Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-35911608-20180625160959

(Note: Basically I was bored and wanted to write another story. So I made this. It's probably quite cliche, I might ditch it, but let me know what you think.)

If there’s anyone out there reading this, please help me. I heard that this community seems to have a fascination with this kind of thing, so maybe… maybe someone has some information that could help me. Maybe they’ve experienced the same problem I have. Thanks in advance for any help you can offer me. I should probably set the stage here. I work in a mirror factory, as an inspector. Most of the work in making a mirror is already automated, but it’s always up to a human eye to determine whether or not a mirror’s reflection is up to standards. Hence my position, checking for any bubbles or cracks or such when a pane is complete. In the factory itself, there’s probably only about thirty of us in total. We tend to ship out a lot more large mirror panes than actually cutting or designing some mirrors – an industrial supplier, you might call us. Everything at work was going fine, that is until about a month ago. At that time there had been a break in during the night for the first time since I had gotten my job over two years ago. But the weird thing about the break in was that nothing was stolen, and nothing was broken – save for one door’s lock that led outside, leading to the security alarm’s activation. The only thing the intruder had seemingly done was open the silver vat – mirrors are reflective thanks to silver, if you weren’t aware, but the silver we use is already in liquid form. They must not have known that or just couldn’t get any, and decided to take off. Security footage was useless, as it was too dark to tell who it had been, or what discernible features they might have had that would give them away. Regardless, the police did their investigating and couldn’t come up with anything, so my boss hired some security guards to keep watch during the night. Work continued as normal by day, but then, the very next night, there was another break in. One of the guards was hospitalized, and though I never got to see him myself, word spread that his arm had been snapped in three places. The image was not pleasing to think about. This time, once again, nothing had been touched, but now not even the silver vat had been opened. And just as before, there were no clues as to who had done it. Some of the workers became a little concerned, but my boss calmed them down and assured them that there was nothing to worry about, as it only happened during the night. Everyone just returned to their work, myself included, a bit skeptical of the safety of the factory. After the second incident though, I began to notice something strange while doing my inspections. The mirror just didn’t seem to be properly reflecting what was happening. One time my friend Greg passed behind me while I was working and called my name. But he didn’t appear in the mirror. Another time, I was walking along the length of it when my reflection… it almost seemed to stop for a moment, like it was inspecting a part of the mirror. I blinked and shook my head, and when I opened my eyes my reflection was looking right back at me, plain as day. I began to lose sleep over it. I lived alone, so there was no one waiting for me to comfort me, to hold me and tell me it was just my imagination. The thoughts of whether or not what I had seen was real kept me up into the early hours of the morning, and work became a lot more difficult to get through. The inconsistencies also became more common – a missing cup from the frame, the reflection turning its head without me doing so, to name a couple. I blamed it more on my insomnia at that point, but it would still feed my obsession. I talked to my boss about it, but he just waved me off and told me that if I didn’t shape up soon that he’d fire me; I’d accidentally let a few bubbles get through inspection. Another break in occurred, with the same details as the last two. But this time, one of the guards went missing. The police searched for days, but in the end there wasn’t a trace of him left. More workers began to get spooked, and a few even quit. I was particularly terrified, and now had even more fuel for my insomnia. My boss finally got the message and decided to hire more guards, as well as assigning a group for day time patrols. Everyone seemed happy enough with that. And then, just two weeks after all of this strangeness started, there was a scream. It was in my area of the factory, so I rushed over to find the source of the scream. It was another co-worker of mine, Julianne, and she was pointing at something, to which I turned and tried not to scream myself. Greg was dead, sprawled over a worktable, with his neck cut open, and broken pieces of mirror scattered all around him, floating in a pool of blood. The police returned, probably getting quite used to the place, and began asking questions. None of the guards or anyone in the factory had seen anything, but they had immediately responded to Julianne’s scream. Makes sense, as our group of inspectors were off in one corner of the factory, and none of us were particularly easy to see without coming right over to talk to us due to the mirror’s reflections and the factory’s machinery. We were all given time off until the investigation had been completed. I had hoped I would be able to make up for lost sleep, but of course that didn’t happen. In