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Undergraduate @ Redeemers university
My Mirror Keeps Showing an Old Woman Standing Behind Me (Episode 1)
<p>Episode 1</p><p><br/></p><p>I’ve lived alone for two years.</p><p>No roommates.</p><p>No family nearby.</p><p>No visitors.</p><p><br/></p><p>So the first time I saw an old woman standing behind me in the mirror, I honestly thought my eyes were playing tricks on me.</p><p><br/></p><p>It was a normal morning.</p><p>I had just finished brushing my teeth and leaned closer to the bathroom mirror to wipe a small smudge of toothpaste off the glass.</p><p><br/></p><p>That was when I saw it. An old woman. Standing right behind me.</p><p><br/></p><p>Her face was pale, expression blank.</p><p>Her eyes didn’t blink.</p><p>She didn’t move.</p><p>She just stared at me through the mirror calmly… silently… like she had been there the whole time.</p><p><br/></p><p>My heart jolted. I spun around instantly.</p><p><br/></p><p>No one was there.</p><p>Just the soft morning light across the tiles.</p><p><br/></p><p>I exhaled shakily, forcing myself to laugh.</p><p>Maybe I was tired.</p><p>Maybe my vision blurred for a split second.</p><p>Maybe the mirror caught a strange reflection.</p><p><br/></p><p>I convinced myself not to overthink it.</p><p><br/></p><p>Until it happened again.</p><p><br/></p><p>This time on a Tuesday evening, right after work.</p><p>I had just showered and was wiping the steam from the mirror. My hair was still dripping when I leaned in to check a small scratch on my cheek, a scratch I didn’t remember getting.</p><p><br/></p><p>Then I froze.</p><p><br/></p><p>There she was again.</p><p>A second reflection.</p><p><br/></p><p>Not beside me.</p><p>But Behind me.</p><p><br/></p><p>The same old woman.</p><p><br/></p><p>I spun around.</p><p><br/></p><p>Nothing.</p><p>Just silence.</p><p><br/></p><p>I turned back to the mirror. She was gone.</p><p><br/></p><p>Only my reflection remained.</p><p><br/></p><p>My hands clung to the sink. My breathing grew uneven.</p><p>Something wasn’t right.</p><p><br/></p><p>I stepped out of the bathroom slowly.</p><p>That was when I noticed something I couldn’t explain. My bedroom door was open.</p><p><br/></p><p>I always close it before I shower.</p><p><br/></p><p>Always.</p><p><br/></p><p>And on the floor, leading toward the room, was a faint, wet footprint.</p><p><br/></p><p>Not mine.</p><p>This one was small and narrow</p><p><br/></p><p>My throat tightened</p><p><br/></p><p>I stepped back slowly, trying not to make a sound.</p><p><br/></p><p>Then, through the window, I noticed someone standing at my door, just about to knock.</p><p><br/></p><p>It was my fiancée.</p><p><br/></p><p>She hadn’t called.</p><p>She hadn’t texted.</p><p><br/></p><p>And she had never been to my house before.</p><p>Not even once.</p><p><br/></p><p>So how did she know where to find me?</p><p>A cold shiver ran down my back.</p><p><br/></p><p>I quickly wiped the small wet footprint off the floor…</p><p>and pretended everything was fine as I walked toward the door.</p><p><br/></p><p>To be continued</p><p><br/></p><p>Written by Dede of Africa</p>
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