When Ethan and Lisa bought the quaint, ivy-covered house on the edge of a forgotten town, they considered it a steal. The former owner, a 96-year-old woman named Mabel Hawthorne, had insisted on a cash deal and left without much conversation—just a brittle smile and the cryptic words: “Don’t move the mirror in the hallway.” Thinking it was just an old lady’s superstition, they laughed it off. But as soon as they stepped inside for the first time, the laughter died.
The interior was a time capsule. Yellowed wallpaper, dusty lace curtains, and antique furniture frozen in a different era. But it was the smell—an overwhelming scent of rotting roses and something metallic—that made Lisa gag. Then there was the mirror. An enormous, ornate thing bolted to the hallway wall with rusted chains. Ethan approached it and felt a cold breath at his neck. When he spun around, no one was there. They decided to ignore it, chalking it up to nerves.
That night, the whispers started. Soft at first—barely audible—like the rustle of silk or the breath of someone sleeping in the walls. Lisa woke to the sound of footsteps shuffling just outside their bedroom, but when Ethan checked, the hallway was empty. The mirror, however, was fogged from the inside. And carved into the condensation was one word: STAY.
Terrified, they tried to remove the mirror. As soon as Ethan’s wrench touched the chain, the hallway lights exploded. The air turned ice-cold, and the mirror began to bleed—dark, syrupy rivulets oozing from the frame. The reflection in the mirror wasn’t theirs. It was Mabel. Only… younger, and smiling wide, her eyes void of color. Her mouth moved in the glass, whispering something Ethan couldn’t hear—until Lisa screamed. Scratched across her back, fresh and deep, were the same words Mabel had spoken when she left: “Don’t move the mirror.
They fled the house before dawn, never returning for their things. Later, they learned Mabel’s husband had gone missing in 1954. Neighbors said she “remodeled the hallway” not long after. No one asked questions—she was always polite, always quiet. But sometimes, when the wind is right and the moon is thin, people still hear a voice calling from that old house. Asking… “Did they move the mirror?”
