I’ve been writing stories for as long as I can remember. Ever since I first learned to write, I would always have a notebook and a pencil by my side. It still surprises me nowadays when I walk past a bookstore and I see my own novel in the window. I always knew I had a talent for telling stories, but I never thought other people would appreciate it.
Lately, I’ve been feeling very uninspired. The ideas for a new book are lost somewhere behind a powerful case of writer’s block. I always thought the whole thing was a myth, because I always have some idea of what I could write next. But not this time. No, I have nothing. My mind is a blank slate, identical to the empty computer document in front of me.
It was my friend Lara’s idea that I should get away from the city for the weekend, and rent an isolated cabin in the woods. For some this might sound scary, but I’ve never been afraid of much and some solitude sounded amazing.
I packed my bags on a Friday morning and headed out with enough supplies for the weekend. Before I rented the cabin I made sure it had wi-fi connection, as I didn’t want to be completely cut off from the world. That would have been foolish, as one never knows what might happen.
The cabin was beautiful. I could tell it was old, but it was kept clean and maintained. It was just a small one story thing, with a living area, a kitchen, a bathroom and a bedroom. I quickly tested out the bed, and it was dreamy. I would’ve taken a nap right there, but I had work to do. I put away all the groceries I had packed in the kitchen, and I hung up some of my clothes in the bedroom closet. Then I picked the beautiful oak desk right by the sliding backdoor and set up my laptop to start getting down to writing.
Surprisingly, a new idea for a novel came pretty quickly to me. I won’t bore you with the details, it was just an inkling of an idea. After a little while, I decided I should probably make myself a sandwich for lunch, knowing one should never work on an empty stomach. As I left my workstation, I noticed a peculiar mirror right behind me on the wall. It was an ugly thing really. The black paint was badly chipped, it looked as if a corner of the frame had broken off, and the glass itself was rather hazy. I didn’t give it much thought, it must have been of some sentimental value to the owner of the cabin.
After my meager lunch of a PB&J and some chips, I decided to have a little nap on the sofa in front of the fireplace. It wasn’t cold enough to light it, but the sofa looked cozy enough.
I awoke to the sound of my laptop ringing away. It was my friend Lara, and I realized I had forgotten to call her after I arrived at the cabin. A quick peek at the clock on the device showed me it was already 7 p.m. It was going to be dark soon. I answered the call, and sat in front of the camera.
“Hey Sophie, you forgot to call me,” my friend chided me.
“I know, and I’m sorry. I was just eager to get writing. You know how it is.”
“So how is the place? I still can’t believe you got it for that cheap, and all weekend at that.”
“It’s pretty nice. But you know I’m not here for the amenities, I -”
“Sophie, hold on a second. You didn’t tell me you were bringing someone. Who is it? Is it Tom?”
“What? I’m alone,” I replied confused.
“Someone just walked past that mirror behind you.”
“Listen Lara, there’s no one here. I’m al-”, and that’s when the connection broke off.
Thinking back to that moment, I should’ve packed my stuff and ran. But like I told you, I don’t freak out easily and I was sure Lara only saw my reflection moving in the mirror.
What follows is my recollection of what happened after that.
I was desperately trying to get my laptop to connect back to the wi-fi, but it was a lost cause. I decided to leave it alone for the night, and try to locate the owner in town in the morning. There had to have been an outage or something. My phone hadn’t had reception since I arrived, so that was no help. I was a bit frustrated with the situation, but I was here to write and not surf the internet or chat with my friends.
I went to bed a couple hours later, and sleep came fast. But it only lasted until I was awoken by high pitched screaming. In fact, it was so loud I cried out from the pain in my ears. I jumped out of bed and turned on the lights in the bedroom, grabbing my phone from the nightstand. I had forgotten I had no signal, so I couldn’t call anyone for help. I carefully walked to the bedroom door and quietly opened it. I couldn’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary, so at that point I was questioning whether that scream had been real at all.
I headed to the kitchen, passing my work area on the way when I stepped into a shard of glass. Now, it was my turn to scream because it hurt like hell. I dragged myself to the desk chair to look at the damage. It wasn’t that bad. It was really only a sliver of a piece of glass, but it felt like a lot more. As I pulled it out, I turned around to gaze at the spot where it had happened. The entire floor was covered in glass shards. They had fallen from the smashed mirror that was now hanging askew on the wall.
As I was sitting there, trying to figure out what to do, a cold breeze suddenly brushed past me. With it came the stench of rot and decay. I was about to run back into the bedroom and lock the door behind me, when a voice whispered into my ear: “Run.”
I scrambled off the chair and tripped over my own feet, feeling a tearing sensation in my ankle. Breathing sounds enveloped me and I started to panik. I tried to crawl away from the spot, but an invisible force grabbed my pony tail and held me back. The last thing I saw was a shard of glass coming straight for my throat.
Lara must have gotten worried after the video call disconnected and called the police. They found me a few inside the cabin barely clinging on to life. I can only thank my friend for being alive today.
I tried to find out if any crime had ever been committed inside of the cabin, or if it was just an angry spirit haunting the place. The problem is that the asylum has a very strict no internet policy. Whenever I try to tell them I am fine and need to leave, they simply show me to a mirror. That’s when I start screaming again, as a ghostly white face stares back at me, slitting its own throat.
Credit : curiosityboughtthebook
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