**I BOUGHT A CHEAP ANTIQUE MIRROR — IT SHOWED ME MY OWN MURDER.**
The auctioneer swore it was just old glass, but the price was too good to pass up. I hung it in my bedroom without a second thought.
The first few days were normal, just me getting ready in the morning. Then, one evening, I glanced in the mirror and saw it: a reflection of my bedroom, but…different.
A shadowy figure stood behind me, holding a knife. My reflection was screaming, but I couldn’t hear anything. I whipped around, heart pounding, but there was nothing there.
I tried to convince myself it was a trick of the light, but every time I looked, the scene in the mirror became clearer. The figure got closer. The knife blade gleamed sharper. Last night, I saw the killer’s face—it was… familiar. ⬇️
Last night, I saw the killer’s face—it was… familiar. My breath hitched. It was me. A gaunt, desperate version of myself, eyes hollowed and filled with a chilling, unfamiliar rage. The reflection screamed again, a silent, agonizing wail mirrored in my own terrified gasp.
Sleep was impossible. The mirror became a tormentor, its polished surface reflecting not just my fear, but the creeping dread that consumed me. I spent the day scouring old photos, trying to find a likeness, a clue to the person – or the *me* – in the mirror. Nothing. It was me, yet utterly…other.
That evening, I found myself drawn back to the mirror. The scene unfolded as before, but this time, there was a detail – a small, silver locket clutched in the reflection’s hand. A locket I hadn’t seen in years. My grandmother’s locket. I’d lost it years ago, presumed stolen.
A jolt of understanding, cold and terrifying, pierced through my fear. The locket. The killer. It all clicked into place. My grandmother’s will. The inheritance fight. My greedy, estranged cousin, Elias. He’d always resented me, resented my share.
Armed with this new knowledge, I confronted Elias. He denied everything, his face a mask of practiced innocence, but his eyes flickered with a guilty tremor. I pressed him, showing him a photo of the locket. His composure shattered. “It was an accident,” he stammered, his voice cracking. “A drunken fight. I didn’t mean to… I swear.”
The police arrived, sirens wailing, disrupting the tense silence. Elias confessed, the weight of his guilt finally crushing him. But as he was led away, handcuffs clicking, I stared back at the mirror, a strange calm settling over me. The shadowy figure was gone. The reflection showed only me, my face pale but resolute.
Relief washed over me, but then a flicker of movement in the corner of the mirror caught my eye. A fleeting glimpse of a shadowy hand, reaching out from the darkness behind the reflection, clutching…another locket. A different locket, one I’d never seen before. My blood ran cold. The reflection smiled, a chillingly familiar smile, and it was mine, but distorted, twisted, malevolent. This time, the eyes held not rage, but a cold, calculating intelligence. This time, I knew – with terrifying certainty – that this wasn’t the end. It was only the beginning. The mirror held more secrets, and they were far more sinister than I could ever have imagined.