I will start by telling you all that has been happening during the past few weeks. I hope this will help someone understand just what is going on here, although it has helped me in no way. If you have any theories as to how this could happen, or even what the hell is going on, please message me. I need to know.

Two weeks ago my parents (who are both in their mid 50s) decided to go look around at our old house, the one I grew up in. It has been abandoned ever since we moved out about a year ago, but is in pretty decent condition. The picture shown is a picture taken outside of the house.
Anyway, I thought I might as well go along and maybe dig around for some stuff we might have forgotten when we left.

The house seemed much smaller than it was when we left, and I got this very ominous feeling from looking at it as we approached. The front door was broken and would not stay open. I left my shoe to keep it open, as I was scared I might get trapped inside (I'm claustrophobic and can't stay in enclosed spaces for a long time). I was going in alone, while my parents were checking the backyard to see if the swing was still intact (it wasn't). It was dark, damp and overall creepy inside the house. There was a strange smell coming from one of the rooms (I think there were some animals living there) so I decided not to go there. I went upstairs, and to my luck, the stairs didn't fall apart like I thought they would.

Upstairs was a bit more light, as the windows hadn't been boarded up like downstairs. I walked down the corridor that led to my old room, and saw movement inside. I jumped back, as I wasn't expecting anyone to be there, but calmed myself quickly and proceeded. To my surprise, there was nothing moving in there but a white cloth, swinging in the wind. I laughed a bit for getting scared by something so silly, but thinking back, I swear I saw a person in there.

I pulled on the cloth, as it seemed to be covering something. It revealed a large mirror with a frame of stained gold. There was an inscription at the bottom of the mirror, which said something about watching the new generation. I didn't think anything of it at the time so I can't really remember much of it. It was a sentence of about eight words, written in a strange and archaic manner. I looked in the mirror and barely saw anything, as it was stained and cracked. I just stood there for a while, I have not idea what I was doing, but I remember hearing speech coming from behind the mirror. I leaned in to listen to the voice, but jumped back in fear as I heard loud steps from behind me.

It was my father, who had come inside the house and had managed to somehow sneak up on me. I was amazed, as he is a big guy and the stairs were rather creaky. He laughed and was obviously glad he had managed to scare me. My mother came in the room as well after a few seconds of laughing had passed, and immediately spotted the mirror. I saw her looking at it with a weird expression, and asked why we had left it behind (it was very expensive looking). My mother said it wasn't ours, and that she had never seen it before. I got to thinking, and to be honest, I had never seen it before either.

My dad then yelled us to come over to another room. Again, he had stepped away, making no sound whatsoever. When we got there, his face was glowing. Not literally of course, but almost. He had never looked so happy in his life. In his hand he held some very old pictures, which looked like me in some strange way. There was a picture of a small boy and other pictures of what looked like his father, mother and perhaps an older sister. I had no idea who those people were, but the picture of a small boy seemed to be looking straight at me. "It's me and my family!" My father said in and enthusiastic voice. Now that I took another look, the little boy resembled my father.

We left the house, and took the pictures, along with some other stuff that we found in the same room. We put the stuff in a box my dad found the pictures in, and drove off. On the way home, we visited the house of an old friend of my father's. He was and old man, probably almost 90 years old. He had known my dad and my grandfather, and was a dear friend of the family. I didn't really know him, but I know my parents went to visit him on some weekends. My parents talked to him for a while, and told him they were taking the stuff they found. He didn't mind, as it was our belongings anyway, and told us he had been keeping watch over the house (which I thought was a bit weird) in case we ever return. My parents then asked about the mirror in my old room. They apologised about me breaking it in case it was his. I was about to tell everyone it wasn't my doing, but the puzzled look on the old man's face made me freeze. He turned to me and then to my family, and said, "There is no mirror there. I threw it away myself."

A long silence followed, and my blood ran cold as I remembered the words I heard from behind the mirror, clearer now than ever. Don't make us go. This is what I had heard, I was sure of it. I was just about to ask the man about it, but my family stood up, and left without saying a word. I watched this play out and followed them, never understanding what had just happened.

I never asked about what had happened during that strange meeting, and frankly, I was afraid to ask. The way they left that old man to his confusion was so cold and unlike my parents. I forgot about it in a mere few days, but then something happened. My father didn't come home one night. We thought he might have gone out drinking, which he did occasionally, but heard nothing from him the next day either. My mother was worried sick, and went to look for him in all the usual places where he goes drinking. Nothing. We asked the police to look for my father, and they promised to find him. I was confused and worried. Why would my father leave like this? A few more days passed, and we got a call from the hospital. He had been found. We rushed over there and saw him in a bed, with all these machines hooked onto him. His face was cut in three places and the wounds were clearly infected. I had a hard time recognizing him. We were all relieved he was safe now, and didn't even care what had happened. The police officer who had found him like this asked us some questions, and said it had been an animal that attacked him. I don't believe it was an animal, but back then I did.

