15th October 2011
3:00 am
Once there was a lady, who was a vampire, she would wake up suddenly in the night and would sleep walk in midnight and goes to other people's house and eat there soul and leave no trace for the police and she never got caught until a few days later people started noticing that there is no sounds in some houses so people started getting suspicious and went on a search and what then found was stomach dropping, it was a cage of dog eating some human flesh and bones, when they dna tested it they came to know it is from small kids .
15th October 2011
3:47 AM
The dog cage was discovered in a long-forgotten alley behind an abandoned toy factory, wrapped in barbed wire and stinking of rot. Police arrived, trying to mask the smell with masks and gloves, but nothing could hide the stench of pure evil that clung to the place.
Inside the cage, bones of children were gnawed clean—small skulls, cracked ribs, tiny spines still smeared with blood. The dog, or what they thought was a dog, had eyes that reflected red even without light. It didn't bark. It didn't growl. It grinned.
They tried to sedate it, but the needle melted before it touched its skin.
Then, it vanished. Right there. One blink… and it was gone. All that remained was a chunk of meat in the officer's hand. Still warm.
17th October 2011
2:59 AM
Residents of the town of Eldergrove no longer slept.
Every night, at exactly 3:00 AM, screams would echo across the houses. Short, sharp, and then cut off—like the wind itself swallowed them.
Security footage showed nothing. Cameras died at exactly 2:59 AM and returned to normal at 3:01 AM. But every time the power came back, someone was gone. A child. A mother. A whole family, in some cases.
Only one thing remained in their homes: a small crimson handprint on the wall. Dripping. Fresh. Still warm.
A survivor finally came forward. A child. Nine years old. Half-starved. Eyes wild with terror.
She had been hiding under her bed when the creature came.
"It wasn't a lady anymore," she whispered, rocking back and forth in the police station. "It looked like her… but its mouth opened all the way to its chest. And she had no eyes. Just black holes that screamed. She floated... and she brought the dog with her. The red-eyed one. It whispered things to her…"
"What things?" the officer asked.
The girl looked up, shaking violently. "She eats dreams first. Then your soul. She takes the voices. That's why no one hears screaming. Because she wears them."
Then she fainted.
She never woke up.
18th October 2011
3:00 AM
The town's church bell began ringing by itself. A sound not heard in over 40 years.
When authorities forced open the doors, they found every wall inside painted with blood. One word repeated over and over.
"AWAKENED." In the center of the altar was a mirror. And in the reflection… there was the woman.
Tall. Pale. Blood dripping from her open jaw like strings of webbing. Her hands ended in claws. She didn't blink. She just stared.Behind her stood the dog. Its mouth slowly opened...
And a child's hand fell
13th October 1887
Eldergrove Manor, Hilltop District
Lilith Mirewood wasn't an only child.
She had a sister. Celeste.
Celeste was everything Lilith was not—golden-haired, soft-spoken, beloved. Their parents, Alaric and Evangeline Mirewood, were wealthy socialites who doted on Celeste with lavish parties, violin lessons, and embroidered dresses.
But Lilith?
They barely looked at her.
Where Celeste was praised, Lilith was punished. For nothing. A dropped plate. A question asked twice. A laugh that was "too loud." She spent most of her days locked in the attic while Celeste danced in the gardens below, their mother brushing her hair and whispering, "You're our perfect little angel."
Lilith heard it through the vents.
She wasn't allowed to eat with the family. She wasn't even allowed to say "Mama."
Her mother said, "One daughter is enough. You were just... an accident."
The worst part?
Celeste played along.
She told Lilith she was "the shadow child." That she was born cursed. That no one could ever love her. And Lilith believed her.
Her breaking point came on her 10th birthday.
She snuck out of the attic with a small drawing—a picture of her and Celeste holding hands. She'd worked on it for days. It was the only gift she had to give.
When she gave it to Celeste, her sister laughed. So did her mother. Her father didn't even look.
They tore it up.
That night, Lilith cried until she vomited. Something cracked inside her. And as the wind howled outside and the moon turned blood-red, she whispered a wish through her tears:
"I want them to vanish.
I want them to suffer like I do.
I want them to love me…
even if I have to make them."
Something answered.
The next morning, the house was silent.
Celeste's bedroom was filled with blood. No body. Just a pile of white feathers soaked in crimson.
Her parents were found in the ballroom. Arms twisted backward. Faces frozen in terror. Mouths still open, as if screaming something they never finished saying.
The mirrors in the house all cracked at once.
Only Lilith remained, sitting at the breakfast table, calmly eating red velvet cake. Smiling.
When the townspeople came, she was gone. Only the drawing remained—perfectly preserved. Two girls holding hands.
But now only one had a face.
Present Day: 3:00 AM, Eldergrove, 2011
The town is cursed. Lilith returns every generation, drawn to happy families, favorite daughters, and perfect homes—anything that reminds her of what she never had.
She doesn't just kill.
She makes them feel like her first—invisible, unloved, forgotten—and then she takes their soul. Quietly. Without mercy.
And before she leaves?
She whispers in the ear of the last person left in the house:
"Now you know what it feels like to be nothing."
Then the handprint appears.
Absolutely.
She's no longer just a monster; she's a vengeful, cursed soul born from deep betrayal.
Seraphine's Whisper
October 22nd, 2011 – 3:00 AM
Bennett House – Eldergrove
Selene couldn't sleep.
She hadn't seen her parents or Sophie in hours. The house was wrong. Too quiet. The ticking clock in the hallway had stopped. The air was thick and wet, like she was breathing through water.
She crept into the hallway, calling out softly, "Mom…?"
No answer.
Just her reflection in the mirror.
But the reflection wasn't moving.
