The sprawling mansion had been in my family for generations. As a child, I’d heard whispers about the “echoed screams” that emanated from the attic, but I dismissed them as tall tales. Now, years later, having inherited the estate, I was about to discover the chilling truth.
The first night in the house was restless. Each creak and rustle felt exaggerated, almost deliberate. But it was the second night that I heard it: a blood-curdling scream echoing through the halls. I sat up in bed, heart pounding. “It’s just the old house settling,” I told myself. But the scream persisted, a haunting repetition like a broken record. I had to find the source.
I followed the screams to the attic, flashlight in hand. As I approached, the wooden stairs groaned under my weight. Pushing the door open, a blast of cold air met me. My flashlight beam caught old family portraits, discarded furniture, and dusty trunks. But there was no clear source for the scream.
Suddenly, the beam illuminated an antique mirror, ornately framed and covered in a thin film of dust. It reflected the attic, but strangely, I couldn’t see my own reflection. Curious, I moved closer and wiped away the dust. The second my hand touched the glass, the screaming stopped.
Relieved, I turned to leave. But then, I caught a movement from the corner of my eye. My reflection was now visible in the mirror, but it wasn’t mimicking me. Instead, it stood frozen, eyes wide in terror, mouth open in a silent scream.
Panic surged as the reflection started pounding the inside of the mirror, trying to break free. I stumbled back, the flashlight falling from my grasp. In the dim light, my imprisoned reflection looked up at me, mouthing two words: “Switch back!”
The room darkened further, and I felt an intense pull towards the mirror. The air grew icy, and my breath fogged. I tried to resist, but my feet moved on their own accord, bringing me closer and closer.
With one final tug, everything went black.
I awoke to sunlight streaming through the attic windows. Confused and drenched in sweat, I sat up. It had been a nightmare, right? But as I tried to leave the attic, I found the door wouldn’t budge. I shouted for help, but no one responded.
Hours turned into days, and my voice grew hoarse from screaming. I watched helplessly as the world outside the attic went on. The true horror hit me: I was trapped within the mirror, condemned to witness the life outside while remaining unseen.
Then, one day, I saw me - or rather, the entity that had taken over my body - walk into the attic with a smug grin. It approached the mirror, staring at me with cold, dead eyes.
“Enjoying the view?” it mocked. “I needed a body, and you, my dear, were the perfect host. Thanks for the switch.”
Despair overwhelmed me. Would I be trapped here forever, a mere reflection of my former self?
But as days turned into weeks, I noticed something. The entity was weakening, its image in the real world becoming more translucent by the day. With each passing moment, it looked more like a reflection, while I felt more solid.
One fateful day, as it stood in front of the mirror, our eyes locked. I felt the same intense pull from before. This time, however, I was ready. With all my might, I pushed against the glass. The entity’s eyes widened in terror as it got sucked into the mirror, and I was thrust back into the real world.
Gasping for breath, I smashed the cursed mirror to pieces, ensuring it would never trap another soul again.
But as I left the attic, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that somewhere in the shattered remains, an echoed scream was waiting for its next victim.