There’s something in my mirror. I saw IT six days ago. My roommate was gone, I was home alone. Brushing my teeth, ready for sleep. I bent over, spit, raised my head. In the mirror IT stood there, behind me. Two eyes, a dark body, head skewed to the side. I blinked and it was gone. Perhaps IT was a trick of the light, I thought to myself…just my imagination.
Five days ago, I saw IT again, this time early, before dawn. Right after my shower, I was wiping the steam off the mirror in slow, twisting circles, and then, IT was there again. Behind me to the left. I knew I saw IT this time, a gaunt face, hollow eyes. I spun around quickly, my heart pounding out of my chest, yet I was alone.
My roommate was still not back four days ago, when I saw IT again. This time in daylight. I was washing my hands, looking down, away from the mirror, when something flickered in my peripherals. One quick glance upwards and I saw IT. This time ITS arms were raised, menacingly, holding something above ITS pale head. I ran down the stairs, and fearfully dialed 911. The cops came and searched the place, while I stood, nervously rubbing my hands together. Of course they found no one. “You look like shit,” one said to me “Are you getting enough sleep?” I shook my head and they left my house. How could I sleep with IT on my mind?
No mirrors three days ago. Every mirror in my house I covered with a cloth, hoping to keep IT from my sight. My house looked dark and lifeless, like it was in mourning.
When I got to work that day I was immediately sent home. “Take a day or two, you look like you need some rest.” I tried to refuse, but the boss wouldn’t let me stay. I lay in bed the rest of the day, alone, too anxious to eat, praying for sleep to come. A faint stench hung in the air around me. Perhaps due to humidity, I thought, as I struggled to fall asleep.
Two nights ago, IT returned, this time in my dreams. I could see ITS face fully this time, ITS mouth twisted in a crooked grin. In ITS hand it held a knife. I woke up drenched in sweat, gasping for air. I lay the rest of the night with the lights on, one thought circling through my head—Where had I seen that face before?
Yesterday I didn’t get out of bed. The stench was stronger, sluggishly hanging around the house. My body screamed for sleep, but I resisted. By nightfall, my head was pounding. I took aspirin, then tylenol, but nothing worked. Slowly, my body gave in to the sleep, I fearfully tried to resist, but it wore me down and took me over.
Last night the dreams were vivid. IT was there, in my basement with a knife. IT was holding someone down, stabbing them as they screamed for help. I watched helplessly, as IT turned ITS head and smiled at me, still stabbing the victim beneath IT. I woke with a scream.
I lept out of bed, as my adrenaline took over, widening my eyes, dropping my stomach. The smell was almost unbearable as I crept downstairs and approached the basement with dread. I hovered at the edge of the basement unsure of what I would discover down there. My roommate? IT?
With a sweaty hand, I turned the doorknob, flicked on the light, and went down.
There was blood everywhere. Dark, pooled, fetid blood. I gagged and covered my mouth and turned. In the corner was my roommate. Bloated, rotting, with 17 red holes in his shirt. Bile rose quickly to my mouth and my vision blurred. I stumbled to the bathroom, slammed the faucet on, and splashed my face with water. A flutter of movement materialized above me as a piece of cloth fell lightly into the sink. I slowly turned my head up, staring in the now uncovered mirror. There IT was, bloodless, ashen, with its empty eyes. It stared with a smile as my mind screamed with recognition.
There’s something in my mirror… IT’S me.
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Credits to: photofreecreepypasta
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