It was watching her.
Then the lights went out.
And from behind her, a voice spoke — soft, melodic, and echoing with something ancient:
> "They never loved you.
> They pretended.
> Just like mine did."
Selene spun around.
There stood a girl—tall, pale, and wrapped in tattered lace, like a Victorian doll buried too long. Her hair fell like shadows. Her eyes were bottomless black.
Blood dripped from her fingertips.
Seraphine Mirewood.
Flashback – Eldergrove Manor, 1887
Before the Curse
Seraphine wasn't the favorite.
Her younger sister, Silva, was golden, graceful, beloved by everyone. Seraphine was strange. Her drawings were disturbing. Her questions were too sharp.
Their parents adored Silva. Called her "the light of the house."
To Seraphine, they said, "Don't embarrass us."
One day, Silva pushed Seraphine down the stairs just for fun. Broke her arm. Their parents blamed Seraphine for "being dramatic."
That night, Seraphine cried until something answered.
A voice from the mirror. A promise of love. Power. Revenge.
She made a pact.
The next morning, Silva was missing. Her blood painted the nursery ceiling.
Their mother screamed. Their father wept. But they never touched Seraphine again.
They feared her.
As they should.
Because something else lived in her now.
And it was hungry.
Present Day – Bennett Home
Selene backed away from Seraphine, trembling. "You're not real."
Seraphine tilted her head.
> "I am more real than your mother's love.
> More real than every birthday they forgot.
> I remember you."
Then she reached out and touched Selene forehead.
Suddenly, Selene was back in her own memories, reliving every moment she was left behind:
Sophie blowing out candles while Selene sat alone in the corner.
Her mother taking only Sophie to piano lessons.
Her father saying, "Just let Sophie answer, Selene. She's better at these things."
Selene collapsed to her knees.
> "It hurts, doesn't it?" Seraphine whispered.
> "You don't have to hurt anymore. Let me show you what I became..."
Selene opened her eyes.
She was in a mirror version of her house—warped, rotting, dripping blood from the walls. Her parents were nailed to the ceiling by their hands, mouths sewn shut with red string. Sophie was in the corner, her face blank, eyes glowing.
A cage sat in the center of the room.
Inside it, something was gnawing on bones.
The same red-eyed dog.
It looked up.
Smiled.
Then Seraphine took Selene's hand.
> "You don't have to forgive them.
> You just have to let me in."
Selene screamed.
Back in the real world, the house shook. Windows cracked. The mirrors bled. One word appeared, carved deep into every surface:
The House That Remembers
October 23rd, 2011 – 3:00 AM
Selene stood frozen in the mirror-world.
The walls pulsed like they were breathing. Black fluid oozed from cracked doorframe's , and the carpet squished under her bare feet like soaked flesh. This place was her house… but not. It was rotting, sagging under the weight of time and secrets.
Behind her stood Seraphine tall, spectral, and impossibly still. The white lace of her dress was stained red at the hem, dragging across the floor like a bride walking from a massacre.
> "Welcome home," she whispered.
Selene's breath shook. The air was thick, metallic — like the moment before a nosebleed.
As she turned down the hallway, picture frames twisted to face her. Inside them weren't family portraits — but scenes from her **memories**, twisted into horrors.
One showed her 9th birthday.
Sophie stood smiling, cake in front of her, family around her.
Selene sat in the corner, blurred, like a forgotten background extra.
Another showed Selene crying in the dark.
Another—her mother slamming the bedroom door in her face.
Another—her father hugging Sophie while Selene watched from the stairs, invisible.
The images blinked. Then smiled.
> "They erased you," Seraphine whispered from behind.
> "You were a shadow in your own life.
> Let me make you unforgettable."
Selene tried to back away, but the house shifted.
The hallway vanished, swallowed into shadow.
Suddenly, she was standing in the attic.
The air here was colder. The only sound: a broken music box, playing Sophie's lullaby in reverse. A single bed sat in the corner, and on it—
A girl. Curled up. Sobbing.
Selene took a step closer. The girl looked familiar. Too familiar.
It was her.
Seven years old.
Clutching a torn teddy bear.
Dirty, bruised, eyes hollow.
Selene's throat tightened.
> "I… remember this."
She knelt beside the bed. The younger Selene looked up, tears shining in her hollow eyes.
> "You forgot me," the child whispered.
> "You left me here alone. Just like they did."
Selene trembled. "I didn't mean to. I— I grew up. I tried to move on."
The child's head tilted.
> "You were supposed to save us."
Then the child's skin began to rot, peeling away in strips — revealing Seraphine's face underneath.
Seraphine grinned, teeth sharp like cracked porcelain.
> "But I can still save you."
Selene screamed and stumbled backward.
The attic door slammed shut behind her.
The lights went out.
When they came back on, Selene stood in the **kitchen**, but it was filled with blood. The sink overflowed with it. Her mother stood at the stove, head tilted unnaturally, a noose of hair wrapped around her neck. Her eyes were gouged out.
Her father was at the table, mouth sewn shut, scribbling "SORRY" in blood across a newspaper.
And Sophie—sweet Sophie—was in the corner.
Smiling.
Her eyes were completely black.
> "Seraphine is my sister now," Sophie said softly.
> "She loves me more than you ever did."
Selene backed away, heart pounding. "No… this isn't real—"
> "It's more real than your family ever was," Seraphine whispered from behind her.
> "They broke you. Let me rebuild you."
The house began to collapse.
The walls bled. The lights screamed. The mirrors cracked.
Then — silence.
In the living room, a mirror stood — the only one not shattered.
In it, Seraphine stood with her hand extended.
