I’ve always loved to travel. It’s more than just a hobby for me, it’s an obsession. Think about it… you get to see beautiful places, try new food, and experience everything from complete peace to absolute chaos.https://unbiasedpollkhol.com/
But recently, I went to New Orleans.
I knew it was a crazy place…
I just didn’t expect it to be horrifying.
Especially not in my own reflection.
I landed and went straight to the French Quarter. I had seen pictures before, but being there felt different. The streets were alive laughter, music, people everywhere. It was already night, and I remember thinking, this is the perfect time to be here.
If you don’t know, nights there are… intense. Bars packed, people dancing, jazz playing softly in the background almost too soft. Too comfortable. https://www.pinterest.com/pin/504543964486110785/
And yet… I felt it.
Those strange, creeping shivers.
I ignored them.
I really shouldn’t have.
I was drunk my speech slurred slightly but I had been in that state before. I knew how to handle it. Or at least, I thought I did. I liked doing crazy things like that.
The next thing I remember… I was in my hotel room. My room.
And there was a mirror beside me.
I don’t remember buying it.
I don’t remember carrying it.
I don’t remember anything about it at all.
Still, I brushed it off.
The mirror was beautiful old, with carvings that looked decades old. Antique. The kind of thing you’d show off to your friends. And mine never travel with me… so I thought, why not?
I should never have kept it.
I regret that every single day.
The next morning, I noticed a small cut on my hand. Sharp. Fresh.
But I convinced myself it made sense. I remembered breaking a glass bottle the night before it must’ve happened then.
Even now… I don’t remember why I broke it.
After three days of jazz, food, laughter, and chaos, I returned home to Delhi.
That’s when things changed.
That night, as I stood in front of the mirror removing my makeup…
I saw myself smile.
Even though my face was completely neutral.
My eyes looked… wrong. Slightly red. Unfamiliar.
I told myself it was nothing.
It wasn’t.
Because, it wasn’t just the mirror anymore.
It was everything.
Windows left open.
The gas stove turned on.
Things disappearing from where I had kept them…
Like something else was living my life
when I wasn’t looking.
Doors began slamming shut violently in the middle of the night.
My cycle would move… just slightly… on its own.
And the nightmares… they weren’t normal anymore.
They felt real.
I was convinced it was the mirror.
So, I threw it away.
And just like that… everything stopped.
The house was quiet again.
The nightmares disappeared.
Or at least… I thought they did.
Seven days later, I came home from work.
The mirror was back.
Sitting on my nightstand.
Exactly where I had left it.
My hands went cold as I walked toward it.
I looked into it.
For two seconds… everything was normal.
And then
My face twisted.
Distorted.
Bleeding.
My eyes… gone.
My mouth… sealed shut.
And behind me
Something stood smiling.
I froze.
But somehow, I grabbed a knife and struck the mirror with all my strength. The glass shattered.
For a moment… I thought it was over.
It wasn’t.
The cracks… began to move slowly.
Like something was pulling them back together.
The mirror… healed itself.
I left it there and I didn’t touch it again.
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
Then I heard a sound from my balcony, behind the curtains.
I forced myself to move, my heart pounding, and pulled them aside–
There was nothing there.
The next day, I tried everything.
Even things I never believed in.
I prayed.
I wrapped the mirror tightly in tape, sealed it in a paper bag, and wrote:
“Do not dare to open.”
I didn’t want this… thing… to reach anyone else.
So, I threw it away again.
And yet…
It came back.
Again.
After that… I stopped trying.
Because no matter what I did, it always came back.
At some point, I stopped checking the mirror.
Stopped questioning the noises.
Stopped caring.
I told myself I was fine.
That everything was normal again.
…until one night.
I stood in front of the mirror.
And for the first time in days
I saw nothing, no reflection.
Just an empty frame staring back at me.
My heart dropped, I stepped closer.
Still nothing.
That’s when I felt it
A presence, behind me, breathing, smiling.
I tried to turn around
But I couldn’t move.
Because something cold wrapped around my wrist…
And slowly pulled me backward.
Closer.
Closer to the mirror.
And then
Everything went black.
It’s funny, really.
How scared I used to be of that mirror.
How I thought it was following me, watching me.
Trying to hurt me. I was so wrong.
Because the truth is
It didn’t want to hurt me.
It wanted to be me.
And eventually…It succeeded.
So now I sit here, writing this.
Telling you everything that happened.
And if you’re reading this…
Then it’s already too late.
Because I’m not the one who wrote this story.
I’m just the one who finished it.
…
But tell me
who do you think I am?
Written by Siddhangna (8th class student)
The last twist had me questioning what i read in this article 🫡🙏
glad you like it…