Eleanor, sick of her job at a local gas station, knew she needed to find a new direction in life. She needed money, but wasn’t exactly sure what to do. What she did know was that she wanted to work for herself. There had to be a better way to earn a living than working an hourly wage.

Searching through YouTube for ideas, she explored videos titled “How to Start a Business,” “Passive Income Streams,” and “Blogging.” Then, one suggestion caught her eye—reselling items found at local thrift shops.

She had visited thrift shops before but had never considered reselling the items she often saw there. It didn’t seem too difficult. There were plenty of shops selling antiques that she could list on eBay for a profit. She just needed to watch her spending and ensure there was enough margin to make money. She decided to allocate part of her paycheck toward finding “thrifty buys” to resell. However, not everything went according to plan.

After several weekends of visiting local thrift shops and collecting miscellaneous items, she stumbled across one that claimed to have haunted items—Ghostly Treasures, just five miles away. Intrigued, she thought, What the hell? and decided to check it out. She hoped to find something unique to add to her eBay listings and boost her profit margin.

She pulled up in front of the shop and parked on the side of the road. The place was as rundown as they come, with windows thick with dust, and it boasted of being home to haunted objects. It wasn’t exactly inviting, but something about it tugged at her.

Stepping out of her car, she walked into the shop. The air inside felt heavier, almost oppressive, as if something within was waiting for her attention. A sense of desperation had been creeping into her life lately—ever since that cruel customer had sneered at her, calling her “just a gas station employee” who would never amount to anything.

The moment she crossed the threshold, a thick, stale odor greeted her—a blend of decaying wood, dampness, and the faint tang of mildew that clung to the air like a second skin. Shadows stretched unnaturally across the room, clinging to the forgotten relics on display, as if each object held its own secret. The faint clink of glass echoed from somewhere in the dimly lit space, almost as if the shop itself breathed in the silence. She wandered through the cluttered aisles, past worn chairs and weathered dressers, her fingers grazing dusty glass bottles with faded logos, and rifles that looked as if they had seen the horrors of war. Then she saw it—tucked away in a darkened corner, nearly hidden beside a faded, elongated rug on a shelf. It was a hand-mirror. Its tarnished silver frame twisted into grotesque shapes—faces contorted in eternal screams, their hollow eyes staring into the void, waiting, watching.

But it wasn’t the frame that caught her attention—it was the glass. The surface, clouded as though time itself had worn it thin, seemed to ripple ever so slightly, like the surface of dark water disturbed by something beneath. Eleanor’s eyes locked onto it, and she felt a jolt of cold race down her spine. She stepped closer, drawn in by an invisible force, her breath fogging the glass slightly. In the reflection, she saw herself, but behind her, the shadows seemed to shift. There was something—no, someone—there. A silhouette, faint but unmistakable, lingered in the depths of the mirror, as if just beyond the surface.

She blinked. The figure was gone.

“Old glass plays tricks,” came a raspy voice from behind her. She jumped, startled, and turned to see the shopkeeper, an elderly man with sunken eyes and skin like crumpled parchment. “Curious piece, isn’t it? Been here longer than I’ve been alive.” His lips curled into a thin, unsettling smile. “People say old mirrors hold the souls of the damned.”

Eleanor forced a smile, though the pit in her stomach only deepened. She should have left then. She should have turned around, walked out, and never looked back. But instead, she handed him her credit card. After all, he was only asking for a mere $20 for the mirror, and she figured she could sell it for at least a hundred—or more, if she decided to auction it off.

---

That night, Eleanor prepared the mirror for sale in her apartment. It didn’t match anything she had listed, but she didn’t care. Standing before it, she poised her iPhone, preparing to snap a photo of her reflection. But something was off. The room behind her—was it darker in the reflection? The shadows seemed to stretch unnaturally, twisting like fingers reaching out toward her. Her eyes flicked to the corners of the room, scanning for any sign of movement. Nothing. She told herself it was just her mind playing tricks and went ahead with the photo. But when she looked at the screen, her breath caught. In the reflection, within the photograph, was a motionless, black human-shaped figure with glowing red eyes. She froze. No. It couldn’t be real. She shook her head, trying to dismiss it, and readied the iPhone for another shot.

As she snapped the photo, the lights in her apartment flickered momentarily. When she looked at the image, the figure was unmistakably clearer. It stood in the corner, slouched and emaciated, its head hanging as if its neck couldn’t bear the weight. Its eyes glowed a deep, unnerving red—like coals smoldering in a long-extinguished fire. This can’t be real, she thought, her pulse quickening as she compared the photo to the two others she had already taken.

