The Reflection

Reflection

Emma had never felt more alone. Moving to a new town to start her job as a high school art teacher, she found herself isolated in an unfamiliar environment. Her new house, a charming old Victorian on the outskirts of town, stood surrounded by thick woods. Though it was affordable and spacious, it had a slightly eerie vibe that she couldn't shake off.

One evening, as she was unpacking boxes in the attic, Emma came across an old, ornate mirror. It was tall, with an intricately carved wooden frame, and covered in a thick layer of dust. Despite its age, the mirror’s glass was perfectly clear. She decided it would look perfect in her bedroom and carefully carried it downstairs.

Emma positioned the mirror against the wall opposite her bed. That night, exhausted from unpacking, she quickly fell asleep.

She woke with a start around 3 AM, her heart pounding. The room was cold, and she felt an unsettling presence. Her eyes flicked to the mirror, where she saw her reflection. But something was off. The reflection showed her room exactly as it was, except... it wasn’t her in the bed. A woman in a Victorian nightgown lay there, eyes wide open, staring directly at Emma.

Emma sat up, rubbing her eyes. The woman in the reflection mirrored her actions perfectly, and Emma dismissed it as a trick of her tired mind. She laid back down, pulling the covers up tightly around her.

The next few days were filled with busy work, setting up her classroom, meeting students, and grading papers. At night, though, Emma began to dread returning home. Each night, the woman in the mirror appeared, becoming clearer and more defined. She seemed closer each time, her expression growing more desperate.

One night, unable to sleep, Emma sat up and stared into the mirror. The woman was there, as usual, but tonight she was not lying down. She was standing, directly behind Emma’s reflection, her eyes hollow and her mouth moving as if trying to speak. Emma couldn’t hear any words, but the silent plea in the woman’s eyes chilled her to the bone.

Emma decided to cover the mirror. She threw a sheet over it and felt a brief sense of relief. But the strange occurrences didn’t stop. She would hear footsteps in the attic, whispers through the walls, and the feeling of being watched never left her.

One evening, driven by curiosity and fear, Emma removed the sheet from the mirror. The woman was back, closer than ever. This time, her reflection’s hand was pressed against the glass, as if trying to break through. Emma felt a sudden urge to touch the glass too, compelled by an invisible force.

As soon as her fingers met the cold surface, a jolt ran through her. The room spun, and she felt herself being pulled forward. She tried to scream, but no sound came out. Everything went black.

When Emma woke, she was lying in her bed, but something was wrong. The room felt different, older. The walls were damp and covered in mold, and the air was heavy with decay. She stumbled to the mirror and looked into it, hoping it was all a nightmare.

To her horror, she saw herself in the reflection, lying in bed in her modern room, sleeping peacefully. Behind her reflection stood the woman in the Victorian nightgown, now fully formed and real, looking directly at Emma with a twisted smile.

Emma pounded on the glass, screaming for help, but no sound came. She watched in terror as the woman climbed into her bed, pulling the covers up as if she belonged there. The last thing Emma saw before darkness consumed her was the woman’s eyes, filled with malevolent satisfaction.

Emma was trapped, alone in a decaying version of her own house, her pleas for help unheard. And in her place, the woman from the mirror lived her life, free from the confines of the glass, while Emma remained a silent, helpless reflection.

From then on, anyone who looked into the mirror would see Emma, trapped and desperate, her eyes pleading for release that would never come.