*COMPLETED*
A terrifying rumor taunting the city of Lakewood Pierce has everyone afraid to look in the mirror. To stare at themselves and say a simple "hello". Adolescent children prettified to the bone out of fear that something will get them not...
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Amy's eyelids shoot up vigorously, her heartbeat audible to the human ear. Her body covered in sweat, her shirt stained with a 'V' shape down the front.
"Say it," the voices echo.
"It's your time," Amy's mind is awake, yet the voices still come to her from the darkness of the bedroom.
"Open the door," all other voices are canceled out, now its just the young male voice demanding.
Amy involuntarily stands from her bed, her toes intertwining into the small blue rug spread out on her bedside floor. Her legs carry her controlled body to the door, her cold fingers touching then grasping the knob, twisting the handle down. The hinges make no noise unlike they normally do, in fact, Amy's feet make no noise as the bare skin comes in contact with the buckling oak wood floors.
"Go to it, it is calling you...answer it," the tone's sonority insinuates to be more sinister, more demanding.
Amy travels down the long corridor, the one that she's traveled through so many times. She strides to it, feeling the sense of longing, one that she's never felt before in her eighteen years of living. Her mind doesn't question what it is, or what the bodiless voice is referring to, instead, it knows exactly where to go.
One foot in front of the other, she paces to the closed door, passing her little brother's room and her parent's. The door lays at the end of the hall, the light flickering on and off within the room, that light coming through the bottom of the door, reflecting onto the floors.
"Go to it, feel it, welcome it."
Amy pushes on the door, her insides reaching out with a certain wanting. Without thinking, totally absentmindedly, she enters into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Her retinas are focused forward, staring at the reflection plastering in the glass.
"Say it," the voice whispers in her ear, seeming as if the sayer is right behind her.
"You know the words," the light flickers on and off like it did in the diner.
Amy steps forward, closer to the counter, closer to the glass. She scrutinizes herself, each scar, each hair, each curve. Her hands clutch the corners of the counter tightly, her knuckles turning white.
"One."
"Take me," she says, uttering the two dangerous words under her breath.
To anyone who's unaware of the rumor, those two words may seem innocent, normal, acceptable. That's what most of the adults think, refusing to believe that its all real, that everything said in the rumor is real. The rumor wasn't created by teenagers...it was created by a dead soul who rules on the other side of the mirror.
"Take me," she repeats, her voice laced with order.
Nothing happens, the light becoming sane, the ruthless meteoric flickering ceasing. A single tear pools at the corner of her eye, threatening to fall. A sudden emotion of hopelessness crowds around her rapidly beating heart. Amy lifts her hands from the corners of the counter, placing them forcefully onto the mirror. Her palms stick to the glass from the sweat that has gathered on her skin.
"Take me!" She whisper-shouts, staring at herself harshly. "TAKE ME!" This time she screams it, her bellowing voice echoing in the bathroom, though it can't be heard anywhere else.
Nothing happens, and Amy bangs her balled fists against the glass twice, the pooled tears spilling over down her cheeks.
"Please," she deadpans, the longing in her stomach never decimating.
The light abruptly flickers then dies, the bathroom consumed with caliginosity. Sparks fly from the bulb, the smell of smoke radiating from the fried wires. Amy takes her hands off the glass instantly, her expression changing to one of tenacious terror.
She backs away from the counter, her back pushing up against the door. Her hands reach for the door handle and pull on it...but its locked. Locked from the outside. She turns around, her back now facing the mirror as she places both hands on the knob, vigorously twisting and turning it, in an attempt to break it; the wad of sterling silver doesn't budge.
Loud bangs come from the mirror, followed by scratches from long, sharp nails.
Amy reluctantly turns her torso, her eyes met with a single glowing figure in the mirror...one that isn't her own.
"Come closer," it divulges, their hand gesturing the words. She hesitantly does, but not close enough.
"Closer!" The being demands, the voice sounding so familiar, the figure equally mundane.
Amy does as she's ordered, just like she does with her father and mother. She stops when she's inches away from the mirror, the room dropping a few degrees every second. Amy's hairs stand on end as her skin becomes covered with goosebumps. Her pulse rises, her hand shaking as she places it back on the glass.
"You can't turn back," the sinister being with no face deadpans.
Precipitously, the being's hand shoots out of the glass, hastily grabbing hold of Amy's neck and squeezing. The sound of shattering glass pierces the air, fragments cutting into Amy's skin. She tries to scream, to rip the hand from her neck, but fails, the grip too strong.
Her hand becomes covered in blood, placing it back on the mirror, trying to pull away.
"You opened the doorway...now it's your turn to enter it!"
With one last heaving breath, Amy's body falls limp as it is pulled through the shattered glass, ripped away from the world she used to live in.
The pieces of the shattered glass fall back into place on the wall, the light coming back on as if nothing had ever happened.
The only thing left is a single bloodied handprint.