Behind her: dozens of girls. Forgotten girls. Unloved girls. Selene recognized their faces. Girls who went missing. The ones in the news. The ones no one ever found.
They all smiled at her.
Waiting.
Seraphine stepped forward and said one final thing:
> "Choose, Selene.
> Stay in the world that forgot you.
> Or walk into the one that remembers everything."
Selene's hand hovered in the air.
The mirror shimmered.
And the house whispered her name.
The Mirror's Embrace
Selene's hand trembled as it hovered before the mirror. The reflection shimmered, distorting her image into a grotesque version of herself. Behind her, Seraphine's voice slithered into her ears.
> "Embrace the truth, Selene. Let go of the pain."
The room darkened, shadows creeping along the walls, whispering forgotten memories. Selene's heart pounded, each beat echoing like a drum of war. She stepped forward, her fingers grazing the cold surface of the mirror.
Suddenly, a force pulled her in, engulfing her in darkness. She fell through an abyss, memories flashing before her eyes: her parents' neglect, Sophie's mocking laughter, the loneliness that consumed her.
She landed in a twisted version of her home, where walls wept blood and the air was thick with despair. Seraphine stood before her, eyes glowing with malevolence.
> "Welcome to your true home, Selene."
Selene's scream was swallowed by the darkness.
Welcome to the Funhouse*
The mirror swallowed Selene whole. Literally. One second she was staring at her reflection, trembling, and the next she was falling through a pitch-black void like a broken marionette, screaming—but the sound never left her lips.
When she finally landed, her knees hit cold, cracked tiles, and she was gasping for breath, but the air was thick and heavy—like she'd inhaled a library of moldy secrets.
Selene looked around. The place was a grotesque carnival funhouse twisted by madness and despair. Walls leaned at impossible angles, dripping with sticky crimson goo that made soft plopping sounds as it hit the floor. The floor itself was uneven, like it was breathing—or worse, waiting to swallow her whole.
She tried to stand, but her legs felt like jelly noodles left out too long."Great," she muttered. "Just what I wanted. Haunted funhouse of doom. Because normal haunted houses are so passé."
A flickering neon sign buzzed overhead, spelling out:
> WELCOME TO THE MIRROR'S EMBRACE!
Beneath it, a peeling poster read:
>"Leave your sanity at the door!"
Selene rolled her eyes. "No thanks. I already lost it."
Suddenly, a low chuckle echoed around the warped hallways. It was... coming from a grotesque clown doll sitting on a stool, its painted grin cracking wider until it looked like it was bleeding.
> "You're a funny one, aren't you?" the doll whispered in a voice like nails on chalkboard.
Selene blinked, backing up. "I talk to dolls now? Great. What's next? I'll be juggling chainsaws with a blindfold?"
The doll let out a high-pitched giggle that turned into a growl. "Chainsaws? Sweetheart, here the only thing sharp enough to save you is your wit. Or maybe your tears.A chill ran down her spine, but Selene forced a smirk.** "Well, if you want me to cry, you might wanna get better jokes."
The doll's eyes glittered ominously as it hopped off the stool and started waddling toward her with stiff, jerky movements.
"Come on then," it said, voice suddenly a deep growl, "Let's see if you can laugh when the lights go out."
Selene sprinted away, but the hall stretched endlessly, folding back on itself like a nightmare Möbius strip. She could hear the doll's ragged breathing just behind her—giggling and growling in an impossible duet.
At the end of the corridor, she found herself in a room filled with cracked mirrors all reflecting warped, monstrous versions of herself—some with extra eyes, some with screaming mouths stitched shut, others melting into shadow.
One reflection sneered, mouth twisting:
> "You think you're special, don't you? The forgotten girl? The ignored one? We're all here—broken and waiting. Ready to drag you down."
Selene shuddered, clutching her arms around herself. The mirror images began to laugh—deep, horrible laughter that echoed and multiplied until it filled the room like a storm.
But amid the cacophony, Selene found a spark of something else: defiance.
She stood straighter and shouted:
> "Alright, you creepy glass freaks. If this is a party, then I'm the uninvited guest. And I hate uninvited guests. Now back off before I break every one of you!"
The mirrors cracked, some splintering, others shattering entirely, leaving only darkness behind.
Suddenly, Seraphine appeared at the far end of the room. She was more terrifying than ever—her lace dress now shredded, eyes blazing like black stars, her smile a razor-sharp crescent moon.
> "You think you can fight what you are?" she whispered. "You are mine, Selene. The broken parts of you belong to me."
Selene squared her shoulders and said, "If you're me, then I guess that makes you the nightmare I hit snooze on this morning."
Seraphine laughed, a sound like shattering glass. "You can't escape me. Not here. Not ever."
A sudden crash interrupted them. The room's walls convulsed and a figure stumbled through a crumbling mirror portal. It was Sophie—her eyes black as voids, smile impossibly wide, and voice dripping with mock sweetness:
> "Big sister! Guess who's got the snacks?"
Selene's stomach churned. "Not funny, Sophie."
Sophie laughed—a dark, broken sound. "Oh, I'm so much funnier now."
She held out her hands, where glowing, writhing shadows twisted like smoke. "Want some? It's all the rage in hell."
Selene stepped back, heart pounding, but then quipped:
> "Thanks, but I'm on a no-darkness diet. Very low-calorie."Sophie snarled, and the shadows lunged. Selene barely dodged, sprinting back toward Seraphine.
> "You think your little sister will save you?" Seraphine taunted. "She's just the appetizer."
Selene swallowed her fear, feeling the cold grip of the twisted place. But a strange clarity settled over her. The darkness was thick—but she still had a choice.
> "Maybe I'm hungry," Selene said, "but I'm not eating *you* tonight."
