Morning sunlight streamed into the room, warming the wooden floor. “Riya” sat at the edge of her bed, combing her hair in long, careful strokes. Her smile never faltered.
To anyone else, she looked exactly the same. But there was something off. Her movements were too precise, too stiff — as if she were imitating a human she had only recently studied.
Later that day, her best friend Meera visited.
“Riya! Finally settled in?” Meera laughed, hugging her. But the hug was cold, unreturned. Riya’s arms hung at her sides for a second too long before she slowly, awkwardly patted Meera’s back. Her eyes stared unblinking, her lips stretched in a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Yes… I’m… home,” she said in a voice that sounded almost right, but with a strange echo, as though spoken from somewhere hollow.
Meera frowned. “You okay? You seem… different.”
Behind the mirror, the real Riya screamed until her throat burned. She banged her fists against the glass, blood smearing across the surface. She could see everything. She could see her reflection — the creature — wearing her body, speaking with her voice. All around her, hundreds of trapped souls mouthed warnings, their faces pale, eyes wide, forever begging to be released.
That night, Meera returned, worried for her friend. She found Riya sitting in the dark, the only light coming from the faint silver glow of the mirror.
“Why are you sitting like this?” Meera asked softly.
Riya’s head tilted slowly, unnaturally, until her neck bent at an impossible angle. The grin widened, sharp and unsettling.
“Do you want to see inside?” she whispered.
Meera felt her stomach twist. “Inside… what?”
The mirror behind them rippled. For just a moment, Meera saw hands pressing against the glass — dozens of them, clawing, desperate. Faces screamed silently from within, their eyes pleading. Her breath caught in her throat.
Riya stood up. Her shadow stretched impossibly long across the walls, bending and twitching. Her eyes were no longer brown but hollow, black pits.
“Someone must take her place,” the thing hissed. “The mirror must always feed.”
Panic surged through Meera. She bolted for the door, but it slammed shut with a violent bang. The mirror glowed brighter, pulsing like a living heart. The creature grabbed Meera’s wrist with an icy hand and dragged her toward the glass.
On the other side, the real Riya thrashed wildly. She pressed her bloody hands against the surface, shaking her head, tears streaking down her face. Don’t look. Don’t look inside.
But fear and curiosity twisted together inside Meera. Against her will, her eyes flicked toward the mirror.
The glass rippled like liquid. Her reflection stared back — delayed, wrong — then began to grin. Wider. Wider. Its jaw cracked, opening far too wide.
Before Meera could scream, a hand shot out of the reflection and seized her arm, yanking her forward. She felt herself pulled into freezing darkness.
When silence returned, two figures stood in the room. Both looked like Riya. Both smiled.
And behind the mirror, two new faces joined the chorus of silent screams.
The house waited, patient and hungry, for the next midnight.