We went home, my father stayed at the hospital, and all was fairly well. I slept well that night, as I had not slept in two days since his disappearance. I fell asleep very quickly, and didn't wake up until it was already midday. I woke up feeling rested, and got up. As soon as I did, I heard my mother scream in terror. I dressed up as fast as I could and ran downstairs. She was sitting in a corner, her eyes covered and shaking uncontrollably. When I asked what had happened, she screamed again, this time at me. Is this your idea of a joke! What the fuck is wrong with you!? I was apalled as I had no idea what was going on, and she never, ever swears at me or father. After a moment of confusion, I saw her pointing at a picture on the table. I went to take a look, and my heart dropped. What I saw caused terror beyond belief. It was the picture of my father as a child, with three cuts on his face, and his eyes black. (Sorry for poor quality in the picture, I didn't have my camera for the second one so I took it with my phone.)

The Diary

The diary was found on the crime scene, on a table next to the picture of a young boy, supposedly the culprit when he was a child. In the house was found a broken mirror with gold framing, and two other bodies next to it. An inscription on the mirror says Watch the next generation repeat our deeds. The culprit had supposedly killed the two victims with a shard of the broken mirror, and gouged his eyes out afterwards. Signs of violation were visible on the body of the female victim. The investigation goes on as we try to find out what drove the man to commit this crime.


The following is taken from the culprit's diary, and is to be treated as evidence. There were no dates marked in the diary, and only bits of the information have been confirmed.

(Blood covers the beginning of the page.) " and we're going back to see the old house again. I'm probably going to take some pictures too. It's going to be fun seeing what shape the house is in. I just hope it hasn't been sold or demolished or anything, since it's not technically our property anymore. I know Rick would be glad to see it torn down, even though I told him to watch over it. He just can't forgive my dad, even after his death. Oh well. Maybe I'll go see Rick too.

We arrived at the house and it was in pretty ok condition (considering it was already rotten when we left. I was sure it would have collapsed, at least a part of it). The swing at the backyard was apparently stolen or something, because only the metal frame remained. My son went inside before me and Grace, and he took my camera with him, so I don't have any pictures of the outside. When I went inside I noticed a smell coming from one of the rooms. When I looked inside I saw some dead crows lying on the floor. It was horrible, as some of them were half eaten. Poor things probably got trapped inside somehow and got attacked by a wild cat. I closed the door, and hoped my son hadn't seen what was in there.

I went upstairs, and saw someone walking into my son's old room (it was at the end of a corridor, so I just barely caught a glimpse of them), and I could almost swear it was...well, It's impossible so I won't even bother writing it. Anyway, I quickly followed to see if I was right, and in the room stood my son, and no one else. I was relieved. I almost thought that bastard had returned, but it had just been my eyes playing tricks on me. I burst out laughing, when I saw my son's terrified face (I had probably scared him quite a bit when I ran in the room) and at that moment Grace walked in. I hadn't noticed it, but there was a mirror in the room, just behind my son. Not just any mirror. It was my dad's. That fucking mirror. I got rid of it once already, but someone found it and put it back up. I was so angry at this point that I just walked out the room. How was it there? Who had put it back up? I was almost sure my dad had returned. Returned to make my life a living hell again.

God, I got angry again just writing that. Anyway, I walked out of there and headed to another room. It was the old bedroom. It was completely empty, save one cardboard box in the corner. I opened the box and the anger turned into overwhelming joy. There were all of my family's portraits. My sister, my mother and me. I looked like the angry kid I was back then. I told my family to come over and have a look at the pictures. (blood is covering some words, and the sentence makes no sense)

When everyone was back in the car, I remembered the mirror again. I hadn't taken a closer look at that mirror, but I'm sure it was my dad's. I looked at grace, and she knew what I was thinking. She knew about the mirror as well. I don't want to explain the story, but maybe I should anyway.

The reason I hate that mirror is my dad. The mirror in itself isn't evil, but in his hands anything can be a tool of pure agony. He used to cover it with a white cloth when it wasn't being used, and I think he knew what he accomplished by doing this. Every time he removed the cloth, all of us, my mother, sister and me knew that we had to hide. He would grab onto his bottle, and start humming this tune that haunts me to this day. He would come after us, and whoever got caught, was to be tortured in front of that mirror. He would just beat me up, but he did things far worse to my mother and sister. Me and my sister hated him so much, but mother wouldn't leave him. We didn't really have any place to go anyway, he was the one bringing the money home.

