Please take this as a warning. Don’t take things that aren’t yours.
At the age of sixteen moved into a new house with my family since my father was offered a new job that offered much more than what he was making. We had been in poverty for years so when the pipeline company called him, he instantly accepted.
Two weeks later we moved from my home town in Georgia. I will admit. It was really difficult saying goodbye to the friends I basically grew up with and then I realized it was better this way so I finally loaded my belongings into the moving truck. Our new home was two hours away from our original location, so this meant I’d have to get used to a new remote place. I teared up as I saw the location’s greeting sign. “Welcome to Clamville! Where memories are made.” How ironic, I never knew this location would be my first week in hell. I knew then, I’d miss my original house every day. I grew up there from a toddler all the way to this very moment.
All I could see in the new area was nothing but dirt roads and old homes, it felt like a ghost town. But hey, what did I know? Maybe I’d love the new place.
The house we moved into wasn’t much to look at. The outside was painted crimson with a black roof and a black door to match. The inside had two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and everything a house usually would. A few days after living there I realized we had an attic because of a chain hanging from the washroom. Me being excited, I immediately told my mother. I was always a curious child. She tilted her head confused and said “The owner never mentioned that.”
My father always had ladders because of his previous job so we searched the truck and found one in the back. My father had taken the pipeline work car that day so it was never unusual for his beat up red truck to be in the driveway. My mother set up the ladder and stopped half way in pulling the chain.
“Ma what are you doing? Pull it down so I can see what’s in there-“
“I don’t feel like this is safe, the previous home owner obviously didn’t tell us it was there for a reason. Maybe it has some safety hazards-“
“He might’ve left old things up there. Like antiques or something.”
She inhaled deeply and let out a long sigh. “Fine, but if you get hurt you’ll never be allowed up there again Brooklyn Faye I mean it.” She said sternly.
Mother hopped off the ladder and I began to go up the steps. I hesitated and pulled the rusty chain so that the entrance was fully exposed. A cloud of dust hit me in the face and I coughed. I climbed myself the rest of the way in. The atmosphere felt a tad off but I ignored it.
“Do you see anything honey?” Mother hollered. “Ma I haven’t even turned on the light yet.” I yelled in response. I felt around the attic and flicked a light switch and, the attic lit up. The floral wall paper in the space was peeling off and the floor was in need for a sweeping. Other than that, it seemed in fairly good condition. In my surprise nothing much was there besides a few boxes of porcelain plates and occasional dresses in piles on the floor.
Everything was caked in grey dust. From the looks of it, none had been up here for years. Mother yelled once again and it caused me to jump “Everything okay?” She yelled. “Yes ma, I promise. There isn’t much up here.” I yelled back with a slight tone of annoyance, mother always worried too much. I paced up and down the floor to examine my findings and that’s when I saw it. A beautiful antique mirror with bright gold edges, it resembled a magic mirror from all of those cheesy Disney movies I loved as a little girl. I grabbed it immediately, I just couldn’t stop myself. It wasn’t mine but I needed it. It’s looks lured me in.
I admired the gold and beautiful shape, I wanted it. The owner left it so it WAS technically mine right? It was the size of my torso so it was easy to carry. I grabbed the mirror, turned off the light, and with caution, headed back down the ladder. Mother met me at the last step.
“What’s that?” She asked. “Its an old mirror, and it’s beautiful. I really want to put it in my new room” I said with joy. She examined the object. “It needs some cleaning but.. sure I guess so” She said. As soon as Mother finished her sentence I squealed with excitement, even in my teen years, the littlest things brought me happiness as if I was four . “I told you there was atleast something up there Ma!” I ran to the bathroom with the mirror in hand to find Windex to clean it. As I was grabbing the cleaner from under the sink I felt an extremely cold presence behind me. I brushed it off as ‘the house was old and probably needed some insulation work done’.
I headed to the kitchen table and began scrubbing the glass, the smudges just weren’t coming up. I began to get aggravated and used different cleaning chemicals. Dawn dish soap, ajax, and even baby wipes. It refused to come up from the glass and my excitement faded a tad. I went to mother’s bedroom to go find her and ask her for more solutions.
“Ma. The finger prints won’t come up” I said defeated. “Well it IS really old honey. It could be staining from inside of it.” She explained looking up from her book. She was always seen with some type of novel in her hand. I sighed.
“Well..should I just hang it up as it is?”
“I don’t see why not. It’s clean now.”
“Alrighty.” I closed the door as I left. I felt my gut twist and turn as I turned my rooms door knob. Little did I know then, it was my body warning me for what was to come.
I headed to my room and decided to hang it up over my bed. I sat on the end of my mattress and admired it once more, even though it has a few smudges, it was still glimmering and shiny. I loved it.
That night I had terrible nightmares of a criptid crawling out from the walls and grabbing my body. The hands burnt as soon as it touched my skin. I couldn’t scream. I was paralyzed. The figure was cloudy grey and had such dark eyes. As it’s eyes met mine I woke up in a panic. The smell of the creature is forever burned into my nose. I was covered in sweat and my hair was matted against my face. I went to the bathroom and immediately took a hot shower. I always hated how sweat felt. I didn’t go back to bed that night, stayed up and drew in my sketchbook the whole time. I didn’t want to ever have that nightmare again and I thought it would pass. Oh how naive I was then..
