"The Smiling Man in the Mirror"

The Smiling Man in the Mirror
Not Every Reflection Is Yours

It started with a smile.

Jessica had just moved into her new apartment—a quiet, dusty unit in a weathered building on the outskirts of town. It was cheap, almost suspiciously so, but she was desperate. A recent breakup and a job layoff left her with little choice. The landlord was odd and muttered something about the unit having “character,” but Jessica barely listened. All she needed was a fresh start.

The place was old. Creaking floorboards, flickering lights, and walls that felt like they exhaled when no one was looking. The only piece of furniture left behind by the last tenant was an antique mirror, mounted on the bedroom wall. Its frame was ornate, carved with strange curling patterns that reminded Jessica of vines—or veins. She considered taking it down, but when she tried, it didn’t budge. Not even a wiggle.

So she left it.

The first night was uneventful, save for the strange noises—a tapping from inside the walls, maybe a rat, maybe the pipes. Jessica curled under her blanket and forced herself to sleep.

The second night, she noticed something in the mirror.

She was brushing her teeth, staring absentmindedly into the glass. For a split second, her reflection didn’t move in sync. Just a flicker—a blink delayed by a fraction of a second. She chalked it up to exhaustion. Maybe the lighting. Maybe nerves. She laughed it off, but a tight chill crawled down her spine.

By the third night, the reflection smiled. Jessica hadn’t.

It wasn’t a wide grin, not yet. Just a slight curl at the edges of her lips—in the mirror only. She stared, paralyzed, toothbrush still in her mouth. Then she turned her head. So did the reflection, but there was something... off. The eyes. They lingered just a moment too long before following.

She left the bathroom light on that night.

Over the next few days, it grew bolder. Her reflection smiled more often, even when she didn’t. Sometimes it didn’t blink at all. Other times, it blinked twice when she blinked once. She started avoiding the mirror, throwing a sheet over it. But it never stayed. Every time she returned home, the sheet was on the floor. The mirror always uncovered, always waiting.

Jessica called the landlord.

“That mirror’s been there a long time,” he said slowly. “Belonged to the original owner. No one’s been able to remove it. Might be best if you don’t mess with it too much.”

“Has anyone else reported… strange things?”

He went quiet for too long.

“The previous tenant… she broke all the mirrors in the unit. Then disappeared.”

Jessica hung up.

That night, the smiling man stepped out.

She had just returned from the grocery store. As she passed the bedroom, something in the mirror caught her eye—a shape, hunched and still. She froze. The room behind her was empty, but in the mirror, someone stood in the corner. A man. Tall, gaunt, his mouth stretched wide into an impossibly toothy grin.

He didn't move, but his eyes locked on hers.

Jessica spun around. Nothing.

When she looked back, the mirror was empty. Her own reflection returned—but now her own smile mirrored his. Wide. Wrong.

She barely slept. Dreams came—if they were dreams at all. Shadows pulling her toward the mirror. A voice whispering in a language she didn’t know. Cold hands reaching through the glass. She woke up with a scream caught in her throat and claw marks on her arms.

The final night came quickly.

Jessica decided she had to destroy the mirror. She grabbed a hammer and swung it with every ounce of strength she had. The blow echoed through the apartment like a church bell—but the mirror didn’t crack. Instead, the reflection laughed.

The mirror laughed.

Her own face contorted into a mockery of a grin, eyes bulging with glee. The man stood behind her now—closer, clearer. His skin was pale and stretched, his features twisted and sunken like a wax figure left in the sun. And he was smiling, always smiling.

Suddenly, her reflection reached out.

From the other side, it pressed its hand against the glass—and Jessica felt fingers curl around her wrist. Cold. Strong.

She screamed and pulled back, falling hard onto the floor. When she looked up, her reflection remained—still smiling, but now alone.

Except… something was wrong. The room looked off. The curtains were on the wrong side. The picture frames were reversed. She stood slowly and realized she wasn’t looking into the mirror anymore.

She was inside it.

Trapped.

On the other side, in her bedroom, she saw herself—or the thing that had taken her place. It turned toward the door, picked up her keys, and walked away, still smiling.

She slammed her fists against the glass. Screamed. But no sound passed through. The mirror shimmered, silent and unmoving.

She remains there still, staring out from the wrong side of the glass. Watching. Waiting.

And sometimes—if you look too long into your mirror—you might see her.

And if you do… whatever you do,

don’t smile back.