Wall Mirrors is a creepy story written by a user who goes by the nickname xxTiffanixx (with a little help from ScaryForKids).
Roselyn Brinley was just like any other teenage girl. She loved looking at herself in the mirror. On her bedroom wall, there was small oval mirror and she spent hours gazing at her own reflection in it. Sometimes she would use the mirror to put on her makeup. At other times she would stand in front of it to brush her hair. Often she just used it to check herself out and convince herself she was still attractive.
However, every night, before she went to bed, she would take the mirror down from the wall and place it face-down on the ground. She couldn’t quite explain it, but she hated to see reflections in the mirror in the dark. It creeped her out. Perhaps she was afraid of what she might find staring back at her from inside the mirror.
One night, at the end of October, her parents went out, leaving her home alone. She sat on the couch, watching a couple of bad horror movies to pass the time. Around 2:00AM, she started nodding off, so she decided to go upstairs and stumble into bed. She walked to her bedroom, half-asleep and as soon as she plopped down on her bed, she was out cold. She didn’t realize that she had forgotten to take her mirror off the wall. It was facing her.
Later that night, Roselyn was awoken by the rumble of a thunderstorm. She rubbed her eyes and sat up in bed. It was very dark and she could barely see anything in her room. Glancing to her left, she noticed that her mirror was still on the wall.
All of a sudden, there was a flash of lightning and it lit up her room. Staring into her mirror, Roselyn saw something that frightened her. There were three little kids staring at her. Their skin was ghostly pale and their eyes were completely black. She covered her mouth, trying not to scream. She prayed that it had just been a terrible nightmare or her imagination conjuring up shapes in the darkness.
There was another flash of lightning. This time, there was nothing in the mirror, just her own reflection. Sighing with relief, she closed her eyes and lay back on her pillow.
Roselyn slept until noon and when she woke up, the storm was still going on outside. She had an unbearable pain in her left thigh. When she rolled up her pants leg to see what was hurting her, she found a gash in her thigh that was two inches long and an inch deep. It was fresh and still bleeding. She had no idea what had caused this to happen. Wincing in pain, she stumbled out of bed and tried to stand up. Out of the corner of her eye she saw something on her mirror.
There was a message scrawled in blood. It read: “We Missed Watching You Sleep At Night.”
Roselyn screamed and fell back onto her bed. A child’s voice boomed in her mind, “Don’t scream, it hurts our ears”.
She covered her mouth and looked around her room. There was nobody around. She picked up her phone and called her best friend, Dalia.
“Hello?” said Dalia.
“Thank God you answered,” said Roselyn. “Something happened, Dalia! I can’t explain right now, but I’m scared! Can I please come over to your house? My parents aren’t home yet, even though they told me they would be back by now. Please!?”
“Of course!” replied Dalia.
“Thanks. I’ll be over in five.”
When Roselyn hung up, she looked at the mirror again. The message was gone. It was as if the words had been wiped off. It looked pristine, like nothing had ever been written there.
She ran downstairs and out the front door, not stopping until she reached Dalia’s house. Roselyn pounded on her friend’s door. As soon as Dalia opened it, Roselyn raced inside, shaking with fear. She showed Dalia the open wound on her leg and told her everything that had happened.
Dalia was speechless.
“I-I don’t know what to say,” she stammered. “You’re sleeping over here tonight, right?”
The two girls spent the rest of the day watching movies and playing games on the Wii. That night, they both fell asleep on Dalia’s bed around midnight.
Hours later Roselyn woke up, her leg burning and her mouth thirsty. She got out of bed and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water. In the hallway there was a big mirror that hung on the wall, over a coffee table. She tried not to look at it, but something drew her closer to it. What she saw disturbed her.
In the mirror, there were twelve children. They had pale skin and black eyes, just like the others. She ran into the kitchen and tried to get the horrible image out of her mind.
Just then, she noticed an old mirror on the wall, above the sink. Unable to resist. she looked into it.
Reflected in the mirror, she saw her own parents. Their skin was pale white and their eyes were pitch black. They looked as though they were dead.
“Momma? Daddy?” she choked.
She slowly backed away, tears running down her cheeks. She slipped on a puddle of water and fell backwards, hitting her head on a table. She passed out.
Upstairs, Dalia suddenly woke up and looked around. When she saw that Roselyn was missing, she went to look for her. When she approached the kitchen door, Dalia was horrified to see her friend’s bloody hand lying motionless on the ground. She pushed the door open and screamed.
Roselyn’s mangled body lay sprawled on the kitchen floor. She was naked and covered from head to toe in bloody scratches. On her chest, scratched into her flesh were the words, “She belongs to us now.”
Dalia recoiled in terror. She looked up at the mirror over the sink and saw something that sent her fleeing from the kitchen. Written in blood were the words, “You’re Next.”
Dalia grabbed the phone and called the police. Soon two homicide detectives arrived at her house. The writing on the mirror had disappeared. They found Roselyn’s mangled body lying on the floor.
Dalia was slumped in a corner, her arms clutching her knees and muttering to herself
“What happened here,” asked one of the detectives.
“The mirrors,” mumbled Dalia.
“What about the mirrors?” he asked.
“They live in the mirrors,” Dalia replied.
“Who lives in the mirrors?” he asked.
“Them!” she screamed. “At night, they watch us sleep!”
The police thought Dalia was insane. When they searched Roselyn’s house, they found the mangled bodies of her parents. Pondering the horrible scene, the police tried to figure out exactly what had gone on.
The theory they came up with was that Roselyn had probably gone insane. She must have murdered her own parents, they said, then she took her own life.
The police quickly closed the case, labelling it a murder-suicide. They took the corpses of Roselyn and her parents to the morgue for an autopsy. They handcuffed Dalia and told her they were bringing her down to the station for questioning.
As they were leaving, Dalia looked up at the mirror once more.
In the mirror she saw Roselyn, pale-faced and with blackened eyes, staring back at her.
“I’m next,” she mumbled as the police led her away.