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THE TEN-FOOT TALL MIRROR stood against the wall in the hallway, looming over anyone who passed it. The frame, made of mahogany, had two-inch long, intricate and smiling faces carved into it. Christine hated the mirror.
The entire house gave her creepy feelings. Her husband, Roy, bought the house on a whim, as it was cheap and everything they ever wanted and more. Christine couldn’t help but think of “The Amityville Horror.”
“What happened to the previous owners?” Christine asked the real estate agent.
“What do you mean?” The agent asked with a fake smile.
“Why did they leave?” Christine asked. She noted the discomfort in the agent’s eyes. “Or were they killed?”
Roy stepped close and squeezed Christine around the shoulders. “Don’t mind my wife,” he said. “She has an active imagination!” He smiled. Christine crossed her arms and scowled.
After Roy had convinced Christine the house was perfect, they signed the papers.
“I don’t like that mirror,” Christine said. “I feel like I’m being watched.”
“Don’t be silly, Chris,” Roy said. “It’s just a mirror, it won’t hurt you.”
Roy went to the hardware store to get a few things. Since she was alone, Christine wandered around the first floor.
“We don’t have near enough stuff to fill this house,” she said in a room with wispy white curtains. A breeze fluttered through the room, lifting the curtains, but the windows were not open.
Christine turned to leave the room and stopped. A girl stood in the doorway.
“Follow me,” the girl whispered, motioning with her finger. She turned and disappeared. A distant giggle floated down the hall.
Christine peered into the hallway. The girl was nowhere to be seen. A shiver ran up Christine’s spine. She pulled her sweater tighter.
“Come upstairs,” the girl’s voice came.
“Who are you?” Christine called. “Where did you come from?”
“Come up here,” the girl’s voice called. “I’ll show you.”
The mirror was upstairs. Christine put her hand on the rail and paused before going up. Her heart pounded. When she reached the top of the stairs, the girl stood by the mirror.
She giggled, and stepped inside, her hand gripped the frame. She poked her head out and smiled at Christine.
“It’s okay,” the girl said. “It’s fun in here!” She giggled again and disappeared.
Christine saw nothing but her own weary reflection in the mirror. A hand darted out and grabbed her arm. She struggled, but the grip was tight. Her hand went numb with cold as it passed through the surface of the mirror. Her breathing came in panicked bursts as she leaned back with all her weight. Her eyes searched the hall for anything to help her. She looked at the edge of the mirror. The faces had looks of terror on their carved features.
Christine’s foot slipped, and she tumbled into the mirror in an icy blast.
Roy came home and called to Christine, he searched for her. As he passed the mirror, he failed to see her little carved face among the others.
