Creepypasta Compendium

DEATH'S REFLECTION

They say a mirror has the ability to reflect part of the soul. Some have suggested that's why vampires can't see their reflection; because they have no soul to reflect.

That's what I was thinking about, when two burly looking men hauled my new floor-length mirror into my new bedroom. "New" being a subjective term, since the mirror was actually said to have been made in the late 1800's, and the bedroom was made a little after that, along with the rest of the house of course. The mirror was found in the dusty attic when we moved in. It had an intricate golden frame and slight distortion that only an ancient mirror would have. My mother was quite taken with it, but my parents already had a mirror in their room.

It's just me and my parents now. I use to have a little brother, but he's gone now. We don't talk about him much.

We were originally from Australia, but we moved to England for father's work. More specifically, somewhere in the countryside of Yorkshire Dales. I didn't want to move. I hate change. And something about this house just doesn't feel right to me. My room is also way too large for my liking. It gets too cold at night, and the hardwood floors creek under my feet. But my parents don't seem to care. In fact, they love this place.

"Is this a good place for it?" one of the movers asked, having finally positioned the mirror somewhere in the vast bedchamber, which seems a more fitting term for the place than a bedroom.

"Yes that's fine," I replied without glancing up. I was reading Bram Stoker's Dracula on my antique bed, which is probably why I started thinking about vampires and mirrors.

Later that night, my parents and I had our dinner by candlelight. The electricity wasn't set up yet in the house, since we were located in such a deserted location. My parents didn't seem fazed by this however, they thought it was fun.

"It's like we're camping!" My mother cheered.

"This is how people used to live you know, India, back before electricity was even invented. Tell me who invented electricity," my father challenged. He took responsibility for my education ever since pulling me out of school after my brother's disappearance. He usually looks for any excuse to educate me.

"Thomas Edison, father," I promptly replied.

"Very good, now let's eat."

Later that night, I decided to explore the land a little. There was a small lake right next to our backyard. I sat on the edge of the black water, creating ripples with a stick I had found as I gazed up at the moon. It was full tonight; I could hear wolves in the distant forest, and pretended like they were men whose bodies were being ripped apart as they transformed into malevolent werewolves.

The night air was starting to get a bit chilly. I was about to get up to go back inside when something in the water moved. It's probably a frog or a fish or something I thought. But curiosity got the better of me. I peered inside the water, whose surface brightly reflected the moonlight. At first there was nothing to see.

Then something round and large slowly rose to the surface. I used my stick to poke at it, and it turned over. I shrieked and jolted up away from the lake, running back into the house as fast as my feet could carry me.

"India! What's wrong child? You look as white as a sheet!" Mother exclaimed when I came in through the back door.

"Nothing mother, I'm just tired. I'm going to sleep now," I said expressionless. I needed to be alone.

This was the first night in our new home. It had started pouring rain a few hours ago, and didn't seem like it would relent anytime soon. I could never sleep when it rained.