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Famous Last Words

If you look in the mirror and don't like what you see

The night I had jumped, fully clothed, into the pool whilst sleepwalking we talked long into the early hours trying desperately to reach some sort of agreement on what had happened and how. Bob’s revelation that he had experienced what can only be described as Poltergeist activity had surprised the others, but I saw it only as confirmation of what I already knew. You might think that I would be happy about that and, yes, to an extent, perhaps I was. At least I wasn’t going crazy, but it didn’t mean that I couldn’t be driven crazy by whatever was tormenting me.

None of us got much sleep for the next few days and it wasn’t just us that suffered. Musically we were spiralling down and finding it hard to even play our instruments, never mind construct new ideas. Things felt hopeless and the situation grew dire. I even began to look forward to the evenings so that I could try to sleep through our problems. But I knew that they would catch up with us. And it would happen sooner than I thought.


I should have been in a deep sleep. You know what I mean. The kind where even a nearby explosion wouldn’t cause any more disturbance than to make you roll over. Generally, there’s very little that can rouse me from the comfort of a soft bed and a good dream but I’ve been having too few of those lately. Gerard and I are both world-class at sleeping. If it were an Olympic sport, we’d take gold and silver. If I’m honest, he’d take the gold, but it would be a close run thing. Don’t forget though, he’s older, so he’s had more practice than me.

Here? In this house, it was a very different story. Apart from the night of pool incident, I had slept very lightly, waking at the slightest noise. That night… I was going to say that that night was no different, but it was. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I woke up, but it was what happened next. To give you some perspective, I should explain what usually happens.

When I wake, normally apart from a general sense of discomfort, I feel like I’m surrounded by a suffocating darkness. As if it’s pressing in on me until I can’t move. Some nights, I actually can’t and I’m forced to lie there, helpless and terrified until the sensation leaves me. Sometimes I see shadows move or hear whispers that I can’t quite make out. I can’t close my eyes for fear that something will appear in the room and I won’t know. Why would I want to know? If something suddenly arrived, I’d be screaming for help at the top of my lungs! Oh yes, if something approaches, I want to know about it all right! Or… I’ll just tell you what happened.

I woke quite suddenly, in a cold sweat with my heart racing. I lay still, my head swimming as my pulse went into overdrive. I couldn’t say for certain what actually woke me this time, but I was praying it had just been a bad dream or perhaps it was possible that I’d heard one of the guys walking past my room. Listening intently, I lay so still for a few moments that I actually forgot to breathe, adding to my already overwhelmingly disorientated senses. When I finally realised, I almost gasped as I sucked in the much-needed air. The room wasn’t just quiet; it was deathly silent, almost as if it had been soundproofed against all external noise. Even the air seemed thick and cloying, becoming a real effort to breathe. Edging myself into a sitting position still within the bed, I wondered if I should pull back the covers in case I needed to run. I told myself that the idea was foolish and cowardly - I can be really stupid sometimes.

And then I noticed what I really should have spotted immediately – the light. Not the bizarre overly bright glowing blue bulb the room had been fitted with, but a small pinprick of white light in the mirror. The heavy dark blue damask drapes where, as always, drawn fully closed. Not the tiniest spec of light could break through the flecked silk, lined with a stiff, high-quality cotton. The bedroom door was closed with no light coming from the corridor beyond, and yet there was the light. At first, it was difficult to make out much detail in the mirror, such was the darkness of the room. But slowly, my eyes grew accustomed to what little light was available and I realised, somewhat nervously, that from the perspective in the mirror that the distant light was way beyond being a reflection of anything in the room.

I was transfixed, deeply unnerved, but unable to look away. Had I been paying attention at the time, I would have noticed that my breathing was becoming shallow and rapid as I stared unblinking into the mirror. I drew my knees up to my chin as the light slowly seemed to move toward the glass of the mirror. Growing in size and brightness, it moved closer. As it approached, at it’s centre sat a dark shape that I couldn’t make out. If I wasn’t certain before, I knew now that this was no reflection. Part of me wanted to run, but I didn’t know what I was running from. How could I face Gerard if all I could say was, I saw a scary light?

But it was scary. I couldn’t pretend that this… whatever it was wasn’t chilling me to the bone. The very fact that it was unknown, that it was something I couldn’t begin to explain was bad enough. As I continued to watch, barely allowing myself to even blink, the light began to fade and I started to feel a sense of relief washing over me but it was desperately short lived. The brownish shape that I had seen surrounded by the light, rushed towards the glass with frightening speed, causing me to push myself backwards as I was caught off guard. The smallest, strangled cry left my lips as I hit my head on the wall behind me. My eyes widened as I stared in utter disbelief at what I now realised was a face staring back at me from the centre of the mirror. It was round, dark, and pock-marked as though ravaged by years of untreated disease. Its small unnaturally wide, yet piercing eyes looked directly at me and yet seemed focussed somewhere inside or even behind my head. The straggly, dirty brown hair, hung limp and greasy down its disfigured cheeks. Worst of all, it was just that – a head. Attached to nothing, yet alive, staring intently it held me in its gaze and I was too weak with terror to move.

