Rohan recently moved into a cheap, old apartment in the outskirts of the city. The only strange thing in the house was a massive, antique mirror in the hallway. It was beautiful, but the glass always felt unnaturally cold.
One night, while brushing his teeth, Rohan looked into the hallway mirror. He saw his reflection, but something was wrong. In the reflection, the door behind him was slightly open. But when he turned around, the door was tightly shut.
He rubbed his eyes. "Just tiredness," he whispered.
But the next night, it got worse. As he walked past the mirror at 3:00 AM, he saw himself in the glass. But his reflection wasn't moving. The 'Rohan' in the mirror was just standing there, staring at the real Rohan with a twisted, wide smile.
Terrified, Rohan tried to cover the mirror with a cloth. But as he reached out, a cold, pale hand reached out from inside the glass and grabbed his wrist. The grip was like ice.
"Let me out," a raspy voice whispered from the mirror. "It’s been so cold in here since the last tenant left."
Rohan screamed and pulled away, falling to the floor. He looked at his wrist—there were black, bruised finger marks. He looked at the mirror. The cloth he tried to put up was now inside the mirror, lying on the floor of the reflected hallway.
He realized the terrifying truth: The mirror wasn't reflecting his world anymore. It was a doorway. And the thing inside was slowly pulling his reality into the glass.
The next morning, the landlord came to check on the apartment. He found the door unlocked. The apartment was empty. No sign of Rohan.
The landlord sighed and looked at the antique mirror. He saw a young man inside the glass, banging on the surface, screaming silently. The landlord didn't look surprised. He simply took a cloth and wiped a smudge off the glass.
"New tenant is coming tomorrow, Rohan," the landlord whispered to the mirror. "Try to be quiet this time."