They Found Me

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own. At first, I thought it was just my imagination playing tricks on me. But as I looked closer, I saw that the reflection was too vivid and too real to be a figment of my imagination.

I moved closer to the mirror, trying to get a better look. The figure in the reflection was tall and gaunt, with hollow cheeks and sunken eyes. It wore a tattered black cloak that billowed out behind it as though it were caught in a fierce wind. Its bony fingers were wrapped around the edges of the mirror as though it were trying to pull itself out of the glass.

I stumbled back in horror and tried to look away, but I couldn't. The figure held me transfixed with its cold, dead gaze. And then it started to move.

Slowly, oh so slowly, the figure began to climb out of the mirror, inch by inch, as though it were fighting its way through an invisible barrier. Its fingers, thin as twigs, gripped the edge of the mirror tightly, as though it were struggling to break free.

My heart pounding in my chest, I tried to run, but my legs wouldn't move. I was rooted to the spot, watching in terror as the figure in the mirror finally broke free.

It stepped out of the glass and into the room, its cloak billowing around it like a cloud of darkness. It turned its head slowly, its eyes locked on mine, and then it spoke.

"Hello, my child," it said, its voice like the whisper of the wind through a graveyard. "I have been waiting for you."

I tried to scream, but no sound would come out of my mouth. The figure reached out with its bony fingers and touched my face, and I felt a cold, creeping sensation crawl across my skin.

And then it was gone, disappearing back into the mirror as though it had never been there at all. I was left alone in the room, shaken and terrified.

For days after that encounter, I could hardly sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the figure in the mirror, waiting for me. I tried to tell myself that it was just a nightmare, that it wasn't real, but deep down, I knew the truth.

The mirror was haunted.

I started to do some research on the mirror, trying to find out where it had come from and who might have owned it before me. But there was no information to be found. It was as though the mirror had just appeared out of nowhere, with no history or backstory to explain its strange power.

I tried to ignore the mirror, to cover it up with a sheet or to turn it around so that it faced the wall. But no matter what I did, I couldn't escape its gaze. Every time I passed by it, I felt a chill run down my spine.

And then, one night, something changed.

I was sitting in my living room, reading a book, when I heard a faint scratching sound coming from the direction of the mirror. I looked up, but the room was empty. The scratching continued, growing louder and more insistent.

With a sense of growing dread, I approached the mirror. As I got closer, I saw that the figure in the reflection was moving again, struggling to break free from the glass.

But this time, something was different. The figure wasn't alone. There were other shapes, other shadows, moving just beyond the edge of the mirror.

I watched in horror as the figures emerged from the mirror, one by one, stepping out into the room. They were twisted, distorted versions of human beings, with skin like wax and eyes like pits...

"We have found you..."