It was approaching midnight and Michael was lazing on his couch watching TV. His tired blue eyes were starting to sting and close as the exhaustion from another busy day at the office kicked in. Eventually he turned off the TV, resisting the temptation to watch another episode of his new favourite show. He got to his feet and let out a long yawn as he stretched his limbs, a few bones painlessly popping in his back.
After exiting the living room he wandered to the other rooms going through his mental checklist.
“Lights off…check. Windows shut…check. Doors locked…check”.
Once the downstairs rooms were secure and sleeping Michael dragged his wary body up the stairs, making a beeline for the bedroom. He changed out of his work clothes and into a baggy t-shirt and shorts. He’d already made his bed earlier that morning and now it looked so inviting in the soft lamplight. He lifted the sheets and climbed in, the soft pillows and warm duvet welcoming him.
Michael settled into the bed, shifting his body weight until he finally found a comfortable position. He turned off the lamp and gazed up at the shadowy ceiling for a few minutes reflecting on his day before he remembered something…
“Ah damn it, forgot to brush my teeth”.
With a heavy sigh he sat up and threw the covers back, reluctantly leaving the comfort of his warm bed. He had an important meeting with a client tomorrow so the last thing he needed was bad breath!
Michael shuddered when he entered the bathroom. It was always so cold in there but he couldn’t figure out why, even when the radiator was turned on a chill still lingered in the air. He trudged over to the sink and looked at himself in the mirror.
“God I need a shave”, he thought as he stroked the stubble on his face. He hated that bristly noise it made, “I’ll do it in the morning”.
He picked up his blue toothbrush and squeezed a small blob of green toothpaste onto it. He began brushing, the strong mint flavour of the paste filling his mouth. When he was done he spat the foam out, washed it away and wiped his mouth with a hand towel.
He lifted his gaze to the mirror but was startled by what he saw. His own reflection…staring back at him…still brushing.
“What the hell?!” he exclaimed and backed away from the sink.
He closed his eyes and shook his head, thinking his tired eyes were playing tricks on him. But when he opened them again the reflection was still there…still staring…still brushing…with no expression.
Michael was frozen on the spot. His heart was thundering against his ribcage, so much so he could hear the pulsing in his ears. He was expecting the reflection to reach out and grab him or scream at him, but it didn’t. It just stared at him with dead eyes…brushing…brushing…brushing…
He took a tentative step closer and carefully raised his hand. He reached out to touch the mirror expecting his hand to go straight through like something out of a sci-fi movie. But his fingertips lightly tapped the cool flat surface. The reflection seemed unaffected by this, but there was something in those eyes that unsettled Michael. Its intense gaze looked…evil. This was not him.
Michael’s curiosity had been piqued. He waved his hand in front of the mirror for some sort of response. Nothing.
“Who are you?” he asked. Nothing.
He tore his gaze away momentarily to splash water on his face, frantically rubbing his eyes in the hope of washing away this nightmare. When he lifted his head the reflection was still there but it had stopped brushing now. It was grinning at him in a way Michael did not recognise as himself, an endless flood of toothpaste foam dripping from its mouth and down its chin in thick white blobs.
Michael cried out in horror, slapping his hand over his mouth and stumbling backwards, the back of his knees hitting the edge of the bathtub. He managed to stop himself from falling in but couldn’t tear his gaze away from the sinister sight.
As he watched he noticed bright flecks of red in the white, small and few at first but gradually growing larger until the foam had turned to a crimson liquid. A waterfall of blood.
Michael screamed in terror, his chest heaving with panicked breaths. His mouth started to water uncontrollably and he felt saliva leaking from the corners of his mouth. But something strange coated his tastebuds…iron. He wiped his mouth and looked down at his palm, white foam and blood.
When he looked up the reflection was no longer in the mirror…but standing right in front of him. Its mouth was closed but its chin, neck and torso were stained with that same scarlet liquid.
Michael gripped the edge of the bathtub, completely frozen in fear. The reflection leaned in closer and tilted its head left and right like a curious cat.
“Wh-what are you?” Michael sputtered.
The reflection didn’t answer, it didn’t even blink. But eventually another wicked grin crept across its face and as it grew larger it seemed to suck the air out of Michael’s lungs. He tried to scream again but this time no sound left his mouth.
The reflection grabbed him and let out a high-pitched shriek then threw him into the tub with freakish strength.
Michael bolted up from the couch panting heavily, his heart beating rapidly in his chest and sweat glistening on his forehead. He was still dressed in his work clothes and the TV was on, but all was quiet as the streaming service had reverted back to the main menu.
“What the fuck?! That was all a dream?!”
He looked at the clock, 1:15am. He was trembling from his nightmare and his body refused to move from the safety of the couch. After a while he stood on shaky legs and went to the kitchen for a glass of water, avoiding every reflective surface.
“It was just a dream. Stop panicking. It was just a dream”.
He went through his nightly routine once again. But this time he made damn sure to keep some of the lights on.
When he stood at the bottom of the staircase a sense of dread filled him, afraid of what might be waiting for him at the top. In the bathroom.
“Just a dream Michael. Just. A. Dream”.
He took a deep breath and bravely ascended the stairs. As he reached the top he saw the bathroom bathed in darkness except for the yellow glow of streetlamps outside. He approached the door and felt that familiar cold draft, but this time it sent a shiver down his spine like never before. He grabbed the handle and slammed it shut.
“I’ll brush my teeth in the morning”.
