ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
"Th-they're coming for me," the girl shrieks, her voice high and shrill. Her fingers curl into her wrists, sharp nails piercing the pale flesh as she picks her feat up onto the chair in which she sits, curling up into herself, shrinking as small as possible.
Her outburst was unexpected, and I sit shocked for a moment, before gathering myself and asking, "Who are 'they', dear?"
Her dark eyes dart around as she answers in no more than a whisper now, "The shadow people… the ones who live in the mirrors. The've been searching for me since I was little. They've found me." Her eyes land on me, as she finishes, voice hoarse, as silent as can be without her not speaking at all, "They know where I am." I'm not one to believe in the paranormal, but I can't help the chill that races up my spine.
"No one is coming for you, Ann. You're safe here. These shadow people have been created in your mind. I think that it will help if you describe them. Tell me what you think they're like?"
"Of course it's safe here," she hisses, "you don't have a mirror in your office. Once I'm home though, oh, once I am home… they'll drag me with them. Back to wherever they're from."
"Where do you think that that is, Ann?"
"Hell. It has to be, hasn't it? They whisper to me sometimes; once they mentioned the word 'demons'. I think that that's what they are."
"And what do they look like? How do they act? Also, you mentioned that they've been searching for you and only just now found you, but now you've said that they have spoken to you; which one is true?"
"No, no, they haven't been searching for me, they've been searching for a way to get me," she corrects, licking her lips. "I see them in mirrors - I always have. You know that feeling you get when you walk past a mirror at night? How you force yourself not to look in it, because of a silly fleeting thought that maybe someone else will be there?"
I nod at her. I don't believe in the paranormal, but that doesn't mean I don't have any irrational feelings regarding it.
"Well one time, when I was little, I looked. They were… darker than the darkness. A black that wasn't comparable to anything I'd seen before. It was more than black; it was void. There were maybe five or six, and all of them were abnormally tall. They had to stoop to fit in my room. They didn't have discernible legs, they were just mass, head, arms, and these terribly long fingers.
"All at once, their eyes turned to me, very slowly. They had milky white irises. The really weird thing was that the rings around their irises switched between red, yellow, black, and nothing. I ran to my bed almost immediately and hid under the covers."
"I see," I say. "Ann, you know what I think? I think that maybe you had seen these things somewhere in a movie advertisement, or maybe a video game, and conjured them in your mind-"
She cuts me off there. "No, doc. That's not it. I thought that I was just dreaming, because for a while, I didn't see them again. But when I was in the fifth grade, one day I was playing with my hair in the mirror, and I saw one again. It wasn't there, and then it just was, looking at me. I screamed and ran out of the bathroom and stayed on the front lawn until my parents came home from work. That night, the whispering started. At first it was like rustling leaves, and I ignored it, writing it off as nothing, but as the nights went on, it got louder, and soon I could make out words.
"I saw them more and more, each time they would come closer and closer to me, reaching out their arms, and eventually I just asked my parents to take the mirror out of my bathroom and bedroom. They did, reluctantly. But then last week, when I was in work, in the bathroom, I glanced up at the mirror on accident. They were all around me. More than I could count.
"They started whispering and reaching out those fingers. I felt them touch me, but there was nothing physically in the room with me. I ran out of there as quick as you'd imagine, but before I was out of the room, I heard one of them hiss 'the entrance, the entrance'. I was in a panic and told my boss, and he said that I've caused too many disruptions like this before and wouldn't have any more of it. He fired me."
I'm not quite sure what to say to this, and luckily, my watch starts beeping, signaling that our session is up.
"Ann, no one is coming for you. Those things are just a product of your sickness. I'll give you a stronger dose of medication and I'll see you again next week, okay? You'll be fine." I sign a paper for her to go pick up her prescription and send her on her way, breathing a sigh of relief when she's out the door. Ann is one of my stranger patients. I'm not so sure anymore that she just needs a psychologist. Maybe a stay in the hospital would do her good.
--
That night, I dream about her. I see her in what I'm assuming is her bedroom, the lights turned off, standing in front of a mirror. My heart starts pounding harder, and I'm not sure why. Demons and 'shadow people' aren't real, for Christ's sake. She just must have schizophrenia on top of all the other things I have to drug her up for. Poor girl.
