It only begun

 "You know, sometimes I think my reflection is trying to tell me something," she mused, twirling a strand of her honey-colored hair around her finger. Her name was Lila, and she was the kind of girl that had a way of making every word she spoke sound like poetry.

I nodded, pretending to listen while my eyes stole glances at her reflection in the window of the passing coffee shop. Her eyes sparkled in the neon lights, and for a second, I saw something strange—a flicker of anger in her mirrored gaze. I blinked, and it was gone.

"Yeah, like maybe you shouldn't wear that shirt today?" I quipped, hoping to lighten the mood. Lila laughed, a sound as sweet as a summer breeze. It was the kind of laugh that could make anyone feel at ease, even someone like me, who felt anything but at ease around her.

"No, not like that," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It's like... it's alive."

The words hung in the air between us, and for a moment, the bustling street outside the café we were sitting in seemed to fade away. The only sound was the distant wail of a siren, a mournful song echoing through the concrete canyons of the city.

"What do you mean, Lila?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

Her eyes met mine, and for a brief second, I thought I saw fear in them. "I don't know. It's just... it does things. It moves when I don't."

SUMMARY^1: Lila confides in me that she believes her reflection is alive and sometimes does things independently. She shares this with a mix of curiosity and fear, which leads to a tense moment in our conversation.

I forced a chuckle, trying to play it off as a joke. But deep down, I felt a twinge of unease. Lila had never been one for tall tales or wild imaginings. If she said something was off about her reflection, it probably was.

As we finished our drinks and stepped out into the cool evening air, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was following us. The street lights flickered erratically, casting eerie shadows that danced along the pavement. Lila shivered and tucked her hands into her jacket pockets.

"Do you ever feel like you're being watched?" she asked, looking over her shoulder.

"All the time," I replied, hoping to reassure her. But the truth was, I did feel it—a prickling sensation at the back of my neck that told me we weren't alone.

We walked in silence, the cobblestone streets seeming to stretch on forever. The buildings loomed tall and foreboding, their windows like the eyes of a hundred silent sentinels. I had to fight the urge to look back, to see if our shadows had taken on a life of their own.

"Let's go this way," Lila suggested, pointing down an alley. It was a shortcut to her place, she said, but the narrow passage was shrouded in darkness, and the air was thick with the scent of rain.

I hesitated, but she was already moving forward, her footsteps echoing off the damp walls. I followed, trying to keep my breathing steady.

As we turned a corner, a flicker of movement caught my eye. I whipped my head around, expecting to see someone—or something—there. But it was only the wind, playing with a torn poster on the wall. Or so I told myself.

The alley grew darker, and the shadows grew longer. I could see the light from Lila's apartment complex up ahead, a beacon of safety in the gloom.

"Come on," she called, her voice a little shakier than before. "We're almost there."

We broke into a jog, the sound of our footsteps echoing off the bricks like the rapid beating of a drum. As we reached the mouth of the alley, the light from the complex grew brighter, and I felt a surge of relief.

But when I looked back one last time, I saw it—a figure standing in the shadows, watching us. It was a perfect reflection of Lila, but the smile on its lips was anything but reassuring.

"Lila," I whispered, my voice tight with fear. She stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening as she followed my gaze. The reflection stepped out of the darkness, moving with an unnatural grace that sent shivers down my spine.

"What is that?" she whispered, her hand flying to her mouth.

The reflection cocked its head to the side, considering us with a cold, calculating gaze. Then it started to walk toward us, its movements fluid and predatory.

We backpedaled, our hearts racing in sync with the beat of the distant city. The reflection matched us step for step, never breaking eye contact. The alley walls seemed to close in around us, the light from the apartment complex fading with every step we took away from it.

"Run," I told Lila, my voice low and urgent. She didn't need to be told twice. We sprinted down the alley, the sound of our panicked breaths mixing with the echo of our footsteps. The reflection kept coming, its stride never faltering, its smile never wavering.

As we neared the end of the alley, I glanced back again. The reflection had stopped, watching us with a smug air of victory. And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone. The alley was empty except for us and our fear.

We stumbled into the light, gasping for air and clutching each other tightly. We didn't speak as we walked the last few blocks to her building, the weight of what we had seen pressing down on us like a heavy fog.

When we finally reached her door, Lila turned to me, her eyes searching my face. "Thank you," she said, her voice shaking. "For... everything."

I nodded, unsure of what to say. The reality of what had just happened was starting to sink in, and I couldn't ignore the feeling that our lives had irrevocably changed in that moment.

"I'll call you tomorrow," she said softly, slipping inside and closing the door behind her.

I stood there for a moment, watching the light from her apartment flicker through the peephole. Then I turned and walked back into the night, the cobblestone streets feeling colder and more menacing than ever before.

