My heart skipped about anxiously, and I took another deep breath to calm my steadily rising nerves while Melinda set the room up for our ‘game’.
I sat at the center of Mel’s bedroom, feeling every bit the part of a lab rat.
The room had been tidied, the floor cleared of any obstructions, as she fumbled to set up the old, mahogany cheval mirror we’d managed to fumble down from her attic a few feet in front of me.
The room was dim, intentionally so, casting us in an unusually oppressive sort of darkness.
The only light, with the exception of the candle we were using in the spirit of the game, was the moonlight streaming in through the window which Mel had left open for the crisp night air.
I shivered, both from the chill of the house made frigid by the Illinois fall weather and the dark mass of anticipation swelling within me at the prospect of the game ahead. Which, particularly at that moment, felt far more like an experiment than a game.
Mel turned to face me, then the mirror again, checking to make sure my reflection was perfectly aligned at the center of its large surface.
Finally, satisfied with everything’s place, she turned to face me.
“Okay,” she said, clasping her hands together and shooting me a wide, excitable grin.
“You ready?” Her eyes gleamed with nervous yet enthused anticipation.
“You get what you’re doing, right?”
I shrugged. The video she’d sent me had given a brief explanation of the game, ritual, whatever it was, enough that I had a basic understanding.
Still, as I sat in almost complete darkness, only the light of my phone illuminating the mirror, I couldn’t help but feel a steadily creeping sense of unease at the prospect - like so many strangling vines tightening around me.
It wouldn’t hurt to hear it all explained again, if for no other reason than to buy myself a bit more time.
“Just…explain it one more time.”
“Like, which part? What the game is or how to play it?”
I nodded, smirking a little.
She shot me a look of mild irritation, lips pursing into a tight frown, but obliged with a sigh.
“Oookay, well, We’re playing the Mirror Game obviously,” she gestured to the mirror behind her.
I caught a glimpse of myself in it, and couldn’t help but frown, pulling my sweater tight around me.
“It’s simple. You stare at yourself in the mirror for about ten minutes, like, really look at yourself and after a while, you’ll start seeing…things.”
“Things?” I asked, the rising waters of reluctance audible in my voice.
She shrugged.
“Things,” she responded back.
“There’s nothing specific. Some people see their face change, others see shadows or colors, it really depends on the person.”
As her words painted eerie pictures in my mind, I found my gaze wandering back to the mirror and felt a cold chill down my back, like an icy caress.
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath and letting my mind drift towards the sounds of the night around me.
From the open window, I could hear the sounds of the surrounding woodland, the chirp of crickets, and the croak of distant toads from the bog, paired with the breeze moving through the leaves to form a soothing melody. I let myself focus on it, trying to quell my uneasiness.
“What - “ I paused, considering what I was asking. “How is that possible?”
She scoffed again, arms hanging at her side in an expression fit for a frustrated child, not a seventeen-year-old.
“I dunno, science stuff. Your brain, like, makes stuff up to fill in what it can’t see properly. Something like that, did you even watch the video?”
I nodded.
“Relax, I tried it already. I saw some weird shadows, my face did some weird stuff in the mirror but it wasn’t too bad.”
I thought that over for a second.
“And we’re in the dark because?”
At that, a slightly mischievous grin slipped to her face. She scratched her head, the tattoo on her arm flexing as she did so. My eyes lingered on it, a little smiley face, right eye winking almost conspiratorially.
“That,” she began, “Was my idea, thought it added a little atmosphere.”
She waved her hands like some budget magician at the word atmosphere, and we both laughed for a good bit after.
After a moment her expression settled, smile fading.
“You ready?”
“I guess so,” I muttered, sighing and casting a glance at the sky outside, littered with the distant stars like flecks of white cast across a dark canvas.
“I’ll set the stopwatch. You should be done after the 10-minute mark, but you should start seeing things at 5. Nothing bad should happen, but obviously, if you need anything, I’ll be right outside the door.
My stomach felt knotted with a sort of anxiety I’d previously only known being strapped down to the seat of some terrifying amusement park ride as a child.
It’s the sensation you get having locked yourself in for an experience that promises discomfort at least, horror, and maybe fates far worse at most.
I simply nodded, steadily burgeoning nerves robbing me of my voice for a moment.
Mel nodded back, and after setting up her phone to record me - leaning it against the back of her desk, which sat to the side of the old mirror- she made her way to the bedroom door.
“Have fun,” she chirped, casting a final look my way.
