As the final crimson ember of dawn fades from the sky, the wind gusts transform into mournful howls, rustling the bushes that tightly enclose the road. Threatening, leaden clouds hang overhead, creating encroaching darkness and soon unleashing a thin chill drizzle that stings my face and dampens my spirits. By the time I reach the cemetery gates, the night has fully taken hold, cloaking the surroundings in its inky embrace.
After the gates softly creak open, I slowly navigate through the darkness towards the crypt. An unexpected gust of wind emanates from the forest, swirling around me before abruptly dying away, as if listening to the distant rumbling of thunder that grows continually louder, reverberating through the area.
A jagged bolt of lightning blazes directly overhead, accompanied by an earsplitting clap of thunder that jolts me to my core. The surroundings are illuminated in a fleeting burst before once again plunging into a lilac-gray motionless haze. As though it might be my last chance, I breathe in deeply, relishing the sweet aroma of damp soil and fragrant herbs that permeates the air just before the storm.
With care, I approach the entrance of the crypt. Pushing open the door with my shoulder, I cautiously step inside, being mindful not to spill the water that still remains in the tub. The crypt's interior is murky and I am encircled by a velvety darkness that inspires a primal sense of dread within me.
As the door softly clicks shut behind me, I fumble my way towards the stone table, desperate to place the tub upon it.
Finally freed from carrying the tub, I rummage through my pockets for my phone. With shaking fingers, I hastily activate the flashlight, illuminating the interior of the crypt with a flickering beam of light that provides some measure of relief to my frantically pounding heart. I glance at the time - less than half an hour until midnight remains, and I know that I must prepare for the ceremony without delay.
With practiced movements, I lay out all the necessary items on the dusty floor of the crypt, taking care to arrange them just so. As the final component, I retrieve a nail from my satchel and hammer it deeply into the wall, ensuring it will withstand the weight soon to be hung upon it. Finally satisfied with my work, I delicately secure a mirror to the nail, checking and rechecking its stability.
With great care, I proceed to arrange thirteen black candles around the perimeter of the tub, lighting each one with trembling hands using a lighter. As the flickering flames begin to illuminate the crypt, ominous shadows emerge from the corners, twisting and contorting in a frenzied dance that plays out upon the walls and ceiling.
The gnarled branches of the ancient oak mercilessly thrash and pound against the thin walls of the crypt, their leaves rustling madly in the wind that continues to howl in grieving contrition, lending an atmosphere of mortal terror.
I place the sickle in the location where I have discovered it - namely, in the far corner of the crypt. Glancing at my watch, I can see that only five minutes remain until midnight, and I am eager to begin.
Following the old man's instructions, I retrieve a folded piece of paper from the back pocket of my jeans and begin to recite the spell written there in a language that is both incomprehensible and ancient. My voice falters as I struggle to articulate the words properly. They congeal in my mouth, clinging to my tongue like a viscous glue, making it nearly impossible to utter them aloud. It is as though there is an invisible barrier preventing me from speaking. Yet with gritted teeth and determined will, I press on, silently battling the unseen force that seeks to hinder my progress.
Forcing myself to finish the recitation, I quickly take stock of my surroundings with bated breath, then begin to read for a second time. But in that moment, I am startled by the sound of a slight rustling directly behind me, coupled with a frosty breath on the back of my neck.
Beads of icy sweat cascade down my body, yet I steel my nerves and soldier on, reciting the incantation seven times with all the conviction I can muster, taking heed of the instructions of the old man. In spite of my heart beating uncontrollably, I endeavor to remain focused on the task at hand. Suddenly, the air around me seems to change, as if an unknown entity draws near. A sudden flash of candle light, accompanied by the jarring clatter of metal, breaks my concentration as I feel something menacing hovering close behind me. Trapped in a vice of fright, I desperately glance at my phone, only to be confronted by the macabre sight of midnight on the display screen.
Having fulfilled all required steps and quaking like an autumn leaf in the throes of a tempest, I stare intently at the mirror before me, listening to the frantic thumping of my heart. Its steady rhythm echoes like the beating of a drum, pulsing through every fiber of my being.
The lustrous, ebony surface of the mirror captures the faint glow of the candle flames, while the rippling pattern of the water in the tub lends a subtle shimmer to the reflective surface. My gaze remains steadfast, unblinking, waiting for something sinister to emerge from within. Despite my apprehension, I continue to stare fearfully into the mirror, but there is no movement or activity to break the sinister stillness. Instead, an acrid and unexplainable smell of burning permeates the air, emanating from an unknown source beneath me.
Grave silence.
My senses are muffled, and I strain to hear any sound amidst the deafening hush.
It feels as though my ears have been plugged with cotton wool. No sound reaches me, not even the howling of the wind, the rustling of leaves, nor the pitter-patter of the rain. As if anticipating some terrible impending occurrence, all nature holds its breath.
