A few years back, I found myself in a new town after moving with my family. Adjusting to the unfamiliar neighborhood was challenging. One evening, my parents were out, so I invited my friend Lydia over. We were in my bedroom, chatting about school crushes when she suddenly said she needed to use the bathroom.
While she was occupied, I decided to sneak downstairs to grab some snacks for us. Just as I reached the kitchen, I heard a familiar voice behind me. It startled me; it was Lydia, but I had just seen her go into the bathroom. She looked confused and asked, “How did you get back up here so fast? I was just talking to you!” I was taken aback and explained that I had been downstairs the entire time, never leaving the kitchen.
We exchanged nervous glances, realizing that the voice she heard sounded just like mine. That night, we tried to shake off the eerie feeling as we settled into bed around 1:30 AM. When the sun rose, I was up early, and Lydia prepared to head home. I climbed the stairs, lost in thought about the strange incident from the night before, when I heard a soft whisper echoing through the hall.
Curious but cautious, I followed the sound. It led me to a small, dusty room at the end of the corridor that I hadn’t noticed before. Hesitating at the door, I felt an odd pull to open it. As I turned the handle, I could hear faint giggles, but when I stepped inside, the room was empty, save for an old mirror hanging crookedly on the wall.
I looked into the glass and gasped; for a brief moment, I saw a shadowy figure behind me, but when I turned around, there was nothing there. Shaken, I hurried back downstairs, wondering if I’d stumbled upon something that was not meant for me to find. Lydia’s visit had opened a door to the unknown that I wasn’t sure I was ready to face.