It all started with an email from an old friend, Alex. We hadn't spoken in years—since high school, really—so seeing his name pop up in my inbox felt like a blast from the past. The subject line read: "Come visit. It's been too long." Curiosity piqued, I clicked on the message. It was brief:
Hey, we should catch up. I just moved into a new house in the countryside. It's a bit remote, but peaceful. Could use some company. What do you say? Weekend getaway?
There wasn't much to go off, but nostalgia tugged at me. Alex and I used to be close, but life had gotten in the way. It'd be good to reconnect. I replied, agreeing to drive out the following weekend.
When I mentioned it to some friends, they were immediately wary.
"Remote house? Out of nowhere? Dude, it's like you're walking into a horror movie," Ben joked.
I laughed it off. Sure, the idea was a little strange, but Alex had always been that way—quiet, a bit distant. I figured maybe he just needed someone to talk to.
The weekend came, and I set off early in the morning. The directions Alex provided were… odd. His house didn't show up on any map app, and the roads became narrower and more isolated the farther I drove. After about three hours, I entered what felt like a different world. Tall, dense trees loomed on either side of the road, blotting out the sunlight. I passed no cars, no houses—just miles of desolation.
Eventually, I found the gravel driveway that led to his house. It was large, old, and had an eerie charm. It stood alone amidst the trees, casting long shadows as the afternoon sun began to dip. I parked and stepped out, taking a deep breath of the crisp air. The house looked like it had been abandoned for years. The wooden boards creaked underfoot as I approached the door. I knocked once, twice. No answer. But the door, unlocked, swung open at my touch.
"Alex?" I called into the dim interior. No response.
The house smelled musty, like it had been sealed up for a long time. The furniture was covered in dust, and faint rays of light pierced through dirty windows. It didn't seem like anyone had lived there for a while. Still, I ventured further in, curiosity battling with an increasing sense of unease. Each step seemed to echo unnaturally loud in the stillness. I checked the kitchen, the living room, even a few of the upstairs bedrooms. No Alex.
My phone had no signal, of course. Typical, I thought. Frustrated, I decided to wait. Maybe he had stepped out for supplies or something. Hours passed, and dusk began to settle over the house. Still, no sign of Alex.
I was about to leave when something caught my eye. From one of the upstairs windows, I saw a figure standing just at the edge of the forest, staring back at the house.
I froze, staring at the figure. It was too far away to make out details, but something about the way it stood—motionless, rigid—sent a chill down my spine. I blinked, and the figure was gone.
Feeling a cold sweat forming on my brow, I rushed downstairs and bolted the front door. The sun was nearly gone now, and the shadows stretched longer across the floor. I regretted coming. Something wasn't right. This house didn't feel normal, and Alex's absence was making me more nervous by the minute.
I paced the living room, glancing out the windows occasionally, looking for any sign of movement. An hour passed, and just as I was about to grab my keys and leave, I heard something—a faint knock from upstairs.
I stood completely still, straining my ears to listen. Another knock, then a soft, dragging sound. It was coming from one of the upstairs rooms, but I was sure no one else was in the house.
Fear gnawed at me, but I couldn't just ignore it. I grabbed the nearest thing I could use as a weapon—a rusty fireplace poker—and crept up the stairs. The house was eerily quiet now, save for the faint creaking of old wood under my feet.
As I neared the room at the end of the hall, I could hear the noise more clearly—a soft shuffling, followed by a low, almost inhuman groan. My heart pounded in my chest. I pushed the door open with the tip of the poker.
The room was empty, save for an old, cracked mirror on the far wall. But as I stepped inside, the door slammed shut behind me with a deafening bang.
I spun around, adrenaline surging through me, but the door wouldn't budge. Panic set in as I pulled and yanked on the handle to no avail. Then, from behind me, I heard a faint whisper.
I turned slowly to face the mirror.
At first glance, my reflection looked normal. But then I noticed something—just behind my reflection, standing in the corner of the room, was a shadowy figure. It wasn't in the room itself, only in the reflection.
I turned to look behind me. Nothing.
But in the mirror, it was there. Watching me. Its shape was indistinct, but I could feel its gaze. Cold, calculating, patient.
I backed away from the mirror, but my reflection stayed still, frozen in place.
My chest tightened. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be.
I don't know how long I stood there, paralyzed with fear, watching the figure in the mirror. Time seemed to warp and twist in that moment. But finally, I managed to force my legs to move.
I kicked at the door with all my strength. The wood splintered, and I stumbled out into the hallway, running down the stairs, through the living room, and out the front door. The cold night air hit me like a slap, but I didn't stop.
I bolted for my car, heart hammering in my chest. As I fumbled with the keys, I saw it again—at the edge of the forest, standing beneath the trees.
It wasn't a figure. It was a shadow—a formless, dark silhouette, almost blending into the night, but not quite. It moved toward me slowly, methodically, like it had all the time in the world.
I jumped into the car and tore down the gravel driveway, not caring about the bumps and potholes. My only goal was to get as far away from that place as possible.
I didn't stop driving until I was back in the city, hours later. My phone finally had service again, and I immediately called Alex. Straight to voicemail.
I didn't know what to do. I couldn't call the cops—what would I even say? That I was scared off by a shadow? By the time I got home, exhaustion had set in, but sleep didn't come easy.
For the next few days, I tried to convince myself it was just my imagination. Stress, the isolation of the house, maybe even a prank by Alex.
But then the emails started.
At first, they were short, cryptic messages from an unknown address. No subject, no signature. Just:
I see you.
I deleted them, figuring it was spam. But they kept coming, and they grew more specific:
You shouldn't have run. I'm patient. I'll wait.
The messages sent chills down my spine. I blocked the address, but new ones kept appearing, always with the same message.
Then, one night, as I sat in my living room, staring blankly at the TV, I saw something in the window—a dark silhouette, just outside.
I rushed to the window, heart in my throat, but there was nothing there. I closed the curtains and locked every door, every window. The night passed in tense silence.
But every so often, I feel it—that cold, creeping sensation. Like someone's watching me. Waiting. I know it's still out there, the shadow. And it's only a matter of time before it gets tired of waiting.
Alex never responded to my messages. His phone remains disconnected. Part of me wonders if he was ever really in that house to begin with.
And part of me knows I'll never escape whatever was in that mirror.