𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙫𝙖𝙨 • 𝙚𝙣𝙝𝙮𝙥𝙚𝙣 + 𝙨𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙣

𝘁𝗲𝗻

"𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙩 𝙞𝙨, 𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚."

𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱 𝗰𝗮𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝗶𝗻
𝙈𝙖𝙩𝙩 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙩𝙚𝙨𝙚

Clara fumbled on her steps until she reached an unstable wall – a mirror to be exact. The mirror was exactly at her height and covered in an old fabric with dust accumulating at the corners. She’ll be lying that she wasn’t scared of what’s going to happen next. Usually, the horror novels from the library stated that at this point, anything could happen.

Even the settings are on spot. There’s a creepy passageway with corpses in the middle, a mysterious door that leads into a room with gizmos that defied science, and to top it off, she’s facing a mirror in the middle. The hairs on her skin were now standing in fright, and she gulped, stepping closer to the mirror.

She narrows her eyes at the mirror, still not daring to do anything in case something will jump out of nowhere and eat her alive. The mirror actually didn’t stink like what she thought of. It kind of smells like an old book, when flipping the pages would let out that smell, to be precise.

Then she noticed that something was going on in the mirror. “A rope on its leg,” she said as if it was an ordinary thing. “Surely, nothing will happen to me, right?”

True to her words, she untied the old ropes tied to the mirror, one at a time. Judging by the way it cracked once she exerted enough force to it, it must have been there for ages. Whoever had done this must have wanted this piece of furniture gone in their eyes. And by the looks of it, she must have been doing the mirror a favor  by unleashing it.

When the last knot of the rope fell from its leg, the fabric fell over like silk from the skin, unleashing the reflective surface of the mirror. Poor little Clara, unlike what she kept chanting in her head, froze at the sight of what she had seen.

She expected to see herself as the normal ones did, yet it showed a woman, fast asleep and floating only a few inches above the ground. The woman wore a lavender sweater, long white skirt, and her hair falling to her neck. Well, she kind of expected a ghost maybe with the long hair that reaches to her ankles, spooky eyes, and maybe a shrill voice that could deafen one’s ears – and to her surprise – it was just a person, a weirdly dressed woman.

“Wait a minute.”

“That can’t be…” She whispered as she pinched her sides, hoping to wake up from the nightmare, but it didn’t. The woman still has her face, like a mirror – except that she was in the mirror, and Clara clearly isn’t.

Clara stiffened in her place until she felt movement on her knees, falling down to the floor. No matter how she looked at it, rather, wanting to look away, the woman was actually floating in the mirror with only a few inches above the ground.

“That isn’t scientifically possible!” She shouted, not caring if they heard her or not. If they did hear her, what could she say? ‘I saw a floating woman floating in the mirror, and not to mention, she and I have the same face!’ Only a fool would believe her words because she truly couldn’t.
   
“Wake up!” She whispered in an urgent tone when she saw that the temperature of this place had been dropping at a dangerous rate. Clara could see the soft huffs of air from her mouth, and her fingernails turning into a soft shade of blues. But when she looked down, she could see that there had been some creeping frost forming in the corner of the room.