Reflection

I saw the thing looking back at me from the mirror again today. I cannot explain what it is, and to anybody else it would look like a normal reflection. It looks just like me and acts exactly like a reflection should, but I know it is just trying to trick me. When I wave my arm, it waves. When I move, it copies me, it has my face and my eyes, but it is not my reflection, it is something else and I think it knows I know. Sometimes I can see a look in its eyes when I wake up in the morning. I look up with groggy eyes to see it staring back at me, staring at me with a look of somebody with a secret. It got to the point where I was even afraid to go near the mirror fearing that I might get too close, and be pulled right into that strange place reflections are born, and come face-to-face with the creature that wears my appearance as a disguise. The first time I noticed something was wrong was only a couple of days ago, but since then things have gotten progressively worse.

Like every other Monday, the grooving sound of the oldies woke me up at seven in the morning, about three hours or so earlier than when I would have liked to be woken up. I slowly and angrily smashed my fist down on the alarm until it shut off, and shuffled my way into the bathroom. If I had been awake I might have noticed the difference right away, but instead of looking anywhere else, all my attention was focused on making a beeline to the shower. Knowing I had to be at work at eight, I quickly rinsed off then hopped back out, a little more alive and alert than when I started. Still moving quickly to make up time, I Started up the easy auto-routine I had for shaving. I lathered up, started running the water and prepared to get down to business. Just as I was finishing up, I noticed it. I was looking into the mirror, all closed eyed and half-asleep, and my reflection was looking right back at me, eyes wide open and grinning.

Now I know that it is almost impossible to have a grin on my face that wide, on a Monday morning. This was not a normal grin either. It wasn’t the “I’m happy,” or the, “I just heard something funny,” kind of grin. This was the kind of grin you see on someone’s face right before they pull your chair out from under you, or make you sit on a whoopee cushion. It was the grin of someone who was about to pull the mother of all pranks, and only he is in on the joke. A grin that says, “It’s ok that you know, because there is no way you can stop it.” The look my reflection gave me unnerved me so badly that I left the bathroom without finishing shaving, and hurried out of the house with shaving cream splotches still coating my wet face.

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The Evil at the Psychiatric Facility

I should mention that like my mother I am a ‘sensitive’ when it comes to paranormal things and spirits. I battle depression and it’s been really difficult at times dealing with it. This happened when I was only fourteen years old.

One day I couldn’t take it anymore and tried to kill myself by overdosing on one of my medications. My mom had me admitted to a psychiatric facility in my city for a month. The worst paranormal experiences I have ever had, came from that place. The building was old, very old and had changed hands many times. Before it was a Psychiatric facility it was an institution for the mentally insane from 1930 to 1984 when it was shut down due to health hazards (asbestos mostly). Remember this as it is important later on in the story.

The air in the building when I entered was heavy and oppressive, the walls practically oozed negative energy. I was led to a room which I was sharing with a girl a couple years younger than me. Let’s call her Shelly. Shelly was quiet and rarely said anything to anyone, she would just stare blankly at something while rocking back and forth. From her symptoms I figured she had a form of severe autism, the nonverbal kind. She was a little sweetheart though and made my stay there less awful.

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