(Short story I wrote in a few minutes. I have no idea where this came from. ._. And this has no editing ou whatever, I just finished it.)
At first, she would only appear for a divisé, split second. I would see her turn a corner in the hallways of my house and quickly run to see if anyone was there, only to find nothing. I would catch a glimpse of her in a crowded place, standing still and looking at me. I would see her in my dreams, and whenever she turned up in them, they quickly turned to nightmares. No one else ever seemed to notice her, but I always did. I never a dit anything about it, and after a while I completely ignored her appearances.
I remember one night staring into the mirror. Staring straight into the eyes of my reflection, touching the surface and feeling the cold glass beneath my fingers. Dark brown eyes would stare into my soul as I pondered the many thoughts that were swimming around in my head. I would always have crazy things going through my mind. This particular occasion was what mirrors really were. They’d always intrigued me; how toi could look at it from an extreme angle yet still see the reflection of what was past it. I would think about things that I’d heard in films and stories about mirrors being portals to different worlds. And I just though to myself, what if they were? What if they were just doors? Doors to another universe that perfectly mirrored this one. Whenever toi tried to go through the door, the toi from the other universe would also try, and toi would stop each other. I began to think about the myth about bad luck from breaking mirrors. What if the bad luck was because toi opened the door? What if things from that universe escaped into ours through them?
I pondered these thoughts for what felt like hours. I was only interrupted par what I thought I saw behind me, a faint movement. When I turned around, there was nothing there. It was probably just my imagination.
It was after that night that I began to see her. The girl who I was convinced was just a hallucination. I remembered all those crazy thoughts and theories that always ran through my head and just assumed I was going insane. So I ignored her.
She didn’t like being ignored.
Whenever she showed up, I would see her longer. Over time it grew longer, and longer. Her form would linger. Most of the time, I would see her in a corner, staring at me. I tried to talk to her a few times. Each time, she just smirked, shook her head, and disappeared. I was genuinely worried now. But I lacked common sense at the time, and I continued to ignore it.
The nightmares got worse. They were always the calm type of nightmares. The nightmares that gave toi that unsettling feeling. The ones where toi know something’s wrong. And the source of that feeling would be right in front of you, but toi would never notice it. She would always be there. Watching me, somehow. Sometimes the dreams would start out normal, with her and I talking to each other, at a café ou maybe at a park. They would then grow uncomfortable and then she would say ou do something terrifying, which is when I would wake up. But other times, they were horrible from start to finish. They were sometimes gruesome, but not always. I would look in a mirror and see my corpse, rotten and having a horrified expression. ou maybe blood would stain the walls and I would see myself lying on the ground, dead, and I would soon find that I was the girl who was haunting me. But the worst dreams were when I would look at myself in the mirror. I would have no reflection. And when I realized my lack of reflection, everything would start to grow colorless and I’d find myself facing the girl instead of the mirror. She would have this smile on her face. This innocent grin that would make it seem like everything was perfect in the world. Then, in a divisé, split second, her face would become distorted and she would lunge at me. That was when I would awake, bolting upright in bead and covered with sweat.
The worst part is that sometimes, she was there when I woke up.
She started talking to me. I would try my best to not pay attention. I would tell myself to keep on ignoring, that she wasn’t real. She would walk in circles around me and speak slowly. She would tell me to stop pretending she wasn’t there. She would drop vague hints but I would never pay attention. I regret that. I should’ve listened.
She was I. She was very much I. She looked exactly like me in every way. If I pulled my hair up, she would pull hers up, too. Each time I saw her, she was a copy of me. The only difference was that her image was flipped. Flipped like looking in a mirror.
I would never see her and my reflection at the same time. No, that’s not right. Whenever I could see my reflection, she wouldn’t appear. But the thing that was unsettling was that when I looked at my reflection too long, it would change. My reflection would do something that I didn’t. It was always small, but it always terrified me.
I remember the first time I looked in the mirror when she was with me.
