Midnight Encounters

                           1. The Reflection

Samantha had always avoided mirrors after dark. Tonight, alone in her apartment, the shadows seemed to stretch longer, the air colder. She tried to distract herself with a book, but a faint movement caught her eye.

—“Did you see that in the mirror?” —she whispered to her cat.

The cat hissed, fur bristling. Samantha laughed nervously, shaking her head.

She turned to the bathroom mirror again. Her reflection smiled—but it wasn’t her. Its eyes were darker, its grin wider. She stepped back.

—“Stop… stop it!” —her voice trembled.

The reflection raised a hand and tapped the glass, as if trying to push through. Samantha felt an icy pressure against her own palm.

Suddenly, the lights flickered. When they returned, the room appeared empty. No furniture moved. But the mirror… reflected a figure standing behind her, hands pressed to the glass, whispering:

—“You shouldn’t have looked away.”

Samantha turned, heart hammering—but no one was there. Only the faint, mocking reflection remained.

                       2. The Midnight Text

Clara had been tossing and turning all night. The wind rattled the windows, and shadows seemed to stretch unnaturally across her walls. At 3:17 a.m., her phone buzzed.

—“Who’s texting me now?” —she murmured, half-asleep.

The message: “I’m outside your window.”

Her blood ran cold. She peered through the blinds; nothing. Relief lasted seconds before another message arrived:

“No, look behind you.”

Her heart pounded. Slowly, she turned—and a shadowed figure stood in the corner of her room, too dark to be just a shadow.

—“Who’s there?” —she stammered.

It stepped closer, whispering:

—“I’ve been waiting for you.”

She ran toward the door, but it slammed in her face. Her phone buzzed one last time: “Nowhere is safe.”

Outside, the night remained silent, yet she could feel someone watching her from every corner of the room.

                  3. The Whispering Walls

Mark and Anna had ignored the warnings about the old cabin in the woods. The locals said it was “different,” but they laughed it off.

That first night, as the wind howled outside, Mark held the flashlight tightly.

—“Did you hear that?” —he whispered.

—“Just the wind,” —Anna said, but her voice trembled.

Then the whispers began, faint but growing:

“We know you’re here… come play with us.”

The cabin seemed to breathe. Faces appeared briefly in the shadows, mouths moving silently. The walls themselves seemed to pulse with anticipation.

—“Mark… it’s inside the walls,” —Anna said, eyes wide with terror.

The whispers became a chant:

“Stay… forever… stay…”

They ran to the door. It slammed shut violently, locked from the inside. Outside, the forest was silent. But from the cabin, a chorus of mocking laughter drifted, promising they would never leave.