The Broken Mirror: Fragments of Madness
The Broken Mirror: Fragments of Madness
Sarah had always been fascinated by antiques. So, when she stumbled upon an old, cracked mirror at an estate sale, she felt an inexplicable pull. The vendor, an elderly woman with hollow eyes, hesitated before selling it to her.
“Be careful with this one, dear,” the woman warned. “Some reflections are best left unseen.”
Sarah brushed off the eerie warning and took the mirror home, placing it in her dimly lit bedroom. That night, she awoke to faint whispers. At first, she thought it was the wind, but then she noticed the mirror glowing faintly.
“Sarah…” a voice hissed.
Her breath hitched. She turned toward the mirror, and for a moment, her reflection wasn’t hers. The woman staring back had hollow eyes, her lips twisted in a silent scream.
Sarah gasped and turned on the light. The mirror was just a mirror again. “It’s just my imagination,” she muttered, crawling back into bed.
The Descent into Madness
The next day, strange things began happening. Her keys went missing, only to be found inside the refrigerator. The clock in her room spun wildly, stopping at 3:13 AM every night. And the whispers—oh, the whispers grew louder.
“Who are you?” she asked the mirror one evening, trembling.
“You already know,” it whispered back.
Her reflection smirked, a cruel, knowing expression. Sarah recoiled. “This isn’t real,” she told herself.
She covered the mirror with a cloth, but the whispers persisted. They spoke of lost souls, of forgotten memories, of a past she couldn’t recall. Shadows flickered at the edge of her vision, and the air in her apartment grew thick with an unseen presence.
Unraveling the Past
Desperate, Sarah began researching the mirror’s origins. She visited a local historian, Mr. Caldwell, who paled when she mentioned the antique.
“You should get rid of it,” he said, his voice hushed. “That mirror belonged to Eleanor Blackwood, a woman who vanished in 1932. Before she disappeared, she claimed her reflection was trying to replace her.”
Sarah’s blood ran cold. She had seen that face before—Eleanor’s face.
Determined to rid herself of the curse, she tried to discard the mirror. She threw it in a dumpster miles away. But the next morning, it was back in her room, propped against the wall as if it had never left.
The Struggle Within
Sarah’s mind spiraled. She stopped eating, stopped sleeping. The reflection spoke more clearly now.
“You’re losing yourself, Sarah,” it cooed. “Let me help you.”
“No!” she shouted, but her reflection only grinned wider.
One night, she woke up standing in front of the mirror, fingers pressed against the glass. The reflection moved out of sync, tilting its head in a way she hadn’t.
“Let me in,” it whispered.
Sarah ran. She locked herself in the bathroom, heart pounding. When she dared to return, she found her reflection waiting with a knowing smile.
The Final Confrontation
Sarah couldn’t take it anymore. If destroying the mirror was the only way out, she had to try.
She grabbed a hammer and raised it high. “You don’t control me,” she declared, swinging with all her strength.
The glass shattered, shards flying across the room. But instead of her reflection disappearing, Eleanor stepped out—whole, real.
“Thank you,” Eleanor whispered, her eyes gleaming.
Sarah screamed as the world around her twisted. The last thing she saw was Eleanor smiling as she reached for her face.
When the room fell silent, the mirror was whole again. And inside, a new reflection stared back—Sarah, trapped, pounding on the glass, her silent screams lost in the void.
The Curse Lives On
Days later, an antique shop owner dusted off a newly arrived mirror. A crack ran through its center.
“Strange piece,” he muttered. Then, he swore he heard a whisper.
“Help me…”
The Endless Cycle
The mirror found its way into another home, another unsuspecting soul drawn by its eerie beauty. The whispers began anew, softly at first, then insistent.
The new owner, a young woman named Emily, admired the mirror’s craftsmanship, unaware of the nightmare awaiting her.
That night, as she brushed her hair in front of it, her reflection didn’t move. It only smiled.
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