mirror :: malum

xis

mirror killer, 1904.

the mirror killer in an unknown case to many however the gruesome details are a source of nightmares.

calum hood, aged 24 murdered 4 people in his basement in the summer of 1919, all in front of his mirror. he was said to have been charming, friendly and manipulative and drew his victims into his house where he tied them up to a chair and made them watch their final moments through a mirror.

the mirrors current whereabouts are unknown, however the unlucky individual who possess it may be in a world of bad troubles.

his victims, bobby julius, 15, margo martin, 19, william sherman, 30, and finally, noah frank, 24, all lost their lives in front of that frightful mirror and the bodies were never recovered.

michael stopped reading after that. seeing that it was real, even the name was correct, made the whole thing more scary. it now wasn't just his imagination or sleep deprivation, it now wasn't a possibility it was all made if, but it was something much bigger, something much more terrifying.

he took a picture of the website and sent it to his friends with the caption 'wtf'. he wanted to prove to them that he wasn't going insane, and in fact everything was correct, or at least give some sort of support to his claim.

a shiver traveled up his spline, the temperature of the room dropping fast. he wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing the exposed skin as a small cloud of steam left his mouth.

"i see you're curious about me, hm?" a voice whispered from behind michael causing him to jump back on his chair, gripping the arm rests with a soft gulp. he knew that voice all too well. calum. "am i really on your mind that much?"

"why did you do it?" michaels voice shook, speaking in an almost hushed tone. he knew he already asked, but he needed a clear answer, since the man did kill five people. calum just laughed, spinning michaels chair around to look at him.

calum looked like he was there, his body as clear as michaels, as if he was never dead.

he looked alive, apart from his pale looking skin and dead eyes, his lips void from any bright colours, cracked and rough.

michael took the opportunity to have a good look at the killer. his hair was a mop of brown curls on his head, dried flakes of, what only could be, blood scattered in the locks. his lips were plump but dry. his brown, fearless eyes were staring deep into michaels as if he was trying to figure him out, figure out how to break him, what hurt him, what he could use against him. his slightly gray skin held a few freckles, glittering his body like he was a painting.

and maybe for a second michael forgot the terrible acts he had committed. he forgot this man was a murderer and, most importantly, dead.

"it was fun," calum started as his hands touched michaels neck gently, his body shivering at the touch. the touch was so gently, almost as if he wasn't there. "their hopeless yells for help," he walked behind him and touched the back of his head, running his fingers through michaels blonde hair. "only made me want to do it more," calum whispered close to his ear as his hands dropped to michaels chest, his palm over his heart. michael could only listen and watch, his chest pounding with fear. "they looked so pretty when they realised they were going to die." he brought them back to the sides of his head, doing a gun motion and chuckled at himself, before moving them to the front of his head, just between his eyes.

"they were innocent. they were young," michael cried out and the ghost moved once again to be facing him. he just shrugged in reply before beginning to pace the room, looking around at michaels things, humming to himself. "they- they didn't deserve it!"