The Face in the Mirror
https://www.amazon.com/29-Argyle-Drive-David-Turri-ebook/dp/B00Q2ETTRS/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8
https://www.amazon.com/Escarpment-David-Turri/dp/161296866X/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8
Two of my novels – “29 Argyle Drive” and “Escarpment” – were partially inspired by a number of stories told to me over the years by friends and acquaintances who possess a sixth sense. I recently heard another story, which I want to pass on here.
As in “29 Argyle Drive”, the events Susan related to me seem to be connected to a house, this one located in Buffalo, New York State. At the time, Susan was a college student and lived in the house with her younger sister and parents.
One afternoon, she was sitting at her computer working on a school assignment when she heard a girl scream. Not in some other room or out in the street, but as though the girl had crept up to her side, put her lips to Susan’s ear and SCREAMED.
Naturally, she was thoroughly upset and frightened. She didn’t hear the voice again, but was visibly aware at times after that of the girl’s presence. She could see her; but at the same time not see her.
“It’s hard to explain,” she admits. “It’s like when you turn your head around suddenly. Your eyes might sweep passed someone who is standing there, but because they don’t stop on that person – don’t focus – but continue their sweep, your brain is aware of having seen, but not actually seeing the person. If that makes any sense.”
She came home late in the evening. The rest of the family was out, and all the lights, except the one on the porch, were off. But when she put her key in the lock, the lights came on, all the lights in the house. She was terrified, but didn’t run away. Instead, she grabbed one of her father’s golf clubs that were stacked in a bag in the hallway and walked slowly through the house in search of the culprits. Every few steps, she called out, “Who’s there?” and kept announcing that she was armed. But the house was empty and the doors and windows locked.
She was sitting at her computer in her room; her sister was in her own room upstairs, similarly occupied. Suddenly, feet ran across the floor above Susan’s head. Stomped across the floor strongly enough to shake the house and to dislodge specks of plaster from the ceiling, which floated down over her desk and keyboard. She texted a message to her sister:
“Was that you? I hope it was.”
“It wasn’t me.”
Susan has an aunt who possesses a sixth sense. She was visiting for a few days, and one afternoon took a nap on the couch in the living room. What happened next, happened in the dream the aunt had while she was sleeping.
In the dream, she was washing her hands in the bathroom sink when she looked up and saw a girl’s face watching her from inside the mirror; a pretty girl, with long, wavy blonde hair.
“Who are you?”
The image did not respond; her expression remained blank.
“What are you doing here?”
The girl smiled; a teasing kind of smile. Then she said, “You’re the only one in this house who has ever seen me.”
The aunt thrust her hands into the mirror. They grabbed the girl and ripped her out. She carried her through the house to the living room and flung her through the windows.
Then she woke up.
Susan told me that from that day on nothing disturbed the house’s peace.