“Hey, Stan, I know you’re sleeping but this is an emergency. Now, it’s three in the morning and I’m doing my best to ignore the giggling coming from my bedroom mirror. I know it’s coming from the mirror because it sort of shimmers whenever the giggling starts. It’s really a creepy, deep giggle, that of a grown man imitating the innocence of a child’s laugh, like a man with some serious mental health issues. It only happens once every seven or eight minutes, but it has happened consistently around this time every night for the past four nights and I’m starting to think I’ve lost it.”
Jim stares into the mirror at an angle, refusing to look directly into its gaze.
“It’s not just the sounds of the giggling that’s freaking me out, but the shimmer of that stupid mirror; it wiggles as though the surface is made of water, and there is a faint light coming from within each time it shifts.”
The mirror shifted, bumping against the wall.
“Ok… Stan, the whole mirror just thudded, like physically thudded against the wall… Yeah, I’ve had it. This thing is done, I’m going to have to pry it off the wall tomorrow. Just call me back when you get this, please.”
Jim threw the phone on his bed and ran at the immobile object causing him grief, acting as though the piece would move out of his way or fight back.
He gazed into the mirror that gave no reflection of anything back at him; just a blank, black surface. If he stood at an angle from the mirror, almost putting his body up against the wall right beside the mirror, he could see the normal reflection of the room, just distorted.
Shaking the mirror violently, he screamed until his throat was dry. Why the damn thing had to be bolted to the wall was beyond Jim’s scope of thoughts at the moment, but he didn’t think anything of it when he moved in; he felt it was a great addition to the room… at the time.
Taking a deep breath, he stood in front of the mirror in defeat. The giggling had stopped, the seemingly malleable surface of the mirror was in fact a hard, physical presence, as it should be, and there was nothing more he could do for the night.
He turned off the lights, put his phone on the desk beside his bed, and took his time adjusting the large comforter he used every night. The glow of the moon was shining directly on the cursed mirror bolted to the wall, which gave Jim an upset stomach. He closed the curtains, turned to face his room, and decided better against sleeping in such darkness. He decided he could deal with the glare of the moon against the very wrong mirror.
Not daring to turn his back to the mirror, he shifted to lay on his side, eyes alert to the goings-on of the mirror. At the angle he lay on his bed, he could see the mirror as a normal mirror, with a normal, accurate reflection of his room. He could never get at an angle where he could see himself through the mirror, but once the giggling started, he cared less about the functional aspect of the mirror and more about his sanity.
Stomach growling, Jim glanced at the clock: 3:37 am.
“A light snack might calm my nerves.” He headed to the kitchen grabbing the first item in his sight: an apple. The moment he bit into the apple, a sharp pain ran through his fingers and down his arm. He pulled back, put the apple on the counter, and inspected his hand; nothing seemed out of place, no scratches or marks, nothing.
A bump on the wall could be heard coming from his bedroom.
Grabbing the apple, he made his way back to his room. The mirror was still in place, his room appeared to be untouched, and his window remained locked. He bit into the apple again, feeling a twinge in his hand, but much less painful. He started to seriously consider neurological issues as the root of his problems. He finished the apple, painfully, and lay back down in bed.
The next time Jim looked at the clock face it showed 3:59 am. The mirror had not shimmered and giggling had been gone for at least twenty minutes; Jim felt safe enough to close his eyes and fall asleep.
Right before closing his eyes, he caught a glimpse of something breaking the surface of the mirror, something he could only equate to the tip of a dinosaur tail.
He jerked awake, threw off the comforter, and switched on the lights. The mirror was gently thumping against the wall in three-second intervals, and the surface of the mirror was shimmering.
Grabbing his skateboard, Jim took baby steps towards facing the mirror. The time showed bright red on the face of the clock: 4:15 am, and it bounced in unison with the thumping mirror. The thumping stopped as he approached, but the watery surface of the mirror did not stop dancing, and now the shimmer was accompanied by the smell of rotting fish.
He made it to his dresser before the giggling started again, deeper in tone, but quieter in delivery. The faint light that accompanied the shimmering surface became brighter as the giggling intensified. As the mirror was shining as brightly as Jim had ever seen it, his bedroom lightbulb popped, intensifying the darkness around him. He was almost in front of the mirror when he lost the reflection of the room; it was back to being a blank slate, although this time, the movement and light didn’t stop.
Standing not ten feet away from the mirror, he gazed into the abyss, waiting for whatever was inside to show itself. The giggles grew louder, and soon into outright laughter. Louder and louder, until it actually bothered Jim’s ears.
He backed away from the cursed mirror, falling onto his bed while he held his hands over his ears, now waiting for the laughter to stop. He stared at his clock that was now blinking 4:17 am. The mirror physically shook against the wall, pounding in rhythm to the laughter, until all at once, it stopped.
The only light left in the room came from the mirror and the moon the mirror was shimmering like it was made from liquid, glowing glitter. It was almost too bright for Jim, as he squinted to get a look at what the mirror was doing now. The laughter had stopped, as had the pounding, but the light within the mirror still shone.
As it started to fade, Jim wandered off his bed, shielding his eyesight from the glaring glow. It began fading rapidly until it was completely gone. Jim was now standing at that angle where he could see his room reflected in the mirror.
Jim glanced at the clock: 4:20 am. He looked out his bedroom window for his guardian angel to stop by and save the day but to no avail. Glancing between the mirror and his bed, he decided he was going to sleep on the couch tonight.
That’s when the giggling started again.
Jim slowly made his way to face the front of the mirror and this time it didn’t turn blank. This time, he could see the room much more clearly, and it didn’t disappear as he came face to face with the source of the giggling: it was his own reflection, giggling in the mirror, staring back at him with bloodshot eyes, gnawing on the stump of wrist that was once his hand.
