@ All rights reserved by the author
Date: 2/04/2025
Aisha inherited her grandmother’s old home in a remote Turkish village. Despite warnings from the elders, she stayed, dismissing their stories of a Djinn haunting the house.
The first night, whispers echoed from dark corners. The second night, her mirror reflection smiled when she did not.
By the third night, the whispers became a voice: “Say my name, and I am yours.”
Terrified, she asked the village imam for help. He paled and told her to leave immediately. “If you speak its name, you become its vessel.”
Aisha ran back to pack, but the whispers turned into screams. The air thickened, shadows twisted, and her reflection stepped out of the mirror, laughing.
By morning, the house was abandoned once more. Only a single word was scratched into the mirror: Mine.
Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
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