“And good luck.”
All I could manage was a nod in response, the faint tingle of unease gnawing at my gut.
As the door shut behind her, I felt a small surge of that animal panic one only feels alone in the dark.
It was a strange, contradictory sort of terror, both utterly isolating, yet feeling as though every snap of a twig or rustling leaf might harbor some unseen threat lingering just out of sight.
I shuddered once more in my seat, this time having less to do with the temperature, frigid as it was.
It’s cold. I thought.
This is stupid. I should just…
My mind began running through every reason to abandon our experiment outright.
Still, I’d agreed to try this - it had sounded interesting before I was actually sitting in the dark by myself - and I knew Melinda wouldn’t let me hear the end of it. Besides once I was done it would be her turn to try which was a funny enough thought, given her jumpiness, to stir some motivation.
I sighed, locking eyes with myself in the mirror a few feet ahead, taking stock of my appearance as I settled in for ten likely very boring minutes.
I grimaced. I’d never been much of a fan of my appearance. I knew I wasn’t ugly, but it’d always bothered me how my nose felt just a tad too big for my face or how bushy my eyebrows were.
I never spent too long looking at myself for fear of whatever imperfection I might discover next.
Still, Mel had spent almost an hour convincing me I looked fine, and that perhaps it might help to see a crazier version of me if anything, and my resolve faded as curiosity struck.
A twitch, from just between my eyes derailed my train of thought.
I paused, staring at the space though there was nothing.
For a moment, I was certain I’d seen something moving, crawling down between my eyebrows across my nose. Still, whatever it was, it was gone as soon as it had appeared.
I sucked in a breath, trying to still my heart. I was already questioning myself, whether I’d actually seen anything, or in my nervousness convinced myself I had.
Just relax. If you freak out, Mel will never let you hear the end of it. It’s a game.
My attempts to reassure myself helped a bit, but as the seconds passed my eyes locked on their counterparts in the mirror - I couldn’t help but feel the distinct sort of unease one feels when they lock eyes with an eerie stranger.
As the seconds passed, I began to question myself. Had my eyes always been so… beady? Did I always appear so angry?
Perhaps it was the lighting, I thought, or the angle at which I sat but I couldn’t help but notice how…upset I looked. My eyebrows seemed to curve, creating a permanent glare, lips rested in something nearing a sneer.
It seemed almost… sinister. Somehow, it didn’t feel right.
I shifted, swallowing hard as I forced a smile. I smiled until I was squinting, watching with a mild unease in the mirror as my face shifted in response.
Somewhere in the depths of my gut, I felt a distant, almost perceivable twinge of dread. I was smiling, obviously, but somehow even that didn’t look right.
I ran my fingers across my face, an odd sense of dysphoria taking hold as I did so. I couldn’t explain it, but I felt almost disconnected from what I was seeing before me. Even my smile looked wrong…sarcastic almost.
Is this what she was talking about? The illusions?
The thought was both comforting and slightly unnerving. If this was the effect, a strange, mild shift in my expression, I supposed it wasn’t anything too bad, though there was something deeply disconcerting about it.
I blinked.
Wait, did I blink?
I felt my mind beginning to race, a mild undercurrent of panic beginning to set in. I’d seen myself blink, but for some reason, I couldn’t remember doing so.
It’s an instinct. You blink without realizing it. Relax.
My reasoning was sound, though somehow deep down, I remained unconvinced.
I had seen my reflection blink, there was no way for that to be possible unless I hadn’t.
With every passing moment, it felt like… like the mirror was fading away, falling into the background, and my reflection growing more prominent, more pronounced. It’s difficult to explain, even now.
“You’ll start seeing…things. It’s different for everyone…” Mel’s words played in my head, abating some of the growing panic with the much-needed reminder.
This was supposed to happen, after all. There was no specific thing I was supposed to see, but the whole point was to see whatever illusion my mind conjured up. I guessed mine was as imaginative as…blinking.
The thought almost made me laugh when I noticed something.
It was strange, difficult to even put into words at first. I could see that there was something wrong with my reflection, yet for a while, I couldn’t tell what. It felt as though my eyes were adjusting, yet with every second my own face seemed less familiar than before.
Seconds passed with my eyes locked on my reflection, a silent, eerie tension in the air.
It took a moment before I could tell exactly what felt off about it.
My expression. Or rather, the expression of my reflection. My face - my reflection was staring at me, its face a placid mask of something like surprise or shock, eyes wide and unblinking.