Right now though, she looks more than sick; she looks deranged. Her eyes are huge, her mouth open wide, corners pulled down. Out of curiosity, I glance towards what's causing her such horror, only to recoil in surprise. I see the… the things that she described. Their eyes are all on her, their fingers outstretched towards her until her image is nearly lost in their emptiness. At that point, she screams, writhing around. In front of me, she trips and falls onto the mirror - it shatters, the shards cutting into her skin. My eyes are not glued on her though, but rather, the pieces.
The shadows continue to come closer, at first mostly just the eyes coming nearer, but then the fingers reach, until they press against the glass. Instead of being stopped, they reach through like it's liquid. That's when I begin to hear their guttural speech, their 'whispers', if you can call it that. The language they speak it not our own, but Latin. Ann specifically told me that she never learned any other languages - she shouldn't be able to understand them. Even I can hardly make out a few words.
"Bring her… never… down… burn…"
And they grab her. Her screaming starts again, and she kicks and pulls until her arms have been shredded and yanked through, and her ankles are firmly grasped, and they pull her through. It's almost as if she goes in sections, the shards cutting her until all that's left of her are puddles of blood. I wake up.
--
She didn't return the next week, or the week after that. She was out of a job so there was no boss to note her absence. Her parents are in another state. She was on her own. So it's me who goes to the police, telling them one of my patients never came back. They go to her house, let me tag along. Her car is in the driveway. I'm told to wait outside. They're in there for an awfully long time, or at least it feels that way. Finally one of them walks out, face ashen. He puts a hand on my shoulder, and tells me something that I think I already knew would come to be true.
"She isn't there. There's nothing amiss but a shattered mirror and blood spattered about - sir, it's a lot of blood. She is presumed dead. There's no body." I close my eyes and nod.
They found her.
Her outburst was unexpected, and I sit shocked for a moment, before gathering myself and asking, "Who are 'they', dear?"
Her dark eyes dart around as she answers in no more than a whisper now, "The shadow people… the ones who live in the mirrors. The've been searching for me since I was little. They've found me." Her eyes land on me, as she finishes, voice hoarse, as silent as can be without her not speaking at all, "They know where I am." I'm not one to believe in the paranormal, but I can't help the chill that races up my spine.
"No one is coming for you, Ann. You're safe here. These shadow people have been created in your mind. I think that it will help if you describe them. Tell me what you think they're like?"
"Of course it's safe here," she hisses, "you don't have a mirror in your office. Once I'm home though, oh, once I am home… they'll drag me with them. Back to wherever they're from."
"Where do you think that that is, Ann?"
"Hell. It has to be, hasn't it? They whisper to me sometimes; once they mentioned the word 'demons'. I think that that's what they are."
"And what do they look like? How do they act? Also, you mentioned that they've been searching for you and only just now found you, but now you've said that they have spoken to you; which one is true?"
"No, no, they haven't been searching for me, they've been searching for a way to get me," she corrects, licking her lips. "I see them in mirrors - I always have. You know that feeling you get when you walk past a mirror at night? How you force yourself not to look in it, because of a silly fleeting thought that maybe someone else will be there?"
I nod at her. I don't believe in the paranormal, but that doesn't mean I don't have any irrational feelings regarding it.
"Well one time, when I was little, I looked. They were… darker than the darkness. A black that wasn't comparable to anything I'd seen before. It was more than black; it was void. There were maybe five or six, and all of them were abnormally tall. They had to stoop to fit in my room. They didn't have discernible legs, they were just mass, head, arms, and these terribly long fingers.
"All at once, their eyes turned to me, very slowly. They had milky white irises. The really weird thing was that the rings around their irises switched between red, yellow, black, and nothing. I ran to my bed almost immediately and hid under the covers."
