The Room Beyond the Mirror
550 Words
Anya didn’t know how long she had been running. The twisted version of Room 309 stretched endlessly, each step echoing like it was falling into a pit far below. Her breath came in shallow gasps, but the air here wasn't real. It tasted like static.
Around her, mirrors formed the walls — tall, narrow, warped. But none of them showed her. Only him.
The faceless figure. Black as burnt paper, tall as the ceiling, and dragging with it a swarm of whispers. Its reflection appeared again and again — growing closer with each mirrored surface.
She stopped running when she reached a corridor that split into three paths. All identical. All dead silent.
Then… a sound.
Not from in front of her.
From inside her phone.
Buzz.
A video auto-played.
In the footage, she stood in front of her apartment — the real one. It was daylight. She was smiling. Laughing. Talking to Priya. Completely unaware.
But… she was still here. In the nightmare. Watching someone else wear her life like a mask.
The camera zoomed in.
Her other self looked up. Straight into the lens. And mouthed:
“You had your chance.”
She dropped the phone. It didn’t matter. The buzzing continued. Louder. Now from the mirrors. From the walls. From behind her.
The black figure was coming.
She chose the middle path.
Running, again.
Doors flashed past. Some opened on their own, revealing impossible things:
— A reflection of her screaming in a room she never entered.
— Priya, eyes missing, pointing at something behind the camera.
— A mirror showing Anya, but chained. And smiling.
Then… a room that wasn’t distorted.
Just… normal.
Warm light. A wooden desk. A single chair.
On the desk: a notebook.
She stepped inside. Silence wrapped around her like a thick blanket. Everything felt real. Her feet made no sound. Her breathing slowed. Her name echoed faintly inside her mind — but it was being whispered by someone else.
She opened the notebook.
Only one page had writing:
“You’ve been here before. Every time you doubt yourself, you return. He waits. He feeds. You are the key — and the lock.”
Behind her, the door slammed.
The mirror on the opposite wall flickered.
Anya walked toward it.
Her reflection was back.
Tired. Pale. But hers.
She touched the glass.
And her reflection smiled.
But she didn’t.
Then her reflection mouthed:
“You’re not done yet.”
Glass cracked beneath her fingers.
And suddenly, the reflection reached through.
It grabbed her by the neck — and pulled.
She fell forward into herself. Into her own skin, but not her own life.
Darkness.
Then… light.
She was back.
In Room 309.
The real one.
Morning sunlight streamed in.
The air smelled clean.
No fog. No mirror messages. No shadows.
She laughed. Cried. Touched her arms, her face. Hers again.
But something felt off.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from Priya.
“Where are you? You said you'd be here 20 minutes ago.”
She smiled.
Typed: “I’m okay now. I’m finally back.”
Hit send.
The mirror across the room was spotless.
She approached it, almost relieved.
But when she smiled… her reflection didn’t.
It leaned closer.
And whispered — though its lips never moved:
“No, I’m back.”
- Writer
