The Stranger In The Mirror Novels & Stories

"That can't be me." "Daria is gone," he said gently. "You survived. But she... did not." My pulse beat high, and I looked at the stranger in the mirror. "No..." I whispered again. "No... that's not me." But the mirror didn't change. The face didn't change. I didn't recognise myself. I dropped the mirror. It shattered. And the room went cold.

The situation only made me feel even more nervous. I bit my bottom lip and tried my best not to make a sound. “Good girl. It must be hard holding it in, isn’t it? Let me help you.” Apparently, the man noticed that something was wrong with me. His gaze raked over me. Then, he glanced at Samuel with a mocking smile. The man removed his pants and eagerly climbed on top of me…

I stood up, feeling unsteady as I walked towards the window, needing air, needing something to ground me. As I moved past the mirror, something caught my eye, and I froze. My reflection stared back at me, but it didn’t look like me. I was still in the red dress, now wrinkled and disheveled, clinging to my body in a way that made me feel exposed, vulnerable. My eyes were dark, framed by smudged black eyeliner and mascara that had run down my cheeks, prove of how broken I was yesterday. I stepped closer to the mirror, my hand reaching up to touch my face, fingers grazing the dark streaks beneath my eyes. The woman staring back at me was a stranger. Her eyes were hollow, her expression distant,

That maybe this would make it easier. On my way out, I bumped shoulders with someone rushing past. The impact threw me off balance, and I stumbled back hard. My body hit a tall mirror by the door, and the crack of glass breaking echoed around the small shop. “Shit!” I gasped, stumbling away as the mirror splintered into a web of jagged lines. The stranger muttered an apology and kept going, disappearing out the door without a second glance. But me, I froze. My chest went tight. I couldn’t take my eyes off the broken reflection staring back at me, fractured and distorted.

A wide mirror was stretched in front of the stranger. Tony’s eyes stalked him at the mirror’s reflection. He can't help himself. There was some kind of feral hunger inside him. He drank the stranger’s appearance. His eyes dropped down his ass. A beat passed. The stranger suddenly turned around and caught Tony’s stare. “I don't like men, I like women,” his hands trembled slightly as reached for some tissues. It was a declaration. Tony raised an eyebrow. “Really?” “Yes!” “Sure you are..”

“And you my dear are just what I need.” “No” Serena breathed with her mouth agape, as though the air had been frozen in her throat. This was no ordinary threat. All was far darker than that — and this man, whoever he was, was at the heart of it. “Who are you to think you can do such a thing.” Serena said, marching forward, her tone unyielding. The stranger’s mouth turned slightly in his beard, but nothing smiled there. “We’ll see,” he said, glancing at Mira. “It’s time.”

Because the mirror wouldn’t let me. I saw the truth too clearly. I wasn’t resisting. I wasn’t fighting. I was opening. The reflection became unbearable like I was watching a stranger sin in my place, a stranger who wore my skin, my mouth, my shame. And yet, the deeper his hands explored, the less she looked like a stranger at all. The girl in the mirror was me. And she was hungry. Every time my breath hitched, hers did too. Every time my body arched, hers curved with me. A perfect shadow, echoing my fall.

I handed it back to him without looking at him. “There,” I said, trying to sound indifferent, as if this was just another regular moment in my day. “I’ll call you,” he promised, his smile almost mischievous as I turned to leave. “And I’m Evan by the way” he called out,But I didn’t feel like I was walking away from a stranger anymore.

This princess is about to have a total meltdown. "No joke. Just relax and give it a few minutes. The doors will open," I say nonchalantly like this is an everyday occurrence, but the fact is this is normal for this place. "What the hell are you talking about? Open the fucking doors," she yells at me, her voice echoing off the walls. "I don't have anything to do with the doors, sweetheart. You're just going to have to chill out." "Are you kidding me? I'm stuck in a stairwell with some rank stranger and you want me to chill out?" She pulls out her phone, I assume in an effort to call someone to come get her.

And yet the lips whispered words, words from a completely different world, invading this reality with a cold, eerie breath. The light of a candle stirred on the table, the reflection in the mirror was distorted for a moment, transforming the features into completely alien ones. The stranger - a young guy with cheeks and forehead tightened with large scales - as if in a mask, squinted his silver eyes angrily and disappeared. Yarsi exhaled, involuntarily reached his hand to his face, ran his fingers along his cheek and felt smooth skin under them. Stranger? Is that so?