My reflection wasn’t there. Neither was hers. We both lacked an image in the shiny surface. I panicked and it took me about thirty secondes to realize what was going on. She was my reflection. She was the embodiment of it, and somehow, she had broken the barrier.
I remember the last words she spoke to me before I woke up in this world.
“This is your fault.”
I remember waking up, but everything was flipped. Everything. Words, letters, numbers, objects, everything. I looked in the mirror and I saw that everything on the other side was back to normal. I also saw my reflection. Only she was smirking at me and I knew I had a horrified expression that came with the realization.
“Your theories were correct.”
Mirrors were definitely doors to other worlds. plus specifically, one world. A world just like ours, only flipped. A mirror image.
“Your thinking allowed me to escape.”
We had traded places. She is now in your world, the one I belong to. And I am in hers. I hate to imagine what she’s doing while posing as me. Then I remember, she’s doing whatever I’m doing. ou I’m doing whatever she’s doing. I honestly don’t know.
“Enjoy the flip.”
At first, she would only appear for a divisé, split second. I would see her turn a corner in the hallways of my house and quickly run to see if anyone was there, only to find nothing. I would catch a glimpse of her in a crowded place, standing still and looking at me. I would see her in my dreams, and whenever she turned up in them, they quickly turned to nightmares. No one else ever seemed to notice her, but I always did. I never a dit anything about it, and after a while I completely ignored her appearances.
I remember one night staring into the mirror. Staring straight into the eyes of my reflection, touching the surface and feeling the cold glass beneath my fingers. Dark brown eyes would stare into my soul as I pondered the many thoughts that were swimming around in my head. I would always have crazy things going through my mind. This particular occasion was what mirrors really were. They’d always intrigued me; how toi could look at it from an extreme angle yet still see the reflection of what was past it. I would think about things that I’d heard in films and stories about mirrors being portals to different worlds. And I just though to myself, what if they were? What if they were just doors? Doors to another universe that perfectly mirrored this one. Whenever toi tried to go through the door, the toi from the other universe would also try, and toi would stop each other. I began to think about the myth about bad luck from breaking mirrors. What if the bad luck was because toi opened the door? What if things from that universe escaped into ours through them?
I pondered these thoughts for what felt like hours. I was only interrupted par what I thought I saw behind me, a faint movement. When I turned around, there was nothing there. It was probably just my imagination.
It was after that night that I began to see her. The girl who I was convinced was just a hallucination. I remembered all those crazy thoughts and theories that always ran through my head and just assumed I was going insane. So I ignored her.
She didn’t like being ignored.
Whenever she showed up, I would see her longer. Over time it grew longer, and longer. Her form would linger. Most of the time, I would see her in a corner, staring at me. I tried to talk to her a few times. Each time, she just smirked, shook her head, and disappeared. I was genuinely worried now. But I lacked common sense at the time, and I continued to ignore it.
The nightmares got worse. They were always the calm type of nightmares. The nightmares that gave toi that unsettling feeling. The ones where toi know something’s wrong. And the source of that feeling would be right in front of you, but toi would never notice it. She would always be there. Watching me, somehow. Sometimes the dreams would start out normal, with her and I talking to each other, at a café ou maybe at a park. They would then grow uncomfortable and then she would say ou do something terrifying, which is when I would wake up. But other times, they were horrible from start to finish. They were sometimes gruesome, but not always. I would look in a mirror and see my corpse, rotten and having a horrified expression. ou maybe blood would stain the walls and I would see myself lying on the ground, dead, and I would soon find that I was the girl who was haunting me. But the worst dreams were when I would look at myself in the mirror. I would have no reflection. And when I realized my lack of reflection, everything would start to grow colorless and I’d find myself facing the girl instead of the mirror. She would have this smile on her face. This innocent grin that would make it seem like everything was perfect in the world. Then, in a divisé, split second, her face would become distorted and she would lunge at me. That was when I would awake, bolting upright in bead and covered with sweat.