The reflection had followed us out of the alley. I could feel it, lurking just out of sight, watching me with that chilling smile. I picked up the pace, the sound of my own footsteps seeming to mock me.

When I reached my apartment, I rushed inside and locked the door, sliding down to the floor. My heart hammered against my ribs like a caged bird desperate to escape. I knew I couldn't tell anyone—they'd think I was mad, or worse, playing a cruel trick on Lila.

But as I sat there in the quiet darkness, I couldn't shake the image of the reflection's eyes—so much like hers, yet filled with something ancient and malevolent. I realized then that our encounter was far from over. It had only just begun.

The following day was a blur of avoiding mirrors and reflective surfaces. I showered with my back to the bathroom mirror, and shaved with a blindfold over my eyes. The sight of my own reflection was too much to bear.

When my phone buzzed with a message from Lila, I felt a strange mix of relief and dread. She wanted to meet up again, to talk more about what we had seen. I agreed, hoping that together we could find a way to make sense of the madness.

We met at a small park near her apartment, the sun casting dappled shadows through the leaves of the trees. She looked paler than usual, with dark circles under her eyes. We sat on a bench and talked in hushed tones, as if the very air around us might be listening.

"It's been happening more often," she whispered, twisting a lock of hair around her finger. "I see it in every reflection. And it's getting bolder."

Her words sent a cold chill down my spine. "What do we do?"

Lila looked at me, her eyes haunted. "I don't know," she said. "But we can't ignore it. It's... it's part of me."

The park grew eerily silent, as if the world itself was holding its breath. And then, from the corner of my eye, I saw it—a flicker of movement in the pond nearby. I turned my head, and there it was: a reflection of Lila, standing in the water, grinning up at us.

Our reflections in the pond didn't move as we did. Instead, they moved together, twin images of malicious intent. Lila's hand flew to her mouth, stifling a scream.

"We have to get rid of it," she said, her voice trembling. "Before it takes over."

Together, we hatched a plan to confront the entity, to find a way to free her from its clutches. We scoured the internet for information on mirror spirits and ancient rituals, desperate for any clue that might help us.

Days turned into nights, and nights into days, as we delved deeper into the realm of the supernatural. The more we learned, the more terrifying the reality became. We weren't just dealing with a figment of our imaginations—this was a creature of darkness that had latched onto Lila, feeding off her fear and growing stronger with each passing moment.

Finally, we found what we were looking for: an incantation, a spell that might banish the reflection back to the mirror world from which it came. We gathered the ingredients, a collection of herbs and candles that smelled faintly of ozone and despair.

On the night of the new moon, we returned to the alley where it had first appeared. The air was thick with the scent of rain, and the shadows danced like living things around us. We lit the candles, reciting the words we had memorized.

The reflection grew more and more agitated, its movements jerky and frantic. It reached out to us, as if it could feel the pull of the spell. And then, with a final burst of power, we finished the incantation.

The reflection froze, its eyes locking onto ours for one final, terrifying moment. And then, with a sound like shattering glass, it was gone.

Lila and I sat on the ground, panting and trembling. We had done it. We had defeated the creature.

But as we stumbled back to the safety of her apartment, I couldn't help but wonder if we had truly won. The reflection had been a part of her for so long, had it left any piece of itself behind? And if it had, what would we do when it came back for more?

The days that followed were tense. Every time Lila looked in a mirror, I watched her face for a sign—a flicker of fear, a hint of the creature's malicious smile. But her reflection remained her own, and the world around us seemed to return to normal.

We tried to put the incident behind us, to laugh it off as a shared hallucination brought on by stress and too much caffeine. But the fear lingered, a constant undercurrent to our every interaction. We talked less and less about it, but I could see the shadows in her eyes, the way she flinched when a car's headlights caught her in a mirrored window.

One evening, as we sat on her couch watching a movie, I caught a glimpse of something in the TV screen. Lila's reflection, standing just behind her, had a look of such pure rage that it took my breath away. I swallowed hard, forcing a smile, and turned my gaze back to the flickering images on the screen.

The moment the movie ended, she turned to me, her eyes searching. "Do you think it's over?"

I wanted to lie, to tell her that everything was fine, but I couldn't. "I don't know," I admitted. "But we can't let it control us."

The weeks passed, and the reflection remained dormant. We started to breathe easier, to believe that maybe, just maybe, we had truly sent it back to where it belonged. And then, one fateful night, as we lay in bed together, I felt a chill run down my spine.

The room was bathed in moonlight, and Lila's face was serene in sleep. But when I rolled over to kiss her, I saw it—the reflection standing in the doorway, watching us with a cold, hungry gaze.

