Knocking on glass

I woke up to the sound of knocking, a hollow, rhythmic echo that sent shivers down my spine. The room was bathed in an eerie, dim light, as if the moon itself feared to cast its glow upon the scene. My eyes scanned the darkness, desperately seeking the source of the disturbance. At first, I dismissed it as nothing more than the wind playing tricks on my ears, rattling the windowpane. But then, to my horror, the knocking persisted, growing louder, more insistent.

Heart pounding in my chest, I turned my gaze toward the mirror that hung on the wall opposite my bed. Its reflective surface stared back at me, a portal into another realm. And as if possessed by some malevolent force, the knocking sound reverberated once more, not from the window, but from within the depths of that cursed mirror.

A cold sweat trickled down my forehead as I watched in disbelief. How could this be? Mirrors were meant to be reflections of reality, not gateways to the unknown. Yet there it was, undeniable and chilling.

Fear consumed me, gnawing at the edges of my sanity. I reached out, trembling, to touch the glass, half-expecting my fingers to pass through into some ethereal dimension. But they met only the cold surface, unyielding and solid. The knocking continued, growing louder with each passing second, as if the very fabric of reality strained under its weight.

A sickening realization washed over me. This was not a mere coincidence or a figment of my imagination. Something sinister lurked within that mirror, something that sought to break free and unleash its terror upon my world. The thought sent shivers down my spine, a primal instinct urging me to flee, to escape the clutches of this malevolence.

But curiosity mixed with dread held me in place. I had to confront this horror, to unravel the mystery that lay behind that haunted glass. Summoning all my courage, I took a step closer, my heart pounding like a thunderous drumbeat.

As I stared into the mirror's depths, the knocking transformed into a haunting symphony, a cacophony of despair and torment. Shapes danced within the glass, distorted reflections that twisted and contorted into grotesque forms. Faces appeared, their eyes vacant yet filled with a sinister hunger, as if they yearned for release, to pull me into their twisted realm.

I recoiled, my breath catching in my throat. The mirror seemed to pulsate with an otherworldly energy, drawing me closer against my will. Fear and fascination mingled within me, an unholy cocktail that held me captive, unable to tear my gaze away.

The knocking intensified, reverberating through the room, through my very bones. It was a plea, a warning, a desperate cry for help from trapped souls longing to escape their torment. Their torment soon would become mine if I did not break free from this sinister trance.

Summoning every ounce of willpower, I tore my gaze away from the mirror, stumbling backward, my mind awash with terror. I sprinted out of the room, leaving the knocking and the mirror behind, vowing never to return.

That night, I slept fitfully, haunted by the echoes of that macabre symphony. And even now, as I recount this tale, a lingering fear remains, a reminder of the darkness that lies just beyond the thin veil of our reality. The knocking on glass still echoes in my dreams, a haunting melody that serves as a grim reminder that some horrors are best left undisturbed, trapped within the confines of their cursed reflections.

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