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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Mary's curiosity gets the best of her when she hears her daughter whispering, for yet another night. However, Mary is about to find out more than she is ready for.

Submitted: May 11, 2014

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 11, 2014



Mary quickly stopped what she was doing and became as quiet as she possibly could. She had been hearing indistinct whispers from her daughter’s room for the past week. It happened every night, around the same time. “Why is Annabelle talking to herself?” she asked herself aloud. Normally, Mary would respect her daughter’s privacy, but this had really peaked her curiosity.

She gently sat the dishes she was hand-washing down, tip toed up the spiral staircase, and down the hall to Annabelle’s room. She peered through the small opening of the door, and looked around the room. She didn’t suspect her of sneaking anyone in, she was much too young for that. It was just her motherly instinct kicking in. Once she knew that no one else was in the room, she averted her gaze over to her daughter. She was staring at her own reflection in the mirror, and talking away as if she was with a friend. Mary, let out a sigh of relief and turned away from the door. She didn’t know exactly why she was relieved, but the feeling was unmistakable.

She made her way back to the kitchen, so she could finish up the dishes, and possibly have some alone time before she and Annabelle had to go to sleep. She tied her long, brown hair up into a bun and began to wash the dishes again. She quickly finished, poured a glass of wine, and sat down on the couch to enjoy some silence. She didn’t get much peace with her job. Mary was a tour guide, and was constantly having to deal with all kinds of crazy people and their off the wall questions. She downed the rest of her wine and made her way up to Annabelle’s room to tuck her in for the night.

“Good night sweetie, have sweet dreams,” she said as she gently kissed her daughter on the forehead.

“Good night mommy, I love you too,” she mumbled as her eyes were closing. “And mommy, will you put that   blanket over my mirror?”

“Why would I do a thing like that sweetie,” she asked curiously.

“I don’t like it when she watches me sleep,” she said as she raised her hand and pointed to the large mirror across the room.

Mary slowly turned to the mirror and was greeted by the gruesome face of an old lady, wearing a tattered black dress, the same color as her thin, wispy hair.

© Copyright 2017 BronsonP. All rights reserved.

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