The Reflection
April 6, 2025
Ella hated mirrors. Always had. Something about them made her skin crawl—as if they remembered things she didn’t.
Her new apartment had one built into the bedroom wall. Floor to ceiling, cold and seamless. She covered it with a sheet the first night, but the corners kept slipping, the fabric never stayed.
On the third night, she dreamt of standing before it. Naked. Bleeding from her eyes.
She woke with a gasp, drenched in sweat. The sheet was on the floor.
“Okay,” she whispered, approaching the mirror. “Let’s get this over with.”
Her reflection mimicked her movements, but its smile was just a fraction too wide. A twitch in the cheek. A delay in the blink. Subtle. Wrong.
“Just nerves,” she muttered.
She turned away. Her reflection didn’t.
Ella froze. Slowly, she turned back.
The figure in the mirror stood still, grinning.
“That’s not funny,” Ella said, voice shaking.
The reflection didn’t speak. It raised its hand and traced a word on the glass with a finger: STAY.
Ella stumbled back. “Nope. No. I’m out.”
She grabbed her phone and called her best friend.
“Lena? You remember that mirror thing I told you about?”
“Yeah,” Lena said sleepily. “What’s up?”
“It’s doing… weird stuff. I think it’s broken.”
“Mirrors don’t break like that. You want me to come over?”
Before Ella could answer, the call dropped.
“No signal,” she muttered.
The room dimmed. The light above her flickered and died. In the near-darkness, the reflection stepped forward—and passed through the glass.
“No—!”
Ella ran, but the door wouldn’t budge. Her scream was cut short as icy hands gripped her face.
She awoke on the floor, disoriented. The room was quiet again.
But something was wrong. Everything in the mirror was reversed—including her.
She ran to the mirror, pressing her hands against the surface.
Inside, the room was empty. The other side of the glass now looked like the real world.
“No, no, no!”
The new Ella—the one outside—smiled and waved.
Then she turned off the light, leaving the mirror in darkness.