The House Took Him
It was just a dare.
Just a stupid game.
An old house at the edge of town, rotting, forgotten.
No one had lived there for fifty years.
People whispered about it—strange noises, shadows in the windows.
But Sam, Jenny, and Mark didn't believe in ghost stories.
So they went inside.
Only two came out.
The front door creaked open.
Dust filled the air, thick and heavy.
The floorboards groaned under their weight.
Mark laughed.
"This place is a dump."
Jenny shivered.
"It feels… wrong."
Sam rolled his eyes.
"Relax. We look around, we leave, and we win the bet."
Simple.
They moved deeper inside.
The living room was empty.
So was the kitchen.
But the house felt full—like someone was watching.
Mark wandered upstairs.
Jenny and Sam followed.
They found a bedroom, the walls covered in peeling wallpaper.
A single mirror stood in the corner.
Old.
Cracked.
Wrong.
Mark grinned and stepped closer.
"That thing looks expensive. Think it's cursed?"
He touched the glass.
His reflection lagged—just for a second.
Like a bad video.
Then the lights flickered.
And Mark was gone.
Jenny screamed.
Sam spun in circles, heart racing.
No doors.
No footsteps.
Mark had vanished.
The mirror stood where it was, silent.
Untouched.
And in its reflection—
Two people stared back.
Not three.
They searched the whole house.
The attic.
The basement.
Nothing.
No Mark.
No sound.
No exit.
The front door—locked.
The windows—nailed shut.
The house wouldn't let them leave.
Not yet.
Then—
A whisper.
Jenny's voice cracked.
"Did you hear that?"
They turned to the mirror.
The glass rippled.
Like water.
A shadow moved inside.
Something trying to get out.
A hand slammed against the other side—
Mark's hand.
His face twisted in terror.
Mouth moving.
Silent.
Jenny reached for him.
Sam yanked her back.
The whispering grew louder.
The house wanted more.
Sam grabbed Jenny's wrist and ran.
The door—
It was open.
They didn't look back.
The next morning, they returned with the police.
The house was empty.
No sign of Mark.
No footprints.
No mirror.
Like he had never been there.
But Jenny swore—
When she glanced at the dust-covered window, just for a second—
She saw Mark staring back.
Still trapped.
Still screaming.
Still waiting.
For someone else to touch the glass.