The Curse of Dark

The air behind her seemed like it was moving in the glass. The hallway seemed longer in the mirror than it really was. At the conclusion, a dim figure appeared that was too far away to see clearly. It moved forward one step. The floor creaked beneath her real feet in response. This time, she didn't look away. She looked at the mirror. The shadow proceeded forward slowly, with each step timed to the sound of boards creaking in the actual hallway. She forced herself to keep motionless, even though her heart was pounding. The figure got closer till it was right behind her. It was really tall, and its edges were fuzzy, as if they weren't finished.

"Who are you? She muttered. Her lips did not separate, but the reflection's did. With more urgency, the same quiet word formed once again. Recall. The house's lights flickered. For a brief while, she felt a wave of unfamiliar memories wash over her as the shadow pushed forward. A guy paced the corridor with restless devotion, calling to the walls as if they might respond; long evenings spent writing by candlelight; an awful fear of loneliness that hung like smoke were among the bits she saw that were not her own.

Every breath and every step had been absorbed by the echoing, empty home until it had lost the ability to function without them. Mara lost the connection as she stumbled back. The distorted calm of the mirror returned. Shaking, she fell upon the stairway. In contrast to what legends said, the presence in the home was not a wandering ghost. It was a mark, an awareness borne of loneliness and repetition. It was alluded to in the journals. It had been nourished by her ancestor's care, dread, and intense desire to avoid loneliness. It had her now. The footsteps were louder that night.