This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Creative_Dust_1199 on 2024-11-07 22:27:49+00:00.
The first incident occurred a week ago, three days after the mirror arrived. I woke up at seven thirty in the morning to a chilling cold, so disabling I could barely get out of bed. You might think that’s just me being a dramatic teenager, but it was a cold like I’d never experienced before. It cut through the skin. I’ve visited cousins in Norway on Christmas holidays that were warmer.
My first thought was that the central heating hadn’t been turned on, which was strange in itself considering that's the first thing my mum does in the morning. She wakes up each day at six on the dot, so when I get up an hour and a half later the house is usually nice and toasty. I don’t expect her to do these things like some spoiled brat, if that’s what you’re thinking, she just does them because she’s a considerate mother.
Anyway, I assumed she had either slept through her alarm or that, for whatever reason, it had failed to go off. Jane Harris isn’t exactly the type of person to sleep through an alarm, so I decided it must be the latter.
Once I’d plucked up enough courage to confront the piercing cold, I headed for her bedroom. In the corridor, the wood flooring felt like ice beneath my bare feet, and I instantly regretted not putting my slippers on.
Her door was closed when I reached it, which was odd because she usually keeps it slightly ajar for the cat to go in and out throughout the night. I put my ear to the solid wood but heard nothing. I knocked twice.
No answer.
I knocked again, the added force stinging my knuckles.
Again, no answer.
At this point I was quite worried, and a vicious image suddenly entered my mind of my mother in some type of danger. Hastily, I opened the door.
However, when I entered the room, I saw that she wasn’t in danger at all. In fact, she wasn’t even asleep. She was sat in her chair, fully dressed, looking into the mirror.
‘Is everything okay mum?’ I asked.
At first she didn’t notice me, but after a few seconds she caught my reflection and smiled.
‘Hello darling,’ she said.
I flinched.
There was something about her voice. Something that sounded… off.
I could feel my guts suddenly churn, and the sensation of a deep pit opening in my chest overwhelmed me. Inhaling deeply, I tried to gather myself. And then it hit me.
I’d heard that voice before.
It must be the cold, I quickly realised, shaking my head. God knows how long mum had been sitting there wearing only her work clothes. She had probably caught the flu or something.
‘Are you okay?’ I asked again.
She didn’t answer.
‘Mum?’
I caught the hint of a frown in her mirror’s reflection, so I called out to her again, and this time she turned around to face me. For a moment it was like looking into the eyes of a stranger, and then she sprang to life.
‘Sorry,’ she said, colour suddenly rushing into her face. ‘Something must’ve come over me.’ She pulled herself up from her chair, looked around the room and frowned. ‘Gosh, isn’t it cold in here?’ she remarked.
The second incident happened yesterday.
I woke up in the middle of the night needing to pee, accosted by the same violent cold. On my way to the bathroom, with my slippers on this time, I heard a noise from the end of the corridor. It was coming from my mum’s room.
Curious, I detoured towards the noise, my ears alert. It was dark in the corridor, so I tried flicking the table lamp on, and almost knocked a framed picture off the wall. It was my parent’s old wedding photo, the only image of dad mum refuses to take down. I turned on the lamp, readjusted the picture and continued moving.
I reached the end of the corridor and perked my head around the corner. Again, mum’s door was closed, but I gathered she was awake from the thin glow beneath her door.
And from the noises.
They were louder now, and they were coming from her room.
I crept silently forward, edging towards the door, turning my head to listen.
It was a cry. Someone was in her room crying.
A chill ran down my spine like a bolt. I wanted to run away but my body propelled me forward, my hand reaching for the doorknob and twisting. I flung myself into her room.
The cold was like a tundra. My mum was sitting in front of the mirror, staring into her reflection, her nighty barely covering her thin shoulders. Her body was still but her mouth was open, and a deep cry, a man’s cry, flooded out of it. A cry I’d heard before, but not from her lips.
I screamed. I ran over to my mum and shook her. She remained still, completely unaware of my presence, her eyes hooked to the pair in the mirror. I reached beneath her arms and pulled her from the chair. Her body felt like the heaviest object in the world, and it took every inch of my strength to lift her. We both went crashing to the floor.
The crying ceased.
‘What the actual fuck mum?’ I said to her, still shaking. I helped her up off the floor, barely able to lift myself. Her face looked gaunt and frayed.
‘We need to get rid of that mirror,’ I told her.
She turned to face me, her eyes like hollowed shells. ‘Your dad wouldn’t like that,’ she said.
And that’s when I freaked out. My dad’s been missing for almost two years. As soon as she said that I left. I’m at my friend’s house right now. I don’t know how long I can stay here but at some point, I need to return home. I don’t know what to do.