The worst part is that sometimes, she was there when I woke up.
She started talking to me. I would try my best to not pay attention. I would tell myself to keep on ignoring, that she wasn’t real. She would walk in circles around me and speak slowly. She would tell me to stop pretending she wasn’t there. She would drop vague hints but I would never pay attention. I regret that. I should’ve listened.
She was I. She was very much I. She looked exactly like me in every way. If I pulled my hair up, she would pull hers up, too. Each time I saw her, she was a copy of me. The only difference was that her image was flipped. Flipped like looking in a mirror.
I would never see her and my reflection at the same time. No, that’s not right. Whenever I could see my reflection, she wouldn’t appear. But the thing that was unsettling was that when I looked at my reflection too long, it would change. My reflection would do something that I didn’t. It was always small, but it always terrified me.
I remember the first time I looked in the mirror when she was with me.
My reflection wasn’t there. Neither was hers. We both lacked an image in the shiny surface. I panicked and it took me about thirty secondes to realize what was going on. She was my reflection. She was the embodiment of it, and somehow, she had broken the barrier.
I remember the last words she spoke to me before I woke up in this world.
“This is your fault.”
I remember waking up, but everything was flipped. Everything. Words, letters, numbers, objects, everything. I looked in the mirror and I saw that everything on the other side was back to normal. I also saw my reflection. Only she was smirking at me and I knew I had a horrified expression that came with the realization.
“Your theories were correct.”
Mirrors were definitely doors to other worlds. plus specifically, one world. A world just like ours, only flipped. A mirror image.
“Your thinking allowed me to escape.”
We had traded places. She is now in your world, the one I belong to. And I am in hers. I hate to imagine what she’s doing while posing as me. Then I remember, she’s doing whatever I’m doing. ou I’m doing whatever she’s doing. I honestly don’t know.
“Enjoy the flip.”
Once i was having a jour dream about this story. And it brang me to this. A story about AshleyxDamon.
Chapter 1: Sunset
Sitting in an oak tree,a young 13 an old was écriture a letter to her father in Tokyo. He was doing research. Then her twin Austin came. "What are toi doing here?," she asked. "I l’amour the sunset", Austin said. "That's why i'm here," Ashley said. They watched the beautiful sunset and went in they're vintage home. "Ashley who is the letter for,"Austin asked. " Dad," she answered. "Dinner toi guys," there mother said. And they went inside.
Credit to breebree446
Kalie's P.O.V
we saw the zombies coming our direction.we got our arrows ready. we were slowly walkinng when Anny falls on a coprse. we saw it was the scientist,. she screams in a high pitched. i wuickly cover her mouth. one zombie came par the pale grey skin. peeled bloody patches. white grey eyes. the rotten meat odor. i shoot it wtih the bullet. the blood flying. we went runnig. so we were the only ones alive. thats why the testers wanted us. they thought we were effected. well we are clean. for now. we kept running the growling of zombies behind us. i trun and see one of them grab anny's neck. i shoot them and they fall guts going. i grab her and check her. luckily she was alright. i sigh in relief and carry her over my shoulder. we were runnig when their was a cliff. now what?
we saw the zombies coming our direction.we got our arrows ready. we were slowly walkinng when Anny falls on a coprse. we saw it was the scientist,. she screams in a high pitched. i wuickly cover her mouth. one zombie came par the pale grey skin. peeled bloody patches. white grey eyes. the rotten meat odor. i shoot it wtih the bullet. the blood flying. we went runnig. so we were the only ones alive. thats why the testers wanted us. they thought we were effected. well we are clean. for now. we kept running the growling of zombies behind us. i trun and see one of them grab anny's neck. i shoot them and they fall guts going. i grab her and check her. luckily she was alright. i sigh in relief and carry her over my shoulder. we were runnig when their was a cliff. now what?
this is a fan fiction of the novel, Darker Still, par Leanna Renee Hieber.
___________________________________________
Disclaimer: Ms. Hieber own the rights to the book Darker Still.
