The Room of Reflection

Chris and Lena had been dating for five years. It was easy, almost too easy, to love them. Lena seized the opportunity when Chris proposed a weekend retreat in the isolated countryside of Vermont to "shake things up."

The listing on Airbnb was strangely ambiguous. It was priced much too cheaply for how lovely it appeared in the photos and claimed to be an "authentic colonial house with unique charm." Nevertheless, the pictures displayed snow-dusted vistas, quaint fireplaces, and warm wooden interiors. Ideal for a spooky, romantic little getaway.

They were never physically met by the owner. Rather, a handwritten note rested on the entry table and a key was waiting under the doormat:

"Avoid entering the Reflection Room. Thank you.

Chris chuckled. " That's one way to convince someone to spy."

Lena gave a tense smile. "Let's not. Really.

Something about the way their footsteps echoed—just a beat too late—felt strange, and the house was colder than it appeared in the pictures. Lena, however, attributed it to chilly floorboards and nervousness. After unpacking and opening a bottle of wine, they made themselves at home.

Lena woke up that night to creaking as the snow began to fall outside. Chris remained by her side, panting heavily from slumber. Squinting into the corridor, where the shadows were shifting in an odd way, she sat up.

She stopped.

At the far end of the hallway, a door that they had not yet investigated was slightly ajar. Only a little.

She gave Chris a shake. "Hey. Get up. I believe there is a visitor in the house.

He let out a moan. "There's nobody out here, baby. We are in a remote location.

Lena, however, wouldn't let it go. She pulled him into the corridor. The door remained open, its brass handle and dark wood gleaming dully in the moonlight. Above it was a plaque that said, "Reflection Room."

Chris paused. "You want to check it, really?"

"No," she said in a whisper. " However, I don't want to leave it open."

Chris gave it a gentle push. The room was completely lined with mirrors when the creaking door opened. from floor to ceiling. each wall. even the ceiling.

In the middle of the room, facing a huge mirror across from the door, was a single chair with a high back.

Intrigued, Chris stepped in. "This is crazy. It resembles a funhouse.

"Let's not—" When Lena reached for his hand, he was already inside, his image in the mirrors growing larger and larger.

Then she noticed it.

Chris was grinning at himself in the mirror behind him. The real Chris, however, wasn't.

Slowly, she said, "Chris." "Swivel around."

Yes, he did. "What?"

"Your reflection is there. It's grinning.

He turned back with a frown. "I don't see that."

As soon as she entered, she felt lightheaded. Around her, each step multiplied. Hundreds of Chris were there, some turned away, some grinning too broadly, and some looking back when she tried to look at him.

She said, "Let's go."

The door slammed behind them as they turned.

Both of them sprinted to it. Chris pulled the handle, but it remained in place.

A reflection of Lena gazed at them in the mirror next to them. She had dark eyes. bleeding. A smile flickered across her lips.

"I'd like to leave," Lena muttered.

The lights wavered. Then it went out entirely.

Mirrors started popping in the silence, one by one, soft pops like knuckles. The voice then emerged, murmuring from all sides.

"You took too long a look."

Chris punched one of the mirrors and yelled. It broke, but the room remained the same.

Rather, his image remained. frozen. Complete with bloody fist.

The high-backed chair turned slowly on its own as they staggered back into the middle of the room.

It had no one sitting in it.

However, a pale woman in an old wedding gown and veil now occupied the chair in the mirrors, her face hazy like a smudged painting.

Lena let out a scream. She was dragged back to the door by Chris's grasp. "We must go for it. Simply make a breakthrough.

They counted down. One, two, three.

All went dark as they struck the door.

Lena was lying on the chilly room floor when she woke up by herself. The door stood ajar.

She staggered out into the corridor. The snow had ceased to fall. There was silence.

“What’s Chris?” she called. No response.

She looked around the house. He had left. disappeared.

Then her voice called out to her from the Reflection Room.

She pivoted. Chris was standing in the mirror just inside the doorway, hammering the glass from the opposite side.

"Lena! Please! Assist me!

Her heart fell. His voice sounded distant, as if it were coming from a well's bottom.

She extended her hand to the mirror. The surface rippled like water as her fingers touched it.

Then his face shifted. grinned.

Too big.

And it was no longer Chris.

Lena retreated, but she was still looking into the room in the hallway mirror. Not moving.

She took off running. out the front door. Out into the snow. didn't turn around.

Two days later, she was discovered by the police, rambling and barefoot. Where Chris went was never explained by her.

The Reflection Room was not discovered.

What about the house?

Airbnb still has it listed.

However, the note now simply says:

"No reimbursements. No mirrors.