The Mirror

This story begins at an IHOP, as all great American stories do. I mean, sometimes we get a cool, broody story that takes place in the dark woods of Washington, but most of the time we get the type of story that begins at 8 pm in an IHOP bathroom. That’s just how the universe works, I suppose.

A few years ago, back when I was still in high school, my mom and I used to go to IHOP at least once a week for dinner. My mom was a nurse at the local clinic and rarely had enough energy to cook, so we circulated through the few restaurants in our town almost every night. IHOP was always a family favorite; mom ordered pancakes, I had mozzarella sticks, and we would either eat together in beautiful IHOP harmony or find some way to annoy the other into eating in silence for the rest of the night. As one would expect from dinner between an angsty teen and her talkative mother, it almost always turned out like the latter. 

That fateful night began just like all those before, the only difference being our waiter. We made eye contact as soon as I stepped through the door, and I instantly averted my gaze. Adrian was a boy from my high school, though he was a grade above me. I had never talked to him, nor had I really ever seen anyone talk to him. Still, it was embarrassing running into him here, at IHOP of all places. Me, still sweaty from soccer, and mom, looking disheveled in her bun and scrubs. We must’ve looked like a real mess of a family, which was only accentuated by the fact that we were at an IHOP. At 8 pm. On a Wednesday. Adrian, however, was thoroughly uninterested, much to my relief. I even heard music playing from the headphones around his neck when he came to take our order, probably some emo rock song. That was Adrian though. A social disaster. 

Once he had finished taking our orders and headed to the kitchen, my mom gave me a sly glance. 

 “Was that little Adrian Peterson? When did he get so cute?” she crooned.

“Ew. Mom. Shut up, oh my GOD. I guarantee you he heard that.”

“Oh honey, I’m kidding!” She smirked. “I just know you have a thing for dark haired guys, that’s all.”

“Mom, oh my GOD!” I laid my head on the table and tried to ignore her laughs as Adrian returned with our drinks. 

“Thank you, Adrian!” my mother practically sung.

I heard Adrian pause, then shuffle away. As soon as he was gone, I looked at my mother again. 

“God, do you always have to be this embarrassing?!”

She rolled her eyes. 

“You don’t have to be so moody, Mia. I’m just trying to have fun.”

“It’s not fun to embarrass me in front of someone from school! Jesus Christ, Mom you always do this!”

She shook her head. 

“Mia, I’m sorry you took it the wrong way. Can we please just try to relax and have a good dinner?”

“Oh, you’re sorry I took it wrong?“ Then I sighed, holding the bridge of my nose. “You know what? I actually need to use the restroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Mia!” called my mom, but I was already out of the booth and making a beeline for the safety of the bathroom.

In front of the mirror, I took a moment to compose myself. My mother was unbelievable, yelling all that stuff in front of a boy I barely knew! I just didn’t understand her thought process sometimes. 

Grumbling to myself, I redid my braid quickly and washed my hands with the weird smelling IHOP soap. As I reached to turn off the water, I felt a chill run down my back. My eyes were drawn to the foggy mirror in front of me, and I had a sudden feeling of being watched. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as I peered closer, but I only saw my own startled eyes staring back at me.

“Jesus, Mia, you need to stop watching horror movies at midnight,” I muttered to myself. Just then, I felt a small pressure on my chest, like a hand trying to push me back. 

“Wh-“ I barely had time to register the feeling before I was slammed into the tiled wall by an invisible force. I struggled in vain against whatever ghost had a hold of me, kicking against the empty paper towel dispenser to try and alert someone outside. Just when I was beginning to see spots, the force dropped me onto the floor. I remained motionless for a few moments, before rolling over and scrambling into the corner of the handicapped stall. My heavy breathing echoed from every direction until it was all I could hear, and everything was unbearably still.

Then all of a sudden, a little black spec shot towards me, appearing out of nowhere and disappearing as soon as it hit my chest. I sucked in a breath of air and was unable to keep myself from gagging. Out of nowhere, my body began to convulse, and I slammed my head onto the toilet rim. Blood trickled in a lazy river from my forehead while I twisted about on the ground, unable to control my movements. I closed my eyes and found myself unable to open them as I kept blindly flailing, trying desperately to scream.