At some point I see my reflection, which clearly appears on the black surface of the mirror. It is staring back at me, severely altered - the gaunt, pointed face and heavy-lidded blue bags beneath the eyes. Aghast by this ghostly vision, I lean away from the mirror, but my reflection does not react, holding its gaze steadfast, and I shrink in ominous expectation, choking on the growing smell of burning.
Suddenly, the rain comes pouring down in a frantic downpour, threatening to flood the room, while the roof above echoes with the deafening thunder crash. A loud crackling and the sound of a toppling tree resound nearby, jarring me out of the trance, and I am awakened to my surroundings from the oblivion of the fixed contemplation of the image of my reflection, that now slowly pivots, showing me the back of my head, as if I am watching myself from behind.
"What the..?" I whisper. My blood runs cold as my gaze lingers on the unnerving reflection before me. I continue to stare, knowing that this is my only way to salvation. As I keep watching, the image begins to shift again, slowly turning and locking eyes with me. To my horror, I see their gaze is now alien, same bloodshot sinister eyes. They seem to grow larger and more menacing, emerging from the depths of the mirror as if they are reaching out to ensnare their prey.
The frightening image begins to move independently from me, as if it has a life of its own. It opens its mouth and lets out a deafening scream that echoes through the room. I try to look away, but I'm rooted to the spot. It keeps getting closer and closer, iron claws stretching out of the mirror, as if trying to grab me. I want to scream, but my throat feels constricted, and no sound comes out. Just when I think I'm going to be consumed by the evil reflection, the old man's words echo in my consciousness, "Until you don't recognize yourself!" Suddenly, I am jolted back to reality, and I grasp the tub with both hands, feeling its coolness against my skin. However, out of the corner of my eye, I notice a glaring omission - there is no circle of salt around me! For a moment, my mind races in panic, and my heart seems to sink into my boots. Have I forgotten to pour the circle of salt? The fear and uncertainty are suffocating, leaving me gasping for breath. Dizzying circles flash before my eyes, an intense ringing pierces my eardrums, and a sickening wave of nausea rises in my throat. The world around me seems to shatter, collapsing like a house of cards, scattering in every direction. How could I have allowed such a foolish oversight? Have I allowed it? I can vaguely remember frantically pouring a circle of salt, but now I can't help but question my own actions. In the face of being just a single step away from completing the ritual, I'm left utterly lost and directionless.
My hopes for salvation are dashed in an instant. My eyes, clouded with despair, return to the mirror, and what I see is wholly horrifying. My hair stands on end, as I gaze upon the monstrous sight before me. A massive, terrifyingly shaggy head with horns and burning eyes has half-crawled out of the mirror, its blood-chilling grin growing wider and wider. The razor-sharp teeth ominously click in anticipation, making my skin crawl.
Seized by a frenzy of feral panic, I am left with no choice but to grab a tub of water and douse the mirror in a desperate attempt to disrupt the dark forces at play. Then I rush out of the building at breakneck speed, driven by a fierce dread of inevitable death. The furious, eerie roar that bursts out of the crypt mixes with deafening peals of thunder, creating a terrifying hubbub that nearly bursts my eardrums. The sound rings in my ears for what seems like an eternity, haunting me with the disturbing rumbling chime.
Amidst the downpour of cold rain, a squally wind tears the leaves from the trees, whipping them into a wild whirlwind before hurling them to the ground with a violent force. In my haste, I rush towards the gates, only to find my path obstructed by a massive fallen tree. The same tree whose ominous rumble has echoed through the crypt. The defeated giant has now blocked my exit with an immense crown, cutting off any chance of salvation. I find myself trapped, with cemetery fences serving as barriers to the left and right. Frantically looking around, my mind whirls to find a way out. Suddenly, I think of a ramshackle fence at the back part of the cemetery. Perhaps, I could jump over it and navigate my way around the graveyard.
Large droplets of rain incessantly drum over my head, streaming down and washing my face, contorted with a grimace of genuine terror and despair. Breaking free from my spot, I run as quickly as I can towards the middle of the cemetery, weaving my way through an impassable thicket. Memories from my entire life now flash before my eyes as I edge closer towards the back fence. My feet become lodged in the mud of the washed-out soil, yet the fear that grips me gives me strength and I don't let it stop me.
The dense inky darkness, as black as coal tar, envelops the thicket, obscuring everything from view and leaving no chance of orienting oneself in the treacherous terrain. Nevertheless, I charge ahead, driven by memory alone, leaping over obstacles without a single glance backwards. Finally, I come to a screeching halt as I collide with a solid metal fence obstructing my path. Ah, here it is - the very fence that encloses the rear of the baleful graveyard. I take a step back, then launch myself forward, soaring over the fence with all the strength I can muster.
But my efforts are in vain, for what meets me on the other side is a scene of utter devastation. The recent downpour has left the landscape unstable and unforgiving, eroding the soil and creating a hazardous cliff behind the fence. With no time to react, I collide with the void, tumbling head over heels down the ravine.