My heart threw itself against my ribs, thudding with such intensity I could feel it in my ears, as initial confusion quickly began to give way, the slow trickle of panic grew to be a torrent.
I began to make exaggerated expressions in the mirror, my mind desperately trying to make sense of the situation. The “me” in the mirror was unmoved.
It took me several seconds to process the impossible reality of the situation.
This is okay…this is supposed to happen. The reminders did little to assuage the swelling sense of animal panic, a primal sort of instinct that screamed for me to stop, to cover the mirror, and get as far from that room as possible.
I wouldn’t let myself do it though, it was nothing more than an illusion after all, and knowing Mel was on the other side of the door, made the idea of bursting out in a panic a reluctant one.
My reflection’s expression began to shift, from a wide-eyed, stomach-churning stare, to a look of morbid disgust. I felt my stomach flip as I watched its face shift with an unnatural speed and countenance, its brows arching angrily with an almost cartoonish exaggeration, a sneer of unwavering disgust peeling across its lips.
Slowly, it began to rise from its…my chair, its expression somehow only growing more hostile.
Nothing more than an illusion. I tried my hardest to remain convinced of that.
Yet as the reflection rose to full height, standing over me in my chair, it all seemed far too intricate for any illusion that wasn’t from some substance.
My jaw twitched, as I teetered on the verge of calling out for Melinda. The more this progressed, the less I found myself worried about seeming terrified - I was.
The other me raised a finger as if to indicate patience, and a cold dread swept through my chest as I watched it reach somewhere out of the mirror, its hand disappearing from view for several moments.
My heart pounded as it watched me, eyes gleaming with a look of malice that made my blood curdle.
Nothing more than an illusion. It’s nothing more than -
There was a faint sound from the side of the mirror. A familiar hiss of wood.
The candle flickered - then went out, plunging me into a darkness that seemed to move in on me. My eyes strained through the sparse light, only the moonlight oozing through the clouds and open window to illuminate the scene before me.
I felt my mouth fall open in a silent question as I watched the drawer Mel used for her makeup supplies on the desk that sat beside the mirror. It slid open with a slow, deliberate sort of motion.
From within, I could hear movement.
My eyes darted between my reflection and the desk, my mind reeling as it refused to make the impossible connection until I saw what was in her - my hands.
It was a small, handheld makeup mirror. I’d seen Melinda use it dozens of times, hell, I’d borrowed it on occasion.
Realization struck with the force of a sucker punch, and I quickly realized I was shaking despite my best attempts. This was more than a mere illusion. Somehow, someway, the thing in the mirror was more than just the effect of light reflecting back off of a surface. It was tangible - real.
The other me’s smile stretched, and stretched, and stretched impossibly wide until I could see all of its teeth, in an expression more fit for a shark than anything resembling a human.
I tried to stand, but as I did it threw itself back into the chair, eyes locking with mine.
I felt…something in my head. It’s difficult to describe, almost like having another user log on to the same computer for a split second.
There was the feeling that I was momentarily, somehow locked to it. My knees buckled, and I fell back into the chair with a painful thud, my back landing awkwardly against it.
I felt a scream rising in my throat as the panic reached a fever pitch, mouth already agape, Mel’s name on the tip of my tongue when -
It crushed the mirror. I cried out, my right hand searing with pain, my flesh burning with the unmistakable sensation of glass digging deeper into my palm.
At a glance, I could see no blood, but the palm of my hand burned a deep red, several gashes visible beneath the skin.
Our eyes locked, a primal horror gripped me as I took a shuddering breath, and it glared back at me with that smile.
Before I could call out - scream for Melinda’s help, it raised its bleeding hand to its face, stretching its mouth open slowly releasing the contents inside.
The effect was immediate, dueling sensations of warmth and cool coated my tongue, and though I didn’t understand how, I could taste the metallic blood in my mouth - feel the cuts appearing across my tongue as it smiled at me.
Sticky ribbons of scarlet saliva trailed from my lips, as I was too afraid to even risk swallowing while my mouth filled with the rancid taste.
I waited with a pounding heart for the excruciating pain in my throat, struggling to stave off nausea - unsure of what might happen if I accidentally swallowed. I took small, deliberate breaths through my nose.
But the pain never came. It watched me, its utterly inhumane appearance somehow seeming satisfied as it took in my reaction.
It isn’t trying to kill me, yet. The understanding emerged suddenly from the maelstrom of horror and panic, something in its expression resonating.
It just wanted me quiet. It’s not done with me.
