The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own. At first, I thought it was just my imagination, that my mind was playing tricks on me. But as I stared into the glass, I realized that something was wrong.
The reflection staring back at me was distorted, twisted, almost as if it belonged to another person. The eyes were dark and hollow, the skin pale and lifeless. It was a face of pure horror, and I couldn't look away.
I tried to back away from the mirror, but my legs wouldn't move. I was frozen in place, unable to escape the terrifying image in front of me. And then, the reflection started to move, its lips moving as if it were trying to say something.
I leaned closer, trying to make out the words. And then, I heard it, a faint whisper that echoed through the room. "Help me," it said, the voice barely audible.
I was terrified, but I couldn't look away. The face in the mirror was now contorting in agony, and I could hear the sound of something scratching at the glass.
And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the image disappeared, leaving me alone in the room, shivering with fear.
Over the next few days, I tried to forget about the mirror, but I couldn't. Every time I walked past it, I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I knew that something was wrong, that the mirror was more than just a simple piece of furniture.
One night, as I was getting ready for bed, I heard a faint tapping sound coming from the direction of the mirror. I tried to ignore it, but the tapping grew louder and more insistent.
Finally, unable to take it any longer, I got out of bed and approached the mirror. And that's when I saw it, the faint outline of a figure standing behind me.
I turned around, but there was no one there. And yet, the tapping continued, growing more and more urgent with each passing moment.
I knew that something had to be done. I couldn't live with this constant fear, this feeling that something was watching me, something malevolent and evil.
And so, I decided to seek out the help of a local psychic, someone who might be able to shed some light on the mystery of the haunted mirror.
The psychic arrived at my home the following evening, and after taking one look at the mirror, she knew that something was wrong.
"It's a portal," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A portal to the other side."
She explained that the mirror was a powerful tool for summoning spirits, and that over the years, it had become a magnet for the supernatural.
But there was a way to seal the portal, to prevent any more spirits from entering our world. The psychic led me through a series of rituals and spells, each one designed to close the portal and seal the mirror forever.
And when it was over, I knew that the mirror was safe. The haunting had stopped, and I could finally rest easy.
But even now, years later, I can't help but wonder. What was it that had been trying to escape from the mirror? What kind of evil had I unleashed when I first gazed into its depths?
I may never know the answers to those questions, but I know one thing for certain. That mirror was haunted, and that its secrets were more terrifying than anything I could have imagined.
But then, one night, I heard a faint tapping sound coming from the direction of the mirror. At first, I ignored it, thinking it was just my imagination. But the tapping grew louder and more insistent, until it was impossible to ignore.
I approached the mirror, my heart pounding in my chest. And that's when I saw it, the faint outline of a figure standing behind me.
I turned around, but there was no one there. And yet, the tapping continued, growing more and more urgent with each passing moment.
I knew that something was wrong. The mirror had been sealed, the portal closed. But somehow, the spirit had found a way back.
I called the psychic, desperate for her help once again. She arrived at my home the following day, and after inspecting the mirror, she knew that the seal had been broken.
"There's a powerful force at work here," she said, her voice grave. "Something that wants to escape from the other side."
We performed the same rituals and spells as before, but this time, they seemed to have little effect. The tapping continued, growing more and more frenzied with each passing night.
And then, one evening, I woke up to find that the mirror had shattered into a million pieces. The force behind the tapping had become too strong, and the seal had been broken.
I knew that I had to act quickly. I gathered up the pieces of the mirror and buried them deep in the ground, hoping that they would never be found.
But even now, I can still feel the presence of the spirit, still hear the tapping in the back of my mind. And I know that someday, it will find a way back, a way to break through the barriers between our world and the next.
I may never be able to escape the haunting of the mirror, but I will always be prepared for its return. And I know that when the time comes, I will be ready to face the spirit head on, armed with nothing but my wits and my courage.
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Zuhaib Ahmad
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The Haunted House
The old Victorian house had stood abandoned for years, its peeling paint and broken shutters a testament to its neglect. But it was not just the physical decay that had kept potential buyers at bay; there was a sense of foreboding that surrounded the property, an aura of darkness that seemed to emanate from within. Despite its reputation, a young couple, Sarah and David, decided to buy the house and make it their home.
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February 2007 His blade slices through the fleshy parts with ease. It’s graceful, disgusting but graceful. How he holds that carved handle with equal parts purpose and delicacy, as if he’s painting a rummage sale art piece to hang over a fireplace.
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The Poisoner
Assassins have existed since the dawn of time, higher ups in society across the world desire to see those who wronged them dead! So killers are hired to eliminate the targets for wealth, typically money is the reward they seek. Most assassins use hidden blades, carried under their sleeves, quickly slashing their victims before blending in with the crowd again. Others use sniper rifles or other long range guns, shooting from afar or up close. The best assassins are subtle and sneaky, the greatest ones of all have never been caught! There are a disturbing number of ways you can kill a human, I obviously won't share any, not in this story so use your imagination. The point of this tale is to explore the most bizarre assassin to ever walk the planet, a killer who is still unknown but has committed a countless amount of murders across the globe. All of which include spiking or tampering with the victims food or drink. This would poison the target to the point of fatal illness, it happened to the most unlikely of people, as though this assassin had no true targets but simply killed for sport. Perhaps there were reasons he chose to kill these people, but it is a mystery that has been left unanswered for decades. Many believe there to be multiple Poisoner assassins throughout the years, the theory that is it no single man or woman makes a lot of sense. It is a theory many subscribe to. The targets killed range from cute couples, families or lone travellers, who visit exotic restaurants whilst on their holidays around the world. It is always detected to be either rat or ricin poisoning, that kills the victims. There have been numerous cases investigated, where CCTV has spotted strange chefs in kitchens, those who were never officially hired had slipped in a disguise and tampered with the food. They always wear the chef's scarf over their face, to hide their identity. The figure has been described as male, standing tall and athletic. To presume the killer is male, he has been spotted in bars too, a hooded figure with a balaclava, spiking drinks of people who later end up dead. Usually the police don't investigate until the killer has already committed his murder, so it seems they have long vanished before any trail can be found. Not to mention the amount of people who were at first presumed to have been food poisoned, where it was the restaurant or cafe found responsible for not properly serving well cooked food. Only for forensics to later discover the truth, which was far more sinister and purposeful. Nobody knows who this assassin is, or why they do the terrible things they do. They are presumed to be male, but even that is uncertain. The race or gender of the killer is not yet confirmed. No face has ever been identified. A pattern has not been detected either. The Poisoner is a ghost, an assassin so good, they always manage to slip through the cracks, what with their many disguises and hiding spots. One can only assume the assassin seeks out those with bounties upon their heads, do if you've angered the wrong person, someone high up in society, be sure to eat food from the supermarket instead. You'll never know if The Poisoner is after you or not, until it is too late! If you eat or drink anything that tastes off, you should probably bin that item and wash out your mouth, there's a good chance it may be dangerous to consume. Then you'd become another death, on a list of thousands.
By Joseph Roy Wright6 days ago in Horror
Descent
“60 seconds.” Aris tightened her grip on the overhead handhold. The troop transport shook like a leaf in a windstorm as it battled through the atmosphere. Dim lights flickered on and off as the ship’s systems were battered by pelting rain and narrowly dodged blasts from laser cannons on the surface of the planet.
By M. A. Mehan 7 days ago in Fiction
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