Then, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. All was still, and I opened my eyes tentatively. Everything seemed to be in order, other than the jarring bloodstain on the toilet. Slowly, I tried to stand, but my legs felt like somebody had sewn them straight into the grout of the floor. Alarmed, I attempted to move my legs again. Nothing. Frantically, I tried to raise my arm, to kick, to roll, to move just one toe. Nothing. I was terrified and confused. The only thing I understood for sure was that whatever was in that mirror attacked me, and I was fairly certain it was controlling me now. 

My body pulled itself off the ground and dusted off my pants. Against my will, I pushed open the door and made my way back to the table, desperately trying to stop myself the whole way. Every step was forced and slow, but nothing I did could stop my movements entirely. As soon as I sat down, my mom began to speak, though she continued to stare at her phone, texting. 

“Mia, I’m sorry about earlier. I suppose I was a little loud. You know, sometimes I forget how it felt to be a teenager like you. How important social status is, how embarrassing moms are, how…” she finally looked up from her phone. “Umm, honey? Are you okay?”

I was sitting rigidly in my seat, fists clenched, bloody, and unable to speak. Without warning my hand sent a glass of sweet tea flying into my mother’s face. She inhaled in shock, frozen with her hands in front of her face. Adrian, who was standing directly in front of our table with a tray of food and looking completely mortified, began to back away. Catching whatever force was currently in my body by surprise, I moved without thinking and was able to grab Adrian’s food tray. He tried to pull it away, but my grip was like iron, strengthened by desperation and some supernatural element. My mouth opened and I tried to scream for help, but instead of words, a thick, black smoke escaped my mouth. All three of us stared in terror as the smoke surrounded poor Adrian. He was immediately thrown over our table like a rag doll, and I heard my mother scream as he landed in the booth beside ours. 

My ears were ringing and I seriously felt like throwing up. My muscle movement returned, however, and I quickly stood and looked beside our table just in time to see Adrian stumbling into the kitchen. I made my way around the table and pushed open the kitchen door, my mother trailing closely behind. We stood in horror and watched as Adrian approached the two distracted cooks, a thick iron frying pan clutched in his shaking hands. Before we knew it, both cooks were knocked out, and Adrian turned towards us with vacant eyes. I looked around for anything we could use to stop him, but my mother had already made her own plan. Frantically, she picked up a kitchen knife and flung it towards Adrian, grazing his arm. The black smoke poured from his wound like tar, and floated angrily into the corner of the ceiling, seemingly attempting to study us from afar. We all stood gaping for a moment, frozen at the sight of this monster hovering just feet away from us.

Then Adrian, freed from his post-possession daze, made a surprised yelping sound and grabbed his arm. My mom, ever the nurse, ran over to his side and began putting pressure on the gash. The two spoke as if they had already forgotten the apparition’s existence. 

“Adrian, dear, I am so sorry I don’t know what on earth I was thinking!”

Adrian winced, then shook his head.

“It’s no problem, ma’am. I’m actually glad you did it. I mean, it did get that thing out of me didn’t it?”

As if it’s being mentioned angered it, the thing suddenly shot out an inky tendril and wrapped around my mother’s throat. 

“Mom!” I lurched forward, grabbed her around the waist, and began to pull. The tendril seemed to have her cemented in place, and I struggled against the invisible force.

“Adrian! Help me!” 

Adrian glanced around, picking up a knife before shaking his head and letting it clatter to the ground. He proceeded to try throwing a pot of boiling water, a spatula, and several food items, but nothing phased the cloud.

“ADRIAN!” I screamed, my mother’s face turning bluer and bluer.

Desperately, Adrian picked up a bottle of Windex and sprayed it. The creature immediately recoiled and my mother crumpled to the ground. Adrian kept spraying as I checked my mom’s breathing; shallow, but not absent. Unwilling to waste more time in the same room as this thing, I hooked my arms under mom’s and began dragging her out of the kitchen. Unsure of where else to go, I ran backward as quickly as I could to the women’s bathroom. As I propped my mom against the wall, a cacophony of grunts and clatters sounded from right outside the door. Sooner than I could stop it the door burst open and Adrian practically fell onto the tile, before scrambling up and turning the lock. He spun around, back against the door, and we made terrified eye contact.

“What was that?” I asked, not expecting a real answer.

Adrian shook his head. “I have literally no clue. But I am absolutely never leaving this bathroom.”

I nodded. Then, after a moment of silence, I looked back to my mother.

“She needs help. Oh god, Adrian, you need help! Your arm!” I turned to him worriedly, grabbing his wrist.

