What twisted "game" did your family make you play as a kid?
Автор: X Ranks
Загружено: 2025-05-21
Просмотров: 2279
When I was six, my family introduced me to “The Game.”
They said it was a tradition.
A rite of passage.
Something all the girls in our family had to go through.
It started the night of my sixth birthday.
No cake.
No gifts.
Just a knock on my bedroom door after midnight.
My grandmother stood there, holding a blindfold.
“Time to play,” she whispered.
They led me down to the basement.
The smell of damp wood and dust hit me like a wall.
Candles flickered on every step.
I remember the silence.
The kind that feels heavy.
In the center of the room was a mirror.
Framed in old, rusted metal.
Covered in symbols I couldn’t read.
“Look into it,” Grandma said.
“Until she sees you.”
“She?” I asked.
But no one answered.
They all just stood there—Mom, Aunt Claire, even little cousin May.
All silent.
All watching.
So I stared.
And stared.
Until the candlelight behind me flickered…
And something moved in the reflection.
Not me.
Something behind me.
I spun around—
Nothing.
But the moment I looked back, she was there.
A face in the mirror that wasn’t mine.
Eyes too big.
A mouth that didn’t smile right.
I screamed.
They clapped.
“You did it!” they cheered.
“She chose you!”
That night, I had my first nightmare.
She stood over my bed.
Whispering things I didn’t understand.
The nightmares came every night after that.
Every year, they brought me back to the mirror.
Said I had to feed it.
With a drop of blood.
Just a pinprick…
Until I was twelve.
That year, they didn’t ask for a drop.
They asked for a sacrifice.
A rabbit.
I cried the whole time.
But they said if I didn’t do it—
“She” would take someone else.
I started researching.
Old books.
Library archives.
Even dark web forums.
Turns out the mirror was part of a cult ritual.
An old one.
Meant to summon something called “the Echo.”
A being that mimics little girls.
Until it can replace one.
I found pictures.
Black-and-white photos of missing girls.
From my town.
Going back decades.
One of them…
Looked exactly like cousin May.
She disappeared when I was thirteen.
They said she ran away.
But I know she didn’t.
I went to the basement.
Alone.
Held up a flashlight to the mirror.
May’s face stared back at me.
Trapped.
Mouth open in a silent scream.
I shattered the mirror.
Every candle in the house blew out.
And in the dark…
I heard something whisper:
“You broke the rules.”
That night, the house caught fire.
They blamed faulty wiring.
Only I got out.
Now, every birthday, I get a gift in the mail.
Wrapped in black paper.
No return address.
Inside?
A single shard of that mirror.
And every year…
I swear the reflection moves.
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