Don't Look

Mom just won’t listen to me. Why do moms never listen? She says I’m just having bad dreams. She won’t believe me. Its not bad dreams. I know I’m not dreaming, I never fall asleep. I try to. Sometimes I think if I can fall asleep fast enough then I won’t hear the mirror man when he comes. But I do hear him and I can’t fall asleep.

My bedroom is in the basement at the end of a long hallway. You can walk straight down the long hallway to my bedroom door and walk in. And the first thing you see is the enormous vanity mirror and little desk in front of it. Mom says every girl should have a vanity mirror. I don’t want one. I hate it. The mirror man lives in it.

The headboard of my bed is against the wall next to my door. When I lay in bed I can see right into that stupid vanity mirror. I can see all the way down that long hallway. I can see the door next to my room that opens to the weird closet under the stairs. When you go in you can look up and see the steps, like an upside down staircase on the ceiling. Across the hall from the staircase closet and just further down the hall is the bathroom door. And further down from the bathroom door is another closet with a cement floor where the water heater is. I don’t think the shadow comes from that room, but that’s how far down the hall it was when it started. When the mirror man first appeared. When he first told me, “Don’t look!”

Mom insists on leaving the hall light on all night. She says it will help me, that it will stop the bad dreams. But I’m not dreaming. And the light just makes it easier to see the mirror man. To see down the hallway. To see each door. To see the shadow that I’m not supposed to look at.

I lay in bed and I can see into that stupid vanity mirror. And down in the bottom corner of the mirror is a man’s face. Just his face. The mirror man. Like he’s hiding somehow. Peeking above the desk and looking at me. Just a face inside the mirror. He keeps telling “Don’t look!” The mirror man says if I look into the mirror and see down the hall, that’s when the shadow can move. If I look at the shadow it can come closer.

The mirror man has a round face. It might be a friendly face if he didn’t have those dark circles around his eyes or that pointed nose. He comes every night and tells me, “Don’t look! If you look it can move! Don’t look!”

When I first looked at the shadow it seemed to walk out of the air from the very end of the hallway. Like there was an even longer hallway behind it that I couldn’t see. It just walked straight out of the air. Shaped like a person. It’s too tall to be my mom and too thin to be my dad. Its just a shadow. But I can’t look. When I look it can move. “Don’t look!” When I look it can walk, it can run. “Don’t look!” It can come further down the hallway, closer to my room. “Don’t look!”

Every night the mirror man comes to warn me. And every night I pull the covers over my head tight so that I won’t look, I can’t look. I try to sleep but the mirror man keeps telling me not to look. Stay under the covers. But I can’t! It’s so hot and the blankets are so heavy. The covers are around me too tight. I can’t breathe. I need air. I can’t breathe! And that’s when I come out from under the covers, I have to or else I’ll suffocate. I come out even though the man in the mirror with his stupid round face tells me not to. “Don’t look!” But I look. I can’t look toward the man in the mirror without catching a glimpse of the shadow. “Don’t look!” But I look. And the shadow moves.

Every night I hide. Every night I can’t breathe. Every night I come out from under the covers for air. Every night the shadow moves closer, moves faster. Further and further down the long hallway. Faster every time. Closer to the room with the cement floor. Then passed it. Faster. Closer to the bathroom door. Then passed it. Faster.

Each night he gets closer, but mom won’t believe me. “Just bad dreams, keep the light on,” she says. But I’m not dreaming. How can I dream if I can’t sleep? How can I sleep when I can’t breathe? When the mirror man won’t stop telling me, “Don’t look!”?

Last night the shadow was almost to the staircase closet. I have to do something. It’s gotten too close. It moves too fast.

Andrew just started playing baseball with the older boys and dad bought him a brand new baseball bat. It’s a heavy bat. I snuck into his room after dinner and I took it. I hid it under my bed. Mom won’t see it. Not even when she leaves the hall light on.

I lay in bed and can see mom walking away. Down the long hallway to go back upstairs. Such a long hallway, it seems to take her forever to get to the stairs. To turn and go up. Not the shadow. I’ve looked too many times. The shadow has gotten too fast. It can come down the long hallway in seconds. But I have Andrew’s bat.

I’m still awake in bed, covers tightly over my head. I hear the mirror man. “Don’t look! It’s too close! Stay under the covers! Don’t look!”

Like every night before I try my hardest to stay under the covers. To stand it as long as I can. The blankets are too heavy, its too hot, I can’t breathe! I need air! But if I come out of the covers the mirror man will warn me, “Don’t look!” And I know I will look, I always look, I can’t not look! And it, the shadow, will move, faster and faster down the long hallway. Can it come through the door? What will the shadow do if it makes it into my room?

I have the bat. If I come up for air I have to go for the bat. I have to be fast. The shadow is fast, but I have have to be faster. Get out of the covers, roll off the bed, grab the bat, don’t look! Get out of the covers, roll off the bed, grab the bat, don’t look! I tell myself what I need to do. I try to wait as long as I can. The blankets are too heavy, the air is too hot, I can’t breathe! I need to come out! “Don’t come out! Don’t look!” Shut up mirror man!

I throw off the covers and I can breathe. Don’t look! I roll off the bed onto the floor. Don’t look! I reach under the bed and grab Andrew’s heavy new baseball bat. DON’T LOOK!

I stand up facing the mirror and raise the bat, I can see the shadow moving, running, faster and faster! I swing the bat hard at the mirror as the shadow comes right up behind me! I feel the bat hit the glass! I hear the crash, the tinkling of glass falling onto the desk! The awful whirlwind howl from the mirror man!

………

Werewood Sunday Chronicle, November 19th, 1993.

The body of an eight year old girl was discovered early Thursday morning by her mother, LeAnn Constand. Morgan Constand was found on her bedroom floor with her brother’s baseball bat next to her and the vanity mirror in her room shattered. Local authorities say that Morgan sustained small cuts from apparently collapsing onto the broken glass, but aside from those cuts appears uninjured. There was no sign of forced entry into the Constand home. Preliminary reports from the County Medical Examiner state that Morgan Constand was a perfectly healthy eight year old girl. No cause of death has yet been determined. The Constand family is currently being questioned as a matter of police procedure, but authorities have declined to comment on whether they suspect foul play.