I know that a lot of people tend to believe that mirrors are a certain kind of portal to another world; a world that was just like ours, yet somewhat... corrupted. Just a little bit out of place. It all looked the same; there wasn't a thing out of place. And yet, still, there would always be that feeling as if something weren't quite right, not quite the way it should be. Like the way one might feel when they knew they were supposed to remember something but couldn't remember exactly what. I always figured it might feel like that.
But that's not all of it. Some people also believe that that reflection in the mirror, that one that looks just like you, isn't you at all. It's some sort of monster. One that wants nothing more than to trade places with you so you will live the rest of your life in the corrupted world and so it can live your life, steal your real friends, real family, and you know what will happen? You'll become that reflection. You'll simply be mirroring the life of that thing that stole everything you had. Such strange stories people come up with.
I always wonder how people come up with such absurd things. That the "things that go bump in the night" are more than just that—little bumps and sounds. Who could possibly believe there're monsters under their beds, ghouls in their closets? I, for one, never honestly and truly believed those stories, but I think that I secretly believed there was just the slightest lick of truth to them. Well, I know there was definitely some truth to those stories now. Just a little. The rest differs entirely from what everyone seems to think it is.
It was rather dark; all of the lights in the house were off and the sun had set a long time ago. Dark house, home alone; typical cliche, isn't it? I've an explanation for this; don't you fret. It's only logical that I'd be alone because I don't live with anyone. Why are the lights off? Light is dreadfully painful on my weak little eyes. Shameful. Yeah. Whenever there's too much light, I get one of those headaches which feels like someones jabbing the back of your eye with a fork. So it'd be logical, as well, that the lights would be off. Contrary to how much time I spend in quite dark rooms, I'm still terrible at seeing through the cruel darkness, so every so often, I have to turn on a light or two to make sure I'm in the right room, which, of course, only hurts my eyes terribly.
This very thing happens to be what I was doing when it happened. I stumbled in the bathroom, intending to brush my teeth and go to bed. I flicked on the light so that I could find my toothbrush and toothpaste without stumbling through the darkness and kicking the doorstop accidentally, even while I was attempting to avoid just that. So, of course, my only option would be to turn on the light, even if it meant that fork-jabbing headache again.
The light switch was flicked up and the bright lights flickered on, practically stabbing my eyes with their fluorescent beams. Shutting my eyes tightly as I stumbled over to the sink blindly, I grabbed the edge of the counter and forced myself to open my eyes, staring at the ground to avoid as much light as possible. Just the reflection of the light off of the bathroom tile on the floor pained my eyes almost unbearably. If I had to describe I would say it was something like a murderer stabbing me in the back of the skull with a rusty spoon.
I found myself suddenly having a strange urge despite the pain supplied by the bright bulbs above my head. Tilting my head slightly to the side, I stared into my reflection's eyes, except... This wasn't MY reflection. It felt like this could hardly be described as a "reflection" at all. It was just another ME staring at, well, ME. I could just tell. As I stared into that thing's eyes, focusing intently on that strange glint in them, I could just see that this wasn't me and it never was. All of the times I have ever looked in a mirror in my life, it was never really me, just a monstrous thing waiting to steal me away. It was all in those dark eyes. In those few seconds I stared into its eyes, a sudden urge to reach out and touch my hand to that thing's abruptly overwhelmed me, interrupting this little staring match between the monster and I. Ignoring the pain building up behind my eyes and reaching into the very back of my skull, I reached up, touching each of my fingertips to the strange being before me.
I felt a strange chill run its icy fingers down along my spine, and just as it happened, it smiled. It smiled right at me as its ever-probing eyes stared into mine. Another strange and abrupt urge rose inside me as I pressed my hand closer to the thing and leaned closer to the mirror, eyes widening and mouth gaping as that thing pulled me closer into its dark embrace. I found myself climbing up onto the counter, planting my knee at the edge of the sink and pulling my other leg up, now in an odd crouching position in front of the mirror. I still didn't feel close enough. I still felt miles away from this thing that was pulling me closer, closer... My hand was pressed firmly against the thing's; it was as though I could close my hand around the thing's and intertwine my fingers with its own.
