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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
When Rebecca settled into her new home on Amber road, she thought she would live a comfortable life. However, she begins to notice strange things in her mirror...

Submitted: April 12, 2015

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Submitted: April 12, 2015



The small, red-brick house on Amber road was beginning to feel more like a home. Although Rebecca initially felt uncomfortable under the stares of all her new neighbors, she soon discovered that they were kind folks who were eager to lend her a hand whenever she needed one. Her brother came by every week with some furniture that he managed to pick up, or some books he knew she'd enjoy. Rebecca was looking forward to a bright future and felt as though she were on top of the world.

However, she noticed something a little awry about one month after she moved. It was a Saturday, and she was planning on shopping for groceries. Her keys were at hand, her purse swung from her shoulders, her hair was tied in a high pony tail. As she made her way to the front door, she passed by a small mirror that hung on a wall.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that something about the reflection was wrong.

She started back towards the mirror. It looked normal now. Brown hair, green eyes, and a yellow wall in the background. Her eyebrows scrunched together as she frowned slightly. She could've sworn she had seen... something. She wasn't even sure what she had seen, only that it was... there and it was out of place. With a shrug of her shoulders, she dismissed it as an illusion.

Four days later, she was roaming about the house, looking for the one thing that alluded her the most: her keys. As Rebecca paused in the hallway to ponder over where they could be, she glanced at the mirror.

The mirror... She thought she saw something again. Instead of reflecting a yellow wall behind her head, it showed... dark, dusty, wooden floors, and a wooden staircase leading to a second floor. The scene vanished like vapor, leaving her shivering where she stood.

Rebecca lived in a one-story house.

She turned around slowly, half-expecting a wooden staircase to appear behind her, but the only thing she saw was a yellow wall. Still quivering, she quickly scampered out of the hallway, making sure not to look into the mirror again.

One week later, the doorbell rang frantically. Rebecca hurried out of her room, clutching her dress. She rushed up to the mirror to check on her appearance and make sure she hadn't smudged her lipstick. She quickly jumped back with a gasp.

The staircase was there. And this time, it had a friend.

A small boy stood on the staircase. He had pale skin, green pajamas, and blond hair. And his eyes... they were too blue to be real. He was staring at her, as if he had been expecting her. And then, as quickly as she had seen him, he disappeared. Rebecca only stared back at the mirror, not sure what was going on, or what she had seen.

The next day, she stood at the edge of the hallway and stared at the mirror. Well, staring at it was an understatement. She was glaring at it, daring it to show her the staircase and the boy once more. She wanted to face the fears that hid in the glass. But the mirror only hung there, showing yellow. For all she knew, it was laughing at her. She gave a big puff out of her nose and squinted. She wouldn't be having problems if a mirror wasn't scaring the- wait. She could just get rid of the mirror.

Rebecca straightened her back. She took a deep breath. With the confidence of someone who has made up their mind, she walked towards the mirror. She held out her hand and-

She saw it.

Rebecca instinctively pulled her hand back. The staircase, the boy... The boy was closer this time, on a lower step. His eyes bored into hers, giving her the same impression as last time: he was waiting. Before she could open her mouth to scream, he disappeared.

From that day on, she avoided that mirror. She didn't enter the hallway to go outside unless she absolutely needed to. And when she did go through the hallway, she looked down at the floor. But always, at the corner of her eye, the boy was there, closer than he was the last time, his hand on the railway, his blue eyes piercing through her soul, choking her. And whenever she was in her room, or on the couch, or at the stove, she didn't want to turn around. The walls could hold staircases that led to a floor that didn't exist. Any sound could be the footsteps of a child walking towards her. The boy could be there. He could be waiting.

Weeks later, her brother stood on the porch, waiting for her to open the door. When no one came to greet him, he became worried. He jiggled the doorknob, not expecting it to open, but to his surprise... the door was unlocked. Immediately, he knew something was wrong.

He stepped in and called her name. No reply. He walked around the house, searching. Her bed was neatly made. Clean dishes sat in the dishwasher. There was a stack of books next to the couch. Worried, he pulled out his phone and headed out the door as he dialed 911. Suddenly, he heard a light sound, like tinkling, underneath his feet. He stepped back and looked down.

There was a shattered mirror.

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