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The Black Mirror
An unreleased short story from the book:
The Last Breath: Tales of Survival in a Zombie-Infested World
Lucas had learned to survive. It wasn’t easy, and it certainly wasn’t glamorous, but it was necessary. The world had ended, the undead prowling every corner of it, and every moment felt like a step closer to the edge of a precipice. But there were worse things than zombies—much worse things—and Lucas had learned that the world’s horrors didn’t stop at death.
The house he’d found was isolated, tucked deep within the woods, the kind of place that had once been a home but now felt like a tomb. It had been abandoned for what looked like years, the windows broken, the furniture covered in dust and cobwebs. He had no particular reason to stop here, but it had offered shelter from the night, and the little food he had scavenged from the nearby stores had kept him going for a few more days.
He explored the house, wandering from room to room, finding nothing of value—until he came across the bedroom.
In the dim light, the room seemed almost normal. The bed, though old and sagging, was still intact. A dresser sat in the corner, and a once-beautiful rug was now stained and worn. But what caught his eye wasn’t any of that. It was the mirror. A full-length mirror standing crooked against the wall, its edges ornate and gilded, though age had weathered it. The glass, cracked in several places, still reflected the dimness of the room with an eerie clarity.
Lucas was drawn to it.
He had seen many mirrors in his travels, some intact, some shattered. But this one—there was something about it. It felt… wrong. He couldn’t place it at first, but as he stared at the reflection of himself, something was off.
He didn’t see himself the way he remembered.
At first, it was subtle. His clothes were torn and dirty, of course, and his face was thinner, worn from weeks of survival. But in the mirror, his eyes seemed darker—darker than they should have been. His reflection was smiling. A twisted, crooked grin stretched across his face, as though mocking him. He blinked, expecting the smile to vanish, but it lingered.
His own reflection was laughing.
It wasn’t a normal laugh. It wasn’t the laugh of a man desperate to hang onto his sanity—it was something crueler. Something… malevolent.
He backed away from the mirror, breathing hard, his mind scrambling for answers. Maybe the crack in the glass had warped the image. Maybe it was the light, the way it danced through the room. But as he turned away from the mirror, he caught one last glimpse of it.
It wasn’t just his smile.
His reflection was still staring at him.
It’s not you, a voice in his head whispered. It’s not you at all.
He shuddered and turned his back on the mirror, but the voice lingered, an insistent gnawing in the back of his mind. The house, once a sanctuary, now felt suffocating. The walls seemed to press in on him, and the air grew thick, oppressive.
Days passed, but the pull of the mirror didn’t fade. It gnawed at him, this sense that something was wrong—something was wrong with him. The reflection was always there, in the back of his mind, whispering and laughing, mocking him. He tried to avoid it. He spent the days wandering the house, searching for food, looking for something—anything—that might restore his sense of safety. But when the night came, and the shadows in the house stretched long and dark, he found himself standing before the mirror again.
And each time, the reflection was waiting.
It wasn’t just the smile anymore. No, the reflection began to move. It would lift its hand as he lifted his, but its movements were smoother, more deliberate, more… calculated. The smile deepened, and the reflection began to move on its own, independent of him.
The reflection spoke to him.
Come closer, Lucas. Let’s see what you’ve become.
He could feel its eyes on him even when he wasn’t looking directly at the mirror. It was as if the reflection was no longer contained by the glass, no longer tethered to the physical world. It was watching him—always watching. And the more he avoided it, the more he could feel its presence, like a shadow creeping into the corners of his mind.
He couldn’t escape it.
One night, desperate and exhausted, he collapsed in front of the mirror. He felt it then—the reflection wasn’t just watching him anymore. It was in his head, crawling through his thoughts like a worm, whispering things that made his heart race. He could no longer tell where his body ended and the reflection began. His limbs felt foreign, as if someone else was pulling the strings.
And then the reflection spoke.
You are me now. You always have been.
Lucas’s breath caught in his throat, and his heart pounded so hard he thought it might explode. He reached for the edge of the mirror, his fingers trembling as they brushed against the cool, cracked glass. The reflection grinned back at him, its face twisting into a cruel mockery of his own expression.
It was no longer a mere reflection. It was something darker, something that had taken root in him.
The reflection reached out from the glass. Its hand pressed against the surface, but the glass shivered—the whole mirror seemed to hum with energy, as if it were alive. It was pulling him in, slowly, inexorably, until he could feel its cold fingers brush against his own.
You can’t leave me, Lucas. You can never leave.
Desperation clawed at his chest. He tried to pull away, but it was too late. The reflection—it—was taking control. The more he resisted, the more the mirror’s dark pull tightened. He felt it all around him now, inside his mind, twisting his thoughts, unraveling his sanity.
He could no longer distinguish his own voice from the voice of the reflection.
We are one now. We will live forever.
The house grew darker, the air colder. The walls seemed to bend inward as the reflection became more and more real, more and more him. His body was no longer his own. His thoughts were no longer his own. The reflection was inside him, behind his eyes, inside his soul.
And then, with a final, cruel twist, the reflection stepped fully out of the glass, its form rippling like smoke, its eyes gleaming with a hunger that wasn’t satisfied.
Lucas was gone.
In the morning, the cabin was silent again, the stillness broken only by the faint whisper of wind against the broken windows. The cracked mirror stood at the center of the room, waiting for its next victim.
And the reflection smiled.
If you enjoyed this short story you will probably like our latest release available now:
The Last Breath: Tales of Survival in a Zombie-Infested World
$3.99
Prepare to face the terrifying unknown in The Last Breath: Tales of Survival in a Zombie-Infested World, a chilling collection of dark, morbid, and suspense-filled short stories that will keep you on the edge of your seat.
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