I, (29M) Lost my wife and kids two months ago to a terrible invasion. It was all too much and I needed a break from the endless phone calls I got, messages and emails I received, and most of all… All of our old memories from that house.
I booked a vacation to a small wood cabin only for a week, just to relax and get-away for once in 2 months. It was near a lake and the whole environment was pretty and mostly quiet.
The rain was relentless as I navigated the winding road to the remote cabin I had rented for the weekend. These months had felt like a fever-dream. The family I once had was gone, and I was by myself. I thought about our happiest memories, my son’s giggle, my two daughters’ laughs.. And my beautiful wife. The sound of the storm pulled me out of my thoughts. It had turned the night into an inky void, broken only by the erratic dance of my headlights. The forest pressed close, shadows lurking between the trees like predators waiting to pounce. A sense of unease settled over me… Maybe I was just overthinking it.
Finally, the cabin emerged from the darkness, its windows aglow with a warm, inviting light. As I stepped inside, the scent of aged wood and the crackling of the fireplace welcomed me, momentarily dispelling the tension that had built during the drive. I was grateful for the isolation; the perfect opportunity to unwind and escape. The first night passed uneventfully, but as the second night descended, so did a suffocating sense of dread. The wind outside howled like a chorus of tormented souls, and every creak and rustle in the cabin seemed amplified, distorted by my anxious imagination. Unable to sleep, I wandered to the full-length mirror in the corner of the bedroom. As I stared at my reflection, a flicker of movement caught my eye. My breath hitched, heart racing, as I saw the reflection in the mirror shift ever so slightly, as if my own reflection were moving independently. Panic gripped me, and I turned away, forcing myself to believe it was merely a trick of the dim lighting.
Days passed, and the unease only grew stronger. I started thinking about my family again, grieving their presence, mourning what I had lost. From then on, I began to avoid the mirror, fearing the unsettling dance of my reflection and thoughts. But curiosity and dread gnawed at me, and on the final night, I found myself standing before it once more. This time, the reflection didn’t just shift; it changed. The face staring back at me twisted into an expression of pure malice—a wicked grin that wasn’t mine. Terror paralyzed me as I stumbled back from the mirror, my heart pounding in my chest. The cabin felt like a prison, the walls closing in on me. Desperate for an explanation, I scoured the cabin for any signs of intrusion or hidden devices, but found nothing. The isolation was driving me to the brink of madness.
As the final night deepened, my uneasiness grew deeper and the cabin seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy. I decided to confront the mirror, to challenge whatever fear was toying with me.
With trembling hands, I approached the mirror once again, my reflection mirroring my trepidation. And then it happened—a figure emerged from the depths of the mirror, stepping out as if passing through a veil. I was face to face with myself, or at least, a twisted version of me. Its eyes glowed with an otherworldly light, and its grin was a nightmarish distortion of my own, face splattered with blood and clothes dirty.
“Look who showed up.” it whispered, its voice a chilling echo of my own. “What are you?” I managed to choke out. “I am your fear, your hidden desires, your darkest secrets,” it replied, emphasizing on the ‘secrets’. It continued still keeping eye contact. “I’ve been trapped in this mirror, bound by your denial and fear. But now, I am free.”
The truth struck me like a sledgehammer. This entity was born of my own subconscious, a manifestation of the emotions and thoughts I had suppressed. It was a terrifying mirror of my own psyche.
“And now,” it continued, “I will show you what you’ve been hiding from yourself.”
With a wave of its hand, the cabin transformed around me. The warm glow of the fireplace became a raging inferno, the walls oozed with shadows, and the storm outside intensified into a hurricane of torment. Scenes played out before me—memories I had buried, emotions I had denied. It was a painful reckoning, a confrontation with the truth I had been avoiding.
I saw my wife, and our 3 kids. My once loving family, now gone for eternity.. It showed me our best loving moments, but in a flash turned into a vision of their bodies. I got that same pit in my stomach when I saw their deaths play out Infront of me. That pit widened when I saw myself standing above their lifeless, bloody bodies, holding the pistol. And then burying them in all 3 holes I dug out in our backyard where my daughter and son used to play.
The entity turned its gaze upon me, its eyes boring into mine. “You can’t escape from yourself,” it whispered, and in that moment, I broke. The entity was my own conscience, my own self-awareness demanding that I face my truths. As the cabin collapsed into darkness, I was left alone with my reflection, surrounded by the storm of my own making. There was no escape from the terror within, and no more denial to shield me from the truth. I ran into the master bedroom. Flicking on the light, I searched through the nightstand drawers until I found what I was looking for.
I grabbed the same pistol and sighed. I closed the drawer and left the master bedroom. I walked back into the bathroom and looked into the mirror once again.
I looked down at the pistol and loaded it.. I then pointed it to the mirror. Tears welling in my eyes as I sat there, leaning against the wall.
“You know what you have to do.” I heard that same echoed voice say aloud, but as I looked around I couldn’t see it. “You know you can’t do this alone.” It said again.
I sighed.
I looked at the pistol once more, closed my eyes
Then pointed it to my head.