I checked my dimlight computer screen and it read 8:00 AM. I got up and made myself some fried eggs. Mother woke up from the smell and sleepily walked into the kitchen “You’re awake early” she yawned. “Haha yeah, I was hungry” I decided not to tell her about my nightmare. Knowing her, she’d blame it on the YouTube videos I watch. The eggs were done and I grabbed two plates.
“Is father already gone? I didn’t hear him leave”
“Yeah, you know how his job is.”
“I miss him Ma”
“I know dear.. I do too.”
We ate at the kitchen table without saying a word to each other. Father came home at eleven at night now and always left at seven in the morning. He had weekends off but, when he had spare time, he’d usually rest since his job was hard on his back. I knew I’d been enrolled into a new highschool in a few months after the summer was over and I was scared to leave mother all alone. She didn’t do well when she was stir crazy.
The past few days after felt like a fever dream. I spent less and less time in my room, as a teenager that’s never a bad thing but, I noticed anytime I was in there. I’d catch myself zoning off, looking at the mirror.
I kept having the same night mare. It was repetitive nightly and it began to drive me crazy, I was desperate and naive enough to begin asking for help on reddit, discord, online chat rooms, you name it. They all asked me a recurring question.. “Do you have any mirrors in your room?”. At the time I thought it was such a stupid and irrelevant question. I eventually sent someone a picture of it in a private chat and they told me I needed to burn it and began rambling about ‘negative attachments’ I nervously laughed at the text. Burn? A mirror?.. that sounded ridiculous.
I laughed to myself and picked up the gorgeous mirror from my light brown wall. I gazed at it to see if this person was truly crazy and that’s when it hit me. The smudges look like it’s on the inside. I was in shock. I had so many questions running through my head like a fight or flight response. There was no way finger prints could be INSIDE a mirror.. right? I kept reassuring my head and told myself I was over thinking it. I surely had to be crazy from the lack of sleep.
I finally cracked and told mother everything, she didn’t believe a word I said. Though, in her defense, she never was the one to believe in negative energies or anything paranormal. Her denying it was anything to do with ghosts kind of eazed my fears. Though the nightmares continued, I was finally able to get more sleep. I became numb to it.
One night in particular I awoke from the same dream and my throat was dry as if it was caked with flour. I brushed my teeth to get the sensation off my tongue and I spit out pure black. I opened my mouth wide enough to see every tooth and saw it. To my horror, my mouth had a thin layer of dust on the tops of my gums.. the people warning me where right. It had to be evil.
I rinsed out my mouth and cried on the bathroom floor for what it felt like, hours. Something was wrong, so very wrong. Mother kept denying my claims and father was never at home to give me comfort. I picked myself up and decided then and there. I had to get rid of the mirror. I was going to smash it into a million peices, it’s beautiful petite shape was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
I sat in the living room and watched an old Looney tunes re run untill I fell asleep. I woke up to the sound of someone in the kitchen. It was father, I stood up from the couch.
“Father. Can I hug you before you go to work?”
“You know I’d never deny one of your hugs kiddo, but why did you sleep on the couch?” he said as he wrapped me in a bear hug. I smelled the old spice on his clothes. I haven’t had one of those embraces since we moved. I always adored my father growing up. I ignored his question about why I was sleeping in the living room.
“Have a good day at work.”
“Thank you honey.” He said with a smile. He then walked out the front door. I’m glad I finally saw his face, it felt like ages. It was one of these moments I wished he had his old job again. Then I remembered all the times we had no money for food. ‘It was better this way’ I kept telling myself.
I walked into my bed room and seeing the mirror flooded me with absolute rage. I grabbed the damn thing off my wall. I walked out into the front yard and I smashed it, picked it up and kept throwing it on the gravel. I hated it, I hated how it looked, the pain it caused me, and the nightmares it brought. I beat it untill it was just the gold lining. I left it on the dirt ground and stared at it, I knew I’d have alot of explaining to do to mother.
In that split moment I felt a weight being lifted off my shoulders. It was over. I could be joyful once more and enjoy my new home with mother. I happily walked into the living room.
There it was again.. the mirror. Back into it’s original form. Since that day it’s followed me everywhere along with the nightmares. Every house I’ve moved to since adult hood. It’s been there.. I regret finding it so beautiful. I just can’t escape it. Mother never believed me when I’d cry to her about the dreadful thing. It was hard making friends in my new town because I was scared of having anyone come over to my house.. I feared the mirror would follow them too. So I stayed to myself. I believe this dreaded curse may follow me past death. The worst part of this experience is the feeling of pure insanity. I live everyday wondering if I’ve lost my mind. It tortures me mentally and I feel so alone. All I have now, is my reflection in that damn mirror.
So my question is. Do you have any mirrors in your room?
And remember.. curiousity killed the cat.