Blurred background image
10 min read

Mirror Mirror

Author since 2024 1Story 2 Followers
Mirror Mirror

I used to hear in school to never sleep with a mirror facing your bed. People said that mirrors were portals to other dimensions and realities. I always thought it was a load of rubbish. How could a mirror, a simple reflection, be the gateway to something so powerful?

Like I was saying, it was something kids in my class used to talk about, but I never actually gave it a second thought until now. I’m a 20-year-old who’s just moved out of my parents’ house, living it up in ‘The Big Apple’. Ironic how they can call it the big apple yet I have to walk 10 miles to get fruit that isn’t coated in additives and preservatives. Not like I can afford the good fruits anyways. I’m yet to start my job as a magazine editor for Elle International. It’s been my desire since I was little, yeah right you might be asking yourself. Which 5-year-old tells their parents, “Mummy, Daddy, I wish to be glued to a desk and screen while my stuck-up boss demands more words than a dictionary” – Sort of similar, but the matter of fact is, I love to write and express, whether it’s about which grass seed gives you the most flourishing yard or how inflation can put a halt on all things good. This was just what I was born to do, and why not put it somewhere I can be noticed. I’m ready to take a bite of the “big apple”.

You know how I said I had to walk 10 miles just to get some fruit, well, I had to talk myself up to it yesterday. I was scrolling online and I saw the most scrumptious-looking blueberry pie and I had a sudden urge to become a baker for the day, mind you, I have never baked anything in my life. I was up for the challenge. The streets were so empty and ominous. Almost like everyone was still asleep. Odd. There was one person I did walk past, well more like collapsed with, distracted by my device not looking at where I was going. Classic younger generational problems. I started apologizing profusely, picking up his things and smoothing myself out. He didn’t say a word. I reached his eye level and saw such a low and dreadful gaze. He had a smudge of red on his left cheek. A feeling of despair fell upon me like he was looking through to my soul. We stayed like this for a second and then he continued following his path. Utterly confused and quite frankly, annoyed, I stood there in a state of disbelief. I brushed it off as quick as I could, he was probably just having a bad day I thought to myself.

After collecting my thoughts and adjusting my scarf, which was just holding onto my neck, I continued on with my quest. I passed the corner of 6th and 8th and was met with a revolting smell, absolutely unbearable. I pulled my scarf up to my nose, holding in my gags and dry retches. My eyes were watering and almost burning from the utter stench. It’s not something I’ve ever smelled before. The mixture of extreme off-fruit with a mixture of unmedicated toe fungus filled the streets. I looked around to see if anyone was around before pushing forward through this smog of stench, using my arm as a shield to my burning eyes, I ventured forward along the concrete walkway. A bright glimmer catches my eye and I squint and strain my face. The damn sun better pay for my opticals if it keeps up with this blindness situation. I notice the gleaming is coming from a mirror just outside a shop with a bright red sale sticker plastered across it. By now the stench had weirdly cleared and I was more intrigued with this mirror. It was antique, gold detailing, beautiful. I needed a mirror for my new apartment as I was living off my phone’s front camera, as for some reason, New York apartments don’t come with their own mirrors. Maybe I was just ripped off. This was a great deal though. $100 for a floor-length reflection of myself, I thought it’d be a perfect fit right next to my bed just under the shelving on the wall. Of course, being in New York, I had no car so I’d have to get it delivered, that’s another $100 gone. Expensive 10-mile blueberries were no longer in my budget.

The following week I had it delivered and taken up to my room. It fit perfectly in my room. It was just the thing I was missing to really pull everything together and I looked great in it, even snapping a few pics for the ‘gram. Which apparently I was on way too much, according to my parents. That night the sun set over the city in a deep orange that I could’ve watched for my entire life. I was so happy where I was, ready to start my perfect future. I was already in my pajamas and cleaning my teeth, making sure I was refreshed for work the next day. Just as a rinsed my mouth of my toothpaste debris that god awful smell lured just under my nose, what the fuck, I thought to myself. My first thought was the plumbing, but I was certain it wasn’t, how could it be, it had that awful fermented fruit tinge that the street had a week ago. I pinched my nose and ignited all the candles in my place. It smelled like a Lush shop explosion, but it was better than it was before. I snuggled into bed and pulled up my heated comforter, god did I love that thing. It was heavy as hell though, I struggled every time I adjusted it.

