The Reflection in the Mirror

She had passed it countless times before, but something about the place intrigued her today—perhaps it was the old, dusty sign or the faint glow coming from behind the cracked windows.

Inside, the air was thick with the smell of old wood and musty paper. Shelves lined with trinkets and curiosities filled every corner, from tarnished silver spoons to faded paintings. At the back of the store stood a large, ornate mirror. Its frame was intricately carved with symbols she couldn’t quite make out. It stood taller than any mirror Grace had ever seen—nearly six feet tall. There was something about it, something unsettling, that made her heart beat a little faster.

The shopkeeper, a frail old man, noticed her gaze and shuffled over, his cane tapping against the floor. “Ah, you’ve found it,” he said in a voice that cracked like dry leaves. “A special mirror. Not many who come here can see it for what it truly is.”

Grace raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

The old man’s eyes glinted, and for a moment, she could have sworn she saw a flicker of fear in them. “It shows things… things that shouldn’t be seen.”

Grace laughed softly, dismissing his words. “It’s just a mirror, right?”

The man nodded but didn’t smile. “Just remember, if you decide to look, don’t get too close.”

His words lingered in the air as she turned to leave, but something compelled her to approach the mirror. The closer she got, the more she could feel the chill in the room intensify. Her fingers brushed against the cool surface, and for a moment, the reflection flickered.

Her own face stared back at her—but something was off. Her eyes seemed… wrong. Darker, emptier. The reflection of her surroundings blurred, as if the world behind her had dissolved into something far darker. She leaned in closer, drawn by an invisible force, until her breath fogged the glass.

Suddenly, her reflection began to move on its own.

At first, it was subtle. A tilt of the head, a slow blink. But then her reflection smiled, wide and unnatural, and that’s when Grace stumbled back in shock. Her reflection in the mirror had stopped mimicking her, and now it grinned at her, as if it had a life of its own.

She turned away, her heart racing, and tried to shake the image from her mind. But as she glanced back at the mirror, it was still there. The reflection, no longer simply a reflection, was now grinning at her with a twisted, malevolent expression.

Panicked, Grace bolted for the door. But as she turned to leave, she heard the mirror’s surface crack. Not the glass itself, but the air in front of it. A faint, eerie whisper drifted into her ears.

“Don’t leave. I want to see more.”

Grace spun around, but there was no one behind her—only her reflection in the mirror, watching her with a gaze that was far too real.

Her legs felt heavy, and she felt rooted to the spot. She tried to scream, but no sound escaped her lips. Her reflection’s grin grew wider. It began to move closer to the glass, its hands reaching toward her. She could feel the coldness of its presence as if the mirror itself was reaching out to pull her in.

With one final burst of strength, Grace turned and ran, her heart thundering in her chest. The shopkeeper watched her leave, his face a mixture of sorrow and pity. As she stumbled out into the street, she could feel the cold breath of the mirror still on her neck, chasing her.

That night, Grace couldn’t sleep. Her mind raced with images of the mirror, of the reflection that wasn’t hers, the smile that wasn’t hers. She locked all the doors and pulled the blankets tightly around her, but the chilling sense that something was watching her never left.

The next morning, she couldn’t help herself. She had to go back. She returned to the antique shop, but when she arrived, the shop was gone. The street was empty, the building where the store had stood now abandoned, its windows boarded up.

Her heart sank. But there, on the sidewalk in front of the store’s former location, she saw it—a single crack in the pavement. She knelt down and brushed away the dust. And there, beneath the dirt, she found something strange.

A small shard of glass.

It was from the mirror.

She turned it over in her hand, and as she did, the faintest of whispers filled the air: “I’m still here.”

And then, Grace saw it—her reflection, grinning back at her, just beneath the surface.