Mirror Creepy Novels & Stories

His face hardened at the memory of what this face did to him , he shut his eyes tight and tried to divert his thoughts. The room was pitch dark, suddenly a dim light turned on, beneath the light was a long mirror, Mahira saw herself in the mirror, but the reflection in the mirror appeared to have pale white skin , she was covered with blood all over, she opened her mouth to speak but was silent, then her eyes look at her and turned evil black as she lifts both her hand, to her horror Mahira sees the reflection holding a knife in one hand and a male doll in another, she lifts the knife and slashes the neck of the doll in one ruthless strike, then the reflection begins to cry.. Mahira calls ou

As she turned the sink’s faucet on, stuck her hands under the water (dammit if he couldn’t hear the water trickling over her hands, against the porcelain), she froze, gazing into the mirror over the sink, entranced by something only she could see. The voices in Andrew’s head kept screaming and the water from the faucet kept trickling into the sink, though the video feed made no sound . . . *** For a moment Deyquan forgot they were watching recorded footage, tempted to yell at Lizzy Tillman: Get the fuck out! Run! Freaky-ass kid’s getting closer! Get your ass out of there, now..! The video flickered. Rippling with static. The mirror’s glass melted and formed liquid hands—the best Deyquan coul

It looked as though it were made of silver, but it was too dirty and tarnished to really see. Rori bit her lip as curiosity whispered in her ear, she found herself suddenly clutching part of the sheet and rubbing a clear spot in the center of the mirror. As she peered into the somewhat reflective surface, she was shocked to discover not her own reflection, but the smiling face of her forgotten best friend. Kristi’s piercing blue eyes were almost looking directly at Rori and the young girl gasped as she noticed more movement behind the dirty mirror. Rori feverishly scrubbed the surface clean, and as she dropped the now grimy sheet, she saw not just Kristi but Mason and Max. Rori didn’t recog

She turned the lens towards the altar, snapping a picture without thinking. The flash illuminated the room for a split second, and in that brief moment, she saw it. The figure. It stood just beyond the altar, its shape taller, its limbs elongated and distorted. Its eyes glowed with an unnatural light, and its mouth was twisted into a grotesque grin. It was watching her. The camera’s screen flickered, and a single word flashed across it. Run. Lysandra’s heart stopped. She didn’t need to be told twice. She turned and fled, the sound of her footsteps echoing through the empty halls of the church. Behind her, the growl continued, growing louder with every step.

Magic flickered at the seams—unstable, wild. “Mira’s already inside,” Damien muttered. I pushed forward. “Then so are we.” The moment we stepped inside, the temperature dropped. Shadows clung to the walls, writhing like serpents. I could smell blood. Old. Fresh. Mixed. At the center of the crypt stood Mira. She was cloaked in something I’d never seen before. Not fire. Not smoke. It was pain—living pain—wrapped around her shoulders like a crown. She didn’t turn. “You’re too late.”

Blend in, keep your head down, and move on before anyone gets too close. As she walked down the bustling hallway, murmurs and whispers followed her. She was used to it. She didn't just blend in. She found her locker and fumbled with the combination, her hands trembling slightly. As she opened it, she caught a glimpse of herself in the small mirror inside. Her long, curly silver hair cascaded down her back like molten moonlight, shimmering with an otherworldly glow. It was the kind of hair that defied explanation, the kind that drew eyes and sparked curiosity exactly what she didn't need.

Finally, Ice is the first one to break the silence engulfing us. “At least Jace is coming with us,” She says. “And Bo’s friend.” “Yeah,” I smile. “Do you know anything about this witch?” She shoots up smiling. “Oh, Thank goddess. I didn’t want to be the one to say it. But he’s definitely been with her right?” I laugh. “What is it with our uncles and witches?” “Seriously!” she giggles. “I do get it though.” “Get what?” “The whole wolf-witch dynamic,” she says.

I still look like a dying cow. I still look like Shrek. And any other horrible people or villains with a horrible smile. But my smile is more fatal than theirs will ever be. And you know what the worst part is? On the mirror of my dresser, just the top right corner, a tincy wincy little hair just appeared. The mirror freaking cracked!! I have gone worse. That stupid psychopath. Either he's out of his mind, or he's just blind because he was lying about that pretty part.

"This is the official race inspection report issued ten minutes ago. It clearly states there were signs of deliberate damage to the brake line, and that the brake fluid contained a large amount of alcohol. "And this." I pointed at the big screen. The screen suddenly switched to surveillance footage. Although the corner of the garage itself had been a blind spot, Mason had missed one detail. The side mirror of the car parked opposite had clearly reflected him crouching beside my car with the hydraulic cutter in his hand. Looking at himself on the screen, Mason's legs went weak, and he collapsed onto the floor. "No... that's not me... that's fake..." he struggled one last time.

In one, she was a desiccated corpse; in another, she was a weeping ghost trapped in a cage of silver wire. Vasili drifted closer, his movements disjointed, rhythmic, like a funeral march. "Look at them, prime variant. Look at the inevitable conclusion of your design. Whether you kill or be killed, you are always”always”our property." The mirrors began to bleed. Thick, black tar dripped from the glass, coating the room in a suffocating, tarry darkness. The reflections began to move of their own accord, reaching out from the silvered surface to claw at her face, their fingers cold as tombstone granite.