entered the radio station with his recorder and headphones. Dust covered the equipment, and spider webs hung from the ceiling. Everything looked dead. Silent. At exactly 2:17 a.m., the old transmitter crackled. A voice broke through the static. “Hello… is anyone listening?” Daniel froze. The voice was calm but tired, like someone who had been waiting for a long time. “My name is Arthur,” the voice continued. “I used to work here. If you can hear me, please don’t turn this off.” Daniel whispered into his microphone, “I’m listening.” The voice seemed relieved. “For years, I spoke into this microphone, hoping someone would hear me. When the station shut down, everyone left. Everyone except me.” Daniel’s heart raced. “Are you… alive?” There was a pause. Then a soft laugh. “That depends on what you mean by alive,” Arthur said. “I passed away in this building many years ago. But my voice stayed. This place remembers me.” Arthur explained that he had been a late-night radio host, speaking to lonely people, travelers, and insomniacs. The night the station closed, he stayed behind to record one final message—something meaningful. But no one ever aired it. He died alone, with his words unheard. “So I kept talking,” Arthur said. “Night after night. Waiting for someone to listen.” Daniel felt a heavy silence fill the room. “What do you want from me?” Daniel asked. Arthur answered gently, “I don’t need fear. I don’t need fame. I just want my message to reach someone. Anyone.” Daniel nodded, even though Arthur couldn’t see him. “I’ll share your story.” For the first time, the static disappeared. Arthur’s voice became clear. “Tell them this,” he said. “You are not invisible. Someone, somewhere, needs your voice—even if you don’t know it yet.” The broadcast ended. The room fell silent. Daniel left the station before sunrise and spent the next day editing the audio. He uploaded the recording as a simple podcast episode titled *The Voice That Waited*. He didn’t add music. He didn’t add effects. Just the truth. Within days, thousands of messages poured in. People said the voice helped them through loneliness, grief, and dark nights. Some cried. Some found comfort. Some found hope. Daniel returned to the radio station one last time. At 2:17 a.m., there was no broadcast. The transmitter stayed silent. But Daniel smiled. Because he understood something important: Some voices don’t fade because they are loud. They survive because someone finally listens.
By Do bol ho jaaye 5 days ago in Horror
Getting Serious About Comedy (Part I)
If I were asked to remark on my life and the childhood that paved some road leading me to this point, I would have to say something about all the funny people who surrounded me for the last 26,872 days (and counting). Somewhere along that road, I became a big fan of laughter and the comedy that spawns it – and, I mean not only my own laughter, but the laughter of others, some of which I have actually been responsible for inducing.
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