The Reflection

Lisa had always hated the mirror in her grandmother’s house. It was an enormous, antique thing, its glass slightly warped with age, framed in dark mahogany carved with twisting vines. It stood in the hallway, facing her bedroom door.

Even as a child, she had the uneasy feeling that it reflected more than just reality.

Now, at twenty-three, Lisa had returned to the house to settle her grandmother’s affairs. The house was quiet, heavy with dust and the scent of old books. But the mirror was just as she remembered—looming, watching.

That first night, she swore something was off.

As she passed the mirror, heading to bed, her reflection seemed… delayed. Just a fraction of a second. She stopped and looked closely. Just my imagination.

She turned off the hall light and went to bed.

Then, at exactly 3:12 a.m., she woke up.

Something had pulled her from sleep. A sound? A shift in the air?

She turned toward the open bedroom door—and her breath caught in her throat.

The mirror.

A figure stood inside it.

Not her reflection.

Lisa sat up slowly. Her real reflection was absent. Instead, the figure stood motionless, watching her.

It looked like her. Same face, same long dark hair. But the eyes—wrong. Too black, too hollow. And the mouth… it twitched at the corners, as if barely containing a smile.

Lisa swallowed, gripping the sheets. Her chest tightened with fear.

The figure raised a hand.

And waved.

Lisa lunged for the lamp, flooding the room with light.

The mirror showed only her wide-eyed reflection, trembling in bed.

She barely slept after that.

The next day, she draped a sheet over the mirror. Just until I leave.

But that night, she woke again.

The sheet was on the floor.

Lisa’s heart pounded as she sat up.

The reflection was wrong again.

It grinned now, wide and unnatural.

And then—it moved.

Not a delayed echo of her movements, but independent. It pressed its hands against the glass from the inside, tilting its head in curiosity.

Lisa’s breath came in short gasps. “What do you want?” she whispered.

The reflection’s lips moved. No sound came out.

Then, slowly, it stepped forward—out of the glass.

Lisa screamed.

She scrambled back as the thing crawled from the mirror, its body jerking unnaturally. It still looked like her—but wrong. Too tall, too thin, its limbs stretching unnaturally.

It reached for her.

Lisa bolted from the bed, running for the door. She sprinted down the hall, throwing herself toward the front door—

Then stopped.

The hallway mirror.

Her reflection was still inside it.

Wide-eyed. Screaming.

Trapped.

She turned around.

The thing wearing her face smiled.

And locked the door.