___________________________________________
Summary: In New York, 1880, Natalie Stewart fell in l’amour with Lord Denbury, known as Johnathon Whitby to family and close friends, who was trapped in a painting; and under a curse. With the help of family friend, Evelyn Northe, she is able to free him, and they leave the state.
But history repeats itself.
Now, in present jour New York, 13 an old Katia Whitby (Natalie's Greatx6 granddaughter)has become entranced par a painting which seems oddly alive. Katia is also mute, like Natalie was. She seems to some of the same abilities that her great-great-great-great-great-great grandmother did. Because her father works for the local museum of art, she's able to see the incredible painting with which she's obsessed plus often. But is that really best?
___________________________________________
Disclaimer: Ms. Hieber own the rights to the book Darker Still.
___________________________________________
Summary: In New York, 1880, Natalie Stewart fell in l’amour with Lord Denbury, known as Johnathon Whitby to family and close friends, who was trapped in a painting; and under a curse. With the help of family friend, Evelyn Northe, she is able to free him, and they leave the state.
But history repeats itself.
Now, in present jour New York, 13 an old Katia Whitby (Natalie's Greatx6 granddaughter)has become entranced par a painting which seems oddly alive. Katia is also mute, like Natalie was. She seems to some of the same abilities that her great-great-great-great-great-great grandmother did. Because her father works for the local museum of art, she's able to see the incredible painting with which she's obsessed plus often. But is that really best?
How I long to be back in my sweet haven,
Covered in blankets,
Replenished with water and the works,
Right now.
But.
I am not always so lucky to have one
For I am not your regular kid
Who always is lucky to have everything
For...
I am not a kid
I am not a person with a home
I am...
An infamous vagabond
Known for many cases of murder
And everything that I consider to be
My hobby.
I l’amour being a bad vagabond.
Being bad's how I live.
So live with it.
ou get killed.
This.
Very.
Instant.
Covered in blankets,
Replenished with water and the works,
Right now.
But.
I am not always so lucky to have one
For I am not your regular kid
Who always is lucky to have everything
For...
I am not a kid
I am not a person with a home
I am...
An infamous vagabond
Known for many cases of murder
And everything that I consider to be
My hobby.
I l’amour being a bad vagabond.
Being bad's how I live.
So live with it.
ou get killed.
This.
Very.
Instant.
Fire.
It is destruction.
But yet,
it shines beauty, and;
it is the gift of rebirth,
new beginnings,
the strength that boils within your soul,
bumbling deep inside
beneath the surface
waiting for toi to
spread your wings like a phoenix,
showering toi with the fire
waiting to burst to the surface and shine.
Fire,
its energy,
raw and primal energy
one so old,
the flames cry a thousand tears,
of souls Lost within its flames,
their souls,
live within the fire's kiss
eternally,
becoming one with the fire,
and be reborn,
forever and eternal
as a phoenix...
the soul immortal
as is the fire,
wild, passionate, primodial
can it be tamed?
No. can l’amour be tamed? No
l’amour is like the fires....untamed, unstoppable...
it consumes,
like a fire's kiss.
Do toi dare to play a fire's game??
It is destruction.
But yet,
it shines beauty, and;
it is the gift of rebirth,
new beginnings,
the strength that boils within your soul,
bumbling deep inside
beneath the surface
waiting for toi to
spread your wings like a phoenix,
showering toi with the fire
waiting to burst to the surface and shine.
Fire,
its energy,
raw and primal energy
one so old,
the flames cry a thousand tears,
of souls Lost within its flames,
their souls,
live within the fire's kiss
eternally,
becoming one with the fire,
and be reborn,
forever and eternal
as a phoenix...
the soul immortal
as is the fire,
wild, passionate, primodial
can it be tamed?
No. can l’amour be tamed? No
l’amour is like the fires....untamed, unstoppable...
it consumes,
like a fire's kiss.
Do toi dare to play a fire's game??