"I see," I say. "Ann, you know what I think? I think that maybe you had seen these things somewhere in a movie advertisement, or maybe a video game, and conjured them in your mind-"
She cuts me off there. "No, doc. That's not it. I thought that I was just dreaming, because for a while, I didn't see them again. But when I was in the fifth grade, one day I was playing with my hair in the mirror, and I saw one again. It wasn't there, and then it just was, looking at me. I screamed and ran out of the bathroom and stayed on the front lawn until my parents came home from work. That night, the whispering started. At first it was like rustling leaves, and I ignored it, writing it off as nothing, but as the nights went on, it got louder, and soon I could make out words.
"I saw them more and more, each time they would come closer and closer to me, reaching out their arms, and eventually I just asked my parents to take the mirror out of my bathroom and bedroom. They did, reluctantly. But then last week, when I was in work, in the bathroom, I glanced up at the mirror on accident. They were all around me. More than I could count.
"They started whispering and reaching out those fingers. I felt them touch me, but there was nothing physically in the room with me. I ran out of there as quick as you'd imagine, but before I was out of the room, I heard one of them hiss 'the entrance, the entrance'. I was in a panic and told my boss, and he said that I've caused too many disruptions like this before and wouldn't have any more of it. He fired me."
I'm not quite sure what to say to this, and luckily, my watch starts beeping, signaling that our session is up.
"Ann, no one is coming for you. Those things are just a product of your sickness. I'll give you a stronger dose of medication and I'll see you again next week, okay? You'll be fine." I sign a paper for her to go pick up her prescription and send her on her way, breathing a sigh of relief when she's out the door. Ann is one of my stranger patients. I'm not so sure anymore that she just needs a psychologist. Maybe a stay in the hospital would do her good.
--
That night, I dream about her. I see her in what I'm assuming is her bedroom, the lights turned off, standing in front of a mirror. My heart starts pounding harder, and I'm not sure why. Demons and 'shadow people' aren't real, for Christ's sake. She just must have schizophrenia on top of all the other things I have to drug her up for. Poor girl.
Right now though, she looks more than sick; she looks deranged. Her eyes are huge, her mouth open wide, corners pulled down. Out of curiosity, I glance towards what's causing her such horror, only to recoil in surprise. I see the… the things that she described. Their eyes are all on her, their fingers outstretched towards her until her image is nearly lost in their emptiness. At that point, she screams, writhing around. In front of me, she trips and falls onto the mirror - it shatters, the shards cutting into her skin. My eyes are not glued on her though, but rather, the pieces.
The shadows continue to come closer, at first mostly just the eyes coming nearer, but then the fingers reach, until they press against the glass. Instead of being stopped, they reach through like it's liquid. That's when I begin to hear their guttural speech, their 'whispers', if you can call it that. The language they speak it not our own, but Latin. Ann specifically told me that she never learned any other languages - she shouldn't be able to understand them. Even I can hardly make out a few words.
"Bring her… never… down… burn…"
And they grab her. Her screaming starts again, and she kicks and pulls until her arms have been shredded and yanked through, and her ankles are firmly grasped, and they pull her through. It's almost as if she goes in sections, the shards cutting her until all that's left of her are puddles of blood. I wake up.
--
She didn't return the next week, or the week after that. She was out of a job so there was no boss to note her absence. Her parents are in another state. She was on her own. So it's me who goes to the police, telling them one of my patients never came back. They go to her house, let me tag along. Her car is in the driveway. I'm told to wait outside. They're in there for an awfully long time, or at least it feels that way. Finally one of them walks out, face ashen. He puts a hand on my shoulder, and tells me something that I think I already knew would come to be true.
"She isn't there. There's nothing amiss but a shattered mirror and blood spattered about - sir, it's a lot of blood. She is presumed dead. There's no body." I close my eyes and nod.
They found her.
Suggested Collections
Eyy, first creepypasta, yo. I've been wanting to write this for a while, and actually started to last month. It sucked though and I couldn't finish it, and tonight I was compelled to redo it. This same concept has probably been done countless times, so I'm sorry for potential unoriginality, it's just that I'm terrified of mirrors. I'm always scared that some day, something will be there. I dunno, they just give me bad vibes. Anyhow, I hope that it was scary enough for y'all.
© 2014 - 2024 32bees
Comments0
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In