I, like many other people in the world, have a fear of mirrors. But despite this, I have- or should I say, had- two mirrors in my room.
They weren't the mirrors you would find in some horror movie or something close to that. They weren't old and big and... Well, creepy.
One of my mirrors was a 1'x2' mirror that was installed in the headboard of my waterbed. The other mirror was a small desk mirror that seemed simple enough to pass off as harmless.
One day, I was hanging out in the living room that was right next to my room. I was watching TV (which was more of a rare thing since my older sister moved out). My sister had visited, and she didn't really like to hang out in my room (since it used to be hers), so I would normally hang out with her in the living room.
My mother had walked in, holding an old mirror in her hands. It was dusty and seemed to had come from the 1800's or something. I couldn't tell at the time, but now that I look at it, I realize that the back had been taped up.
She said, "Ko, I bring mirror to Philippines." She had what I call "Broken English", since she hadn't grown up with English as her mother language.
I mumbled an okay, since I wasn't really controversial with my mother- despite having to live with her after my parents' divorce.
She walked out, and I heard her swing my bedroom door open.
I jumped up, feeling dread overrun my entire being. I called out, "M- Ma, I already have thre- two mirrors in my room; I don't want another!" I began to stutter and become flustered.
"No worry, Ko, I send to Philippines," was all she said before walking (well, more like stomping) upstairs.
I calmed down, mumbling to myself that everything would be fine. That the mirror would be gone sooner or later.
When I walked back into my room, I flipped the light on, seeing a dark figure in the corner of my eye. I immediately stopped in my tracks, my heart stopping as well. I had a sharp intake of air in fear. When I looked where the figure was, I realized it was just the reflection of my clothes in the old mirror.
It was set up against my small bookcase in the corner of my room beside my bed.
I laughed a little, shivering and trembling. "O- oh... It- it's just the mirror... I- I forgot about you, little guy..." I walked over to it and flipped it over, a chill running down my spine.
The following morning, I had slept through both of the alarms on my phone. One at 8:00, the second at 9:00. At around maybe 9:30 or 10:00, I was half-asleep, still laying in the warmth of my fluffy sheets. I jolted awake to hear a female whisper.
I knew for a fact it wasn't the music I had played quietly on my laptop the previous night to lull me to sleep- for I had listened to each and every song at least 100 times throughout the time I had them, and never before had I heard that voice from any of those songs.
I hurriedly got out of bed, saying out loud, "Alright, I'm up, I'm up!" I was panicked. I couldn't think straight until I had all my clothes for the day gathered and my iPod in hand and stepped into the bathroom to change. I immediately started to listen to some parodies on my iPod, since I loved the humor of the cover artists and such- especially for the Disney songs.
But even with the cheery parodies echoing through the bathroom, my heart was still racing, my head still pounding, my body still quivering with fear of the unknown.
A few days passed, and I soon forgot about the mirror. It's taped backside sort of blended with the wall, and my mother seemed to forget it too. It was like it was never there.
I had gone for a trip to Boulder, Colorado for a "Brain Bowl" competition my school had prepared for. It all went well, but I was glad to be back home.
My mother welcomed me home, and I strolled into my room, seeing it a mess. Some of the manga I had placed on the chair next to my bed for good reading were knocked over. My shoes were all over the floor. My pillows were overturned. One of the drawers at my bed's headboard was open. I nearly cried at the sight of my desk with my laptop. The papers I kept at the laptop's side were nearly scrambled everywhere. Earrings I had under the papers were now on the floor next to my cards. Objects were on my laptop's charging cord (which made me really upset because my laptop's battery was gone and the charger was getting weaker and weaker and had to be a certain way to actually let my laptop live).
But what scared me the most... Was that the taped mirror was flipped over.
I immediately flipped it back over and tried my best to make my room back to the way it was.
It took me an hour to get my laptop running again, but I'm glad I was able to.
The following night, I was on my school laptop working on an essay when I heard what I thought were footsteps on the stairs. They were way too light to be my mom's, but they were too heavy to be my sister's. I immediately walked over to my bedroom door and locked it, hoping that the footsteps were just my imagination. That maybe it was the wind playing tricks on me.
It doesn't help that I live in a windy city.
Half an hour passed, and my mouth was dry. I grabbed a giant empty Brisk bottle that I would usually use as my water bottle and walked to my bedroom door. The moment I unlocked the door and grabbed the doorknob, I froze. There was a sinking feeling in my gut, my fingers tingling. I gulped, feeling as if someone was on the other side of the door. I knew that since it was almost 10 PM, all of downstairs would be dark. That the only light would either be the dim desk lamp in the office at the farthest end of the hall or the bright light of my room. My chest tightened, thinking of what could happen.
The thoughts weren't any good, considering I was an absolute horror story lover and was almost addicted to ghost stories. I knew how this might be. Ghost or not, I wasn't risking anything.
I locked my door again and walked back to my seat. "I'm not risking anything!" I soon laughed a bit. "I'm not RISKING anything." I laughed a bit more, suddenly stopping. "Alright, I'm done being dumb."
For the rest of that night, I was thirsty and a headache was sure to come.
When I went to bed, I had slept really well- until I jolted awake at around 1 AM. I was really tired and wanted to sleep, but for some reason, I couldn't. I kept tossing and turning, trying to find a cool spot in my bed. It didn't really help, considering my waterbed was temperature-controlled and I kept it on high during the cold winter nights so that I wouldn't be freezing when I woke up. This went on until maybe 2 AM when I turned over, looking at the taped mirror. I glared at it, believing something was there. Waiting. Watching. Taunting me.
It's been a few days since that night.
I want it out.
I want it to leave me alone.
Shit like this didn't happen until that fucking taped mirror came along.
I'm sick of laughing my fear off.
I want it to leave me alone.
I need to get rid of it.
I HAVE to get rid of it.
If I don't... It'll drive me insane.
I want to sleep in past my alarms without whispers. I want to come home from trips to a clean bedroom. I want to go upstairs to get water without feeling as if someone was downstairs with me. I want to sleep without having to wake up in the middle of the night.
I'm looking at it in the corner.
It's waiting for me to touch it. To flip it over.
That's just what it wants.
It wants me to try to break it.
I won't give it the satisfaction.
It's waiting. Watching. Taunting.
And it won't leave me alone until it gets what it wants.