Whispers from the Other Side

Episode 2: The Reflection That Watched Back

Mirrors are strange things—gateways to the familiar, yet always just a fraction removed from reality. They reflect back what we expect to see... until, one day, they don’t. Maggie has just moved into her new apartment, bringing with her a love for beautiful antiques and an eye for detail. But when the details begin shifting on their own, she will come to learn that not all reflections belong to us. Some are simply waiting... for their chance to switch places.

Act I: The Unsettling Reflections

Maggie had never been one to scare easily. The strange inconsistencies in the mirror were easy enough to explain. A trick of the eye, a tired mind, a warped piece of glass—logical, harmless.

But the shadow was different.

It was tall and thin, lingering just beyond the threshold in the mirror’s reflection. The moment she saw it, a cold terror sank into her bones.

Spinning around, she found nothing but the empty doorway behind her.

The air felt thick, the silence heavy. She forced a laugh, shaking her head. Stress, she told herself. An overactive imagination.

That night, she covered the mirror with a sheet.

Act II: The Whispering Glass

At precisely 3:12 a.m., she woke to a soft tapping sound.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

It wasn’t coming from the door. Not from the window. It came from beneath the sheet.

Maggie’s stomach twisted. She held her breath, willing herself to ignore it. But then she saw it—the pale glow behind the fabric, like condensation on a bathroom mirror.

Summoning every ounce of courage, she pulled the sheet down.

A message had formed in the fog of the glass, written by something unseen.

"LET ME OUT."

Maggie staggered back, her pulse hammering.

She grabbed the sheet, covered the mirror again, and didn’t dare look at it for days.

But the whispering began soon after.

Soft at first. Barely audible. A faint, urgent voice curling around the edges of her consciousness.

"Maggie…"

She refused to listen.

But ignoring it didn’t stop it.

At night, objects moved—her keys left the counter and ended up in the sink, her chair turned just slightly toward the mirror. The covered glass shifted as though something inside was pressing against it.

By the fourth night, the whispering wasn’t faint anymore. It was urgent. Desperate.

"Maggie… please… let me out."

Act III: The Other Maggie

Enough was enough.

Determined to prove this was just her mind playing tricks, Maggie yanked the sheet away.

Her reflection was gone.

The mirror was empty—just the dim apartment behind her.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Then, slowly, something stepped forward.

It was her. But not her.

This Maggie was paler, her eyes darker, her lips curling into a small, knowing smile.

Maggie stumbled back. “What—”

The other Maggie raised a hand and pressed it against the glass.

Her voice was smooth, coaxing.

"You took my place."

Maggie shook her head. “No, this is my home—”

"Not anymore."

The figure placed her other hand against the glass, and Maggie felt it—a pull, like the air had turned liquid, dragging her forward.

She tried to step back, but her feet wouldn’t move.

Her reflection—her other self—was stepping closer.

"It’s my turn now."

Maggie screamed as the world tipped, her vision twisting into darkness.

Act IV: A New Reflection

The next morning, Maggie Stone awoke feeling... different.

Lighter. Clearer.

She stepped into the bathroom, peering into the small mirror above the sink.

She looked perfect. Healthy. Almost renewed.

A slow smile spread across her lips.

In the living room, the antique mirror remained uncovered. And behind the glass, a figure pounded against it in silent terror.

The real Maggie.

Trapped on the other side.

The new Maggie turned away, whispering to herself. “I waited so long… and you never even knew.”

After all, she had a life to live.

Reflections are meant to show us who we are. But what if they show us who we were meant to be? Maggie Stone once believed mirrors were just glass and silver—harmless, decorative. But she’s since learned that some reflections don’t just mimic us. They wait. And sometimes, when the time is right, they take their turn. Just another whisper... from the other side.