EXT. ANCIENT HOUSE – NIGHT
A dark, desolate mansion looms against a stormy sky. The wind howls, and rain beats against the old windows. A single light flickers from within.
INT. LIVING ROOM – NIGHT
The camera slowly moves across the dimly lit room. Dust settles on old, decaying furniture. The air is heavy with the smell of mildew and abandonment.
EMMA, a curious woman in her late 20s, steps cautiously into the room. She looks around, her face illuminated by the glow of her flashlight.
EMMA
(to herself)
What am I even doing here?
She walks deeper into the house, her footsteps echoing in the space. She approaches a large, ornate mirror on the far wall, its surface covered in dust and grime.
EMMA
(nervously, wiping the dust from the mirror)
I should’ve never agreed to come out here. But the story… the legend of this house. I had to see it for myself.
Her hand hesitates just above the mirror’s surface. She stares into the reflection, unsure of what to expect.
Suddenly, she flinches. A shadow moves behind her.
She spins around quickly—nothing.
EMMA
(breathing heavily)
Get it together, Emma. Just the wind.
She turns back to the mirror. This time, her reflection is slightly off. Her movements in the reflection are a fraction of a second delayed. Emma frowns, blinking hard.
EMMA
What the…?
She leans closer. The reflection no longer perfectly mimics her. Instead of her familiar features, the figure in the mirror has empty, hollow eyes. A smile slowly spreads across the reflection’s face—an unnatural, twisted grin.
EMMA
(whispers)
No… no, this isn’t real.
She steps back, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. The reflection in the mirror doesn’t move with her. Instead, it stays still, its smile widening.
EMMA
(nervously, backing away)
This can’t be happening. It’s not real. It’s just—it’s just a trick of the light.
She turns away and rushes towards the door, but then—the reflection starts to move independently. The figure in the mirror raises a hand, not mimicking Emma’s movements, but reaching out toward her.
REFLECTION (in the mirror)
(whispering, distorted voice)
You shouldn’t have come here, Emma…
Emma freezes, eyes wide with terror. The voice comes from the mirror—not her own.
EMMA
(whispers, panicked)
No… no… this isn’t real. This isn’t real.
The reflection’s eyes shift, locking onto hers, dark and empty.
REFLECTION
(hissing)
You’re mine now.
EMMA
(shouting)
Stop it! Stop!
In an instant, the reflection reaches through the glass, its fingers emerging from the mirror as they curl toward Emma’s face.
EMMA
(screaming)
No! NO!
She tries to pull away, but the mirror figure pulls her closer, its cold, bony fingers gripping her arm with unnatural strength. The glass ripples like water as the figure starts pulling Emma’s entire body toward the mirror.
EMMA
(screaming, panicked)
Let me go! HELP!
The room grows colder, the shadows deepen, and Emma’s body begins to be dragged toward the mirror’s surface, inch by inch.
The reflection grins wider, its hollow eyes gleaming with malice.
REFLECTION
(mocking)
You wanted to see the truth, Emma. Now you’ll live it forever.
In a final, desperate move, Emma reaches out and grabs a broken piece of glass from the floor, stabbing it into the reflection’s face.
EMMA
(crying out)
I’m not yours! I won’t be yours!
The reflection howls, but it doesn’t let go. Instead, the glass in her hand cracks, and the entire room shakes violently. The walls tremble, the mirror’s glass distorts and cracks, and a deep, resonating noise fills the house.
REFLECTION
(screaming, distorted voice)
NO! You can’t escape me! You can never escape—
The mirror shatters. Emma is thrown backward, crashing to the floor. She gasps for air, trembling, covered in dust and shards of glass.
The room is silent. The mirror is in pieces around her.
Emma crawls to her feet, breathing heavily. She glances toward the door. She has to leave.
As she stumbles toward the exit, she passes the broken fragments of the mirror. She catches glimpses of herself in the shards—but not the Emma she knows.
Each shard reflects something different. Some show her with dark, empty eyes. Some show her smiling unnaturally, and others show her fading away, vanishing into the shadows.
She stops dead in her tracks, her heart pounding.
EMMA
(whispering to herself, terrified)
It’s not over. I’m still here.
Her reflection, scattered across the pieces, laughs—a cruel, mocking sound.
FADE OUT:
