Laurie Martin stood in the center of the master bedroom, trying to shake the feeling that the house was watching her.
She and her new husband, Ryan, had only been back from their honeymoon for forty-eight hours, moving directly into the towering Victorian home they bought just before the wedding. The room was already rich with history; Laurie had lined the walls with the heavy, antique mahogany furniture inherited from her grandmother. The deep wood smelled of lemon oil and old dust. Yet, as she scanned the space, something felt incomplete. The room needed a centerpiece.
The next afternoon, Laurie found it.
While wandering through the cobblestone streets of the historic downtown district, a shop window caught her eye. Resting against a velvet backdrop was a massive, ornate antique mirror. Its frame was carved from dark, twisted mahogany that perfectly matched her grandmother’s set, topped with intricate flourishes that looked almost like grasping fingers.
She bought it on the spot. By evening, it was mounted securely on the bedroom wall, casting a deep, silver reflection across their new life. But as Laurie caught her own eyes in the glass before turning off the lights, she felt a pervasive chill raise goosebumps up and down her arms.
A week later, Laurie stood at the front door and kissed Ryan goodbye as he left for a three-day business trip.
She spent the day lost in her graphic design work, but as night darkened the windows, the isolation of the old Victorian house began to press in on her. She retreated to the master bedroom just as thunder rumbled in the distance. Lightning flashed violently around the edges of the curtains, and the storm that had threatened all day finally unleashed a torrent. Rain pounded the roof and windows, the rhythmic, deafening noise echoing through the empty hallways.
Fear teased her, like icy fingers slithering up her spine.
Determined to shake the unease, Laurie stood in front of the ornate antique mirror and began brushing her hair. She deliberately pulled up warm, happy memories of their honeymoon until a dreamy smile curved her lips.
In the silver glass, her reflection smiled back. But the reflection was a half-second too late. Worse, the smile didn't reach the eyes in the mirror.
Laurie froze. Staring blankly into the glass, she slowly set her hairbrush down on the vanity. A half-second later, the reflection set its brush down, too.
True terror spread through her now, wrapping icy fingers around her heart and tightening its grip. Completely spooked, Laurie bolted to the bed and scrambled under the heavy covers. She reached out and switched off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into a deep darkness that was relieved only by the sudden, ghostly flashes of lightning around the curtains.
A loud crack of thunder jerked Laurie out of a restless sleep. She bolted upright, the heavy covers sliding down to her waist. The subsequent flash of lightning was blinding, but her eyes were compulsively drawn to the mirror across the room.
For a split second, she saw herself standing flat against the glass. A malicious smile twisted her reflection's lips; a look of maniacal glee danced in her eyes.
“He’s mine now,” a voice echoed in Laurie's head. “It’s all mine.”
Another deafening crack of thunder shook the house, instantly followed by a staggering flash of lightning. Laurie stared across the room—not at a reflection, but through the glass into the actual bedroom.
There, lying peacefully in the bed despite the noisy storm, was her own body. A satisfied smile twisted her physical lips, even in sleep.
“No!” Laurie screamed. She screamed until her lungs burned, but no sound escaped her tight throat.
Panic taking over, she lunged forward and beat her fists against the hard, transparent surface. It was no use. The room on the other side remained quiet. Her reflection slept on in the real world, as though she truly belonged there, in that bed, with Ryan.
Laurie beat her fists against the glass until her knuckles split and bled. Crimson smeared the cold surface in long, frantic streaks. Suddenly, a wild, desperate idea blazed through her mind. Tracing her trembling finger through her own warm blood, she began to write on the glass. Over and over, she clawed out the words:
I AM HERE! HERE!
THE END