The hallways twisted again, and the world began to collapse around her—walls melting, shadows turning into grotesque shapes that clawed at her ankles. Selene ran, screaming, laughing at the absurdity of it all.
> "Seriously, can I get a refund on this nightmare?"
And just when she thought she couldn't run anymore, she burst through a door into the quietest, coldest place she had ever known.
It was her childhood bedroom—perfect and pristine, untouched by time. The moonlight spilled in through the window, painting the room silver.
For a moment, the nightmare loosened its grip.
Selene sat on the bed, breathing hard.
> "Maybe I'm broken," she whispered, "but broken doesn't mean finished."
The Hunger Within (Part 1)
The darkness held Selene in a cold, silent grip. Her lungs screamed for air, but there was none. No light, no sound — just the endless void pressing against her skin like a suffocating blanket.
Then, a whisper.
Soft at first, like the rustle of dead leaves, then growing louder, clearer.
> "Selene... you can't run from me."
Her eyes snapped open.
She was lying on the floor of an endless hall. The walls stretched far above, covered with faded wallpaper patterned with roses that seemed to bleed when she looked too long. The floor was cracked and slick, as though stained with old blood. The air tasted metallic.
Ahead, a flickering candlelight danced. A figure waited.
Seraphine.
Her face was a mask of cold beauty, but beneath her eyes lurked something ancient and hungry. She beckoned Selene closer.
"Why do you resist me?" Seraphine asked, voice honey laced with venom. "We belong together. I've waited for you... for so long."
Selene swallowed her fear. "You're just a shadow. A nightmare. You don't own me."
Seraphine's smile twisted into something dark and cruel. "Oh, but I do. You can feel it, don't you? The hunger inside you — the part of you that was left to rot in silence."
Selene's hand went to her chest. A cold ache pulsed deep inside. She wanted to scream, but the sound caught in her throat.
"You don't know me," she whispered.
"I know everything," Seraphine replied. "Your pain, your loneliness, the way your parents ignored you. They loved Sophie, not you."
Selene's vision blurred with tears. The truth hurt worse than the darkness Seraphine stepped closer, extending a pale hand. "Come with me. Let me fill the void. Together, we will be unstoppable."
Selene hesitated.
Behind Seraphine, the walls began to shift. Faces appeared — twisted, screaming, begging.
"Join us," they whispered. "Join the forgotten."
Selene felt the hunger inside her roar. A dark craving, ancient and fierce. It was the same hunger that Seraphine thrived on.
A war raged inside her — the desire to run and the temptation to surrender. She closed her eyes.
The Hunger Within (Part 2)
Selene's breath came in shallow gasps. The void inside her yawned like a beast awakened from a long slumber, claws scratching at her ribs, demanding to be fed.
The voices from the walls whispered louder—agonized, broken, haunting:
> "You belong to us."
> "Give in."
> "We were forgotten, but you... you can be our queen."
Her fists clenched tight, nails digging into the flesh of her palms. A bitter laugh escaped her lips, dry and hollow.
> "Queen of what?" she scoffed. "The asylum for lost ghosts? The club no one wanted to join?"
Seraphine's smile deepened, dark and endless like a moonless night.
> "No, Selene. You don't understand. This is power. Freedom. Revenge."
A sudden flash: Selene was seven again, sitting alone on a swing in a rusted playground, rain soaking through her thin jacket. She watched her parents laugh and dance with Sophie—her perfect sister—while she faded into the shadows, invisible and ignored.
> "You'll never be enough," a voice whispered.
She clenched her teeth, shaking off the memory.
> "Maybe I'm not perfect. Maybe I'm broken. But I'm still here."
Seraphine stepped closer, almost gently, then snapped her fingers.
Suddenly, Selene's knees buckled. The hunger inside her twisted, a black serpent wrapping tighter around her soul. Her vision blurred, and the faces on the walls morphed into grotesque masks—each a reflection of a childhood scar, a wound never healed.
> "Why fight?" Seraphine breathed, voice a velvet dagger.
> "Your parents abandoned you. Your sister betrayed you. You've been starving in the dark—waiting for someone to notice. *I* see you."
Selene shook her head, tears streaming down her face.
> "You see only what you want. You don't know me."
The hunger roared louder—an unbearable ache that pushed her toward the edge.
Desperation clawed at her mind. Then, like a lifeline, a memory sparked: the time she found an old cassette tape in the attic, hidden behind dusty books. It was Sophie's voice, singing softly.
>"I'm sorry," Sophie had whispered on the tape.
> "I never meant to hurt you."*
Selene's heart twisted. The betrayal ran deep—but maybe not all was lost.
> "Maybe I am broken," she whispered, "but that doesn't mean I'm yours."
Seraphine's eyes flared like dying stars.
> "You can't escape the hunger. It's part of you. The darkness inside will always win."
Selene swallowed hard, then—something inside her snapped.
> "Maybe. But I'm going to fight it. One bite at a time."
The hallways around them shuddered. The faces screamed and cracked, then shattered into dust.
Seraphine snarled—a sound like thunder and broken glass—and lunged forward.
Selene dodged, heart racing. She didn't know how long she could hold on, but one thing was clear: she wasn't going down without a fight.
Absolutely.
The Hunger Within (Part 3)
The walls weren't just bleeding now.
They were breathing.
Every second, the hallway expanded and contracted like a pair of lungs filled with centuries of rot. The air was thick, wet, and smelled of iron and decay — like something long dead had been left to stew and fester.
Selene stumbled back, heart hammering, as the hallway's ceiling bulged downward, veins pulsing across its surface. Something inside the walls moved — something huge — dragging its bloated body along unseen tunnels, groaning with hunger.
> "She fights..."A chorus of voices — male, female, children, old — all hissed in unison from behind the walls.
