The Mirror That Showed Tomorrow

I moved into the apartment because it was cheap.

That’s the kind of decision you make when you're broke, tired, and trying to start over. The building was old — cracked tiles, flickering lights, and a hallway that always smelled faintly of mold and burnt toast.

But the rent was dirt cheap, and the landlord didn't ask questions. That was enough for me.

The apartment itself was small. Just a bedroom, a bathroom, and a narrow living space. Most of the furniture was leftover from the last tenant. A crooked couch, a coffee-stained table, and a giant mirror bolted to the wall opposite the bed.

That mirror… it was strange.

Old, with a thick, ornate black frame. The glass was clear, but there was something off about its depth. Like you were looking into a pool, not a reflection. I didn’t think much of it at first. It was just there.

Until the third night.

I had fallen asleep around midnight. No dreams. Just deep, exhausted sleep. But around 3:17 a.m., I woke up suddenly. My room was completely still, except for the ticking of the old wall clock.

And then I saw it.

In the mirror — my reflection was awake.

But I wasn’t moving.

I was still lying flat, eyes closed.

Yet, in the mirror… I was sitting up in bed.

My chest locked up. I blinked hard, wiped my eyes.

The reflection didn’t.

It just stared forward, head tilted slightly. It felt like it was... watching me.

I jumped up and turned on the light.

The mirror now showed exactly what it should: me, confused and terrified, staring back.

I didn’t sleep the rest of the night.

I told myself I had imagined it. Maybe I had dreamt it. Maybe it was sleep paralysis or just exhaustion. I needed rest. Water. Sanity.

But the next night, it happened again.

This time, I stayed awake on purpose. Sat on the edge of my bed with the lights off, watching the mirror. Just to prove to myself that nothing weird was happening.

At 3:17 a.m. — again — the reflection changed.

In the mirror, I got up from the bed.

I walked to the window.

And I looked outside.

But in reality, I was sitting still.

The reflection wasn’t copying me.

It was acting on its own.

I felt like I was going to throw up.

At 3:20, the reflection returned to normal — now mirroring me again, like nothing had happened.

By the fifth night, I started filming it with my phone.

I sat the phone on the table and pointed it straight at the mirror. Then I laid down in bed, pretending to sleep, eyes barely open.

3:17 a.m. came. And again, the reflection moved.

But this time — it smiled. A subtle, grim, unnatural smile.

The next morning, I checked the video.

At 3:17 a.m., the screen glitched. Only for two seconds. Just static. Then back to normal. My reflection stayed still.

But I saw it. I know what I saw.

The reflection was showing things that hadn’t happened yet. Things I hadn’t done — yet.

Then, on the seventh night… everything changed.

I saw something I couldn’t unsee.

At 3:17 a.m., in the mirror, I got out of bed.

I walked to the front door.

I unlocked it.

And then — someone stepped in.

A man. Tall, hooded, holding something in his hand.

He entered quietly, closing the door behind him.

And in the mirror, I just stood there, letting it happen.

The hooded man approached… raised something... and everything went black.

I sat upright in my bed, heart hammering. The room was silent. But I could feel something — a presence outside the door.

I ran and pushed a chair against it. I held my breath. No sound. But the weight of fate pressed on me like a storm waiting to break.

I didn’t sleep the next night.

I waited by the mirror, eyes wide, bat in hand.

At 3:17 a.m., the reflection was empty.

No me. No movement. Just the room. But something was… wrong.

I looked behind me. Nothing.

But when I turned back — the mirror was now showing me asleep again.

But this time, there was someone standing over me.

Not in the room. Not in reality.

Just... in the mirror.

Staring.

Watching.

I covered the mirror the next morning.

I tried to leave the apartment — but the landlord said my lease wasn’t up, and I’d lose my deposit.

I didn’t care.

I moved out the next day.

But now… even in my new place, every mirror feels different. They feel deep. Like if I look too long, I’ll see something that hasn’t happened yet. Something I won’t be able to stop.

Last night, I glanced into the bathroom mirror.

Just for a second.

And I saw a reflection of me…

Crying.

With blood on my hands.

Sitting in a room I didn’t recognize.

And I know —

Tomorrow, that version of me is coming.