The Reflection Room

When Leo moved into the abandoned boarding school to renovate it into a boutique hotel, he knew it came with a history. What he didn’t expect was the mirror room on the third floor.

It was sealed shut when he found it—door nailed closed, rusted chains looped around the handle. The old caretaker, Mr. Hodge, warned him.

“Leave that room locked,” the old man said, voice shaky. “Nothing good ever came from it.”

But curiosity is stronger than fear. Leo broke the chains.

Inside, the walls were lined entirely with mirrors—hundreds of them, floor to ceiling. Every shape and size. None had dust, even though the room hadn’t been opened in over 40 years.

The air inside was ice cold.


---

The first strange thing happened that night.

Leo was brushing his teeth when he saw something in the mirror behind him—a woman, standing just over his shoulder. Pale, in a white dress, with long hair that dripped like it was soaking wet.

He spun around.

Nothing.

He blamed his exhaustion.


---

Over the next few days, the house grew colder. Leo noticed his reflection behaving oddly—lagging behind, blinking at the wrong time, or even smiling when he wasn’t.

Sometimes, he saw people behind him in mirrors. People who weren’t there when he turned around.

One night, he heard whispering from the mirror room. He stood outside the door, frozen, as dozens of voices murmured inside—some crying, some chanting.

He locked the room again.


---

But the damage was done.

Leo started dreaming of mirrors. In one dream, he was trapped inside one, pounding at the glass, watching his real self walk away.

In another, the woman in white climbed out of the mirror in his bedroom, dripping water across the floor, her face blurred like smeared paint.

When he woke up, there were wet footprints leading from the mirror to the edge of his bed.


---

Leo invited his friend Maria, a paranormal investigator, to visit. She didn’t laugh when he told her the story.

“That school used to have a headmistress,” she said. “Eliza Crow. Obsessed with beauty. Obsessed with mirrors. She believed mirrors could ‘catch the soul.’”

Maria paused. “They say she built that room to trap spirits. When a student drowned in the lake behind the school, they say she brought her spirit back… through the mirror.”

Leo’s face turned pale.

“She’s still trying to come through,” Maria whispered. “And every time you look at a mirror—you’re helping her.”


---

That night, Maria performed a cleansing ritual. Salt. Incense. Latin chants. All the mirrors were covered with black sheets.

Everything seemed calm.

Until 2:46 a.m.—when every single mirror uncovered itself.

The sheets were torn off. The glass fogged over, and in each mirror, Eliza Crow’s face appeared. Whispering. Laughing.

Maria screamed. A mirror shattered. Then another.

Leo and Maria ran—but in every hallway, their reflections stared at them, unmoving, trapped inside.


---

They escaped the house and drove away at dawn.

But when Leo looked in the rearview mirror, he nearly swerved off the road.

Maria was sitting beside him. But in the mirror? It was Eliza.

Smiling.


---

Back at his apartment, Leo covered every reflective surface. No mirrors. No glass. He even stopped using his phone’s selfie camera.

But reflections found a way.

In puddles.

In dark windows.

In turned-off screens.

Wherever there was a reflection, she appeared—watching.

Smiling.

Waiting.


---

Maria disappeared two weeks later. Police searched her home. On the wall above her bed, someone had written backwards in red ink:

> “SHE BELONGS TO THE GLASS NOW.”




---

Leo became a recluse. He stopped leaving his apartment. His hair grew long, his eyes sunken.

One night, he got a call from an unknown number. When he picked it up, all he heard was the sound of shattering glass.

That same night, he noticed his reflection wasn’t copying him anymore.

If he raised his hand, the reflection didn’t move. If he blinked, the reflection stared back.

And then… it smiled.


---

The next morning, Leo’s apartment was found empty. Only one thing remained: a single mirror standing upright in the living room.

Inside it, if you looked closely—you could see Leo.

Still there.

Still screaming.


---

And now, the mirror sits in a secondhand antique shop, waiting for someone to take it home.

Will it be you?