Mia jolted awake in the dead of night to an unusual sound. A soft tapping, almost like fingernails lightly scratching against glass. She sat up in bed, straining to hear. The sound wasn’t coming from the windows or the front door. It was subtle but consistent, emanating from somewhere within the room.
Her heart pounded in her chest. She lived alone in an old, creaky apartment building on the outskirts of town. The kind of place where neighbors kept to themselves, and strange noises were a part of the charm. But this noise was different—it was deliberate.
Taking a deep breath, Mia swung her feet onto the cold floor, her skin prickling with a sense of unease. She crept toward the source of the sound, a small closet by the corner of her room. She hadn’t opened it in months. It was one of those peculiar old closets that seemed more decorative than functional.
She hesitated. What could possibly be inside? As she reached for the handle, the tapping stopped. Silence filled the room, thick and heavy. She paused, waiting for the noise to resume, but all she could hear was the thumping of her own heartbeat.
Just as she was about to turn away, there it was again—tap, tap, tap. Louder this time, almost impatient. Mia’s hand trembled as she grasped the doorknob and slowly turned it. The door creaked open, revealing a darkness deeper than she expected.
A chill ran down her spine. She flicked on the closet light, but it only illuminated the top shelf, casting long shadows over the rest of the cramped space. She crouched down, peering inside, when suddenly she felt a gust of cold air sweep across her face, as if something had moved past her.
Mia gasped and stumbled back, her eyes wide. Nothing was there. She reached inside, her hand brushing against something cold and metallic. She pulled it out—a small, ornate hand mirror, its frame rusted and cracked. She had never seen it before.
Before she could process what she was holding, she heard a voice. Soft, barely a whisper, but unmistakably coming from the mirror.
“Help me…”
Mia nearly dropped the mirror. Her breath caught in her throat. She glanced around the room, but there was no one else. The voice came again, a bit louder this time.
“Please, help me…”
Summoning her courage, Mia spoke, her voice quivering. “Who are you? Where are you?”
There was a pause, and then the voice responded, tinged with desperation. “I’m trapped… trapped in the mirror.”
Mia’s pulse quickened. She had heard stories of haunted mirrors, objects that could trap souls, but she had never believed them. Yet here she was, speaking to someone—or something—inside a mirror.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked, unsure if she was ready to hear the answer.
“Break it,” the voice pleaded. “It’s the only way I can be free.”
Mia hesitated. If she broke the mirror, would it release a trapped soul, or would it unleash something far worse? She had read enough horror stories to know that these situations rarely ended well. But the voice… it sounded so human, so desperate.
She raised the mirror, looking at her own reflection staring back at her, and for a brief moment, she thought she saw another pair of eyes behind hers—eyes filled with fear.
“Please,” the voice repeated, growing more frantic. “You must break it before it’s too late.”
With a deep breath, Mia made her decision. She lifted the mirror high above her head and, with all her strength, smashed it against the wooden floor. The glass shattered into a thousand tiny fragments, scattering across the room.
For a moment, there was silence. Then, a cold wind swept through the apartment, extinguishing the lamp beside her bed. The darkness was absolute, and she could feel something move in the room—something no longer bound by the mirror’s constraints.
A voice whispered in her ear, chilling her to the bone.
“Thank you.”
Mia realized too late that some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
