Whispers behind Locked Doors

The Mirrors Hold

Clara stood motionless, her fingers brushing against the jagged remnants of the broken mirror, the shards scattered across the cold wooden floor like a shattered puzzle. The chill in the room was unbearable, the cold air pressing against her skin as if the very house itself was alive and watching. Her reflection no longer stared back at her from the broken pieces, but in her mind's eye, she could still see the distorted image of Emily — her wide, terrified eyes, and the silent scream etched across her face.

*Was it real? Or had the mirror somehow twisted her perception?*

Vivienne, standing in the doorway, trembled as she watched Clara examine the glass. The faint sound of creaking floorboards echoed throughout the house, though no one else was present. It was as if the mansion itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

"We need to get out of here, Clara," Vivienne whispered, her voice shaky. "It's not safe. This house... the mirror... it's all connected. I've lived with the fear of what's inside these walls for too long. We should have left years ago."

Clara turned to Vivienne, her eyes burning with a mix of frustration and determination. "But I can't leave now. I'm so close. You said it yourself: the truth is buried in this house, in this mirror. I have to know what happened to Emily. She's trying to tell me something, Vivienne."

Vivienne's eyes flickered with doubt. "I... I don't know how, but the mirror has always been the key to everything. My husband, Thomas, he was obsessed with it. He believed it could show you things... things you couldn't unsee. Things that might just drive you mad."

Clara's pulse quickened. "What things? What did he see?" She couldn't help but feel the dread creeping back into her bones. The mirror was no longer just an object — it was something much darker, something that reached into the very heart of the Cartwright family's tragic past.

Vivienne took a step forward, her face pale as she looked down at the scattered pieces of glass. "I don't know, Clara. But I think Emily knew. She had started asking too many questions. And that's when things started to change. When she stopped being just a little girl, and started seeing things in the mirror that no one else could. That's when Thomas became... different. More distant. And then, Emily... she was gone."

A chill ran down Clara's spine as Vivienne's words sank in. There was a desperation in her voice, a long-buried terror that Clara couldn't ignore. She needed to know more. She needed to understand the true nature of the mirror — what it had done to Emily, and what it could do to her if she wasn't careful.

Before she could ask another question, a loud bang echoed from upstairs, followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps — slow and deliberate, echoing through the mansion like a shadow chasing its prey.

Clara's heart skipped a beat. She froze, looking up at Vivienne, whose face had gone ashen.

"Is anyone else here?" Clara whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her own heartbeat.

Vivienne's lips parted in a silent gasp. "No... it's just us. But... the footsteps — those aren't ours."

Clara swallowed hard, her mind racing. It could be anyone — another part of the mansion playing tricks on them, perhaps — but the fear in Vivienne's eyes told a different story. She'd lived here long enough to know when something was wrong.

Without thinking, Clara moved toward the stairs. She had to see for herself. There were too many unanswered questions, too many eerie things happening, and the strange, ghostly feeling that had been building in the house was starting to feel far too real. She was determined to find the truth, no matter the cost.

The stairs creaked beneath her feet as she ascended, each step sending an eerie echo through the house. The house seemed to groan with age, the old wood and stone rattling as if it too were alive, aware of the intruders in its midst. At the top of the stairs, Clara hesitated, her hand resting on the banister as she surveyed the dimly lit hallway. There were no other sounds now — just silence, a thick, oppressive quiet that hung heavily in the air.

And then she saw it.

The door at the far end of the hall, the one Vivienne had mentioned, the one that had been locked for years. It was slightly ajar.

Clara's breath caught in her throat. The door had never been opened before — at least, not in her memory. It was the room that had always been off-limits, the one that no one dared enter, and yet now, it was beckoning her.

She stepped forward, her hand trembling as she reached for the door handle. Just as her fingers brushed against the cool metal, the door creaked open, revealing a dark, musty room. A thick layer of dust hung in the air, and the floor was covered in cobwebs. The faint scent of decay mixed with something metallic — a smell that made Clara's stomach twist.

But it wasn't just the smell that made Clara's blood run cold. It was the sight that greeted her inside. In the center of the room stood a massive, ornate mirror — the same mirror that had been shattered downstairs. But this one wasn't broken. It was intact, its surface reflecting nothing but the darkness of the room around it.

Clara's legs felt like lead, but she forced herself forward, unable to stop herself. The mirror seemed to pull her in, its surface rippling like a pool of water. Her reflection, distorted and warped, flickered in the glass, but there was something off about it — something wrong.

It was Emily.

Clara's heart slammed into her chest as she gasped in shock. The girl in the mirror — her face twisted in fear — was unmistakably Emily. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open in a silent scream, as if she were trapped on the other side of the glass, begging for someone to save her.

"Emily..." Clara whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief. "Is this... is this really you?"

The reflection in the mirror flickered again, the image of Emily slowly starting to fade as if it were being sucked back into the glass. The room seemed to grow darker, the air growing heavier with each passing second. Clara reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold surface of the glass.

Suddenly, a cold, clammy hand gripped her wrist, pulling her back with an unrelenting force. Clara spun around, her heart racing, but there was no one there. The room was empty. Only the empty mirror remained, its surface now calm and still, reflecting only the darkness.

"Clara... get away from it," Vivienne's voice cracked, a warning edge to her tone. She was standing in the doorway, her face pale as she looked at Clara with wide, terrified eyes.

Clara pulled her hand away from the mirror, her chest tight as her mind spun with the implications of what she had just witnessed. Emily's ghost, trapped in the mirror? Or something far darker — a force that had claimed her and was now trying to claim Clara?

There were more questions now than ever before, but one thing was clear: The mirror was the key. And if Clara wanted to uncover the truth, she had to confront whatever lay behind its glass.