The Reflection in the Mirror Isn’t Me Anymore

The Reflection in the Mirror Isn’t Me Anymore

I was warned about this mirror. I didn’t listen.

When I moved into the old Victorian house on Black Hollow Road, the realtor mentioned the antique mirror in the attic like it was a family heirloom—a “beautiful conversation piece.” She didn’t say anything about it being cursed. She didn’t say anything about the fact that sometimes, it moves... even when you don’t.

I found it during my second week, behind a dusty tarp and boxes of yellowed photo albums. Seven feet tall, silver-framed, and polished as if someone had just wiped it—despite the attic being untouched for years.

When I looked into it, I flinched.

The reflection blinked half a second too late.

The First Sign

At first, I convinced myself it was stress. New job, new city, and living alone for the first time since my divorce.

But then things got stranger.

I’d wake up in the morning and find my reflection still standing in the mirror, eyes open, watching. It would move when I moved—but with a delay, like a video buffering on a bad internet connection.

One night, I stared at the mirror, unmoving.

The reflection smiled.

I didn’t.

The Second Sign

It started imitating me... incorrectly.

I brushed my teeth with my right hand. The reflection used its left.

I yawned. It laughed.

And sometimes—just sometimes—its eyes weren’t looking at me. They were scanning the room behind me.

I covered the mirror with a sheet. That night, I dreamed of standing inside the glass, banging my fists against the other side while a copy of me—cold, grinning—walked freely in my world.

The Breaking Point

I had to test it. I set up my phone, hit record, and walked in front of the mirror. I did something random: I raised two fingers, then spun in a circle.

When I played back the footage, I nearly dropped my phone.

My reflection didn't follow. It just stood there, staring.

At the end of the video, just before I turned off the camera, it waved.

I Don’t Think I’m Me Anymore

This morning, something felt… off.

The way the sunlight hit my face. The echo in my voice. The heaviness of my limbs.

When I looked in the mirror, the reflection smiled and mirrored me perfectly.

Too perfectly.

It was me… exactly me.

But I couldn’t remember brushing my teeth.

I couldn’t remember getting dressed.

I couldn’t remember waking up.

Now, I avoid the mirror completely. But sometimes I catch glimpses in shiny surfaces—the microwave, a puddle, the toaster. And what I see…

…It’s watching.

Final Entry

If you’re reading this, if anyone finds this, don’t go near that mirror. Burn it. Smash it. Don’t let it in.

Because tonight, the reflection didn’t appear.

And I think I’m the one stuck inside now.

But whoever’s out there, wearing my skin, speaking in my voice...

Isn’t me.

💀 If this story chilled your spine, share it with someone brave enough to face the mirror. Don’t forget to follow for more twisted tales every Day.

[Kevin]