Psychological Thriller / Supernatural Mystery
The day Mara Holloway moved into the old Blackthorne House, the sky hung low with gray clouds, and the wind whispered secrets through the trees. The inheritance came as a shock—a letter from a solicitor informing her of an estate left behind by her estranged grandmother, a woman Mara barely remembered.
Blackthorne House was vast, cloaked in dust and shadow, filled with antique furniture and the lingering scent of lavender and something... rotting beneath it.
But the thing that stood out most was the mirror.
Tall. Ornate. Its frame carved with roses and serpents intertwined. It stood alone in the upstairs hallway, half-shrouded in a white sheet that clung like skin. As soon as she uncovered it, Mara felt a chill graze her spine.
It reflected her clearly—too clearly. Her image was sharper than reality. Her eyes glowed more green than hazel. And behind her reflection, the hallway seemed to breathe.
That night, Mara dreamed of fire.
---
The Second Night
Mara passed the mirror again on her way to the bathroom. She paused. Her reflection wasn’t moving.
She lifted her hand. Her reflection did not.
She stepped forward. Her reflection stared back.
Then it blinked. Once.
Mara gasped and stumbled back, knocking over a porcelain vase. When she looked again, the mirror showed nothing but herself—pale, wide-eyed, trembling.
She told herself she was tired. Jet-lagged. Stressed. But the mirror had her attention now.
---
The Third Night
It started showing her things. Not just reflections. Memories.
Not hers.
A girl, no older than ten, in a lace nightgown, skipping through the halls with a porcelain doll. A man, older, cold-eyed, watching her. A locked door. A scream. The mirror pulsed with each memory, as though it were reliving pain that had never faded.
Mara began to understand: this mirror did not simply reflect.
It remembered.
---
By the Seventh Day
The visions grew stronger. Sometimes they happened even when she wasn’t near it.
Mara found herself whispering in her sleep. Names. “Clara. Margaret. Edmund.”
She uncovered an old trunk in the attic—inside, newspaper clippings dating back nearly a century. Stories of missing girls. Disappearances. All tied to the house. All mysteriously unresolved.
One headline chilled her blood:
“Margaret Holloway, Age 9, Vanishes in Blackthorne House — 1923.”
Holloway. Her family name. Her grandmother’s younger sister. Never found.
She returned to the mirror.
This time, it showed her the truth.
---
The Truth Behind the Glass
Mara watched as the mirror revealed the past:
Margaret, playing near the stairs. Edmund Holloway, her great-grandfather, taking her by the wrist. Whispering something. Leading her toward the hidden cellar.
Margaret’s scream never left the walls.
He buried her beneath the floorboards. And then—he did it again. And again. The mirror had recorded it all. It was a vault of unspeakable horrors, locked away for nearly a century.
It remembered every moment.
---
But Why Show Mara?
Because she was the last of the Holloway bloodline. And the house wanted justice.
The mirror wasn’t haunted.
It was a witness. A sentient relic, bound by grief and fury.
And it wanted the truth to be known.
---
The Revelation
Mara dug where the mirror told her. Under the rotted floor of the cellar, she found the bones. Five sets. All children. All girls.
Police were called. The case exploded in national headlines. The Holloway Curse. The Blackthorne Murders. Mara gave them the names. The dates. The truth the mirror had shown her.
The house was sealed.
But Mara couldn’t leave the mirror.
---
Epilogue
A year passed.
Mara moved to a city apartment. Quiet. Modern. New. She worked remotely now, writing a book about the crimes. The mirror sat in her living room, wrapped tightly in dark cloth. Yet, every night, she felt it whisper.
On the anniversary of her arrival at Blackthorne House, she uncovered it again.
Her reflection smiled back.
But she hadn’t smiled.
Behind the reflection—dark hallways. The scent of lavender. The distant echo of children’s laughter.
Mara’s voice trembled:
“Why are you still showing me this? It’s over.”
The mirror’s surface rippled.
A voice echoed in her mind.
“It’s never over. You carry us now. Until all is remembered.”
---
She understood.
The mirror was no longer just a witness.
It was a keeper of the forgotten. And now, so was she.
Every injustice.
Every buried truth.
Every lost soul…A
The mirror remembered
everything.
And now, so would she.
---
The End.
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