> "She still thinks she's alive."
Selene turned, and Seraphine was gone.
In her place stood a towering silhouette — twice the height of any human — its body wrapped in funeral veils, soaked red. Where its face should've been was a mass of writhing worms, all screaming in unison.
> "Mooooother…"
Selene's blood went cold.
Behind it, countless figures crawled from the cracks in the walls. Twisted things. Children with backwards legs, eyeless grandmothers with skin like wet paper, bloated men whose stomachs burst open to reveal chattering teeth.
And in the center of them, levitating off the floor, arms outstretched in messianic mockery... was Seraphine.
She had changed.
Her once-delicate features were gone, replaced by a face that flickered between dozens of identities — Selene's, Sophie's, her mother's, her father's, every soul she'd devoured.
Her voice became many voices at once.
> "You carry me, Selene. In your marrow. In your tears. In your rage."Selene tried to back away, but the floor beneath her feet liquefied, sucking her down into a pit of rotting dolls. Their tiny arms clawed at her skin, giggling as they tried to peel the flesh from her bones.
> "She's not smiling. Make her smile!" one shrieked.
A doll jammed its hand into her mouth, trying to stretch her lips into a grin. She gagged, screamed, and bit down, snapping its fingers like twigs.
It shrieked and melted into pus.
Selene clawed her way out of the pit, bloodied, gasping.
And there stood Seraphine again, face now calm — almost serene > "Pain is the only language the forgotten understand."
Selene spat blood. "You talk too much."
Seraphine smiled. Her mouth tore open — wider and wider — until it split her face down to her stomach. A chorus of screaming children emerged from her throat.
Selene turned and ran.
She crashed through a door at the end of the hall — and the world changed again.
She was back in her childhood home.
Except it was wrong.
The walls dripped tar. All the windows were covered in black cloth. The smell of burned hair filled the air.
A dinner table was set in the center of the room. At it sat her parent— waxy, still, their eyes black and vacant, their hands clutching forks and knives that trembled in silence. On the table: a roast.
Selene's stomach turned.
It was Sophie.
Her sister's body was dressed in a fine lace gown, hair braided with thorns. Her chest was carved open, organs replaced by glittering black stones.
Their father looked up.
> "She was always the favorite," he rasped. "Now she's finally useful."Selene screamed. Her mother smiled, a maggot crawling from her eye socket.
> "Don't cry, dear. You always said you wanted more attention."
The walls closed in. The house began to collapse, screaming with a thousand mouths.
Selene fell again — downward, through the floor, into fire and ash.
She landed in a cathedral.
No... not a cathedral.
A mausoleum.
The stained-glass windows showed depictions of her own life — but twisted. In one, she strangled her sister with a jump rope. In another, she lit her family on fire. In the final window, she stood hand-in-hand with Seraphine, wearing a crown of thorns and holding a beating heart.
She approached the altar.
Upon it sat a mirror.
Not a normal one — this mirror was alive, pulsing with something ancient. The surface rippled like liquid mercury. It whispered her name over and over.
> "Selene... Selene... Selene..."
She reached for it. Her fingers touched the surface — and it didn't reflect her.
It reflected her worst self.
Eyes black. Mouth torn in a permanent smile. Hands soaked in blood.
This version of her stepped out of the mirror.
It tilted its head.
> "We're not so different," it said.
Selene screamed and raised her fists, ready to fight.
But the doppelgänger only smiled... and opened its chest.
Inside was a spiral staircase.
> "Come down," it said. "Everything becomes clear in the dark."
And then it burst into a thousand moths made of glass.
To be continued in Part 4…
The Hunger Within
Part 4 – The Spiral
The mirror exploded into a cascade of shattering glass moths, each wing whispering Selene's name as they dissolved midair. She stood at the top of the spiral staircase now—built not from stone, but from spines and femurs, bones so old they pulsed with memory.
She descended, every step drawing her deeper into the subconscious rot Seraphine had planted in her. The air grew colder, the gravity heavier, and soon she was in a place that didn't obey physics or light. Only instinct.
At the bottom, Selene emerged into what looked like a cathedral carved from flesh. The walls breathed, oozing a mucus-like sap, and hundreds of preserved hearts hung from the ceiling on black strings. Each beat with a different rhythm. Each echoed a soul that had been consumed.
And at the altar stood Seraphine—her body now twisted, towering, inhuman.
Her lower half was fused with the roots of the cathedral itself. Veins pulsed down into the stone. Her arms were now wings made of ribcages, each one clattering like wind chimes. From her back erupted faces—screaming, sobbing, laughing—every soul she had digested.
> "Do you understand now?" she asked, her voice not hers alone, but the blended moans of hundreds.
Selene stared at the altar. One of the beating hearts bore a scar shaped like a crescent moon.
It was hers.
> "Why is my heart here?" she whispered.
Seraphine smiled.
> "Because you gave it away. Long ago. Every time they chose your sister. Every time you were forgotten. Every *night you cried alone and wished someone would die instead of you.* I heard that prayer. And I answered."
Selene dropped to her knees, sick with the weight of her own memories. She remembered pressing her ear to the wall of her room just to hear laughter she wasn't invited into. The guilt. The resentment. How much it *hurt* to be invisible.
She had fed Seraphine without even knowing.
And now the cathedral wanted her to finish the ritual.
To take her place.
Part 5 – The Sacrament
The altar began to change. Her heart pulsed louder. From the floor rose a pedestal, holding a knife made of obsidian and broken teeth. The handle was carved to fit only her hand.
> "Cut the past away," Seraphine whispered. "Remove the weakness. Then you will become what you were born to be."
Selene's fingers trembled as she reached for the blade.