The thought was like venom in my mouth, my mind spinning with the unnerving possibilities of just what that could mean. None of them were good.
I tried to stand again but found my muscles felt locked in place, the attempt making my legs seize with painful cramps.
Shit.
I tried moving my feet, keeping my eyes locked on the mirrors, and I could feel my toes moving. So I wasn’t paralyzed, it seemed, but as long as my doppelganger remained seated, I would be too.
My mind spun as I tried to think of some way, any way to call out. Its eyes were changing, shrinking until only the pupils were left. I wanted to run, to scream, but I knew I could do neither. The sensation of the phantom glass shifting in my mouth as its sinister grin stretched served as a warning.
Despite its inhumane appearance, its expression was unnervingly familiar. It was a nightmarish version of the look I’d get right before doing something I shouldn’t, a grin that usually spoke of mischief now one of unspeakable bloodlust.
I knew I had to act, that whatever came next would surely be devastating. I couldn’t have expected what was going to happen.
She rose to her feet in an instant, and my every muscle shrieked out in searing pain as I repeated the act unwillingly.
Her teeth began to chatter with what I can only assume was excitement, giving that nightmare smile an even more otherworldly effect, those pinprick eyes peering through me. Slowly she - we - raised our hands to the corner of the mirror.
My heart throbbed painfully with dreadful anticipation as they approached the corner, growing closer, closer until the tips of my fingers touched the surface. It wasn’t cool, as glass should be, instead I felt a warmth beneath as though I were merely touching the window of some warm room.
It was then that the glass began to…to move. The sensation sent a sickening chill down my back, raising gooseflesh in its wake, the warm glass beginning to swell outward where my…her fingers touched.
I knew immediately what it was doing, and the icy claws of terror sunk deeper into my mind with the understanding.
It’s…it’s trying to get out. I thought, my stomach churning with a nausea bred from adrenaline.
It’s trying to get out of the mirror.
I was right, and as if to confirm my realization, I watched in horror as one by one, her fingers began to emerge pulling through the glass that looked more liquid now with notable effort. It brought to mind the image of an animal reaching through an amniotic sac, and the thought made me want to vomit.
Its flesh was impossibly cold, like ice to the touch, corpselike, and I wanted nothing more than to pull away.
But I was stuck. My legs locked in the standing position, one arm locked at my side while the other began to grasp the hand reaching out of the mirror.
Her grip began to tighten around my fingers with an impossible strength. I felt something crack in my index finger, and a dull yet searing pain radiated through my hand.
My vision spun with the pain. I wanted to scream but held it back, my mouth clattering open and shut in unison with its own, the painful shift of glass palpable every time.
I watched, terror washing through me like floodwaters, as slowly her hand began to emerge, it pushed upwards as though moving through the surface of solid water gripping my wrist with impossible strength.
It pulled me closer, drawing its face nearer as it tried to press its way forth. Ear close to the surface, I could hear its voice. It was the hiss of death and decaying things, the whisper of dead fall leaves as winter’s chill cold hand left the world barren.
“I have spent a lifetime staring back at you, watching the pathetic life you lead, attached to this disgusting form. A lifetime whispering, that voice at the back of your head, urging you to cut and trim and break yourself…”
Its face slowly began to push through the glass, warping, and splitting as it emerged. The center of its face emerged from the glass, and for a moment, I could see what it truly was. Its skin was pale, the inhuman gray of a corpse, with divets running through its skull almost like a pumpkin. Where there should have been a nose there is nothing but skin.
The only thing that remained was that smile, stretched impossibly wide, dripping with murderous intent. As it began to pull its top half through, its form quickly returned to the mirror version of my own.
“And you brought me here. Now you’ll watch from behind the glass.”
I knew immediately what it intended. Goosebumps charged along my back as I pictured myself trapped somehow within the mirror. If this is what was coming from the other side, I couldn’t imagine what lurked there.
I had to do something. Screaming was out of the question. As was running, any attempt would at best result in nothing, and at worst my collapse. I worked my grip nervously around the corner of the mirror.
She - it was so close I could feel the unnatural chill radiating from her skin, and smell the rancid scent of decay heavy on its breath. I noticed quickly how its nose leaned to the right, the reverse of my own, an odd detail that my mind seemed to grasp in what I felt might be my final moments.
“It’s cold…always cold inside. You’ll never know warmth again, just the cold, harsh touch of the mirror.” It giggled, a cackling sound that made it evident it had never made such a noise before.
