The mirror. Part 1

Ella wasn’t supposed to be in that antique shop.

She had wandered in on a whim, tired of walking in the rain and desperate to escape the chill of the evening air. The shop was small, cluttered, and smelled like old books and dust, the kind of place where time seemed to stand still. She hadn’t expected to find anything interesting, just a place to browse for a few minutes before heading home.

But then, her eyes landed on something at the back of the room.

A mirror.

It was tucked away in a shadowy corner, half-hidden behind a thick velvet curtain that looked like it hadn’t been moved in years. The frame was old, the wood dark and twisted with strange carvings that Ella couldn’t make sense of. There was something about it that caught her attention, something… *wrong*. The glass wasn’t just a mirror—it was alive like it was pulling her in.

“Don’t touch that,” a voice rasped behind her.

Ella jumped, turning to see the shopkeeper. He was tall, with glasses too big for his face, his clothes as wrinkled as the air around him. He moved quickly toward her, a look of urgency in his eyes.

“I—I’m just looking,” she said, glancing back at the mirror. “Why? It’s just a mirror.”

“No,” he said, his voice low, almost desperate. “It’s not just a mirror.”

Ella frowned, stepping closer to it despite his warning. “What do you mean? It’s just… a mirror.”

The shopkeeper hesitated, his hands twitching at his sides like he was trying to stop himself from saying more. But it was too late—he could see the curiosity in her eyes, the same look he’d seen in countless others who had come before her.

“You don’t know what that thing is,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Trust me, you don’t want to.”

Ella felt her heart pick up speed, but her curiosity only grew. “What’s so special about it?”

He glanced over his shoulder, almost as if expecting someone—or something—else to be there. Then he leaned in closer, his voice dropping even lower.

“People don’t just look into that mirror, Ella. It looks back.”

She froze. How did he know her name?

Before she could ask, the air around them seemed to grow heavier, colder. Her fingers hovered near the glass. The mirror’s surface looked... wrong. The reflection of the shop in it wasn’t *quite* right. The walls seemed to bend and shift, as if they were made of smoke instead of brick.

It wasn’t just a reflection.

And then she heard it.

A soft whisper, barely audible, but it was there. She felt it before she heard it, the way the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

*Come closer…*

Ella pulled her hand back, her chest tight with unease. But the whisper didn’t stop—it was in her head now, swirling, urging her forward.

The shopkeeper took a quick step back, his face pale. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said, his voice shaking. “It’s too late now.”

Before Ella could respond, the mirror seemed to ripple. The reflection of the shop distorted, warping like water. The shelves were no longer where they should have been. The faintest movement flickered in the corner of the glass—something that *wasn’t* supposed to be there. Something that looked... *alive*.

Ella took a shaky breath. “What’s happening?”

The shopkeeper didn’t answer. His eyes were wide now, locked onto the mirror with an expression she couldn’t quite read. Fear, maybe. Regret.

And then, the reflection in the mirror *moved*.

Not her reflection, but something else—*someone else*. A shadowy figure that looked like it was walking toward her, but too fast, too fluid.

“Get away from it!” the shopkeeper shouted, his voice breaking. But Ella couldn’t tear her eyes away.

Her own reflection smiled at her. A grin that wasn’t hers.

And then, the voice whispered again, louder this time, clearer.

*Come to me.*

Ella stumbled back, her breath caught in her throat, but her feet wouldn’t move. The mirror seemed to pull at her, the glass rippling like water, the shadows shifting behind her reflection, closer, closer.

And just before she could break free, before she could turn and run, a hand—no, a *shadow*—reached out of the glass, long fingers curling around her wrist.

She gasped, trying to pull away, but it was too strong. The shopkeeper’s voice was nothing but a faint cry in the distance.

“You’ve opened it, Ella,” he whispered, his voice full of defeat.

“And now, there’s no way back.”