She felt it before she even touched it—the pull. The **promise of power**. Of finally being seen. Worshiped. Obeyed.
> "You never have to hurt again," Seraphine cooed.
Then—a laugh.
Not Seraphine's.
Selene's.
She looked up and laughed—a jagged, painful sound.
> "You almost had me," she said. "God, you really almost did."
Seraphine blinked. > "You don't want to be free?"
> "No. I want to be real. Not whatever you are."
She grabbed the knife—and turned it on herself.
Seraphine screamed.
Selene plunged the blade into her chest—not to die, but to cut her heart free from the strings. The moment it detached, the cathedral screamed.
Blood erupted from the walls. The hearts overhead exploded. The screaming faces behind Seraphine peeled away like burning paper.
> "No!" Seraphine howled, staggering forward, her form disintegrating.
Selene held her heart, now glowing with a blinding red light, close to her chest.
And whispered:
> "You don't get to keep this anymore."
The ground shattered beneath them.
Selene fell, the world crumbling into smoke and bone around her.
When she awoke, she was outside.
Beneath a real sky.
The cathedral, Seraphine, the altar—all gone.
In the distance, fireflies danced above an empty field.
Selene's hands were caked in dried blood.
Her chest ached, but… her heart was beating.
Her own.
A wind swept past her, gentle. On it, a whisper:
> "This isn't over."
Selene smiled.
> "Good. I'm not done either."
To be continued in part 6: What Remains After the Feast
Part 6 – Hollow Skin
Selene didn't sleep.
She couldn't.
Even though the sky above was calm now — pale blue with clouds like stitched gauze — and the earth under her was warm and still, her body couldn't forget what it had become.
She had held her own heart in her hands.
She had carved it from a place that should never exist.
Now it beat inside her chest again, but it felt… foreign.
Too quiet.
Too clean.
Almost like it didn't belong to her anymore.
The field she stood in was unfamiliar, though she knew it was once her hometown. The streets were there — warped, cracked — but the houses were rotted, sunken into the earth like decayed teeth. Lampposts leaned at unnatural angles, humming not with electricity but with whispers. There were no people .
Just shadows.
Faint outlines moving behind curtains that weren't there. Selene walked the broken road until she reached what used to be her old school. The sign still read St. Mary's for Gifted Girls, but all the windows were bricked shut, and from the cracked front door came the sound of something… chewing.
She didn't go in.
Not yet.
Instead, she sat on the old swing set near the yard, where children once played.
She hadn't been on a swing since Sophie's seventh birthday. The day they tied a blindfold around Selene's face and told her to swing higher, higher—
Until she flew off and cracked her arm in two places.
Everyone laughed.
Even her parents.
Even Sophie.
Selene kicked at the dirt.
> "I don't want revenge anymore," she whispered. "I just want to be... not haunted."
> "Funny."
A voice behind her.
Seraphine's?
No. Too young.
Too... alive.
Selene turned.
A girl stood in the schoolyard.
Twelve? Maybe thirteen? She wore a hospital gown, stained with ink. Her eyes were completely black.
Her voice was made of static.
> "You stopped eating, Selene. That's a shame. You were so good at it."
Selene rose.
> "Who are you?"
> "One of many. We were in Seraphine long before she had a name."
The girl stepped forward. Her arms were covered in tally marks. Her smile was stitched in reverse.
> "Seraphine was just a shape. We've worn others. And we liked you."
> "Well, I didn't like you," Selene snapped.
> "You fed us."
The girl's grin widened. She opened her mouth — wider than possible — and from it spilled not words, but sounds:
Her father slamming a door.
Her mother saying "Why can't you be more like your sister?"
Sophie giggling behind a locked door.
Selene covered her ears.
> "Stop!"
The sounds ceased.
The girl tilted her head.
> "You thought Seraphine's end meant you were free? No, Selene. You woke us up. You didn't kill the hunger. You just made room for something worse."
The ground cracked.
From beneath the swing set, black vines erupted — not plants, but veins, pulsing with memories. They wrapped around Selene's legs, her arms, dragging her down into the soil.
The girl stepped over her, bending down.
> "The truth is, Selene… the real monster isn't what eats."
> "It's what stays hungry."
She tapped Selene's forehead.
> "And you're starving."
Selene screamed as the earth swallowed her.
She fell into a second bod.
Back inside the cathedral, only now it was colder. Emptier. The altar gone. The walls etched with her own thoughts, bleeding across the flesh walls:
> "Why did they forget me?"
> "What if I deserve this?"
> "Maybe I am the bad thing.
She stood up, trembling.
And there, sitting in her place, where Seraphine once ruled…
…was Sophie.
Older now. Or something pretending to be her.
> "You always wanted my life, didn't you?" the figure asked.
Selene shook her head, tears streaming.
> "No. I just wanted... to be seen."
Sophie's eyes turned black.
> "Then let the whole world see what you've become."
And behind her, the walls split open like a wound—
Revealing a mirror.
Not glass.
Skin.
And in the reflection stood Selene—
But twisted.
Teeth too long. Eyes all black. Wings made of arms. A shadow halo behind her.
She saw it, and for the first time, she did not scream.
She smiled.
To be continued in Chapter 7: The Mirror Devours.
The Mirror Devours.
Part 7 – Reflections That Bleed
The mirror of skin stared back.
It wasn't glass, and it wasn't illusion. It was her, only… stretched, corrupted, perfected in its own brutal way.
Her reflection blinked before she did.
That was the first sign.
The second?
It smiled.
> "You fought Seraphine," the reflection said. "But she was only ever your appetizer." Selene stumbled back as the mirror began to pulse—heartbeat by heartbeat. The skin quivered, veins bulging, and then split open down the middle.
