When Emily bought the antique mirror for her new apartment, she didn't expect to see reflections of things that weren't there. As the boundary between reflection and reality begins to blur, Emily discovers a terrifying truth about what lives in the space between mirrors...

The antique shop was tucked away on a narrow street that Emily had never noticed before, despite having lived in the city for years. A bell jingled softly as she pushed open the door, releasing the scent of old books and furniture polish into the crisp autumn air.

Just browsing, she told the elderly shopkeeper, who nodded without looking up from his newspaper. The shop was cramped but meticulously organized, with shelves of curiosities stretching from floor to ceiling. Emily wandered through the narrow aisles, running her fingers over ornate music boxes and tarnished silver.

That's when she saw it—an oval mirror in an intricately carved wooden frame, propped against the wall in the back corner of the shop. The glass was slightly clouded with age, giving it a dreamy quality that seemed to soften her reflection as she approached.

Beautiful, isn't it? The shopkeeper had appeared silently beside her. Venetian. Late 19th century.

It's perfect, Emily said, already imagining how it would look above the vintage dresser in her bedroom. How much?

The price was surprisingly reasonable. Too reasonable, perhaps, but Emily was too enchanted to question her good fortune. The shopkeeper wrapped the mirror carefully in brown paper and twine, his gnarled fingers working with unexpected dexterity.

One small warning, he said as he handed her the package. Mirrors remember what they've seen. This one has seen much.

Emily laughed nervously. Well, let's hope it likes what it sees in my apartment.

The shopkeeper didn't smile. Mirrors don't judge. They merely reflect. But sometimes... sometimes they connect.

Emily nodded politely, already backing toward the door. The old man was clearly eccentric, but that was to be expected in a place like this. She thanked him and hurried out, eager to get home and hang her new treasure.

The First Night

The mirror looked even better than Emily had hoped, transforming her modest bedroom into something that could have been featured in a vintage design magazine. She stood back to admire her handiwork, pleased with how the mirror's aged glass softened the harsh overhead lighting.

That night, she dreamed of corridors. Long, winding hallways lined with doors, each one slightly ajar, revealing glimpses of rooms that seemed familiar yet wrong somehow. In each room was a mirror, and in each mirror, a face that wasn't hers watched her pass.

She woke with a start at 3:17 AM, her heart racing. The room was dark except for a sliver of streetlight that fell across her bed from between the curtains. And something else—a faint glow coming from the mirror.

Emily sat up slowly. The mirror's surface seemed to shimmer, as if the glass had become liquid. She blinked hard, convinced she was still half-asleep and imagining things.

But when she opened her eyes, the mirror was just a mirror again, reflecting the darkened room and her own confused expression.

Get it together, Em, she muttered, lying back down and pulling the covers up to her chin. But she couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed in her apartment—as if a door had been opened that was never meant to be unlocked.

Reflections

Over the next few days, Emily began to notice small discrepancies in her reflection. Nothing dramatic—just tiny details that seemed off. The part in her hair would be on the wrong side. A freckle would appear on her cheek where none existed. Once, she could have sworn her reflection blinked a split second after she did.

She told herself it was just her imagination, fueled by the shopkeeper's cryptic warning and too many late nights working on her thesis. But the uneasiness persisted, growing stronger each time she caught her reflection doing something just slightly out of sync with her movements.

Then came the night she saw someone else in the mirror.

She was getting ready for bed, removing her earrings in front of the mirror, when she noticed a shadow move behind her reflection. Emily froze, her eyes locked on the mirror. There was definitely someone standing in the darkened doorway behind her—a tall, thin figure with unnaturally long limbs.

She whirled around, heart pounding, but the doorway was empty. When she turned back to the mirror, the figure was gone from there too.

I'm losing my mind, she whispered, gripping the edge of her dresser so hard her knuckles turned white.

That night, she covered the mirror with a sheet before going to bed. But in her dreams, she could feel it watching her from beneath its shroud, like an eye that couldn't be closed.