My breathing, now in short, sharp, infrequent panicked gasps prevented me from crying out as the disembodied head began to laugh at me. Its deep throaty chuckles seemed demonic, the very essence of evil. All I could do was stare as its cold, hollow eyes bore into me as the laughter filled the room, assaulting my ears with its harsh, malevolent and condescending cackle.

I wanted to run, to push myself from the bed and bolt for the door but my legs refused to cooperate. The more I stared, the less likely it seemed I could break free of its hold over me.


I almost passed out and, if I’m honest, I wished I had, as it hissed my name threateningly. I clawed at the bedding trying to release myself and run for the door, but it was almost as if it was wrapped around me preventing my escape.

“Mikey!” it hissed again, the voice echoing around the room.

By now tears were streaming unhindered down my cheeks and, in response, the volume of the laughter doubled until I was forced to cover my ears.

“Listen to her,” the voice grew intense and almost screeched, “and the same fate awaits you!”

The harsh peels of laughter became so loud they hurt my ears and I grimaced with pain, even with my hands still firmly clamped over the sides of my head.

In a repeat of the speed with which it finally approached the mirror’s glass, the head rushed forward again. This time out of the mirror and towards me. Closing my terrified eyes and huddling protectively, I finally found my voice and I screamed – long, loud and piercing.

Crying profusely, it seemed like an age before I realised that the vision of the disembodied head had left the room, releasing the atmosphere from its unnatural thickness. The next sound I heard besides my own wrenching sobs was the hammering at my door and the shouts beyond. I recognised Gerard’s voice straight away; he sounded concerned and desperate. Right now, I needed him like I never had, but couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t simply come inside.

“Mikey! Open the door!” he yelled as he continued to hammer on it.

Almost immediately, I heard other voices. Definitely Frank, yeah, and… and Bob then finally Ray; all of them calling to me. Next, I heard Gerard slamming his shoulder against the door and I realised that they couldn’t get in, but my mind was too confused and upset to work out why. Finally I looked over.

“No,” I moaned miserably.

Standing beside the door, one hand holding it firmly, yet effortlessly, closed was the figure of a woman dressed in a smart white shift dress with a silver headband and beads. She was beautiful, in an unconventional way. The beauty you only find from the wealth of sheer confidence that dripped with practised ease from the person in question. Round, expressive eyes roamed over every inch of me until she appeared satisfied by her inspection. All I could manage to do was look down and try to avoid her penetrating gaze. Without even a moment’s glance, I knew she was still staring at me, her eyes boring into me until I was compelled to look up. I tensed, waiting for an attack of some sort, but there she was, just smiling, but it was a forced smile. I could see it was a real effort for her. As she became clearer to me, the sound of Gerard’s frantic cries seemed to almost fade into the distance and I was held transfixed and fascinated.

“It’s you,” I finally managed to whisper. At first, I didn’t even realise that they were my words.

Turning her head, she quickly glanced at the door, which immediately burst open. In that split second, she was gone and with it, my resolve. As Gerard ran in and scooped me into his arms protectively, I realised that I hadn’t stopped crying. Leaning into my brother’s comforting embrace, I sobbed uncontrollably, unable to stop even to explain the shock and trauma I had suffered.

“Sshh, it’s okay. I’m here for you, Mikey. We all are. It’ll be okay, I promise,” he whispered as he rocked me gently.

As he said the words I wondered if even he believed them.


Okay, so, just add an extra note of terror - this actually happened to me when I was eight. The only difference is that there were no threats and the figure by the door was in fact my deceased granddad. But the appearance of the face and the whole coming out of the mirror thing was exactly as I described and it was a horrible and terrifying laugh.
To this day I find it really hard to sleep in a room where I can see a mirror!
Hope you're enjoying it :) Sas xo


@That one friend
Lol! I’m flattered and happy that you enjoyed it. Was fun to write :) even the mirror thing, which is still a problem for me even now (many years later). Still can’t stand seeing a mirror at night. But, useful to use though :D

Thanks for commenting! I really appreciate it and I hope you get some good sleep now!

Sas xx

SaskiaK SaskiaK

1:00 am. Thanks a lot. But seriously though really good and I'm sorry for what happened when you were eight.

That one friend That one friend

AAAHHHHH so good!

@merry christmas kiss my ass
Thank you so much! I’d actually forgotten about this story - oops! (I’ve been working on my others) I’m glad you’re enjoying it. As a thank you for commenting, here’s 2 chapters :) Hope you enjoy them.

Sas xx

SaskiaK SaskiaK

this is such a great støry and you're such a great wri†er!