From within stepped the reflection.
It wasn't just her twin. It was what she'd be if she stopped resisting the hunger.
Her lips were sewn with teeth, her eyes black but glimmering with tears, her spine curving with shadow claws.
Selene backed into the wall.
> "You're not real," she whispered.
> "I am real. I'm you when no one is watching. I'm the feeling you get when you smile at someone and they look through you.
> I'm what grew in the silence."
Suddenly, the cathedral shifted.
Walls peeled back like eyelids.
All around her were mirrors. Thousands. Each one showing a different version of Selene:
A Selene who stayed silent.
A Selene who begged to be loved.
A Selene who became Seraphine.
Some were covered in blood.
Some were laughing.
Some were on fire.
And all of them were watching her.
The skin-mirror-Selene lunged.
Selene screamed, dodging, the creature scraping its claws across her cheek. It burned like betrayal.
She ran through the cathedral, past bleeding pews, down a corridor where the walls whispered secrets in her own voice:
> "They wanted her, not you."
> "You were a burden."
> "Even the monster pitied you."
At the end of the corridor, a door waited — covered in eyes.
They blinked in unison.
She didn't hesitate. She slammed into it.
And fell into another place.
This time, it was a bedroom.
Her childhood room.
Pristine.
Unreal.
Too clean.
The walls were covered in drawings she never made — all of Sophie. All perfect. She was missing from every picture.
On the bed sat a stuffed bear with a broken neck. Beside it, a music box opened, playing a lullaby that sounded like someone humming underwater.
> "Selene."
She turned.
Her mother stood in the doorway.
But her skin was too smooth. Too blank. And her mouth didn't move when she spoke.> "You were our mistake." Then she melted. Into shadow. Into hair. Into *
Sophie.
> "You're wasting your pain," Sophie said, her eyes pitch-black. "All that suffering, and you're still just trying to be human."
Selene gritted her teeth.
> "Maybe I still want to be."
Sophie—no, the thing wearing Sophie's voice—smiled, and held out her hand.> "Then give it all up. Let it go. Let me take it. The pain, the hunger, the sadness > "You mean, let you feed."
> "No," she said, "let me feed you."
Selene hesitated.
She was tired. So tired.
So many people in her life had drained her, but this thing? This thing was offering.
It would be so easy…
But she remembered the mirror.
She remembered the teeth in her smile.
She stepped back.
> "No."
The walls howled.
The fake-Sophie screamed, and her skin exploded into crawling insects. The bedroom collapsed into flame and bone. And Selene was falling again.
This time, she landed in a room made of mirror.
But none reflected her anymore.
They were empty.
That was worse.
She was gone.
Forgotten.
From the ceiling, the skin-mirror-Selene dropped like a spider. Its face contorted, dozens of mouths whispering at once:
> "You were born to vanish."
Selene rose.
> "Then why are you still talking about me?"
She grabbed a shard of mirror from the floor and stabbed the reflection in the throat.
It howled — black smoke spilling out like venom — but didn't die. It laughed.
> "You can't kill me. I'm your memory. I'm what they did. I'm what you felt and never said."
Selene knelt by the creature.
Held it close.
And whispered:
> "Then I'll carry you. But I won't become you."
And it dissolved.
The mirrors began to crack, one by one.
Each break was a memory releasing her.
The day she cried alone.
The night she saw Seraphine in the mirror for the first time.
The moment she knew no one would save her.
Gone.
But not forgotten.
She carried them now.
Not as weapons.
But as truth.
Selene stood alone.
The cathedral collapsed behind her.
The hunger, quiet now.
But not gone.
Never gone.
She walked into the pale light, heart beating steadily.
No longer a victim.
Not quite a monster.
Just… Selene.
To be continued in Chapter 8: The God of Forgotten Girls.
The God of Forgotten Girls
Part 8
The ground under Selene's feet was no longer earth. It was memory.
Soft. Cold. Bleeding quietly through the soles of her shoes.
She walked through a corridor that had no walls. Just shadow. Endless, layered shadow.
Above her floated faces — not full ones, just pieces. Eyes, lips, brows. Hovering like lost thoughts.
Each whispered something forgotten.
> "Don't tell your mother you're scared."
> "She's just going through a phase."
> "We didn't mean to leave her out."
> "You're being dramatic again, Selene."
The corridor grew tighter with every step. Her lungs began to burn.
She was getting close.
At the end stood a temple.
Not made of stone.
Made of bones.
Thousands of ribcages had been stacked and twisted into an archway. The skulls of girls stared down from the spires, mouths sewn shut, eyes still crying.
This was a place not of worship…
…but of sacrifice.
And inside sat the God of Forgotten Girls.
Selene entered.
The god was not a creature. Not a beast.
It was a throne made of names.
Each name etched into flesh.
Each name once belonged to someone like her.
The throne moved like a wave, reshaping, becoming what the viewer feared most.
Selene saw herself on it. Not older. Not younger.
Just empty.
As if everything that made her Selene had been fed to the throne.
The god spoke in a voice made of *echoes*:
> "You came here thinking there was something left to take."
Selene didn't reply.
> "You survived Seraphine. But she was just an invitation. A letter burned at the edges. You are the response."
> "Then what am I?" Selene asked.
> "You are hunger given purpose."
A girl stepped out from the shadows behind the throne.
Selene recognized her instantly.
Lucy.
Her childhood neighbor. Missing since age six. People said she ran away.
But here she was, skin pale as snow, eyes wide like moonlight.
> "I'm still here," Lucy whispered. "We all are." Behind her, dozens of girls emerged — the ones who were forgotten, ignored, discarded.
Each wore a crown of thorns made from their own hair.
