A True Story for Halloween

Hello and welcome. With Halloween just around the corner, it feels like the perfect time to share a spooky story from my past with you. The walk into town was lined with a cosy carpet of orange and yellow leaves, and we have the half-term break here now. The town centre is bustling, with grandparents taking their little ones out which is so sweet to see. And my dog was quite the star of the day too, enjoying all the attention and fusses from excited children. There is certainly an atmosphere out and about.

I’m now sipping on a gingerbread latte in spirit of the season and invite you to have a cosy cup of tea or coffee as you read. The story I want to share with you was a haunting experience that still gives me the creeps, even though it happened about 10 years ago now. It all started in the most unsettling way: nightmares. I’m not usually prone to them, and I was having the same type of nightmares over and over. There was also a recurring sense of unease and hostility in my home—one area in particular. Something felt deeply wrong, like an unseen presence had moved in with me. I'd been living in my flat for about a year, already (my first time living alone) when things started to take a dark turn.

One weekend, my mum came to visit. She’d been over a few times since the strange occurrences began, and I finally asked if she’d noticed anything off. She hadn’t, but during our conversation, she suggested that it might have something to do with an old mirror I had in the flat. So, let me rewind a bit, back to when I first found this mirror…

It was a beautiful vintage piece, from the 1930s, with bevelled edges and the most pretty etched garden bird pattern. I had been searching for a mirror to complement a small antique dressing table I bought shortly after moving into the flat. One day, while browsing an antique shop in Cambridge, I came across it tucked away in a back booth. Now, usually, when I go to antique stores, I take so much time looking at everything, making my way slowly through the store, but this was different. I walked straight to the mirror, instantly knowing I had to have it. I even paid more than I had planned, completely enamoured with it.

Once I brought it home, I hung it above the dressing table, and that’s when things quickly started to get strange. My cat at the time, who always investigated new items I brought home, immediately approached the mirror—but instead of her usual curiosity, she scratched at it incessantly. At first, I found it annoying, but looking back, I realize I should’ve taken her reaction more seriously. The atmosphere in the area shifted soon too. The cat, who used to love sleeping in the dressing area, avoided it completely. Something felt wrong, but I couldn’t quite describe what it was.

When my mum suggested that the mirror might be causing the disturbances, it made perfect sense. No other changes had been made in the flat, and the unease seemed to centre around the dressing area. I decided to remove the mirror and stored it in the garage while I cleaned and the flat. I didn’t want to do anything drastic, fearing that whatever was attached to it might retaliate if I angered it. But even with the mirror out of the flat, I felt an unsettling presence watching me through the window, which was very odd, considering I lived on the second floor. I took some precautions, like carrying a protection charm, and placing a little dish of salt in the dressing area to absorb any negative energy. I did also contact the antique centre I bought it from, but they didn’t know anything about its history.  Then, despite my lingering doubts, I brought the mirror back into the flat. It settled back into its place, but the eerie feeling never left.

Things only got worse from there. The nightmares continued, and I began having vivid dreams of someone—or something—watching me while I slept. The entire flat started to feel oppressive too.  Then, one morning, I noticed that items on the dressing table had been moved in a strange way that didn’t make sense. The cat could not have done it, and I certainly didn’t remember rearranging anything. It was disturbing, to say the least. One discovery terrified me. The little dish of salt I’d placed on the window ledge had ring imprints on top, like someone had placed an object in the salt and then removed it. This was to say the least the final straw. Frightened I got the cat and went to stay at my mum’s house, too scared to remain in the flat any longer.

I knew I needed to get rid of the mirror. Once I made that decision, I felt a sense of relief. I decided not to sell the mirror on. Even though I loved how beautiful it was, I was convinced that something malevolent was tied to it. So, despite my reluctance to throw things away, I took the mirror to the tip to get rid of it once and for all. Soon after I felt lighter. I returned to the flat, did a deep clean, and restored order. The oppressive atmosphere lifted. My flat felt peaceful again, and the nightmares stopped.

That mirror is now long gone, but the memory of its eerie presence does still linger in my mind. Have you ever had an experience like this? Whether you believe in the supernatural or not, one thing’s for sure—some things are better left behind.

Until next time

Collette