The Reflection Game
In a forgotten corner of the city, teenagers play a forbidden game with a cracked mirror — and sometimes, the reflection plays back.
It started like any stupid urban legend.
You find the old mirror behind the boarded-up subway station.
You stare into it at midnight.
You say your full name three times.
Then you ask it a question you desperately want answered.
Some say it tells the truth.
Some say it lies.
But everyone agrees on one rule:
Never break eye contact.
Joey didn’t believe in any of it.
But after Lisa disappeared — after she played the game and never came home — he had to try.
He found the mirror half-buried in rubble, spiderwebbed with cracks.
At 11:59 PM, he stood before it.
Midnight struck.
He said his name.
Three times.
Voice shaking.
"Where is Lisa?"
The mirror darkened.
The reflection smiled — but Joey wasn’t smiling.
"Behind you," it whispered.
Joey spun around — nothing.
When he looked back at the mirror, his reflection was gone.
Only Lisa stared back now, her mouth moving silently behind the glass, pounding her fists against it.
Screaming words he couldn’t hear.
And slowly, his own hands — no longer under his control — reached forward.
Touching the surface.
Sinking into it.
You find the old mirror behind the boarded-up subway station.
You stare into it at midnight.
You say your full name three times.
Then you ask it a question you desperately want answered.
Some say it tells the truth.
Some say it lies.
But everyone agrees on one rule:
Never break eye contact.
Joey didn’t believe in any of it.
But after Lisa disappeared — after she played the game and never came home — he had to try.
He found the mirror half-buried in rubble, spiderwebbed with cracks.
At 11:59 PM, he stood before it.
Midnight struck.
He said his name.
Three times.
Voice shaking.
"Where is Lisa?"
The mirror darkened.
The reflection smiled — but Joey wasn’t smiling.
"Behind you," it whispered.
Joey spun around — nothing.
When he looked back at the mirror, his reflection was gone.
Only Lisa stared back now, her mouth moving silently behind the glass, pounding her fists against it.
Screaming words he couldn’t hear.
And slowly, his own hands — no longer under his control — reached forward.
Touching the surface.
Sinking into it.
Comments