The Reflection

Although everyone said that the old farmhouse was haunted, Maya did not think ghosts existed. She saw it as a new beginning when she got it from her distant grandma.

The house was quiet, dark, and full of dust. However, the hallway's antique mirror looked immaculate, as though it had been there all along. The mirror terrified her; it was tall and elaborate, with clawed feet and a black frame etched with faces twisted in pain. She did not touch it, though.

She noticed something odd when she walked by it the first night. A second too long, her reflection lingered. She blinked. The image grinned.

She had not grinned.

The reflection varied during the course of the following few days. It started to move by itself. When she sobbed, she smiled. When she laughed, she started crying. There were moments when it was entirely gone, leaving behind her a dim hallway that was not there in the house.

She woke up one night to the sound of footsteps. Gentle. damp. Taking a flashlight, she slipped down the steps. Something seemed to have breathed on the mirror from within, causing it to become foggy.

She cleaned it.

Her head was tilted strangely, and her eyes were black as her reflection looked back. It held up a hand and tapped the inside of the glass.