Ethan Carter had always been a skeptic. As a journalist specializing in uncovering fraudulent paranormal claims, he took pride in exposing myths. So, when he received an anonymous letter urging him to investigate the abandoned Blackwood Manor, he was intrigued. The letter claimed that people who entered the house either disappeared or came out haunted forever.
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Blackwood Manor had stood on the outskirts of Ravenhill for over a century, shrouded in eerie legends. The townspeople whispered about shadows moving behind the cracked windows and a mirror that revealed things not of this world. Dismissing it as folklore, Ethan set out to spend a night there, armed with nothing but his camera and a notebook.
As he stepped inside, a chill crawled down his spine. The air was thick with dust and decay. The grand hall, once majestic, now lay in ruins—furniture covered in white sheets, chandeliers hanging like skeletons of the past. Ethan pulled out his camera and started recording.
He moved towards the large mirror in the drawing room, the infamous ‘Blackwood Mirror.’ Its frame was intricately carved, almost alive with twisting vines and screaming faces. His own reflection stared back, but something felt… off. He leaned in closer. The reflection smirked. He hadn’t.
A shiver ran through him. He turned away, blaming his imagination, and continued exploring. Upstairs, the floor creaked beneath his feet. Rooms stood empty, except for old portraits with eyes that seemed to follow him. The deeper he went, the stronger the sense of being watched grew.
Then, a whisper.
“Leave.”
Ethan spun around, but the hallway was empty. He laughed nervously. Just the wind, he reasoned. He entered a bedroom where the bed remained untouched, as if its owner had just stepped out. A diary lay open on the desk. He picked it up and read the last entry:
“The mirror shows what you fear. The shadow wants to be free. Don’t look too long.”
A sudden crash came from downstairs. Heart pounding, Ethan rushed back to the drawing room. The mirror now stood uncovered, reflecting not just him but a second figure—tall, gaunt, with hollow eyes and a mouth stretched in a grotesque grin.
He staggered back. The figure mimicked his movement. He raised his hand; it did the same. But as he turned to leave, the reflection stayed still.
A sharp, icy grip closed around his wrist. Ethan screamed, but no sound came. He struggled, but an invisible force pulled him towards the glass. His reflection smirked again, stepping forward as Ethan was dragged inside. The last thing he saw before darkness consumed him was his own face—on the other side of the mirror—watching, grinning.
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The next morning, a local officer found the manor silent, undisturbed. The camera lay near the mirror, its footage intact. Ethan was nowhere to be found.
Weeks later, the house was deemed uninhabitable and sealed shut. But those who dared to peek through the dusty windows swore they saw a figure trapped inside the mirror, screaming silently, waiting for someone to take his place.