And suddenly, I could. I couldn't help myself but smile at this bizarre imitation of myself as I curled my fingers around its warm hand. It smiled wider at me, and a sense of comfort came over me as though I were crazy to ever doubt its intentions. It started pulling my towards it; I felt myself passing through the cool surface of the mirror into a world that most certainly was not my own. I let my eyes flutter closed, leaning into its gentle embrace as I went through the mirror. It was definitely a strange thing — strange indeed — but it felt so natural, so perfect. I could feel its soft yet firm arms wrap around me. I opened my eyes to look at it, finding myself smiling again if only for a split second before trying to push away from this horrible thing that had me in its grasp. It was tall and definitely masculine-looking, though with no discernable gender detailed on its odd and shadowy figure.
If it wasn't apparent before, it definitely was now. This was not my reflection. It never was. It was a demon, tricking me ever so cruelly and with no remorse or guilt for its actions whatsoever. Upon its face were no longer my innocent eyes or wide mouth. No, most certainly not. It smiled at me with what could only be described as an eery — and quite poor, I must say — imitation of affection. I pushed away from it, trying to pull my hand away, and even though my fingers had long since untangled themselves from its own, it still firmly grasped my hand, refusing to let go.
Closing my eyes, I gave one last desperate attempt to tear myself away from it, but I simply stumbled forward. Surprised and confused, I opened my eyes. It was gone. I looked at my right hand; it was the hand that had grasped the monster's. I moved my fingers, made and unmade a fist many times, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong; and then I noticed it. It was crazy that I didn't notice it before. On the palm of my hand was a serpent. Why did this seem oddly fitting...? Oh! My Chinese zodiac sign. That was it. My sign was the serpent. So why did the strange figure mark me with this?
Speaking of which, where had it disappeared to?! I looked around, turning my head side to side. I was still in my bathroom, but this was NOT my bathroom. I was somewhere else; I knew I was. I whipped around to face the mirror. There it was. That thing. In MY bathroom. In MY world. It smiled at me. Not that eery and poor imitation of affection anymore, either. This was an evil and mischievous smile. It was like it silently told me it knew something I didn't. But what? Giving me a smug wink, it walked away. It simply turned on its heel and walked away into the other parts of my house.
No. No! NO! I wouldn't let this happen! I had to get back through! Climbing up on the sink again, I banged my small hands against the mirror, trying desperately to go back through, or trigger something—make SOMEthing happen. But nothing. As I continued to knock and bang at the mirror, the only thing that happened was a crack appearing, and growing as I ignored it and continued my futile attempt to get back into my own world.
The place where I belonged. Not that THING. I yelled incoherent mumbles and obscenities at the mirror, and finally that crack wasn;'t a crack anymore. Instead, the mirror was many shards, falling to the counter and scraping up my hands as they did so while I continued knocking at what was once the mirror for a few more seconds before I realized the mirror was broken. If there was ever a chance of me getting back, it was lost now. It was over. I was stuck here.
Wait... My hands. They were cut. They were bleeding! I climbed off the counter and turned on the sink, picking tiny shards of the broken mirrors out of my skin and rinsing away the blood. I turned off the water and took a hand towel out of the bathroom closet only a few steps away, drying my hands and shoving them in my pockets. My scraped up hands were the least of my worries now. A thought occurred. If... If this happened to me—I couldn't possibly be the only victim of these things! Maybe there were others here...
Maybe they could help me! I ran out of my house, into the streets in front. The expression of hope and cautious joy were swept from my face as I looked around. This... No. This wasn't right at all. All there were crumbles and ruins of the buildings that used to surround my house. Most of them looked as though they had been burned down. Only a few buildings besides my own remained standing, but they still seemed dilapidated in a sense.
Much as I simply wanted to give up and sit down right there in the road and simply bawl my eyes out, I could not. I had to see if there were others here. I HAD to know. If there was anyone else. If there was a way out. If there was even any hope to cling onto...