THE MEMORY IN THE MIRROR

CHAPTER 7 - What the Shadows Remember

The mirror stayed quiet for the rest of the day, but the house did not.

The air carried a heaviness that none of them could explain. Cold pockets drifted through rooms that should've been warm. Wooden floors creaked without footsteps. And every so often, a soft hum - almost a child's voice - floated down the hallway only to vanish when someone turned their head.

Emily's parents didn't talk much that day. They moved cautiously, as if the mirror had become a sleeping animal that might wake if disturbed.

Even the family dog, Baxter, refused to walk past the hallway, circling wide and whining if anyone tried to tug him near.

That evening, as the sun dipped behind the trees and the house fell into a dim blue dusk, Emily sat on the couch with a blanket wrapped around her legs. Her parents sat near her, not watching TV, not reading - just sitting, as though waiting for something.

Finally, her father cleared his throat. "Emily," he said softly, "what exactly did you see earlier? With that family?"

Emily swallowed hard and pulled the blanket tighter. "The girl showed me their house. A long time ago. In the winter. It felt warm inside, like they were happy." Emily hesitated, remembering the moment the warmth turned into panic. "Then something happened. They had to run. They were scared."

Her mother rubbed her arms, as though feeling the cold from Emily's memory. "You said something was chasing them."

Emily nodded.

Her father leaned back slowly. "And the symbol-the one on the mirror. The circle, line, circle. You saw it again?"

"It was stitched into their quilt," Emily said. "Her mom made it. It was... important to them."

Her father exchanged a look with her mother. "Maybe it's a family mark. A crest. Or a symbol from their culture."

Or something darker, her mother almost said. But she caught the words and kept them inside.

The house groaned as the wind brushed against the siding.

Emily looked toward the hallway.

"I need to know what happened to them," she whispered. "She's trying to tell me."

Her mother shook her head firmly. "Emily, no. Whatever this is... we need to keep distance from it."

But Emily's father didn't look as convinced. Too much had already happened for him to deny.

"Maybe," he said quietly, "we need to understand what the mirror wants before things get worse."

The lights flickered once in agreement.

Emily's mother hugged herself, her voice trembling. "What if we're inviting something into our home?"

Her father sighed. "I think it's already here."

A silence fell across the room - a heavy, knowing silence.

Then-

Tap.

A sharp, unmistakable tap echoed from the hallway.

Emily felt it in her chest like a heartbeat. Her mother stiffened. Her father stood up slowly.

Tap... tap... tap.

Emily's father whispered, "Stay here."

"No," Emily said quickly, sliding off the couch. "She wants me."

Before her parents could stop her, Emily walked into the hallway.

The mirror stood there, larger than life in the dim light, its frame casting shadows that bent unnaturally along the wall.

Emily approached it slowly, her breath fogging the air in front of her.

"Show me more," she whispered. "Please."

The mirror didn't ripple this time.

It pulled.

The silver frame trembled, the surface shifting like liquid metal. Emily let out a tiny gasp as the world on the other side came into focus.

Not winter this time.

A funeral.

The same family, their faces hollowed by grief. The girl in the blue dress stood beside a wooden casket far too small for a child. Her little brother - the boy with the wooden blocks - lay inside, motionless.

Emily covered her mouth with her hand.

Her father had stepped behind her now, staring silently, unable to move.

The girl's father stood beside the casket, shoulders shaking as he tried to speak to a small gathering of mourners. The mother held the quilt to her chest, clutching the Circle-Line-Circle symbol as though it were the only thing holding her together.

Snow fell softly around them, each flake drifting like a tiny ghost through the cold air. The world looked frozen in sorrow.

Emily whispered, tears in her eyes, "What happened to him?"

As if in answer, the scene changed violently.

The same house.
The same family.
But the father was locking the door, his hands shaking. The mother pulled the girl close. The shadows Emily had seen earlier stretched across the snow, reaching toward the house like searching fingers.

Something was out there.

Something that didn't belong to the living.

Emily felt her father's grip tighten protectively on her shoulders.

"Enough," he said, voice strained. "That's enough."

But the mirror wasn't finished.

The girl in the blue dress stepped to the forefront, her face inches from Emily's, her expression desperate.

She pressed both hands to the glass.

Her lips moved slowly, forming words Emily couldn't hear - only see.

"Help us."

Emily choked back a sob. "I don't know how."

Then the girl formed another silent phrase:

"Find the quilt."

The mirror cracked sharply - not breaking, but sounding as if something inside shifted.

The hallway lights burst bright, then went dark.

For a split second, Emily saw a shape behind the girl.

Tall.
Shadowed.
Not human.

Then the mirror went black, swallowing all images.

Emily stumbled backward into her father's arms as the house plunged into silence.

Her mother whispered shakily from the living room doorway:

"What... did it show you?"

Emily wiped her tears.

"The mirror wants us to find something," she whispered.

Her father leaned down. "What?"

Emily stared at the silent glass.

"It wants us to find the quilt."