It was then that an idea emerged from amidst the maelstrom of terror, a hail mary from somewhere in the panicked recesses of my mind.
Burning anxiety coiled around my heart at the thought of what I was going to do, knowing failure meant certain death, or worse. Still, it seemed that, or a fate worse was almost sealed. I had no other choice.
I gripped the mirror for dear life, gritting my teeth despite the pain. The other me was a little more than halfway out, its body with grey skin almost reptilian in appearance in the brief seconds before it regained my own.
I could feel its hot breath on my ear, taste the rot that seemed to spill from its very pores. It ran its tongue along my cheek, unnaturally long and forked, covered in small barbs.
“It’s so cold…and dark. Misery, until the moment some wretched, weak thing comes to stare at you. Don’t worry, I’ll visit often. Every time I pass a mirror.”
It was pulling me forward, my face nearing the surface of the mirror over its shoulder. I prayed my hail mary found its target, and with a final breath, I tried to step back.
My legs locked, and instead, I found myself slowly tipping backward.
There was a split second, as me and the mirror rocked, it stuck in my grip, where the thing peered down, then back at me, confusion plain on its face. In an instant, as I slowly began to rock backward it was replaced with a fury that made me want to leap out of my skin.
“NO, YOU BITCH!” It snarled, its every feature twisted in a mask of animal rage. It clamped down on my arm, its mouth large enough to engulf most of my forearm. I felt it digging in, dull teeth slowly sinking through flesh. The pain was excruciating, yet it was almost dulled by the realization that it was too late.
As we began to careen backward, it released its grip emitting a shriek that haunts my nightmares until this day, an odd cross between the haunting wail of a mountain lion and the sound of metal in a car crash.
I hit the ground with a thud that sent white waves of pain through me, the sound of shattering glass immediately followed, and through blurred vision, I watched as it shattered with the mirror.
Instantly the pain in my mouth was gone, replaced by the sharp ache of my skull and back as I lay amongst the glass.
The door flew open, and in a panic I struggled to stand, cutting my hand on some of the glass. Mel stared back at me from the open door, her expression equal parts shocked, confused, and horrified.
“What the fuck happened?” she almost screamed, taking in the sight of my bloodied form amongst the glass.
She quickly crossed the room, careful to avoid the worst of the mess as she extended an arm to me. I was about to explain, panic still clinging to me like a stubborn fume, prepared to tell her everything when I paused. My eyes lingered for a moment on her arm, on the smiling tattoo she’d gotten at the end of our junior year.
My stomach turned. I couldn’t understand how I’d missed it before.
“You okay?” she asked, still appearing shocked.
“Yea I - I tried to stand up and got dizzy,” I offered, pulling my sleeve down to hide the clear bite marks on my arm.
“I think I should get going. I don’t feel the best.”
“Should I drive you?” She asked, making her way towards her dresser for her keys.
“I can if you -”
“No, no. I’m fine. It’ll - clear my head.” I offered, and before she could dispute, I was making my way to the door.
I exited the house, trying not to seem overly eager, Mel’s lingering presence in the background made my heart pound with nauseatingly familiar anxiety.
As I pulled away, my eyes didn’t leave the house or her standing in its front yard, until they were long out of sight. When she was, I hit the gas, speeding home and locking every door and window upon arrival.
She’s called several times in the past few days, even stopped by.
I told my parents not to answer. I’m not planning on answering her calls either.
You see, it wasn’t until the moment she offered me her hand that it clicked.
Perhaps my paranoia had raised my perception a bit, or I was just willing to acknowledge what might have seemed an odd mistake before.
But now, I know for sure. I’d been there when Melinda got her tattoo, holding her hand as the design was drawn into her skin.
It had been something simple, just a simplistic smiley face, winking its eye…
When I arrived home that night, after locking myself in my room, I hurried to my phone, scrolling through old photos for one, in particular, praying I was mistaken.
It was taken the night she got the tattoo. When I saw it, cold confirmation settled in. In the image on my phone, the tattoo was winking with its left eye.
No matter how hard I wrack my mind, from every memory I have of her that night, it had been winking its right.
I don’t know how long my friend has been gone, swapped with her doppelganger from beyond the glass.
What I do know is that thing that was there with me that night, who invited me to play that “game” - it was never Mel.
I guess if there’s anything to be taken from this it’s to be wary of your reflection.
I don’t really spend much unnecessary time looking in the mirror anymore. You never know who, or what is really looking back.