fact, the image of Greg’s corpse had burned into my mind, and every time I so much as blinked, there he was, his glazed over eyes rolling towards the back of his head, the torn skin and muscle of his neck standing out in the memory. Since I couldn’t sleep, I filled the time with gaming, mostly shooters. They were mindless and easy to play, and acted as a great stress reliever, especially when you could mow down an entire enemy team of noobs. I’m getting side tracked. Greg’s death was eventually ruled as a suicide, seeing as how no one else was witness to a suspect and the broken mirror suggested the tool used. But Greg was usually a very chipper and kind person, he never gave off the vibe that he would off himself like that. Then, when my paranoia had finally reached its peak, a new idea, an insane idea, dawned on me: what if there was someone on the other side? What if Greg had been killed by his reflection? I began doing some research on the idea of alternate dimensions being accessible through mirrors, but all I got back were either some terrible stories written on some site called “creepypasta”, or the most occult level shit you could imagine. This, as you can imagine, just made my mental state worse. At work I was a mess; I couldn’t focus, and I was scared to stand in front of a mirror just out of the paranoid fear that the “other me” would reach out and switch places with me. Mirrors were barely coming out inspected from my station, and eventually my boss fired me. Disheartened, I went home and turned on the TV to try and relax. As if I was cursed to be haunted by strange occurrences, my heart stopped as the news came on. It was a report on a recent suicide. The victim had leapt off of a bridge into very shallow water, breaking his neck upon impact. I took a sharp breath. It was Greg. I immediately went into a frenzy. This couldn’t be possible, Greg already died in the factory. So why was the news reporting he had jumped off a bridge? The mirror theory made its way back into the spotlight: to me, a crazy paranoid mess of a man, it made perfect sense. Greg’s reflection had come out, broken the mirror, killed the real Greg, and then left… because no one could tell the difference. But what about the sound of the mirror breaking? Perhaps, it broke one on the other side first? Yes, and then we wouldn’t be able to hear it. Then it came through a different pane and killed Greg. But then why did it kill itself? Maybe guilt? I decided there was only one course of action I could take: to infiltrate the factory and test my theory. I waited until night, and then using a work key I had “forgotten” to turn back in, I made my way towards the inspection area. As I came running around the corner with a small flashlight I had brought, I could see my reflection in one of the panes. But something was off about it, the light wasn’t bouncing back – the mirror had absorbed the light. As I approached the mirror pane, I could see my reflection more clearly: it was smiling at me. I almost shouted in surprise, and my reflection noticed that. It began to talk, as its lips were moving, but I couldn’t hear anything so I cautiously pressed my ear up to the glass. A pair of lips grazed my ear: “Thanks for touching the glass.” A hand grabbed my arm, and we began to get into a scuffle. At some point I dropped my flashlight, but the two of us falling in and out between the two mirrors. My reflection seemed determined to always keep one part of either of us between both worlds, and constantly tried to fight me off and get into my world. As the fight continued, I grew more and more infuriated, and a rage boiled inside me. I took my copycat by the head, and began slamming it into the cement floor. He stopped moving after the third hit. Breathing heavily, I threw him over to his side, and then scrambled for the flashlight on my side. I then threw the flashlight at the mirror. It shattered on impact, and I immediately got up and made my escape as guards rushed to the scene. When I got home, I rushed to bed and hid under my covers, squeezing my eyes shut. I eventually fell asleep, and it was the first good sleep I had had in weeks. I was awoken by the ringing of my phone. I groaned, then moved over and reached for it on my night table drawer. “Hello?” I answered groggily. “Hey, Trevor? You hear about the factory yet?” The deepest chill slivered down my backbone. It was Greg. I couldn’t respond, so I simply listened. “I guess not. Well, it seems it was broken into during the night, so the police are investigating for today. You wanna hang out? I’ll come over to your place, how does that sound?” My throat was in a knot, but I managed to swallow. “O-o-okay then… s-see you soon…” I hung up, then sat in bed holding my head, the realization sinking in. I made a mistake. I made a terrible, unfixable mistake. And not long after, I realized something else: there was more than just one other side. And that’s my story. But you know, as I was writing this, I began to think: maybe being on YOUR side isn’t so bad. After all, they’re not really my friends and family, they’re all just copies. All of you are nothing but copies. And, I’m still feeling a little stressed out. Maybe I have some fun on this side, fun that I could never have over there. So no need to send me links on how to get back to my world or any of that nonsense. Just consider this message… a warning. I have to go now, Greg will be over any minute… and this time, he’s going to stay dead… Farewell. 