He smiled morosely. 

“Mia, we’re all pretty beat up. Have you seen your face?”

I turned flinchingly to the mirror. Sure enough, a stripe of nearly dried blood ran down my entire face and neck. I had forgotten about that in all the chaos.

“Your mom is fine, she’s already returning to her normal color. Just give her a few minutes to breathe.”

I nodded, then approached the sink and dunked my head under the faucet, washing the crusty flecks of blood down the drain. When I straightened up, I saw Adrian sitting next to my mom against the wall, head between his knees. Slowly, I walked to the wall and slid down next to Adrian. I quietly described to him the story of how I had first seen this thing: the mirror, the invisible force, the convulsions. He listened silently, and once I had finished speaking, we reverted to silence. There we sat, the three of us, for the next few minutes, or hours, or days; it was really impossible to tell. 

Sometime later, I heard movement behind the door. I immediately looked at Adrian, who was staring right back at me, terror in his eyes. My mom, who had woken up not long before, gave a voice to all our thoughts.

“What was that?”

I sprang to my feet, suddenly filled with adrenaline.

“We should hide,” I said evenly, gesturing towards the sink.

Adrian helped my mother up, and the three of us wedged ourselves between out-of-date plumbing and empty rat traps. Suddenly, Adrian gasped.

“I’m such an idiot!” he whispered. “I have my phone, I should’ve called the cops or something!”

He pulled out his phone, only for an angry grunt to escape his mouth. 

“Are you kidding? No service! Sprint wants me to die, like for real.”

As soon as he had finished speaking, my mom gasped deeply, then grabbed Adrian’s throat in a wild, uncontrolled movement. I hesitated a moment, then threw myself at her. We rolled out from under the sink, and with difficulty, I managed to pin her to the ground. 

“Adrian! Windex!” I struggled against my mom’s—or rather, the thing’s—movements.

“I dropped it in the kitchen. I’ll be two seconds!” Adrian jumped over us and sprinted out of the bathroom. True to his word, he was back in seconds. Without hesitation, he spritzed my mother directly in the face with Windex. The creature knocked me backward as it exited my mother’s chest and began to hover in the air above us. 

Then quicker than light, it darted towards Adrian. Only this time, he was ready. Adrian sprayed the Windex wildly, repelling the creature more with every spritz. The thing began to sizzle and let out an ear-piercing screech. Adrian and I made eye contact at the precise moment that all hell broke loose. The now enraged spirit bounced about the room like a pinball, zipping between walls, shattering lights, and bursting pipes. I dropped to the now soaked ground, covering my head as the entirety of the bathroom seemed to explode around us. Desperately, I opened my eyes and saw the Windex laying under a pipe not far from where I crouched. I had nothing else to lose, and so I dove for the bottle, uncapping it with one swift turn. Without looking, I threw the remaining contents into the air, praying it would somehow hit the creature. My bet paid off, and I heard a final, earth-shattering bellow before the dying spirit passed straight through my chest, and I fell immediately unconscious.

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Adrian, standing over me with the empty bottle of Windex. I pulled myself up onto my elbows and looked at him anxiously. He just smiled and shook the bottle in his hand. Relief flooded my body, and I let my head rest back on the ground. I could see my mother’s trembling frame a few feet away but could find no energy to comfort her. Adrian stood leaning against a wall, staring thoughtfully at the cracked mirror. The three of us stayed that way for a while, silent, but relieved. Finally, we were safe.

When we finally exited the bathroom, it was light outside. The IHOP was orderly and peaceful, the few patrons sipping their coffee and not paying us any mind. I almost turned back to glance into the women’s restroom, but somehow I knew it would look just as normal as the rest of the IHOP.

Before we drove away, my mother and I gave Adrian a parting hug and thanked him for being there for us. He shook his head, saying it was he who should be thanking us. We parted ways, and that was the last time either my mother or I spoke to Adrian. He and I always nodded at each other in the hallways at school, but we never spoke. Not even when the IHOP was torn down the next year and the lot left empty, save for a generic “For Lease” sign stuck firmly in the ground.

Once Adrian left for college, I had few reminders of the IHOP incident. My mother and I never spoke of it; I think we both wanted to forget. Perhaps we would’ve too, mistaking the whole thing for a dream or a half-remembered episode of an old TV show. That is, if it wasn’t for the faint smell of cleaning solution that still lingered around that empty lot where the IHOP once stood.