I was never the type to thrive in a 9 to5 job so it was only a matter of time before I left the haulage company. On paper, the hours were fixed but in reality, the workload was exhausting and relentless.
Determined to carve my own path, I decided to put my talent for buying and selling to good use. That’s how I found myself in the market running a small shop selling mirrors. Why mirrors? Honestly, I couldn’t say for sure. After exploring different options, it simply felt like the right choice.
Business took off quickly. One shop turned into two, then three, then four. But instead of scattering across multiple locations, I wanted something bigger—a single space to house all my shops under one roof. That’s when I made the bold decision to buy a building in the heart of town. It felt like the perfect move. Or so I thought.
Then strange things began to happen. At first, I dismissed it as exhaustion—long hours, managing staff, handling customers could do things to the mind. But the visions persisted. Every time I glanced into the mirror in my office, he was there—a man drenched in blood.
Then came the complaints. My staff whispered about voices calling their names, doors slamming shut on their own and lights flickering. Some of my staff refused to work late; others quit without explanation. I could no longer ignore it. Something was wrong with the building.
Determined to uncover the truth, I delved into its past. It didn’t take long to find the horror buried within these walls. Mr. Odewale, the previous owner, had been murdered in this very office. Stabbed repeatedly and left to die in a pool of his own blood. His killer or killers had never been caught.
Digging further, I discovered that the murder happened right in front of a mirror. His last moments had been spent watching himself die, his reflection bearing witness to the crime. And now, he was trapped.
This realization hit me. Mr. Odewale wasn’t just haunting this place. He was trying to communicate.
So one day, I summoned courage and stood before the mirror, heart pounding and I whispered, What do you want?
There was an eerie silence then the mirror darkened, his bloodied figure came out slowly. But this time, he wasn’t just staring. His hand lifted, a trembling finger pointing to something behind me.
The office door was open. And on the floor, beneath the desk, something gleamed in the dim light. A knife. Rusted. Dried blood caked along the handle. My stomach twisted. This was the murder weapon. Hidden all these years.
Mr. Odewale wanted revenge. And I was the one who had to deliver it. I swallowed hard, my eyes locked on the rusted knife. My fingers trembled as I reached for it, the metal was cold against my skin.
Suddenly, a scene flickered to life on the mirror. I saw a man standing in this very office— a whiskey glass in his hand.
Then the attack. A blade flashing, plunging into flesh as Mr. Odewale struggled, his eyes wide with terror as blood spattered everywhere. His fingers clawing at the mirror as he tried to hold himself up.
The killer stepped forward. And that’s when my blood ran cold. It was someone I recognized. Chief Adebayo. A respected figure in town. A man I had just signed a major deal with last week.
I was shocked. Mr Odewale’s reflection stood there, watching me, his bloodied lips parting for the first time.
“Kill him.” He said
The words echoed in my bones.
I stumbled away from the mirror, shaking my head. No. No, I can’t.
“Kill him… or you will never be free.”
And if I refused…
“If you refuse, I will haunt you forever”.
I was in a dilemma. I had a choice to make. And either way someone was going to die. I wanted to believe I had a choice. That I could just walk away, ignore Mr. Odewale’s vengeful demands. But deep down, I knew I couldn’t.
That night, I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him. Mr. Odewale, standing at the foot of my bed. Silent. Watching. Waiting.
The next morning, I found something that made my stomach twist into knots. A newspaper article, decades old, slipped under my office door. It detailed Mr. Odewale’s murder—how the case had gone cold, how Chief Adebayo had been questioned but never charged.
The decision had been made for me, I didn’t have a choice in this matter.
By nightfall, I was sitting in my car outside Chief Adebayo’s mansion, the knife wrapped in a cloth on the passenger seat. My heart pounded against my ribs.
“Kill him… or you will never be free.” The voice echoed again.
“He is inside. Go.”
I grabbed the knife, my fingers tightening around the handle. This wasn’t just about justice anymore. This was survival. My survival. I opened the car door. And stepped into the darkness.
The mansion’s gates were surprisingly open as if inviting me inside. My legs felt heavy but something or someone kept pushing me forward. I didn’t have a plan. I didn’t even know if I could go through with it. The house was silent.
“He’s alone, go inside.”
I gripped the knife tighter and moved forward, my footsteps barely making a sound on the marble floor. Then I heard Chief Adebayo’s voice. He was speaking to someone on the phone. I crept closer. The door was slightly open. I could see him now, seated at his massive desk, his back to me. The knife felt like it was breathing in my hand.
“Do it.”
My fingers trembled. I took a step forward and the floor creaked under my feet. Chief Adebayo stiffened. Slowly, he turned as his gaze met mine.
“Who the hell—”
I lunged.
But I wasn’t fast enough. The knife slashed through empty air. I stumbled forward.
“Are you out of your damn mind?” he screamed reaching for a gun in his drawer. But before he could grab it, the room changed. The lights flickered. The air grew thick.Then, the mirror above the fireplace exploded as the reflection of Mr. Odewale emerged from the broken fragments, his body bloodied, his face twisted in rage. Chief Adebayo’s eyes went wide with fear.
“No!!” he gasped.
But it was too late. A force slammed him into the desk. Chief Adebayo clawed at his throat, gasping for air, his body lifted inches off the ground while an invisible hand was squeezing the life out of him.
His face turned pale. His eyes bulged. His feet kicked uselessly against the floor. And then with a sickening crack, his neck snapped. His body crumpled to the floor. Motionless. Lifeless. Silence followed. The room was still. The shadows retreated.
And when I turned to the shattered mirror, Mr. Odewale was gone… it was over.
I exhaled sharply, my hands still trembling. Chief Adebayo’s lifeless body remained on the floor. I needed to leave quickly. I wiped down the surfaces I had touched, taking careful, hurried steps out of the house.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, I rammed the key into the ignition with shaking hands. I reached for the gearshift, but then I heard a voice
“Going somewhere?”
The voice came from the backseat.
My breath caught in my throat. Terrified, I glanced at the rearview mirror. There was someone there. A dark silhouette, barely distinguishable, sitting in the backseat.
“Who are you?” I questioned but the figure didn’t move.
“You thought it ended in there right?” the voice responded
“You just involved yourself in something far bigger than you, my friend.”
I wanted to run but I swallowed hard because I knew that there was no running from this anymore.
