Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

They found the mansion by accident.

Half-hidden by ivy and collapse, the old colonial stood at the edge of the river sector, its grand white columns stained with ash and time. Broken statues littered the lawn. A toppled fence barely whispered, "This used to mean something."

Ryder spotted the place first. "Used to be a wedding venue," he said. "They called it Mirror House."

Lara raised an eyebrow. "Because of the glass?"

"No," he said. "Because it was all reflections. You couldn't walk two feet without seeing yourself from six angles."

June stepped through the shattered doorway. "Let's hope we don't see what we've become."

Inside, the floors creaked with ghosts.

Chandeliers sagged. Dust covered once-golden banisters. But the mirrors… the mirrors were still intact. Lining the halls. Hung in every room. Some were cracked. Others were clean, as if the house itself refused to let time dim its vanity.

Milo paused in front of a tall one near the dining room. "I look… older."

"You are," Tess said softly. "We all are."

But as they set up camp in the ballroom, Lara began to feel uneasy. The mirrors didn't just reflect—they seemed to watch.

She caught glimpses of movement. A flicker in the corner. A twitch in someone's expression. A version of herself in one mirror that didn't quite turn at the same time.

"Don't look too long," Ryder said later, tossing wood into the fireplace. "This place messes with your head. Makes you question what's real."

At midnight, Milo screamed.

The group rushed to his room. He was standing by the mirror—staring.

"There was something in there," he whispered. "Not me. Not exactly. It smiled."

Lara approached slowly. "You sure it wasn't your reflection?"

"No," he said, pale. "It moved wrong. Like it was copying me… badly."

They checked the mirror—just glass. Cold and silent.

Still, Lara insisted on covering them all. Bedsheets, maps, even duct tape.

But even hidden, the house remembered.

Whispers drifted through the vents.

Reflections blinked when no one moved.

And when Tess caught a glimpse of Ethan—Lara's long-dead love—standing behind her in the corner of a cracked mirror, Lara lost it.

She smashed every one she could find. Glass shattered like rain. Splinters flew like angry spirits.

The final mirror—above the fireplace—cracked on its own.

From behind it, a hand reached out.

Not rotting. Not human.

Just… wrong.

Ryder fired. The wall exploded into dust and black ichor.

The hand vanished.

Lara stood in the wreckage, heart racing. "This house doesn't just reflect us. It copies us. Echoes. Traps pieces."

Tess shivered. "It's like something undead wants to remember being alive."

They left before dawn, mirrors behind them broken and bleeding light.

Outside, the wind howled.

Inside the house, in the one mirror they didn't break… a group of reflections still sat around a cold fire, laughing at a joke no one remembered telling.