Text Messages And The Mirror

Abigail passed away in a tragic car accident.

I had been friends with her from a young age. We went to the same school, and she lived in the same neighborhood as me. I was back for spring break when the horrifying news reached me. She was driving home from college when it happened. The police said it was a hit-and-run case since hers was the only upturned car. The other speculation was the passing of an animal that made her lose balance. She had drifted into the ditch on the side of the road. Whatever it was, it devastated me, and I cried my eyes out for days. She had always been a sweet and caring person…it was so terrible and unfair that this would happen to her. But that’s how life is, inequitable and unjust. Carrying my grief, I returned to college and got busy with the workload, although my spirits were perpetually low. Then one evening, after I came to my dormitory, something bizarre and eerie happened.

I received a text message from Abigail’s number…which I deleted after her demise. But checking the contact details, there was no number at all.

Do you miss me? It said.

At first, I thought someone was trying to pull a sick joke. But there was no number to call, so the cellphone gave an error. That’s how I found that the connection was not saved, and I remembered having deleted Abigail’s number.

Then who was sending these messages from an account that had no number?

Beep, beep; another text came from an unknown source.

You know, I am still here…suffocating in this grave. I never actually died. Please get me out; my spirit is still locked in this body. There are worms everywhere, maggots, and insects. I feel claustrophobic. GET ME OUT OF HERE!

I was dazed and skeptical…not knowing how to process any of this. But my heart went out to who or whatever was texting me. I made the mistake of replying instead of consulting someone else about the strange matter. Whoever was on the other side was clearly in great pain; they were suffering terribly, that was certain, from the vivid descriptions they gave me. I became fixated on the texts, conversing night after night, for hours on end, until I finally asked.

What can I do to help you? Please, tell me. I want to save you.

A series of instructions came back, which involved my paying respects to Abigail’s final resting place. She told me to bring an urn to deposit some of the dirt around the grave into it. I was hypnotic and did just as she had instructed me. Going to a pawn shop on the city’s outskirts, I bought an old, gilded mirror to comply with the instructions. She promised me that I would be meeting her soon.

Hanging the mirror on the wall, I placed two chairs in front of it to face the wall. Then I threw some dirt from the grave over the mirror and put the urn beneath it. The lights in the room were only coming from the candles I had lit up. Soon, the flames on the wicks flickered. Sitting on one chair, I looked closely into the mirror…and found Abigail’s reflection seated in the other chair.

I jerked my head around, but the seat was empty.

I think we can only speak through this mirror, said the reflection.

She was just like how I remembered her. I was delighted to see her again and talk about the past and memories. So much so that all thoughts of the situation’s surrealness slipped away from my mind. I had gotten my friend back! That was all that mattered.

Those meetings with the mirror became routine as we talked and talked away for hours every night. She had been wispy and blurry initially, but with every passing day, Abigail became more distinct, and her form became more pronounced. But something started to change in me…I became weaker and thinner just as Abigail got “healthier.”

She, too, noticed this. That interaction with someone in the other reality could often affect the living. Soon, she grew sad and broody. She noted that it was so alone when I was not around and that talking through the mirror was getting tiresome. Abigail wanted me to join her in the other realm.

How do I do that? I asked her.

Simple, you have to leave your body behind.

She was asking me to take my own life. Of course, I was reluctant at first. But she kept persuading me to do it. Finally, I gave in. She had this hold on me that I could not understand now, but I was helpless at the time.

Then, something made me doubt if the entity in the mirror was indeed Abigail. I told her my decision to commit suicide. She was gleeful, and in her excitement, something terrifying happened.

The face contorted briefly, transforming to a form most terrifying.

If the devil had a face, the mirror had shown it to me then.

Something made me snap out of the mirror’s enchantment on me, and the demon knew it. Again, it took up Abigail’s form. Her face covered in scratches and wounds, she wept tears of blood, her flesh rotting away. She said she needed me and that the anguish she suffered could only be alleviated if a living spirit joined her. The hold was coming back on my consciousness. But I glanced at the photograph of a beaming Abigail on my nightstand.

I realized that she was gone…and nothing could or should bring her back. I saw the error of my ways, and picking up a baseball bat, I smashed the mirror into pieces. The glass shattered into shards scattered onto the floor as a blood-curdling scream rent the air before dying into oblivion.