> "We weren't weak," one said.
> "We were loud in quiet ways," said another.
> "And that was enough for them to make us vanish."
Selene fell to her knees.
> "I don't want to forget any of you."
> "Then don't," the god replied. "Become the record. Let us write through your skin. Let the world feel us through your shadow."
The throne began to move.
Bones reached out, wrapping around Selene's arms.
> "We will give you power. Memory as weapon. Grief as blade."
Her heart thundered.
> "But in return, we will never let you rest.You will never be normal. You will never be free."
Selene whispered:
> "I never was."
The god leaned close.
> "Then speak the vow."
Selene closed her eyes.
And from her mouth came a language older than words.
The god entered her.
The temple collapsed.
The girls screamed — not in pain, but release.
And Selene rose…
Eyes glowing.
Bones shifting beneath her skin.
Her voice now a choir.
The God of Forgotten Girls had a new body.
And the world would remember them.
We Who Remain
Part 9
The world cracked.
Subtly, at first.
Small things went wrong.
Children began waking with bruises shaped like fingers.
Statues bled from the eyes.
In every city, one girl vanished.
No one noticed. Except her.
Selene.
Or whatever she was now.
She wandered from place to place.
Not as a hero.
Not as a monster.
As a mirror.
In every town, she showed them the rot they buried — the forgotten girls who had become wind, ash, teeth beneath the floorboards.
She didn't kill.
She reminded.
And it was worse.
In one town, a teacher found her own daughter writing the same phrase over and over on the walls in blood:
> "She was real. She was real. She was real."
In another, an entire church choir fell silent mid-hymn and screamed Selene's name in unison.
Not out of fear.
But recognition.
The god inside her smiled.
But Selene began to fracture.
Not from guilt.
From memory overload.
She remembered every name. Every face. Every sob behind every closed door.
And in dreams, they whispered.
They begged for more.
More vengeance. More blood. More truth.
But Selene still had a spark of herself.
The part that wanted peace.
Not worship.
Not wrath.
One night, as she slept in a collapsed subway tunnel, a girl sat beside her.
Silent.
Small.
No eyes.
Just scars.
Selene asked, "Who are you?"
The girl whispered, "I'm the part of you that was never heard."
Selene woke, trembling.
She walked until her feet bled.
She reached a lake where the stars reflected back like **watching eyes.**
She knelt and whispered:
> "What happens if I let go?"
The water whispered back:
> "Then they disappear again."
She cried.
And the world cried with her.
The final image:
Selene walking into the water, the god whispering, the girls watching from the trees, the wind humming lullabies made of names the world tried to erase.
And somewhere, deep below the surface…
Seraphine smiled.
The Return of the First Name
Part 10 – The Last Door
The wind in the trees had grown teeth.
Selene could feel them grazing her skin as she walked — not biting, not yet — just reminding her that the world had changed.
Or maybe she had changed, and the world simply reflected her now.
Either way, the lake was gone. In its place stood a tower, impossibly tall, built from mirrors and bones and broken promises. At the top of it: the First Name.
The first girl to ever be forgotten.
The one even the God of Forgotten Girls couldn't find.
Seraphine.
She had returned.
But not as a spirit.
Not as a shadow.
She had become memory itself.
Carved into every building, whispered in every silence, waiting in the spaces between words.
Selene saw it everywhere: chalk drawings on sidewalks shaped like open mouths.
Children's songs that ended in screams.
Mirrors that wept.
The First Name was coming back.
To take everything.
Selene had one last task.
Enter the tower.
And end it.
The climb was endless.
Each floor was a memory — hers, and not hers.
The hallway where Sophie laughed without her.
The dinner table where no one passed her the salt.
The hospital room where a girl named Lucy waited for parents who never came.
Each step made her heavier.
Because the more she remembered, the more she carried.
By the time she reached the top, her skin had split with names.
Her arms were sleeved in memories.
Her back arched with sorrow.
But her eyes burned with purpose.
The top of the tower was silent.
Seraphine stood in the center, draped in a gown made of hair, her face made of others' faces, stitched into one.
> "I knew you'd come," she said.
Selene nodded.
> "I almost didn't."
> "But you did. Because you still think you can save them."
> "No," Selene said softly. "I think I can remember them. And that's enough."
Seraphine's form flickered — no longer the queen, no longer the demon.
She looked like a little girl now.
Afraid.
Alone.
Tears streaming from eyes she no longer owned.
> "They left me."
> "I know," Selene said.
She knelt before her.
> "But it ends with us."
Selene opened her chest.
Not physically.
She opened the memory of her chest — where her heart had once been stolen and eaten and returned again.
Inside was light.
But not warm light.
It was truth.
Raw. White-hot. Beautiful and unbearable.
She took Seraphine's hand.
And together, they stepped into it.
The tower screamed.
Mirrors shattered across the world.
And for the first time, the wind fell silent.
One Year Later…
No one remembered Selene.
Not by name.
Not by face.
But sometimes, when children cried without reason in their sleep…
When a door creaked open and no one was there…
When a girl stared into a mirror too long and saw something waiting…
There was a feeling.
A flicker of a name they never said out loud.
Not Selene.
Not Seraphine.
Just…
> Her.
The one who remembered. The one who refused to vanish.
Epilogue: The Final Reflection
In a small room, deep beneath the earth, a mirror sits.
Cracked.
Dusty.
Unused.
But if you look into it just long enough…
You'll see her.
Not smiling.
Not crying.
Just watching.
And if you listen closely… you'll hear the last thing she ever said:
> "I was never a monster.
> I just got tired of being a girl no one saw."
And then the light fades.
And the story ends.
But she remains.
THE END
(of the story, not of the remembering.)