Eleanor’s heart pounded, and her throat constricted as if the very air were trying to choke her. She blinked rapidly, desperately trying to reset her mind, but when she opened her eyes again, she was fixated on the mirror. The figure was still there, now impossibly closer—too close. Its skin had darkened to a sickly charcoal, burnt and crispy, mottled with the deepest black and streaked with glowing red patterns, as though it had been immersed in flames for days.

Thick, gray smoke began to curl and rise from within the mirror, swirling like a living thing. Eleanor stumbled back, colliding with the coffee table, her breath catching in her throat. Her pulse quickened, heart hammering against her ribs. But just as her body made contact with the table, the smoke vanished—poof, as though it had never existed. She blinked, her reflection staring back at her, unchanged. The room was unnervingly still. Empty. The silence felt suffocating, pressing in from all sides.

She clutched her chest, trying to calm her pounding heart. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. Just stress. It had to be stress.

But when she looked down, her hands were smeared with soot, as though she had just touched charcoal or something freshly burned.

After a few moments of an unsettled panic. She scrubbed her hands furiously in the bathroom sink, watching the black streaks swirl down the drain. The warm water felt grounding, a small anchor in the sea of unease threatening to engulf her. But when she looked up at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, her breath hitched again. It was just her, tired eyes, slightly smudged mascara from earlier, but… was she paler? Her reflection seemed to hold a subtle, almost imperceptible shift, a flicker of something behind her eyes that wasn’t quite right.

She decided to place the mirror in a ready-to-ship box, leaving it unlabeled for the moment. She’d stick with the photos she’d already taken and list the mirror under the “Haunted Mirror” section on eBay, hoping it would sell quickly.

“All set,” she muttered, the sound of her own voice breaking the silence. She knew no one else would hear—she was always the only one listening.

She closed her laptop and prepared for a night’s rest. After winding down, just as she was drifting into sleep, the sharp scent of smoke hit her.

She jolted upright, her nostrils flaring. Am I imagining this? she wondered. She knew there was a chance the item could be haunted, but she’d never believed in the paranormal. She was a skeptic, always had been. But everything that was happening now was chipping away at that skepticism, pulling her toward belief. This was her first encounter with something so intense—let alone something unexplainable.

She hurried toward the mirror, still resting inside the ready-to-ship box. One side of it glowed red, a small circle of embers flickering as if it had recently caught fire. How is this even possible? she wondered, panic rising. She needed to get rid of it, and fast. Maybe selling it on eBay wasn’t such a good idea—especially if it might ignite the box. She had no choice but to leave the mirror outside, at the far end of the parking lot, away from all the cars, and keep an eye on it from her apartment window.

After placing the box outside, she returned to her apartment. But soon, from a nearby window facing the lot, she noticed bright, flickering orangish-red light illuminating the room around her. This wasn’t just a small fire. Panic surged through her. She grabbed the fire extinguisher from the cabinet under her kitchen sink and rushed outside to put out the flames. When she arrived at the spot where the box was left, it was completely normal. Not a single scorch mark or hole in sight—the very thing she’d been worried about in the first place.

My mind must be playing tricks on me. How can this be messing with my head so badly? Feeling unsettled and frantic, she brought the box back up to her apartment and placed it in the middle of the floor.

She opened the box, carefully lifted the mirror, and set it back on the counter where she had been taking photos earlier. After a few moments, things seemed to calm down. Her heart slowed, and she allowed herself to breathe again. Glancing at the alarm clock on the nightstand, she noticed the time—1:05 a.m.

“Geez, this thing needs to make up its mind—either burn the place down or let me get some sleep before I end up sleeping all day tomorrow,” she muttered irritably.

---

After muttering to herself, Eleanor finally laid down, but her thoughts continued to spiral. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong with the mirror, despite her earlier attempts to rationalize the strange occurrences. Her eyelids were heavy, but every time she closed them, the sensation of being watched crept in. Her apartment felt smaller, suffocating, like the mirror itself was bending the walls closer, tightening its grip on her space.

Why did I bring it back inside? she thought. But exhaustion overcame her, and she drifted into an uneasy sleep.

The moment she drifted, Eleanor was plunged into a nightmare. She stood in the middle of a vast, empty field, under a blackened sky. The air was thick with smoke, the acrid scent of burning flesh clinging to her nostrils. A distant crackling sound filled her ears, and when she looked down, she saw that her feet were standing on scorched earth, her shoes slowly melting into the ground.

