Speaker 1: I was strolling the flea market. A month ago I
moved into my new apartment. It was small but cozy.
I needed lots of furniture, and I'd been searching local
flea markets and online sites for weeks. I was still
missing a sofa, night table, a mirror from my bathroom.
I looked at the items offered by both retailers and
people from neighborhoods, old watches, cameras, lamps, desks, and more.
Every time I saw something that I liked, there was
something wrong with it. A sofa with claw marks from
pets everywhere, a night table with only three legs that
cost more than if I would just buy it, new
old cabinets that have been painted, and awful colors. Then,
after wandering through the endless rows of used items, I
saw it. A beautiful but simple mirror offered as the
only item on the table of a young man didn't
sell anything else, only the mirror. It had a stunning
antique frame around it, something expect in an old palace.
I had a thing for antique furniture. My friends often
joked about my new apartment that it would look like
someone's grandfather chose the apartment. I looked at the price
tag for free. It said a mirror like this would
get sold for a small fortune at every auction. I
inspected it but couldn't find any damage or other factors
that would justify giving it away for free, so I immediately
took it. The man looked at me like he felt
guilty giving me the mirror, so I double checked it
again after bringing it home. But I mean, it was perfect.
The first few days, I really enjoyed looking at myself
in the mirror every morning. Due to the beautiful frame,
it felt like I was an artwork worthy to be admired.
I even thought about putting my signature in the bottom
right corner of the mirror as a joke, like it
was a painting. I showed the mirror to my friends.
They were in awe at its beauty, even though they
still tease me about my home to course style. But
after the first few days, something felt off, Like every
time I looked at the mirror, it seemed like my
reflection was slightly delayed, almost almost unnoticeable. Sometimes my fingers
would move slightly different they were trying to go in
a different direction, similar to a bad connection, like in
a video game. I didn't think about it much. I
told myself that maybe it was connected to my migrain.
My brain was playing tricks on me while I was
having these strong headaches. Every morning, I was paying closer
attention to my reflection. Sometimes sometimes it seemed like my
own eyes didn't meet my gaze. Other times my body
position was ever so slightly off. But it got worse.
One day, I was woken up by my alarm and
walked into my bathroom to get ready for work. When
I rose, my reflection was smiling at me, a wide,
maniacal smile with an anticipating gaze. My hands instinctively went
up to my face to check if I was actually smiling.
That was not. The next days, I dreaded looking into
the mirror. I often felt cold sweat on my body
when looking into the mirror. It was always smiling. It
still mirrored my movements, but it felt half hearted. I
already made up my mind I was going to throw
the mirror away as soon as possible. The one morning
I entered the bathroom, my reflection grinning from ear to ear.
I lifted my hands to grab the mirror and take
it off the wall. Before I could reach the mirror.
My reflection lifted its left hand and grabbed my arm.
I looked at the mirror, too shocked to even move
my fingers. The nails of the reflection dug deep into
my skin and started pulling me into the mirror while
simultaneously moving its body outwards. I couldn't move. I was
looking outside of the mirror. What had been my reflection
before was now a man in his thirties looking at me.
He tilted his head. I did too. I had no
control over my body. I do everything the man outside
the mirror did. He gave me a sad smile, said
I'm sorry. They grabbed the mirror and he carried it outside,
all while I was horrified claustrophobic, having no choice but
to mirror his every move. He placed the mirror on
the sidewalk with a note for free. The next hour
or so, I often saw passers by looking at the mirror,
fixing their hair. They didn't see me in the mirror,
they saw themselves. I tried to tell my brain to
move independently, but I only moved when and they did.
I was imprisoned in a sheet of glass, unsure if
I could ever escape. After it felt like in eternity.
A young man saw the mirror, looked it up and down,
and he grabbed it. He carried the mirror two streets
further east and into a small apartment. He seemed to
like the mirror a lot placed it inside his bedroom,
next to a wardrobe. I tried to scream for help,
but I I couldn't move a single muscle. I only
moved to mirror his body. Over the next few days,
I watched him try on his outfits, admire himself in
the mirror, fix his hair. I watched his entire daily
routine trapped inside the glass prison. And then after weeks
and he was trying on a small earring with a
glass diamond. I managed to move my finger. It was
almost unnoticedb but I did it. The new owner of
the mirror noticed it too, blinked a few times and shrugged,
seemed to think that he just imagined it. A way
of happiness flowed through my body. Maybe maybe I could
finally escape. Over the next few days, I managed to
move more and more parts of my body, always forced
to mirror his movements, but always slightly different. He seemed
more concerned and confused every time I did it. And
one day the thrill of being able to move again
became too big to contain. I smiled. My facial muscles
started to obey me again, my smile wide and almost
going from ear to ear. The man looked at the mirror,
terrifying in his eyes, I saw true fear. He ran
out of the room. After he was gone, and noticed
that with my facial muscles, most other limbs had started
working again. I could move my arms, but when I
tried to reach outward, I can only stretch my hand
about thirty centimeters outwards, but my head and torso seemed
to hit an invisible wall. I was still trapped it.
It dawned on me that the mirror needed a replacement
for me if I wanted to escape. Shortly after I
heard the door, the new owner of the mirror returned.
I stopped smiling, mirroring his moves and letting him think
that he'd just imagined my smile in the morning. He
came closer, looking slightly nervous, but relieved that his reflection
was no longer smiling. Fifty centimeters forty thirty, My hand
shot forward and I managed to grab his arm with
all the strength I had left I clawed him into
my arms and pulled him towards me. He screamed, but
he did I managed to escape my grasp. I pulled
him into the mirror at the same time. I moved
my body outward and broke out of the mirror. We'd
swapped places. I stood outside of the mirror, and I
looked down on my own body. I could move freely.
I took a step to the right, then to the left.
I was finally free. Then it dawned on me the
man I trapped him inside the mirror. I looked back.
I saw my own reflection, filled with guilt and shame.
I'm sorry, I whispered. I grabbed the mirror and carried
it outside. Using a pen and paper from the man's apartment,
I wrote a small note for free. Hey they're kids,
it's me, mister Kereepypasta, And before we say good night,
I just wanted to say thank you so much for
watching tonight's video, or for listening to tonight's episode or
the podcast. For those of you guys who are looking
for a nice, warm drink, my wife happens to sell tea.
That's Etsy dot com, slash Ivory Monocle tea. There's a
whole bunch of different teas there that are based on
some of your favorite things like horror things like fantasy
things like Dundeons and dragons, and of course there is
a creepypasta based tea. There is The Dark and Stormy Night,
which is my personal favorite, the one that I like
to drink whenever I'm doing my recordings. And if you
guys want to get a special MCP dabbing sticker, make
sure to ask Ker for one whenever you order The
Dark and Stormy Night. As always, I want to give
a very big thank you to everybody who supports me
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