Close Your Eyes

For a moment, there was nothing.

No rain.

No wind.

No sound at all.

The darkness inside the attic felt thick enough to touch.

Anya gasped for air, blindly grabbing the attic floor as panic surged through her chest. The flashlight had rolled away somewhere into the blackness.

Then she heard breathing.

Very close.

Not hers.

Slow.

Wet.

From directly beside her.

Anya’s entire body locked.

The smell came next — damp wood, dust… and something faintly rotten, like flowers left too long in water.

A tiny creak echoed nearby.

The wooden chair.

Something was sitting in it again.

Anya squeezed her eyes shut for a second, trying to steady herself. Her hands trembled violently as she crawled across the floor searching for the flashlight.

Her fingers brushed against cold porcelain.

She froze.

Not the flashlight.

A tiny hand.

Cracked and smooth.

The doll’s fingers slowly curled around hers.

Anya screamed and jerked backward.

At that exact moment, the flashlight flickered back to life.

The beam landed directly on the chair.

The doll sat there perfectly still.

Its head tilted slightly downward now.

As if looking at its own hands.

But that wasn’t what made Anya’s blood run cold.

The doll’s porcelain fingers were dirty.

Fresh dust covered them.

As though it really had been crawling across the attic floor moments earlier.

Then—

Knock knock.

Anya spun toward the mirror.

The sound had come from inside it.

Knock knock.

The pale girl stood on the other side of the glass.

Closer than ever before.

One hand pressed flat against the mirror.

And behind her, deep in the darkness of the reflected attic, dozens of shadowy figures slowly began to appear.

Standing still.

Watching.

The girl’s lips parted slightly.

This time, Anya heard the words clearly.

“They found the door.”

The shadows behind the pale girl began moving.

Not walking.

Jerking.

Their bodies twitched unnaturally, limbs bending too sharply in the dim reflection. One by one, they dragged themselves closer through the darkness behind the mirror.

Anya stumbled backward across the attic floor, unable to look away.

The girl’s hand remained pressed against the glass.

Then—

Something on the other side pressed back.

A second hand.

Long.

Gray.

Not human.

Its fingers were far too thin, joints bending like broken spider legs beneath pale skin stretched too tightly over bone.

CRACK.

A fracture suddenly spread across the mirror.

Anya screamed.

Another hand appeared.

Then another.

Dozens of distorted fingers began pressing from inside the glass, making the surface bulge outward as though the mirror had turned soft.

The doll beside the chair slowly lifted its head.

Its mouth opened.

Not wide.

Too wide.

Porcelain cracked down its cheeks with tiny snapping sounds.

And from deep inside the doll—

something breathed.

A wet, rasping inhale.

The attic temperature dropped violently. Frost crept across nearby boxes and old furniture. Anya’s breath became visible in the air.

Knock knock knock knock.

The mirror shook harder.

The pale girl looked terrified now.

Not of Anya.

Of whatever was behind her.

“Close your eyes,” she whispered suddenly.

Anya didn’t move.

“CLOSE YOUR EYES!”

The mirror exploded.

Glass burst across the attic like knives.

The flashlight died again.

And in the darkness—

something landed on the floor.

Not one thing.

Many things.

Anya heard them crawling.

Fast.

Too fast.

Scratching sounds raced across the attic floor, around the walls, even across the ceiling above her.

Then silence.

Complete silence.

Anya’s breathing became shaky and uneven.

Slowly…

very slowly…

something cold touched the back of her neck.

A whisper slid directly beside her ear.

“We finally see you.”

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