One day, my sister just snapped. She took a knife and walked in front of the mirror. She broke it, and sliced her throat. I saw it happen, and had no idea how to react. I was just numb. I must have passed out after that, because the next thing I saw was mom and dad fighting. By fighting, I mean my dad had pinned her down and was hitting her. I was so scared, I ran away and grabbed the phone. There was just one number next to the phone, titled Rick. He was a friend of my dad and dropped by to visit every now and then. In panic I called him and told him what had happened. I then hung up without even waiting for a response. I ran to the mirror room, and saw my mom lying on the floor with a shard of the mirror piercing her throat, and my dad undressing, standing over the corpse of my sister. I was filled with rage. I saw what had happened to my sister when she was caught and put in front of the mirror, and now, after she had escaped to death, it was about to happen once more. I grabbed a shard of the mirror and stabbed my dad with it. He screamed, and turned around to face me. I was 10 at that time, and not strong enough to cause any serious injury, so my dad just smiled and started coming after me. I wasn't scared. For the first time of my life, I was so disgusted and angry, that I didn't care about what would happen to me. My father had to die.

I sliced his face three times, and it was enough to make him retreat. After holding his face for a while, he grabbed the knife my sister was holding, and started coming after me again. This is when Rick came through the front door and tackled my dad. He pinned my dad down, and started looking around to see if everyone was alright. You could see that all he wanted was to snap my dad's neck, but the police he had apparently called arrived, and took my dad away. He got a lifetime in jail, because of some asshole lawyer who got him out of deathrow. I explained what had been going on to Rick, who almost threw up several times during it. He took me in and raised me as well as he could, and together we buried my mother and sister. We got rid of the mirror, buried it deep in the forest. The house was left with no owner, and I later moved there with my family. We moved away from there about a year ago, because I started having recurring nightmares about my dad returning.

I had told Grace the story about the mirror and my family when we moved in to live there, but my son doesn't know. I hope to keep it that way.

On the way back home, I decided we should go to see Rick and ask him about the mirror. I didn't want my son to know about my past, so I tried to make it seem like I didn't know what the mirror was. I asked Rick if it was his and apologised for my son breaking it, this was just meant as a hint for Rick to play along, but he looked at me with a strange, almost scared expression. He told me he had thrown it away. I'm not sure, but I think he meant he had thrown it away again. I was scared. I couldn't say anything and just stood up and left. Grace followed.

We got home and I put the pictures on the kitchen table. I was still thinking about that mirror, and how it had gotten there, to that room. I can't let this go. I will go back there in a few days. I'm not going to say anything to grace or my son, but I will go there.

(The next line is written with shaky handwriting, barely legible and there is blood filling the rest of the page)

Get the fuck out (blood is spilled here, and may be covering part of the text)

The Investigation


I am investigating a case which has been left unsolved for months now. I'm not doing this for the sake of wanting to know the truth or anything like that. I'm doing this in memory of my partner, who was also on this case before he committed suicide a week ago. I feel like he's still suffering, like he wants this case to be solved before he can rest. It's haunting me. This feeling of him watching me.

The night he did it, last night, I was called to the morgue to identify his body. The person who called me there had this weird look on his face. Apparently what my partner did scared even that man, who had seen hundreds of corpses. Even though it was his job, he was scared. I walked over to the tray my partner was on and he slowly pulled the cloth covering him. He asked me if it was him, and with almost sad eyes turned away from the corpse. I collapsed. It was horrible. His face had been cut three times and the wounds were horribly infected. His skin was pale. His eyes were the worst part though. They weren't rolled up or closed. They were wide open. His expression was blank, but his eyes were so horrifying I couldn't look anymore. I felt sad and angry. What could make him do something like this? I knew it had something to do with the case he was working on, the same case everyone else had left unsolved. I blamed them. They did this.

The worker there stood in silence as I cried my eyes out. After I had calmed down a bit, he asked if my partner had any family. I said he had a daughter and a wife. He looked sad and hung his head. He said with a shivering voice "Can you follow me please?" I didn't know what to expect, but I knew it wouldn't be good. I followed him to another tray, and stopped. He stopped as well, and asked me, "What kind of man was your partner?" Then he quickly pulled the cloth covering another body. It was his wife. I was almost numb from seeing the body of my partner but this still hurt me. I wasn't as shocked as you would think, I didn't know her that well. But a thought crawled into my mind when I looked over to a tray close to this one. It was clearly a child. I immediately knew who it was, even though she was covered with a cloth. It was their daughter.

