As the first blog entry got exhausted. My second book |
| Evolution of Love Part 2 |
| Day 5: “I myself am strange and unusual.” — Lydia Deetz, Beetlejuice (1988) When Aarti moved into the century-old flat in Civil Lines, she couldn't ignore the full-length mirror nailed to her bedroom wall. Its frame was blackened by time, and the glass was slightly warped, making her reflection shimmer at the edges. The landlord insisted it couldn't be removed; it was “part of the room.” The first night, while unpacking, Aarti noticed her reflection blink half a second after she did. She dismissed it as tiredness. But the next morning, as she brushed her hair, the phenomenon escalated: her reflection’s lips moved before hers did. It whispered something she couldn't hear, words that momentarily misted the glass. That evening, her elderly neighbor, dropping by with sweets, stared uneasily at the mirror. “You shouldn’t stay in that room at night,” she murmured. “The last tenant tried to cover it… she didn’t wake up the next morning.” Aarti’s stomach turned cold. Out of a mix of fear and disbelief, she draped a bedsheet over the mirror and went to bed. Around midnight, a soft rustling sound began—like fabric dragging across glass. A tiny voice whispered, “Don’t hide me.” The sheet slid to the floor. The reflection was smiling. Except Aarti wasn’t. When Aarti raised her hand to cover her mouth in shock, the figure inside the mirror moved differently—it pressed its palm to the glass. A faint crack spread like a spiderweb. Aarti stumbled backward, but the reflection stepped forward. By sunrise, the room was silent again. The mirror looked freshly polished. Now when the landlord shows the flat to new tenants, they say the young woman’s reflection in the mirror is very lifelike. Too lifelike. |