It was the first time I left my hometown, to come to KL for work. Everything felt too fast. Too loud. Too tall. The city lights didn’t blink—they stared. I found a small room to rent in an old apartment block just outside the city center. Cheap, slightly run-down, but close to the train station. Perfect for someone new like me.
The landlord, a quiet woman in her sixties, only said one strange thing as she handed me the keys:
"Don’t use the mirror in the hallway after midnight."
I laughed. Maybe it was some local superstition. I didn’t think much of it.
The first two nights went fine. But on the third night, something changed.
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My phone rang at exactly 12:03 AM. No caller ID. Just... breathing.
"Hello?" I said. Nothing. Only silence. Then a faint, broken voice. I leaned in, trying to make it out.
"OOOUUUUTTTTTTTTTT."
I dropped the phone. My heart thundered. My eyes were pulled toward the hallway—the one with the mirror. The lights were off, but the mirror was glowing. Not a reflection. It was like it was lit from the inside.
I should’ve stayed in bed. But something pulled me closer. Not physically—mentally. Like a whisper not my own said, "Just look once."
So I did.
I saw my reflection. But it didn’t blink. It was smiling. I wasn’t.
I froze. My breath became heavy, tears welling in my eyes. My whole body shook. And then it moved.
Her hand rose and pointed at me. Still smiling.
Suddenly, behind her, a tall black figure emerged—pitch black, with no face. It began moving forward, and at the same time, I felt a cold breeze from behind me. I realized, with a sick drop in my stomach, that something was really there.
I glanced down. A shadow was growing at my feet. It was coming closer.
I wanted to run. But it felt like the floor was gripping me. The mirror—the girl was gone. But the smile was still there.
Then I heard it. A voice, not out loud, but inside my head:
"You saw us. Now we see you."
The mirror cracked. Once. Twice. Then shattered.
And behind me—a finger tapped my shoulder.
"ARRHHHHHHHHH!"
I screamed, eyes shut tight, tears flowing. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe.
"Hey, hey! Calm down!" a voice called.
It was the landlord. She knelt beside me, brushing hair from my face, her hands warm and grounding.
"Are you okay?" she asked, gently.
I couldn’t form words. Just tears. Just shaking.
She helped me to my bed and gave me a glass of water. I could barely hold it. My body was trembling.
Then, she looked at the broken mirror.
She didn’t seem surprised. Just sad.
"You looked into the mirror after midnight… didn’t you?"
I nodded.
She sighed, walked to a drawer, and pulled out an old cloth.
"That mirror wasn’t supposed to be here. It belonged to my sister. She… never came back out of it."
As she covered it, I glanced one last time.
The mirror was cracked. Empty.
Except for the smile.
Still watching.
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The next morning, I woke up with my bedsheet clenched in my fists, breath still uneasy. Sunlight poured lazily through the dusty curtains — and the mirror was not there. The landlord must have removed it.
For a moment, I just stood frozen, staring at the empty hallway. My mind raced through the flashbacks of last night.
The shadow.
The reflection.
The smile.
Everything felt like a dream — but far too real. A chill ran down my spine as I stepped backward. "Ouch." A small piece of the broken mirror was lodged in my foot.
That’s when I knew.
It really happened.
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That night.
I limped to the kitchen, needing water, needing something—anything—normal. I filled the kettle and placed it on the stove, my hands trembling. As the flame clicked on, the quiet hum of the burner gave me the illusion of calm. But something wasn’t right.
The kettle started whistling — not softly, but sharply, violently, like a scream. Steam poured out in all directions, and the shrill sound grew louder, almost unbearable. My ears rang as the kitchen lights flickered.
Then, I froze. In the clouded sheen of the kettle, I saw something — a flicker of movement. A reflection. A faint curve of lips. A smile. Not mine.
I stumbled back in shock, knocking over a cup. My hand clutched the counter for balance as the whistle kept screaming.
Then it stopped.
The silence was worse.
I backed away, heart racing, and suddenly I heard it — footsteps. Faint… slow… dragging.
I ran to my room and hid under the blanket, wishing this nightmare would fade. But then I heard it —
footsteps. Faint… slow… dragging. My breath hitched. I shut my eyes, trembling, tears rolling silently.
"I... know you... are... there..."
A deep, whispering voice seeped through the silence.
"OUUUUTTTTT!!!"
I bolted from the bed and ran to the stairs, hoping to reach the landlord downstairs. But the hallway stretched endlessly, the staircase pulling farther away with every step.
Suddenly, something yanked me backward by the neck. I screamed. My hand flew up to my throat.
"AAARRHHHHH!!"
A piercing, inhuman cry filled the air as her fingers touched the bracelet amulet on my wrist — the one my mother gave me. The pain made me collapse, but the creature’s scream continued as the world twisted and then returned to normal. She vanished into thin air.
I lay there, shaking. Then, without thinking, I ran to the landlord’s door and knocked desperately.
She opened it instantly. Her eyes dropped to the amulet.
“She’s seen it now,” she whispered. “She’ll come again.”