The Reflection Room

“The Reflection Room”

For as long as anyone could remember, Room 217 in the old Ashcroft Boarding School had been locked. The staff said it was used for storage, but everyone knew that was a lie. Even the bravest students refused to go near it. The hallway leading to it always felt colder, like something was watching from the shadows.

But curiosity has a way of overriding fear.

Mara, a new transfer student, had never believed in ghost stories. “It’s just a room,” she scoffed one October evening, as the group huddled around flashlights in the common room. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Don’t go near it,” warned Evelyn, a senior who'd been at Ashcroft for years. “It’s called the Reflection Room. They say if you look into the mirror inside, you don’t just see yourself… you see what’s waiting for you.”

Mara laughed it off, but that night, as the dorms quieted and the clock ticked past midnight, she slipped out of bed, flashlight in hand. She crept down the creaky hallway, each step echoing louder than the last. Her heart pounded not from fear—but from anticipation.

The door to Room 217 stood like a shadow in the darkness, its brass doorknob covered in a thick layer of dust. To her surprise, it wasn’t locked. It opened with a soft groan, revealing a room untouched by time.

It was empty, except for a tall, ornate mirror that stood in the center. The silver frame was tarnished, carved with symbols she didn’t recognize. The air inside was ice cold. Her breath fogged the glass as she stepped closer.

She looked in.

At first, it was just her reflection—pale and wide-eyed, her curly hair falling over her shoulders. Then… something shifted. The room behind her in the mirror seemed darker, distorted. And standing just behind her reflection—was another Mara.

But it wasn’t her.

The other Mara was smiling. Too wide. Its eyes were solid black, like ink dropped in water. Mara spun around. No one there.

Heart racing, she looked back at the mirror.

The reflection hadn’t moved. It was still smiling.

And then, it raised its hand—and knocked on the inside of the mirror.

Mara gasped. She took a step back, but her feet wouldn’t move. Her body felt frozen. The reflection tilted its head, as if studying her. It mouthed something she couldn’t hear.

Then the lights flickered.

And the glass cracked.

Not just cracked—shattered outward, as if something had pushed through.

She screamed, finally breaking free of whatever held her. She bolted out of the room and down the hallway, slamming into a teacher doing late rounds.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” he demanded, but stopped when he saw the blood on her arm—thin, clean cuts, like from broken glass.

They never found the mirror. Or the room.

When they returned, Room 217 was just… a wall.

No door.

The records said it had been sealed up decades ago after a student disappeared inside.

They said her name was Mara.

But Mara was still there… wasn’t she?

That night, Evelyn was brushing her teeth when she noticed the bathroom mirror fogging up strangely. The condensation formed words on the glass, written from the inside.

“Let me out.”

And behind her reflection…

Mara was smiling.