The Mirror

 

### The Mirror

Lily had always been a fan of antique shops, finding beauty in objects that had lived through times she could only imagine. One weekend, she stumbled upon a quaint little shop at the edge of town. Dusty, dimly lit, and crammed with relics from the past, it was the kind of place that whispered secrets.

In the far corner of the shop, half-hidden behind a faded curtain, stood an ornate, full-length mirror. Its wooden frame was intricately carved with vines and flowers, but there was something unsettling about it. The glass was pristine, almost unnaturally so, as if time had forgotten to touch it.

"Ah, you found it," said the shopkeeper, an elderly man with a voice like creaking wood. His eyes flickered with something between excitement and concern. "That mirror... it's been here for as long as I can remember."

"How much for it?" Lily asked, drawn to the mirror despite the shiver that ran down her spine.

The shopkeeper hesitated. "I must warn you... it's said to be cursed."

Lily chuckled. "I don't believe in curses. How much?"

The old man sighed. "Take it for fifty dollars, but don't say I didn't warn you."

That night, the mirror found its place in Lily's bedroom. It fit perfectly, standing tall against the wall opposite her bed. She admired it, running her fingers along the carvings, feeling the smoothness of the glass. But when she looked at her reflection, something felt off. Her image was crisp and clear, yet there was a faint distortion, a barely noticeable ripple that made her stomach churn.

She shrugged it off, blaming her exhaustion from the day’s outing, and went to bed.

Lily woke up in the middle of the night, her room bathed in a pale, sickly light. The moon had risen high, casting its glow through the window, but something was wrong. The light seemed to pulse, growing brighter, then dimmer, almost as if it was alive.

Her eyes darted to the mirror. The glass was shimmering, the surface rippling as though it were water. Her reflection stared back at her, but it wasn’t her. The figure in the mirror grinned wickedly, its eyes glinting with malice. It was her face, but twisted, cruel, and… hungry.

Lily tried to move, but she was frozen in place, her body paralyzed with fear. The reflection stepped forward, moving closer to the glass, pressing its hands against the surface. Then, with a sickening lurch, it pushed through.

Lily screamed, her voice trapped in her throat as the doppelgänger emerged from the mirror. It was identical to her in every way, except for the eyes—cold, empty, devoid of humanity. The creature smiled, a grotesque imitation of her own, and moved toward her.

She could feel the cold emanating from it as it approached, could hear the faint whisper of its breath, like the rustling of dead leaves. The reflection reached out, its fingers brushing against her cheek, leaving a trail of icy dread.

With a sudden burst of adrenaline, Lily broke free from her paralysis. She scrambled out of bed, her heart pounding in her chest, and grabbed the nearest object—a heavy candlestick. She swung it wildly, smashing it into the mirror.

The glass shattered, pieces raining down like sharp raindrops, but the reflection didn’t disappear. Instead, it let out a bone-chilling laugh, a sound that echoed in her ears like the wail of the damned. The broken shards scattered across the floor, each one reflecting her terrified face, each one showing the same twisted grin.

Lily stumbled back, tripping over the edge of the bed, and hit the floor hard. The creature loomed over her, bending down, its cold breath washing over her face. "You can't escape," it whispered, its voice a sickly sweet echo of her own. "I am you."

As it reached for her, the door to her bedroom burst open. Her roommate, awoken by the commotion, rushed in, flipping on the lights. The creature vanished, leaving nothing but the shattered remains of the mirror and Lily, trembling on the floor.

She never touched another antique again.