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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2043220
Rated: 18+ · Non-fiction · Supernatural · #2043220
A true story of a mirror I owned that someone/thing was very "attached"to.
It was a cool fall day when the mirror came into my life. I say this, rather than "when I found the mirror," because quite honestly, it found me.

My friend and I were walking around a local thrift store, looking for dishes and houseware items for the home I had recently moved into. We had walked around both sides of the shelves, and I hadn't even noticed the mirror, laying flat on the bottom shelf opposite us.

As if drawn to it, I walked around to the other side and stopped right in front of the spot where it lay.

"Wow, look at this," I said lifting up one end of the huge antique wooden-framed mirror. "This would look amazing in the hallway!"

My new home was an older one, a "mill-house," they called them. Built as affordable housing for the workers of the nearby textile mill. It was a large white house with green shutters. It had a carport, which I loved.

This particular house seemed to have had an addition built on, as the hallway wall still had the old clapboard siding upon it. The aged mirror would be a perfect compliment with this old-fashioned setting.

As I paid what I believed to be an incredibly low price of just twenty-five dollars to the clerk, I was thrilled with my fabulous new find.

When we got it home, my friend helped me hang it in the center of the hallway. Thank goodness for his help, because this thing was heavy. As I stood admiring it, I realized that this mirror was most likely handmade.

The center of the frame contained the glass itself, while large panels on either end displayed primitive paintings of pine trees in muted shades of brown and green. It was solid oak, lovely in an old-timey way, and large enough to not look awkward in the long hallway. I smiled to myself, pleased with my purchase.

Now we had lived in this house for months, my teenaged sons and I, and nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened. Unless you count the chaos of living with sixteen and seventeen year old boys, that is.

I had this habit of listening to music and dancing while cooking meals. My sons would never miss an opportunity to laugh at me; well, it was pretty laughable.

One evening I was alone in the kitchen, which is right off the hallway. I was doing my thing, cooking and dancing, when suddenly from my peripheral view, I saw the shape of a tall, thin man standing in the hall, just outside the kitchen door, watching me.

I turned around, laughing, thinking I had caught one of my sons goofing off watching me, but there was nobody there.

I went into the livingroom, where my oldest son Brandon was sitting in front of the computer, watching a video.

"Hey, were you just in the hall?" I asked. Brandon looked at me, puzzled, and told me no, he had been sitting there the whole time.

I knocked on my son Jeremy's door before sticking my head in. He was listening to music on his MP3 player, headphones on. I asked him the same and got the same answer.

Maybe I'm just goin' nuts, I thought, shaking my head.

This happened on a pretty regular basis, and I had stopped asking the boys if it was them. For one, they wouldn't be able to keep a straight face this long, the goofs, so much like their mom. The other reason was because by now I had seen "him" enough to know that he wasn't tangible. He was dark grey, with no discernible physical features except for being tall and thin. He never did anything, he just looked.

I wasn't afraid of him, even when I went to the fridge in the middle of the night and caught him watching me. Just from the corner of my eye, mind you. Then there were the few times when, sitting on the sofa watching T.V., I felt someone looking at me from the doorway - at the end of the hall.

My sons never saw him, well at least not that they told me, and I only saw him in the hall, the place in which hang my old, lovely mirror. The irony was not lost on me.

A couple of years later, after losing my job and having to take a lower-paying one, we found a trailer that was more affordable.

As we were moving things out of the house, Brandon asked, "What about the mirror?"

"Well, I think its too perfect for that hallway to take it away. Besides, the new walls couldn't hold it!" I laughed.

Soon after we moved into our new home, I was sitting at the kitchen table writing on my laptop, when the room suddenly got darker. It was still daylight out, so at first I thought the sun just went behind a cloud - until I turned to look at the lightswitch, which was right behind me at the end of the hall. It was swiched to "off." I always had the light on when I was writing, because the fixture was right over the table where I sat.

I told my sons, who scoffed at me. The next thing that happened was unexplainable, even by my skeptics.

One day I was baby-sitting my great-nephew, Zayne. He was two at the time. We were sitting on the sofa, and Zayne was trying to put on his socks.

Suddenly Zayne shrieked, " No! I can do it!"" and was holding his socks back toward the back of the sofa.

I wasn't trying to help him, and he wasn't looking at me, but rather in front of him.

I said, "Its okay baby. Nobody is trying to help you."

At that moment, Zayne leaned forward looking past me, and stared at the hall.

One day I came home on my lunch break to pick Brandon up for his shift at our workplace. In the hallway, the dryer was running as I sat down at the table. I was on the phone with my sister when the dryer door suddenly opened and slammed shut. I didn't see this happen, so I figured it was Brandon getting his clothes. That is until he walks out of the livingroom.

"What the hell? Did that dryer just open and close?"

I sit there, mouth open, not undertanding what was going on. "I gotta go," I told my sister. "I'll tell you later."

"Its him," I told Brandon. "He came with us."

"Yeah right," Brandon said, "You're imagining things again."

"Did I imagine the dryer open and close? A door that opens downward, may I remind you. And you heard it too. He's here, and I'm okay with that."

I dont know why he felt confined to another hallway - one where "his" mirror did not hang, but thats the only place where anything happened, which is why I feel that it was him. I don't know if he was just happy to be accepted, but he never played pranks again. I also don't understand why he was attached to the mirror, or what made him leave it to stay with us. All I know is he must have been a gentle soul in life, just as he was in death.

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