Whispers of Glass

The first crack came at 2:47 AM. A sharp, almost imperceptible shatter, like the delicate splintering of ice under pressure. Laura shot up in bed, heart hammering in her chest. She strained her ears, but the apartment was silent—too silent. Not even the usual hum of the refrigerator or the distant buzz of streetlights seeped into the air.

Something felt wrong.

Laura slid out of bed, her bare feet pressing into the cold floor. She crept toward the living room, where the moonlight cast long, jagged shadows through the glass panes of the balcony door. Everything was where it should be—except for the mirror.

Her antique floor mirror stood across from the couch, its surface pristine as always. But something about it sent a chill racing down her spine. The frame, usually ornate and golden, seemed… off. The edges warped ever so slightly, as if the glass were breathing.

She took a cautious step forward. The moment her reflection came into full view, her blood turned to ice.

The Laura staring back at her wasn’t moving.

She stepped closer, breath hitching. Her reflection stood still, eyes fixed directly on her own, unblinking. Laura raised a trembling hand, but the reflection didn’t follow. Instead, it slowly tilted its head, an unnatural, jerky movement.

Then it smiled.

A slow, curling grin that did not belong to her.

The sound of glass cracking filled the room. This time, it wasn’t subtle. Laura stumbled back as the mirror fractured, lines webbing out from where her reflection’s eyes should have been. The air thickened, pressing against her lungs like unseen hands. The room seemed to darken, shadows creeping toward her, stretching unnaturally across the floor.

And then she heard it. A whisper, slithering from the cracks in the mirror.

“Let me out.”

Laura turned and ran, but before she could reach the door, the shattering began in earnest. The entire mirror exploded, shards flying in every direction. But there was no time to react, no time to shield herself. Because the last thing she saw before the world went dark—

—was herself, stepping out of the broken glass.