The Midnight Reflection

Mia inherited the old Victorian house from her grandmother, along with a single warning: “Never

let the mirror see you after midnight.” The mirror stood in the hallway, ornate and ancient,

its frame carved with twisting vines and faces that seemed to shift when you weren’t looking.

For weeks, Mia obeyed. She draped a heavy cloth over it every night,

just before bed. But one evening, distracted by a storm and a power outage,

she forgot. At 12:03 a.m., she walked past the mirror on her way to the kitchen.

Lightning flashed — and she saw it. Her reflection was smiling. But she wasn’t.

She froze. The reflection tilted its head, eyes gleaming with something ancient