Whispers in the Dark

CHAPTER XI - The Reflection

Emily had low expectations when she moved into the old Victorian house on the outskirts of town. It was an affordable, roomy property that was ideal for her first time living alone. Like all old residences, the house has a history. Emily was unconcerned when the landlord brought up the eccentricity of the previous owner. She was satisfied that it had character.

The mirror was the first strange object she saw.

It was an elegant, heavy antique that hung in the corridor across from the door to her bedroom. Because it would be too difficult to remove, the homeowner had left it in place. In fact, Emily thought it was charming, so she didn't mind.

Until it began to move.

She initially attributed it to her imagination—shifting shadows and reflections deceiving her weary brain. However, she couldn't get rid of the feeling that something wasn't quite right as the days went by. At times, it appeared as though her reflection was a fraction of a second behind her actual motions. It was too fast at other times, responding before she did.

Then one evening it gave her a smile.

Emily stopped. A broad, artificial smile that wasn't hers returned to her face. Her heart thumping, she staggered backward, and the reflection went back to normal, reflecting her terrified face.

That night, she hardly slept at all.

She put a bedsheet over the mirror in the morning. Out of mind and out of sight. However, she heard something that evening.

A whisper.

Breathy and low, from under the sheet. It was the wind, she assured herself, a draft in the old house. The whisper became into a voice, though.

“Emily…”

She sat up in bed, clutching the covers to her chest. The voice was soft, coaxing. It called her name again, this time with a hint of amusement.

“Come look.”

Terror held her frozen. The whisper came again, this time more insistent.

“Look at me.”

As though something had moved below, the bedsheet ruffled a little.

Emily closed her eyes tightly. She wouldn't acknowledge it, wouldn't move. The minutes seemed to drag on forever. The voice eventually died away, leaving nothing but silence.

She tossed the mirror into the attic the following morning. Superstition prevented her from breaking it. Rather, she decided to forget about it and locked the attic door. Things were normal for a while.

Then one night she heard someone shuffling in the hallway and woke up.

Slow. Intentional.

Her stomach fell. There was a lock on the attic. The house was empty of other people. However, the sound persisted, creeping toward her door.

A soft tap.

Then another.

Knocking.

Emily reached for her phone, her hands shaking. The screen lit up at 3:33 AM.

She held her breath.

The knocking stopped. But then, she heard it.

A whisper, just outside her door.

“Emily… you forgot me.”

She didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Her pulse pounded in her ears.

The doorknob twisted slightly, as if someone was testing it.

Then—silence.

Hours passed before she dared to move; morning light came in through the window, and the house was once more silent. Gathering all her strength, she went to the attic with her key in hand.

The door was unlocked, and the mirror was standing in the middle of the room, uncovered. She hadn't left it that way; her reflection was there, staring at her, but it was grinning instead of her.