Awoken at 3:24 AM, an unholy hour, I rubbed my eyes and hugged my body, letting out a harsh groan, it was bloody freezing. After my eyes adjusted to the darkness of my room, I noticed that my comforter was draped across my floor, not even close to my bed. Let me remind you that I sleep like a rock, not even a bomb could wake me up. There’s no way, with the weight of it, that I somehow moved enough in my sleep that it fell off. No way, I kept thinking to myself. I shuffled off my bed and stomped over to it, heaving it off the ground with my minuscule amount of energy I had, I also noticed my wooden floors now had this massive red stain, I quietly cursed to myself, it must’ve been some sort of mold rotting through the floors. The smell, the bloody smell was still lingering! At this point I didn’t even care, I just wanted to go back to sleep. As I shut my eyes, a soft upward force made me wobble on the bed. It felt like a spring had just broke and I was fuming. I just wanted to sleep! I lay flat on my stomach and lower my head off the side of the mattress, slowly peeking back the bed sheets showing the space between the floor and my bed frame. A lot of boxes, a lot of shoes but a whole lot of nothing. I sit back up and meet my eyes in the mirror. The dim room only illuminated by the streetlights gives an eerie feel. That sense of despair washes over me again, as I look deeper into the mirror, I swear I could just make out a face in the corner. I inch closer to the mirror, squinting my eyes, locked into this darkness.


My body jerks around and I rest my hand on my heart. I can feel my pulse pounding on my hand and in my ears. It was a noise that carried through from the kitchen.

“Who’s there!” I call out.

No one responds.

My heart is now in my throat as I struggle to swallow. The one thing I hate about living alone is that I have to check out the scary noises. I have to be the one to walk through my empty apartment, or so I hope is empty. I hesitantly start towards the door, reach for the handle and give it a slow twist, trying to make as little noise as I can. I pull the door towards my body, shielding myself and only allowing my gaze to see what’s behind it.


I come to a halt. This darn door. Whoever’s in my apartment definitely would know I’m here. I steady my breathing and continue opening it. At first, I see nothing, nothing but darkness and the subtle glow of my fish tank. I wait a couple more seconds before stepping out into the gloom of the kitchen. I didn’t have a big kitchen but it had a bench to which any crack head intruder could be lurking behind, waiting for idiot me to stumble upon them. “Shut up!” I mumbled to myself, I was thinking these crazy thoughts and just scaring myself even more. To my surprise, there was no one there. I searched my apartment top to bottom but all I found was a picture frame broken. It had a picture of me at my graduation with my parents, I loved that photo. I quickly cleaned up the glass fragments and double, even triple checked my locks and windows, just to be safe and put myself at ease. I wasn’t going to end up like one of those girls on the news that gets murdered in her own home.

I crawl back into bed, trying to think of anything else, anything at all, but my brain keeps coming back to the face in the mirror. It was like one of those messed-up faces people use for Halloween, the ones that have an unrealistic amount of blood dripping down. I told myself to pull it together, I had work early in the morning and I just needed to sleep. I closed my eyes forcefully and hushed my thoughts. Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep, I repeated to myself over and over again. Just as my body finally started to relax-

“Tap”….. “Tap” ……”Tap”

This time I reached for my phone instantly and turned on my flashlight. I was prepared. I shined the light across the room. Nothing. I checked under the bed again, nothing.


The mirror, it was coming from the mirror. The awful smell was stronger than ever now, almost insufferable, I had to resist throwing up all over my floors. I took a couple of steps and I was met with my reflection, the tapping had ceased. The face was still there, in the corner. I turned around in one quick motion, nothing. I thought I was going insane. I turn back towards the mirror, it’s gone. The silence gives me chills up my spine as I look past myself into the mirror, waiting for something, someone. I turn around again, nothing, darkness.

I grow tired and tell myself to go back to bed, shaken up I take a deep breath and open my phone. A notification from the local news app on my lock screen.


I open the article oblivious to who it could be. I pause. My eyes widen as I read my own name, my own name! I read more, and more, I can’t look away.

“This young lady had such big dreams and hopes, she was taken tragically by an unknown criminal police are yet to catch. She was stabbed to death in the early hours of the morning- ”

I sit down, trying to figure out what the fuck I just read. How could it be me? I’m alive? I’m here. I look up to meet the mirror.

I’m covered in blood.

4.1 out of 5 with 9 ratings

Be the first to rate this story

Share this story

spooky spag bowl

Leave a comment

Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
21 days ago

Also, don’t do a sequel. Those ruin it ️️

21 days ago

WHOA. This story is so creepy. The end was great, I was expecting a predictable one but nope. Keep writing! U’re killin’ it!