My mind was racing. Who had killed them, and why? Was this the reason my partner committed suicide? Had the killer cut his face and escaped? I was about to ask if there were any clues as to who had killed them, but then I looked back at the tray with the daughter. There was blood in two parts of the cloth. The place where her neck would be, and just below her stomach.

It was no wonder that my partner had killed himself. No one could live with this. His wife and child murdered. And the things the killer had done. I made a promise that day. I promised to find the killer. I will find him, and take everything from him. I asked the worker who had done this, were there any clues to follow. He said, "Your partner did this." I looked at him, not knowing what to say. Before I could get a word in, he continued, "His wife, daughter, his face, everything. He did this himself. With a mirror piec-" I bashed his head to the wall. That fucker was lying, and I knew it. He was lying to me at a time like this? How fucking dare he? I left that place in rage and didn't even hear what the worker said as I was leaving.


I'm still angry at that worker. How could he say something like that? Killing your own family, doing that to your face? And his daughter... My partner would never do that. I will find the killer and I will make him pay. I'm going to his apartment today to see if I find anything on the crime scene.

It's now afternoon. I found a few notebooks there. It seems he was keeping a diary to help with his investigation, just like me. They were labeled after some cases he had worked on, and one of them was labeled, "The Mirror Murderer". It was the case he was working on when he died. I read some of what was written the notebook, and found out he had visited and old man called Rick before his death. The address was there, so I will go to him as soon as I can. I need some time to deal with all this.


I went to see that old man today. While I was driving there I saw this old house that was pretty close to the one I was visiting. I got a bad feeling from looking at the house and felt like something was calling me there. When I got to Rick, I introduced myself and asked him if anyone lived in that house. He said another police had come some time ago and asked that same question. I knew who he was talking about. He then continued to explain there was nobody living in the house, and that no one had lived there for over a year now. I told him I'd come back later, and went to that house. When I was leaving, Rick said something like, "Don't go." But I had to. Inside the house it smelled bad. I found some birds and a cat lying dead in one of the rooms. It made me kinda sick, but I kept going and proceeded upstairs. There were three rooms, and one of them had a mirror in it. My partner's notes mentioned it too. Here's the clip that speaks of the mirror:

"The mirror is cracked and blurry. The gold edges are stained with what looks like blood, and I swear I can hear voices from behind the mirror. I'm really creeped out and don't want to stay here any longer, but this place is the only clue the diary holds. So far everything it said has been true, and I even found the dead crows. I'm going to go talk to that guy Rick again and see if he knows more about this place. Hearing the story of this mirror has really gotten to me. I swear I can hear a little girl crying for help now."

After reading that I went to Rick again. He told me my partner hadn't come to see him again, and had just left in a hurry. I'm genuinely scared right now. I can feel someone watching me.


I just woke up from a bad nightmare. It was the face of my partner screaming inside that mirror. Behind him stood a man with no eyes and three cuts on his face, positioned just like the ones on my partner's corpse. One on the left eye, one on the mouth and one on the right cheek. I decided to read his diary a bit further. I'm not sure if this is a joke, but I'm really scared now. I can't sleep, so I'm gonna take some sleeping pills after I'm done writing this. I hear knocking. This is what he wrote in his notes:

"The mirror is in my house. I can't fucking believe this. I'm too scared to touch it, I hear them inside me, screaming. I'm afraid for my family. I dreamed that I was doing horrible things last night. That man is in my head. It's that mirror. It's that goddamn mirror. I need to get rid of it before my family comes home."

I don't have the strength to go on anymore. I read his notes. All of them. He did it. He did it and he wrote it all down like some fucking psycho. That morgue guy was right. Even his own daughter...he raped his own family and killed them. I can't take it, there's no point to go on in my investigation. Here is the last few sentences he wrote. I can't seem to make sense of them and my head hurts. I can see and hear all these people every time I close my eyes.

"I've killed family...that dream happened. Everything I saw in that dream happened and I just watched myself do these horrible things to my family..even after they died. The mirror is evil. It made me do it, and it made me cut myself. It burns, it burns so much it's hard to see, but I see people around me. They're just a blur but I can see it's my family and some other people. A man with no eyes and his son, a girl who cant be older than 15 and her mother. And that man."

This is the end of a text file found on the computer of a man who confessed to murdering his wife and two children. He was found face cut in a river by two police officers on a patrol. He was sent to prison for life, but he soon bit his own tongue and died. A mirror was found in the apartment, and apparently he used a piece of it to commit the murders and mutilated his own face.