Free The Book of Bad Things by Dan Poblocki Page A

herself. She stomped loudly across the hardwood floor, to show whoever or whatever was hiding in the darkness that she could be a formidable presence herself. She reached around the edge of the doorway, half expecting a cold finger to brush against her own, then flipped on the overhead light.
    Millie braced herself for whatever might be standing there. She gasped when she found the room completely empty. Her floral comforter lay perfectly across the mattress, her pillows still puffy, fluffed by her own hand that very morning.
    “Hello?” Millie said, this time unable to control the flutter in her throat. “Ursula?” she whispered, feeling foolish for even considering the possibility. “Is that you?” But there was no answer. The humming had stopped too. Millie clutched at the fabric of her nightgown near her chest and stepped farther into the room.
    The mirror sat on her bureau, facing the bed. Since its surface was perpendicular to her view, Millie could see only a slight reflection of the wood-paneled wall beside it. The mirror , thought Millie, wondering suddenly how she could have allowed such a thing into her home. Who knew what kind of filth it had laid in all those years? Who knew what horrors it had witnessed in that disgusting farmhouse? Repulsed, Millie inched closer. Yes, its details were masterfully crafted. But its history … its owner.
    “You want it?” Millie called out as if Ursula were hiding in the closet, listening to her move across the creaky flooring. “Take it! I didn’t ask for it anyhow.”
    She came around the front of her bureau in full view of the mirror. Its frame was a dark wood, walnut maybe, a couple feet wide by three feet high. She’d propped it against the wall, and now stood staring at herself. Her face was backlit by the overhead light. She rarely flipped that switch. The glare was so harsh, it made her look ancient — had done so even before Millie had thought of herself that way. She turned around to flick on the bedside lamp, when the above light flickered and dimmed.
    The floor shuddered slightly and the sound from the television came back on, as if someone had hit the mute button again. A car dealership proclaimed news for the SALE of the YEAR ! Millie yelped. The room tilted and she reached out for the lip of the bureau to steady herself. The mirror shifted, and the bottom began to slide forward.
    Mindlessly, Millie reached out to try to save it, but when she grabbed it, a sharp pain ran across her thumb. She gasped, releasing her grip. The frame bumped against the bureau, jolting her senses. Millie glanced at her thumb. A fresh red line bisected the tip of it. A cut … A bite. “Darn it all,” she whispered, sticking her thumb in her mouth. A coppery taste rushed over her tongue. She’d need a Band-Aid, if not a stitch or two.
    The humming returned. Faintly. Or was it only in her head? The light dimmed further. Millie froze, staring at the mirror. A thin crack had formed at its side. Had it been there before? Was that what she’d cut herself on? It had happened so quickly, Millie wasn’t sure.
    When Owen and Kitty came over in the morning, she’d tell them to take this thing out of here. Ghosts or not, looking into the mirror chilled her. She pulled her thumb out of her mouth and stepped back, ready to go off in search of that bandage, when she noticed something in the glass behind her. A smudge of darkness. It looked momentarily like a face.
    Millie fell forward into the dresser, then turned, expecting to find Ursula there, hands raised to take back what had belonged to her. But there was nothing there. Only the bed, the lamp, the table by the opposite window. The dim light fixture in the ceiling above. Millie shook her head. Someone had been there. Standing behind her. Humming.
    Slowly, she glanced back at the mirror. In the glass, the darkness remained, a spherical shape hovering several feet over her mattress. She peered from mirror to bed several times, but