I've been living in this old house for a week. I chose this place mainly because I was attracted by its unique retro charm and also considering the relatively affordable rent. The landlord is an enthusiastic and talkative old gentleman. When handing over the house, he introduced the history of this house to me with great enthusiasm. He said that the house is over a hundred years old. Despite experiencing years of wind and rain, it remains sturdy. Moreover, it has been carefully renovated and well-maintained in recent years.
Indeed, the moment I stepped into the house, I was infected by the wonderful atmosphere of the blend of old and new. The furniture is placed in an orderly manner, the floors are shiny and clean, and the walls have been freshly painted. Everything seems new, exuding a warm and comfortable atmosphere. However, the antique dressing mirror in the bedroom seems out of place.
That mirror is hanging on the wall directly opposite the bed in the bedroom. The frame is made of delicate carved mahogany, with exquisite craftsmanship. It can be seen that it has a long history, yet still emits a simple and elegant charm. The mirror surface is extremely clear, without a single scratch, reflecting a bright light under the illumination of the lamp. Every time I pass by the mirror, I always take a subconscious look. For some reason, I always feel that there is something subtly wrong with myself in the mirror. But when I look closely, I really can't tell what's wrong. This vague sense of something being off is like a thorn, pricking my nerves from time to time, yet it's elusive.
Until that night.
Because the project deadline was approaching, I worked overtime at the company until very late before going home. Along the way, the streets were silent. Only the sound of my footsteps echoed in the empty night. When I got home, exhausted both physically and mentally, I quickly took a shower. By the time I finished everything, it was already past one o'clock in the morning.
I stood in front of the mirror, wiping my wet hair with a towel. In the hazy water vapor, the image in the mirror was a bit blurry. But as the water vapor gradually dissipated, I was shocked to find that the movements of "me" in the mirror were half a beat slower. I stopped the action of wiping my hair, but the "me" in the mirror continued. The slow movements were like a stuck movie, looking extremely uncoordinated.
My heart suddenly tightened, and a strong sense of unease welled up in my heart. I stared fixedly at the mirror, my eyes filled with fear and confusion. The "me" in the mirror slowly put down the towel, and a strange smile appeared on the face. That smile was definitely not something I usually had - the corners of the mouth were stretched to the ears, showing a row of white but chilling teeth, and there was a strange light in the eyes, like two clusters of greenish flames, making people shudder.
I wanted to step back, but my feet seemed to be nailed to the ground, unable to move at all. Cold sweat kept breaking out on my forehead and sliding down my cheeks, but I didn't even notice. The "me" in the mirror leaned forward, and the palm slowly pressed against the mirror surface. I clearly saw that the posture of that hand was very strange, with the fingers bent, as if trying to grab something or summon me over.
"I've finally waited for you," the "me" in the mirror spoke. The voice was hoarse and hollow, as if coming from the distant underworld, carrying endless vicissitudes and resentment. "I've been waiting for a whole century."
I wanted to scream, but my throat seemed to be tightly choked by an invisible big hand, unable to make any sound. I could only watch helplessly as the "me" in the mirror started to climb out. First, the hand that was pressed against the mirror surface, with the fingers slowly digging into the edge of the mirror surface, and then the head, slowly poking out. The distorted posture was like a ghost crawling out of hell. At the same time, I felt a chill coming towards me, as if a door to an ice cellar had been opened. The air was filled with an old dusty smell, mixed with the smell of decay, making me almost suffocate.
At this critical moment, my phone suddenly rang. The clear ringtone was like a thunderclap in this deathly silent atmosphere. The "me" in the mirror seemed to be extremely frightened and quickly shrank back. Only then did I realize that I could move. My legs were weak, and I staggered back a few steps, almost falling. In a hurry, I grabbed my phone and rushed out of the bedroom regardless, as if there were fierce beasts chasing after me.
That night, I spent the night on the sofa in the living room. In the darkness, I stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, constantly replaying that terrifying scene in my mind, and my body couldn't stop shaking. Every slight sound would make me jump. I finally managed to endure until dawn.
Early the next morning, although the sun's rays shone into the house, they couldn't dispel the fear in my heart. I didn't want to see that mirror for another second. I immediately found someone to remove the mirror. A few workers arrived soon. They skillfully handled their tools, getting ready to remove this mirror that had brought me endless fear.
When the workers finally managed to remove the mirror with great effort, we were all stunned - there was a mummy embedded in the wall behind the mirror. The mummy was relatively well-preserved, wearing old-fashioned clothes from a hundred years ago. Although the fabric had faded and worn out, the style could still show the fashion of that era. Its hands were stretched forward, with a rigid and distorted posture, as if pushing something, as if it had used all its strength during its lifetime to break through some kind of restraint. The most terrifying thing was that there was a strange smile frozen on its face, with the corners of the mouth stretched to the ears, exactly the same as the smile of the "me" in the mirror last night. The empty eye sockets still seemed to retain a sense of unwillingness and resentment, making people's hair stand on end.
The workers were so scared that they all stepped back. I also stood there stunned, unable to come to my senses for a long time. Then, I called the police. The police quickly launched an investigation and later told me that this corpse was the owner of the house who had gone missing a century ago. He suffered from severe mental illness and had been tortured by the illness for a long time. Eventually, he ended his life in this bedroom. And that mirror was the item he cherished the most during his lifetime. Perhaps in his chaotic spiritual world, the mirror had a special meaning and became some kind of sustenance for his soul, thus triggering a series of strange events.
After learning the truth, I didn't want to stay in this house for another minute. On the same day, I contacted the landlord to cancel the lease, packed my luggage, and left this terrifying place in a hurry.