The heat rose quickly. Fire licked at the horizon, spreading toward her with alarming speed. Her heart raced, panic rising in her throat. She tried to move, to run, but her legs were rooted to the spot. The flames were on her now, engulfing her ankles, crawling up her legs. She screamed, but no sound came out. Her skin blistered and cracked, the flesh melting off her bones like wax. She watched in horror as her body turned into ash, piece by piece, the agony unbearable.

The fire climbed higher, wrapping around her torso, her arms. Her fingers disintegrated before her eyes, her vision blurring from the heat. Just as the fire reached her face, Eleanor bolted upright in bed, drenched in sweat, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her heart pounded violently in her chest.

Eleanor glanced over at the clock, 3:00 AM.

The glowing numbers on her bedside clock stared back at her in the darkness. Her skin still felt hot, like the flames were lingering just beneath the surface.

Still trembling from the nightmare, Eleanor swung her legs out of bed, her mind struggling to grasp reality. The air in the apartment felt heavy and oppressive, as though the heat from her dream had seeped into the room. Her skin still tingled with the phantom sensation of flames. She rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off the lingering unease, and wandered into the kitchen, hoping a glass of water might steady her nerves. Reaching for a glass from the cupboard, she filled it under the tap, the cool liquid offering a small sense of relief. She raised it to her lips, taking a slow deliberate drink.

BANG!

She nearly dropped the glass as the loud crash echoed from behind her. Spinning around, she saw the cupboard doors had slammed open and close on their own. A slow creak followed, the other cabinets swinging open one by one, banging shut in rapid succession.

“Oh my god! What the hell?” she screamed in terror, her pulse spiking.

The stove clicked repeatedly, as if someone was trying to light the gas burners. The faucets in the kitchen and bathroom sputtered, water gushing from them with a sudden, violent force. The sound of the toilet flushing came from the bathroom, followed by a sharp rattle of pots and pans as they clanged together.

She couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

Suddenly, the bathroom door slammed shut. She froze. The sound of something scratching at the door from the inside filled her with dread. She grabbed her phone, and bolted out the front door to her apartment. Outside, she nearly fumbled her phone as she dialed 911. Unsure of how to report the incident.

911 Dispatcher: “911, what’s your emergency?”

Eleanor: “I—I don’t know how to explain this,” Eleanor stammered, her voice trembling. “Something terrifying is happening in my apartment.”

Dispatcher: “Okay, ma’am, can you tell me what exactly is going on?”

Eleanor: “Everything’s going crazy—my faucets are turning on by themselves, the toilet is flushing, things are banging around—there’s no one here!” Her breathing quickened. “I bought this hand mirror, and ever since… things haven’t been normal. Please, I need help!”

Dispatcher: “Things are banging? Ma’am, is someone in your apartment causing the disturbance? Do you need us to send someone to remove them?”

Eleanor: “No! No one’s here! It’s not a person—it’s… I don’t know what it is, but it’s not normal. I swear, I’m not crazy!” Her voice cracked, desperation seeping through. “I need help! Send someone—maybe even a priest, I don’t care!”

Dispatcher: “All right, ma’am, take a deep breath. We’ll send an officer over to check things out. I understand you’re frightened, and we’ll help you sort this out. Just hang tight, okay?”

Eleanor: “Please, hurry… I don’t feel safe.”

Panicked, Eleanor went downstairs towards the parking lot and waited for the police. Tears rolling down her cheek as she failed to process what had really happened inside her apartment.

---

Minutes later, the police arrived. Two officers exited the cruiser and greeted Eleanor with confusion. She led them up the stairs to her apartment. Both officers stood at the threshold of Eleanor’s apartment as she hurriedly explained what was happening, her words tumbling out in a panicked mess.

“Please—there’s something wrong in there,” she stammered, pointing toward the door.

The officers exchanged glances and followed her inside. As soon as they crossed the threshold, the temperature seemed to drop cold enough to see breath. They moved cautiously through the apartment, searching for any sign of an intruder.

And then it started again.

The kitchen cupboards began slamming open and shut. The water from the faucet burst out, spraying full blast. The stove clicked ominously, followed by the sound of the toilet flushing once more. The officers stood frozen, their faces pale.

“Is this some kind of joke?” one of them muttered, though his voice shook with uncertainty.

Before they could react, the kitchen lights flickered, casting eerie shadows across the room. The stove clicked one last time, and this time, the gas burner ignited in a burst of flame. One of the officers jumped back, swearing under his breath.

