Shadows In The Mirror:
When reflections whisper secrets we cannot escape

The reflect had usually been regular. A rectangle of glass framed in timber, hanging quietly on the wall of Sara’s bed room. For years, it had meditated not anything greater than her tired mornings, moved quickly evenings, and the occasional smile she forced earlier than leaving for paintings. however one iciness night time, as the wind rattled in opposition to the windowpanes, the replicate commenced to alternate.
In the beginning, it turned into diffused. Sara noticed her mirrored image blink a fraction too late, as if lagging at the back of her own actions. She laughed it off, blaming exhaustion. but the next night, whilst she leaned closer, her mirrored image did no longer lean again. It stared at her—eyes hole, lips pressed right into a grim line.
Sara’s heart thudded. She touched the glass, waiting for the bloodless floor to reassure her. as an alternative, the mirrored image’s hand hovered just brief of hers, trembling, as though afraid to make contact.
The Uneasy Silence.
Days exceeded, and the reflect grew stranger. on occasion her reflection smiled whilst she did not. once in a while it frowned while she felt high-quality. as soon as, she caught it whispering, although no sound reached her ears. The silence became worse than any scream.
Sara began avoiding the mirror, dressing inside the dark, brushing her hair without looking. however avoidance best deepened her dread. She felt watched, even when she became away. Shadows seemed to ripple throughout the glass, forming shapes she couldn't call.
Her mother observed the exchange. “You appearance light,” she said one morning. “Are you sound asleep in any respect?” Sara pressured a laugh, unwilling to admit that her personal mirrored image had end up a stranger.
The First Message.
One night, unable to resist, Sara stood before the replicate again. Her reflection raised a hand and traced words across the internal of the glass. Letters shaped slowly, fogging as even though written in breath:
depart.
Sara stumbled again. “leave what?” she whispered. The reflection’s lips moved, but no sound got here. most effective the word remained, fading into nothing.
Sleep abandoned her. She dreamed of corridors coated with mirrors, every mirrored image turning its head to follow her. She woke soaking wet in sweat, the unmarried phrase echoing in her thoughts.
The Descent
Sara’s friends urged her to see a medical doctor, but she could not give an explanation for without sounding mad. rather, she researched vintage testimonies of mirrors—portals, omens, cursed items. most were folklore, but one tale chilled her: mirrors ought to lure shadows of the dead, reflections of folks that in no way determined peace.
turned into her reflect haunted? Or worse—became it showing her some thing about herself?
the following evening, she lit a candle and faced the glass. “who are you?” she demanded. The reflection tilted its head, eyes darkish as ink. Slowly, it raised its hand once more. This time, the letters spelled:
YOU.
Sara’s breath caught. “Me?” she whispered. The reflection nodded.
The Breaking point
From that night onward, Sara’s mirrored image grew bolder. It moved while she did not, smiled when she cried, and sometimes vanished altogether, leaving the mirror blank. She felt herself unraveling, uncertain in which her identity ended and the shadow began.
Her mother discovered her one morning looking at the replicate, lips transferring silently. “Sara?” she requested, voice trembling. Sara turned, but her eyes seemed distant, unfocused. “It’s not me anymore,” she murmured.
The very last come across
At the final night, Sara locked her door and stood earlier than the mirror. “What do you want?” she requested. The reflection leaned forward, its face pressing against the glass until cracks spidered throughout the surface.
The candle flickered. The mirrored image whispered, ultimately audible: “To take your region.”
The glass shattered. Sara’s scream echoed thru the residence. whilst her mom rushed in, she located the replicate entire again, unbroken, reflecting handiest silence. Sara turned into gone.
however inside the mirror, her mirrored image smiled.
About the Creator
The Writer...A_Awan
16‑year‑old Ayesha, high school student and storyteller. Passionate about suspense, emotions, and life lessons...

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