Tha lost shodow

Tha lost shodow

 It was past midnight when Emma’s car broke down on an empty, winding road, miles from town. Cold and tired, she searched her phone for a signal. Nothing. She sighed, grabbing her flashlight, and stepped out to look for help, her breath a white fog in the chill air.

Just up the road,

 she spotted a faint light coming from an old farmhouse. The wooden gate creaked as she pushed it open, the sound lost to the whisper of wind through dead trees. She felt the unease of trespassing, but she had no other option. As she approached, the house loomed taller, its windows dark and hollow, save for one—a single flickering light in the attic.

A chill ran down her spine as she knocked on the door. It swung open almost immediately, as if waiting. She stepped inside, calling out, but her voice was swallowed by the silence. The house was filled with the scent of dust and something... metallic. The flickering light from the attic drew her gaze, almost calling to her.

Emma’s footsteps echoed as she ascended the stairs, each creak reminding her she was utterly alone. As she reached the attic door, it too opened on its own, revealing a dimly lit room filled with old portraits, their eyes seeming to follow her every move. Her heartbeat thundered.

In the corner of the room sat a small wooden box, its edges worn and covered in strange, faded symbols. Unable to resist, she opened it—and found a cracked pocket mirror. Staring at her reflection, she saw something wrong in her own eyes, something lurking deep within. Her own face twisted, the mouth curling into a smile that wasn't hers.

Behind her, a shadow moved, growing larger as it stepped forward. She spun around, but no one was there—just the same portraits, grinning widely now, their faces changing as if mocking her. She stumbled back, knocking over the mirror. It shattered, each shard showing a different version of her face, each one more distorted and terrifying than the last.

Suddenly, the attic light went out. Emma's scream was swallowed by darkness. 

When the police found her car the next day, there was no sign of her—only a dusty attic room with a shattered mirror and a portrait on the wall that looked disturbingly familiar…