The Reflection
January 21, 2025
Lena had always been drawn to mirrors. She liked how they captured the world, how they could make a room feel larger, a person seem more alive. The one she inherited from her grandmother was her favorite—a large, ornately framed mirror with intricate carvings and a glass so clear it seemed to hold its own light. It was the kind of mirror that made you want to look into it longer, as if it had secrets to reveal.
But lately, Lena had noticed something strange.
Every time she passed the mirror, it seemed like her reflection lingered just a bit longer than she did. At first, she thought it was her imagination, just an odd angle, or a trick of the light. But the feeling grew stronger with each passing day.
One evening, after a long day at work, Lena stood before the mirror, brushing her hair. The reflection of herself looked normal—too normal. She felt a chill down her spine, her fingers brushing her hair more slowly than usual.
Then, just as she finished brushing, her reflection did something she didn’t do.
It smiled.
Lena froze, staring at her reflection, her heart pounding in her chest. She hadn’t smiled. The reflection, however, grinned widely—too widely, stretching unnaturally across her face.
“Stop it,” Lena whispered, her voice trembling.
The reflection’s smile widened. It wasn’t her smile. It was wrong.
Without thinking, Lena turned away from the mirror and rushed into the kitchen, trying to shake the feeling. But as she turned the corner, she glanced back over her shoulder—and saw her reflection still smiling at her from the hallway mirror, even though she was facing the other way.
Her breath caught in her throat.
The smile in the mirror faded, but then the reflection began to move on its own, walking toward the door of the kitchen. Lena backed away, her hands trembling.
“No,” she said aloud, trying to steady herself. “This is just in my head.”
But the reflection didn’t stop. It continued to move, its steps more deliberate, more real than her own.
“Lena?”
The voice behind her made her jump. She turned to find her roommate, Emily, standing in the doorway.
“You alright?” Emily asked, eyes narrowed in concern.
Lena looked back at the hallway, expecting to see the reflection standing there, smiling. But there was nothing.
“I— I don’t know,” Lena said, shaking her head. “It’s just… I thought I saw something.”
Emily walked past her into the hallway. “You’ve been working too hard. Maybe it’s just exhaustion catching up with you.”
Lena stayed silent, watching her roommate examine the mirror. When Emily turned back to her, Lena noticed something unsettling—the reflection didn’t move when Emily did.
It stayed frozen, smiling that same, twisted grin.
Emily frowned, and Lena felt a knot of dread form in her stomach.
“What’s wrong?” Emily asked, her gaze flicking between Lena and the mirror.
“I think it’s… I think it’s something in the mirror.” Lena’s voice was shaky. “It’s not me. It’s like…”
Before she could finish, the reflection in the mirror moved again, and this time, it wasn’t Lena’s face. It was Emily’s.
Her reflection grinned, eyes wide with malevolence, mimicking every movement Emily made.
“Get away from the mirror!” Lena screamed, rushing to pull Emily back.
But it was too late.
The reflection in the mirror reached out of the glass, its fingers curling around the edges. Slowly, with a sickening slowness, it began to pull itself free.
Emily screamed, backing away in terror, but the reflection, now fully detached, stepped into the room. It towered over them, its face twisted with that same unnatural grin.
“You shouldn’t have looked,” it hissed, its voice not quite Emily’s.
Lena tried to run, but the reflection was faster, lunging toward her. She felt cold hands close around her wrist, pulling her into the mirror.
The last thing she heard before everything went dark was Emily’s voice, distorted and desperate, whispering from somewhere far away:
“Don’t… don’t look into the mirror.”
The house remained still and silent. The mirror stood against the wall, its surface smooth and clear, reflecting the empty room.
But if you looked closely enough, you might just see a pair of eyes watching you from within.