My heart stopped, and I stared into the mirror of her eyes, willing her to wake up, to see what I saw. But she remained oblivious, lost in the warm embrace of slumber.

The reflection took a step closer, its smile growing wider, more terrifying. And I knew that this was only the beginning of a battle we had never truly won.

The creature had been waiting, biding its time, and now it was back, stronger and more determined than ever. We were in for a fight that would test the very fabric of our reality—a fight that would determine whether love and light could ever truly conquer the darkness lurking in the looking glass.

We decided to keep the curtains drawn and the lights low, avoiding any reflective surfaces that could give the entity a foothold. But the very air in the room felt charged with its presence, as if the shadows themselves had come alive to taunt us.

Lila's reflection grew bolder with each passing day, appearing in every shiny surface—spoons, glasses, even the polished chrome of the toaster. It would whisper to her, its voice a sinister echo of her own thoughts, planting seeds of doubt and fear. I tried to shield her, to keep her spirits high, but I could see her slipping away, piece by piece.

One night, unable to bear the silence any longer, I confessed my love to her. I had held it in for so long, afraid that speaking the words would somehow shatter the fragile illusion of normalcy we had constructed around us. But as the words left my mouth, I felt a strange warmth flood through me, a light that seemed to push the shadows back.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, I saw the reflection in them flicker and fade. Then she leaned in and kissed me, a kiss filled with hope and desperation. It was the first time in weeks that I felt truly connected to her, and for a brief instant, I allowed myself to believe that we could win this war.

But the reflection wasn't so easily deterred. It watched us from the corner of the room, its smile twisted into a snarl of rage. And as our kiss deepened, it began to claw its way out of the mirror, reaching for us with ghostly fingers.

We broke apart, panting and terrified. This was it—the moment we had been dreading. We had to face the creature head-on and somehow find a way to save Lila.

We gathered the tools we had amassed—salt, sage, a mirror shard that was said to be capable of trapping malevolent spirits. The incantation we had used before was just a band-aid—this time, we had to perform an exorcism.

As we stood in the moonlit room, the air thick with the scent of sage smoke, we recited the ancient words, our voices shaking with fear. The reflection grew more and more agitated, throwing itself against the mirror's surface, trying to break free.

And then, with a final, deafening crash, the mirror shattered. The shards rained down around us, glinting in the silver light. For a moment, everything was still—until the reflection lunged out of the wreckage, its form now solid and tangible.

It was a twisted version of Lila, made of shadow and malice. Its eyes, once so full of warmth, now burned with a cold fire. It advanced on us, and we backed away, our hearts racing.

But Lila had found her strength. She stepped forward, her voice steady and firm. "You don't belong here," she said, holding out the mirror shard. "Go back to where you came from."

The creature hissed, baring teeth that were not her own. But the light in Lila's eyes grew stronger, and as she approached, it began to recoil. I watched, awestruck, as she reached out and touched the reflection with the shard.

With a wail that shattered the silence, the creature was drawn into the shard, its form writhing and contorting as it was consumed by the light. And when the shard went still, so too did the reflection—trapped within its confines, unable to escape.

We stumbled back, panting and trembling. The room felt lighter, as if a great weight had been lifted. Lila turned to me, her eyes wide and hopeful.

"Is it over?" she asked.

I didn't know. All I knew was that we had survived another night, and for now, that was enough. We held each other tightly, whispering promises of forever into the quiet of the room, hoping that together, we could keep the darkness at bay.

But as the first light of dawn began to creep through the cracks in the curtains, I couldn't help but wonder if the battle was truly won. The reflection was trapped, but the mirror world was vast and full of unknown horrors. And somewhere in its depths, I had no doubt that there were more spirits waiting to escape.

Our days grew into a pattern of vigilance and fear. We avoided reflective surfaces, replacing mirrors with opaque panels and covering the windows with heavy drapes. We held onto each other, finding solace in the warmth of our embrace. But the shadow of the reflection lingered, a constant reminder that our victory was precarious.

One evening, as I was leaving for work, Lila called out to me, her voice quivering. I rushed back to find her standing in the hallway, staring at the shattered remains of the mirror shard. It lay on the floor, the reflection within it flickering ominously.

"It's out," she whispered, her eyes brimming with terror.

We searched the apartment, but it was as if the creature had vanished into thin air. The tension grew palpable as the days went by, each moment charged with the anticipation of its return. The whispers grew louder, the shadows more menacing. We could feel it watching us, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Our research intensified, delving deeper into forgotten tomes and obscure online forums. We discovered that the reflection was a doppelgänger, a creature that feeds on the essence of its host. The more we learned, the clearer it became that we were facing an enemy that was not only relentless but also intimately connected to Lila.