“Let’s get out of here,” the other officer barked. “This place… it’s not right.”

Eleanor didn’t need to be told twice. She grabbed a few of her things and bolted for the door, her heart hammering in her chest.

They regrouped by the police cruiser, the chill of the night air adding to the tension. One of the officers looked at Eleanor, concern in his eyes. “Do you have somewhere you can stay tonight?” he asked. “We can give you a ride if you need, but we don’t recommend going back in there until we figure out what’s going on.”

Eleanor’s hands trembled as she pulled out her phone. “I can call my friend. Maybe I can stay with her until tomorrow, but… I’ll have to come back eventually. When I do, what should I do?” Her voice wavered, the worry creeping in.

The officer hesitated, glancing at his partner before responding. “Honestly, this is beyond what we usually handle. If I were you, I’d contact a local church—ask if they can perform some kind of blessing or… exorcism on the place.” His tone was uncertain, as if he barely believed the words coming out of his own mouth.

Eleanor didn’t hesitate to consider her friend Tara. She would likely be up gaming like she usually was around this time of night and called her. She began to search in her contacts and find ‘Tara’ listed under the T’s and pressed call.

A few rings had passed.

Come on, Tara answer your phone.

“Hey El, what are you doing up this late” Tara said in a joking manner.

“I need somewhere to go for the night. Can I come stay with you for the rest of the night?” Eleanor asked.

“Sure! But, what’s going on? You sound unsettled.”

“Crazy, weird things are happening in my apartment. I’ll explain more when I get to your place.” Eleanor said with a hint of relief.

She glanced over at one of the officers and nodded her head. Confirming her friend would allow her to stay.

As soon as Eleanor hung up the phone, she loaded up into the back of the police cruiser and told the officer Tara’s address and they were on their way.

---

“You said that you bought a mirror from a thrift shop and started witnessing paranormal events?” One of the officers asked as he made a left turn.

“Yes, exactly. Looking back, I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea.” Eleanor stated.

“Well, it appears to have actually haunted your place!” Exclaimed the officer.

“I didn’t know what to do”. Explained Eleanor. “All I could think was maybe the police could help me. Luckily, you saw it! I didn’t know if you guys would believe me or not.” She said, still not knowing if the police would actually be able to do anything about the haunting in her apartment.

She had once saw a movie about a paranormal occurrence. The homeowner had called the authorities and they weren’t able to do anything about it. Until it escalated to the Vatican a few weeks later. Meanwhile, the family had remained haunted, not knowing what to do other than pray for the entities to stop harassing them.

---

A few moments had passed with little conversation from there. Eleanor had been trapped in her thoughts of wonder. Not knowing if she would be able to safely return to her apartment. Eleanor texted Tara to inform her that she was getting closer to her house.

“You know? The best suggestion I have for now is getting your hands on some holy water and rinsing the mirror with it”. An officer suggested.

“I didn’t think of that.” Eleanor stated. “I will call a church tomorrow and see if they can help me. I will explain to them that I had to call the police and you guys are my witness to the strange stuff happening in my apartment”. Eleanor had the idea that maybe a pastor or priest would come perform an exorcism on her apartment. But, if the movie was right about how things worked in the “haunted” world, then she would have to wait a while before anyone actually did help.

The police car had finally arrived at Tara’s house.

“Here we are, miss.” The officer driving said. “If you need anything else from us, you know how to get ahold of us”. The officer reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled a cardstock business card from within.

“The phone number on this card is my direct line. We have had a somewhat slow night until you called. If you cannot get ahold of me right away, leave me a message. I will call you back when I see it. However, I probably will answer unless I am in a pursuit with a suspect or dealing with some other type of emergency.” The officer stated with passion.

“I don’t think I will need anything else tonight.” Eleanor said with uncertainty.

“Thank you guys for your help and the ride to my friend’s house. I truly appreciate it. I don’t know what I would have done if I didn’t think of calling the police. That was really scary. I have never seen anything like that before in my life. I used to be a skeptic. Now, I know that stuff exists. There is no other explanation for it”.

One of the police stepped out of the cruiser and opened Eleanor’s door.

The officer on the passenger side stepped out of the cruiser and opened Eleanor’s door.

“Again, if you need anything at all. Don’t hesitate to give us a call”. The officer informed her.

Eleanor thanked the officers again and proceeded to Tara’s door. She knocked a few times until she heard Tara yell that she was coming to answer the door.

(…Continue?)

If I should continue this story. Please drop a comment below.