CHAPTER 4: The Chase
291 Words
The nightmare began in earnest the next morning. When I woke up, the cloth I had thrown over the mirror was on the floor. The house felt different sharper, colder.
I walked into the kitchen to make breakfast. But as I reached for the mug, my hand passed through it.
I gasped, pulling back. I tried to touch the table, the wall, the floor. Nothing felt solid. I looked down at my own hands they were translucent, pale, fading in and out like a bad signal.
"No... no, no, no!" I cried out.
I ran to the hallway mirror. I looked at my reflection, or what I thought was me. But the woman standing there was solid, vibrant, real. She stood in my living room, holding my coffee mug, looking at me with pity.
"You don't belong here," she said calmly. "You belong on the other side."
Realization hit me like a train. The whispers, the unlocked door, the journal... it was all a trap. I was the one being lured out. I tried to break the glass, to reach her, but my hands went right through it.
Panic turned into desperation. I remembered the journal the last entry. She is waiting for me to leave. I wasn't the intruder. I was the prisoner.
I felt myself being pulled backward, toward the glass. The world around me the house, the air, the light started to fade. Everything felt distant. I could see her living my life, walking through my days, comfortable and safe.
I screamed, but no sound came out. I was falling, falling into the silver darkness of the mirror.
- Writer
