The Reflection

Lena snickered it off. Superstitions never fazed her. She had greater concerns—her unused work, making modern companions, and exploring life in a city that never rested. However, as the days passed, the reflect got to be a source of unease. At to begin with, it was subtle. She would capture impressions of development within the corner of her eye when she strolled past. Some of the time, her reflection appeared slower to imitate her activities, fair a division of a moment behind.

One night, after a long day at work, Lena tumbled onto her love seat with a glass of wine. The reflect confronted her from over the room. She gazed at her reflection, noticing how depleted she looked. As she brought the glass to her lips, her reflection didn't move. The wine spilled down her chin as she wheezed, her heart pounding. She flickered quickly, shaking her head. Possibly she was fair tired.

The following few evenings were more regrettable. Shadows glinted within the reflect when she passed by. She dodged looking specifically into it, but the sense of something observing her got to be terrible. She hung a bedsheet over the reflect some time recently progressing to rest, trusting it would put her intellect at ease.

At 3:

14 AM, a swoon stirring sound woke her. Half-asleep, she looked toward the living room. The sheet had slipped onto the floor. The reflect stood uncovered, reflecting the dim glow of the streetlights exterior. Lena sat up, holding her cover firmly. The reflection in the mirror wasn't fair hers—it was… distinctive. Darker. Bent.

With a profound breath, she stood up and drawn closer the reflect. Her reflection replicated her developments presently, but something was off. Its grin was wrong—too wide, as well knowing. She come to out reluctantly, fingers drifting fair over the cold glass.

A hand shot out from the reflect, holding her wrist.

Lena shouted, attempting to yank herself free, but the hold was brutally solid. The reflection's eyes bore into hers because it pulled harder. She may feel herself being dragged forward, her body squeezing against the glass, which not felt strong. It was giving way, just like the surface of a profound, dim pool.

With one final frantic lurch, she kicked the mirror's outline and tweaked herself back. The hand vanished the minute she bumbled onto the floor, wheezing for breath. The reflect appeared as it were her wide-eyed, trembling frame.

She didn't rest for the rest of the night. The another morning, she called her proprietor, requesting an clarification. He moaned intensely some time recently saying, "That reflect doesn't have a place in this world. It's a entryway. A few individuals go in… a few things come out."

Lena stuffed her sacks that evening and never looked back. But as she settled into her unused flat over town, she taken note something chilling.

Her reflection… it still grinned as well wide.