The night of the next new moon, we gathered what little strength we had left. We knew the creature would be at its most powerful, and we had to be ready. We set up a makeshift altar in the living room, surrounded by candles and crystals, and recited the most potent banishment spells we could find.

The air grew thick with anticipation, the candle flames dancing erratically. And then, without warning, the reflection appeared, emerging from the darkened corners of the room. It had changed, grown more monstrous, its eyes a void of blackness.

We stood our ground, Lila holding the shard of mirror like a talisman. "You do not control me," she declared, her voice shaking but firm. "You do not define me."

The reflection paused, seemingly caught off guard by her resolve. And then, as if sensing an opportunity, it lunged.

Our battle was fierce and desperate. The reflection attacked with a ferocity that belied its ethereal form, while Lila and I fought back with every ounce of our will. The room was a blur of motion and sound—shattering glass, crackling energy, and the cacophony of our screams.

But in the end, it was Lila's courage that won out. As she plunged the mirror shard into the creature's heart, a burst of light erupted, and the reflection dissipated into nothingness. We collapsed to the floor, exhausted and shaking, but alive.

The following days were a blur of repair and recovery. We replaced the mirrors, letting the light back into our lives. Yet, every time Lila caught a glimpse of herself, there was a hint of fear in her eyes, a shadow of doubt that lingered just beyond the glass.

We knew that the creature was gone, but we couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched. The mirror world had left its mark on us, a reminder of the darkness that lurked just out of sight. Our love had given us strength, but the reflection had left us scarred.

We held onto each other, our bond stronger than ever, promising that we would face whatever the future held together. But every time I looked into Lila's eyes, I wondered if the reflection had taken a piece of her with it, a fragment of her soul lost to the abyss.

And as the moon waxed and waned, and the shadows grew long once more, I couldn't help but feel a chill run down my spine. The battle was over, but the war was far from won. The reflection may have been defeated, but the mirror world remained, a silent witness to our every move.

We lived in a state of constant vigilance, knowing that we had to be ready for the next time the darkness reached out. Yet, amidst the fear, there was a glimmer of hope. We had faced our reflections and come out the other side. We had seen the worst of ourselves and had chosen to stand in the light.

Together, we vowed to never let the shadows of the mirror world overwhelm us again. We tried to rebuild our lives, filling our days with laughter and light. Yet, every time I saw a flicker of sadness in Lila's eyes, I knew she was remembering the creature that had once been a part of her.

Months passed, and we slowly started to believe that maybe we had truly won. The reflection had left no trace, and the whispers had faded to an almost imperceptible murmur. We began to venture out into the world, holding hands and smiling at our reflections in shop windows—daring them to come back.

But it was a false sense of security. One night, as we were preparing for bed, Lila's reflection appeared again—this time not in a mirror, but in a puddle of moonlit water on the floor. It grinned at us, a grotesque mockery of Lila's beauty.

Panic surged through me, but Lila remained eerily calm. "It's okay," she murmured. "I know what to do."

With a quiet determination, she approached the water's edge and bent down. The reflection reached out, its hand almost touching hers. And then, with a swift motion, she captured it with the shard of mirror we had kept hidden away. The light grew blinding, and the room was filled with a high-pitched scream that seemed to shatter the very air.

When the light subsided, the reflection was gone, the water on the floor steaming slightly. We stared at the shard, now a solid black, devoid of any light or movement.

"What have you done?" I whispered, my heart racing.

Lila looked at me, her eyes filled with a sadness that seemed to reach into my very soul. "I've sent it back," she said, her voice trembling. "But I had to give it something to keep it there."

It took me a moment to understand her words, to realize what she had done. In a desperate bid to keep the creature at bay, she had sacrificed a piece of her own essence, sealing it away with the reflection in the mirror shard.

We sat in the quiet of the night, the weight of her sacrifice heavy between us. The room felt colder, emptier. Lila had saved us, but at what cost?

Our lives continued, a delicate dance around the void that had been left in her heart. We talked less about the mirror world, but the fear remained, a silent third presence in our every conversation.

One evening, as we were about to turn in for the night, I caught her staring at the shard, which we had placed in a box and buried in the back of her closet. "What if it's not enough?" she murmured. "What if it finds a way back?"

I pulled her into a hug, feeling the tremble of her body against mine. "We'll face it together," I assured her, trying to believe my own words.

But as we lay in bed, the moon casting a silver glow through the crack in the curtains, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched. The reflection was gone, but the mirror world had left its mark—a reminder that we were never truly alone. And as I drifted off to sleep, the whispers grew faintly louder, a siren's call from the depths of the looking glass, beckoning us back into the darkness we had only just escaped.