The Reflection in the Mirror

Lena leaned forward in her seat and stared through the windshield as the tires of the vehicle skidded across the gravel. Her father said, pointing to the large Victorian house between the trees, "There it is." Its once-white paint was chipped and peeling, vines coiled up the sides like green veins, and several windows stared out like lifeless eyes.

Lena shivered. “Looks like it’s been asleep for a hundred years.”

Her mother chuckled from the passenger seat. “It just needs a little love. In addition, imagine all the adventures you'll have here! Lena tried to smile, but as soon as the car door opened, she smelled something strange: damp wood and something... rotten. Faint, but unmistakable. She scrunched her nose and looked around the yard, which was overgrown with weeds and dotted with fallen branches.

She mumbled, "Smells like something died." She was teased by her father's gaze. “Welcome to the country, city girl.”

The groan that came out of the front door as it opened echoed throughout the hallway. The air inside was heavy, stale. From the stained-glass window above the stairwell, dust motes floated in dying sunlight. As she followed her parents inside, Lena's steps hit the wooden floor. Every corner of the house seemed to hum with silence. The wallpaper peeled like curling fingers. The hall was lined with old portraits with their eyes gone, staring at nothing. That evening, as her parents unpacked downstairs, Lena explored the second floor. Her room had a wide window that looked out over the woods, and an antique vanity covered in dust. The mirror was old, its edges tarnished with age.

By nightfall, the house had settled into an eerie quiet, broken only by the creaks of old wood and distant groans from the wind outside.

In the upstairs bathroom, Lena turned on the yellowed lightbulb overhead. The light buzzed softly.

She stood at the cracked sink brushing her teeth, trying to ignore the strange tension in her shoulders.

She then observed it. A flicker. She was moving behind her. Her eyes snapped up to the mirror.

Nothing.

She twisted around. The bathroom was empty. Just the clawfoot tub, a rusted towel rack, a foggy window.

She slowly turned back to the mirror.

Her reflection was still there.

Still brushing.

Still smiling.

But Lena wasn’t smiling.

Her toothbrush slipped from her mouth.

"What the heck..." She leaned in closer. The reflection leaned too. However, the smile lingered for too long. A chill prickled up her spine.

Then suddenly, the reflection snapped back to match her exactly. The smile gone. Normal again.

She stumbled out of the bathroom, nearly knocking into the wall. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she hurried down the hallway.

Downstairs, her parents were in the living room, unpacking old books and records.

“Mom,” she said, trying to sound calm, “have you ever… noticed anything weird about the mirror upstairs?”

Her mother looked up. "Unusual how?" "I'm not sure. I thought I saw something move in it. Like… a delay. An error." Her father made a joke. “It’s probably warped. That mirror’s older than we are.”

“I’m serious,” Lena said, voice low. “I could see it smiling at me. When I wasn’t smiling.”

Her mother walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder after her parents gave each other a look. “Sweetheart, this place is just new to you. New sounds, new shadows. You’ve got an overactive imagination.”

“I’m not imagining things.”

“We believe you think you saw something,” her father added, trying to sound reassuring. “But you’re probably just tired. First night in a spooky house and all that.”

Lena didn't say anything, but even after she went to bed, the hairs on her neck continued to stand. And upstairs, in the dark bathroom, the mirror stood quiet.

But if one listened closely—

In the glass, a faint smile returned.