The Mirror
The Red Treehouse with Will Soto
The row house was unspectacular from the outside, with nothing to distinguish it from the others. Nestled in the middle of the block, the other buildings on both sides of the street provided a sort of cover, ensuring it never drew the kind of attention it deserved. The orange-red brick, bright in some areas, was mostly weathered and dirty with the remnants of mold and moss pressed firmly into the grooves. Faded aluminum awnings hung over the windows and front stoop, offering a slight shade in the dead heat of summer, and protection from the elements in the winter. Iron bars, intended to keep intruders out, secured the windows on the main level and basement. During the day it was nearly invisible. At night, though, the flickering streetlight produced a strobe effect. It didn’t matter. People walked by without giving it so much as a passing glance; completely unaware of the horror festering just a few steps away.
“What the fuck was that?” Eduardo thought, sitting up in bed. His senses heightened; it took a few seconds to realize the sounds he heard were his own heartbeat and labored breaths. The humidity was suffocating as he sucked air in big gulps. Another night terror. His eyes burned with sleep, and he blinked hard to adjust to the dimness of the room. Within a few seconds it took on familiar features—the chair in the corner, the dresser directly in front of the bed with the tube television atop, Gabriela asleep next to him. The pitch black gave way to a dull gray.
“I should check on the kids,” he said to himself. The amorphous blob of red light from the alarm clock sat in his peripheral, and though he couldn’t make out the numbers, he lamented that he was up for good. He pulled the covers back gently and slid his legs off the mattress, making sure not to wake his wife. They often joked about how much Gabriela hated sleep; it didn’t take a lot to wake her.
Eduardo’s head fell as the clock came into view. 1:42am. He’d been asleep less than three hours and still had another five before needing to be up for work. Setting his feet in slippers, Eduardo lifted himself slowly off the bed and walked through the room, dodging furniture as he went. With one hand on the knob and the other on the door frame, he pulled it open, hoping to dull the squeaking hinges. The exterior light outside the bathroom window bathed the hallway in shades of blue. He paused before stepping out of the bedroom, eyes downward, listening intently. The tick-tock of the clock on the kitchen wall rang in his ears, but just beyond that, silence.
He peered into his son’s bedroom. The moonlight slipped through the Venetian blinds, entrancing Eduardo in the shadows cast along the walls and cascading along the floor, giving him goosebumps. Shadows kept secrets too dangerous to bring into the light and too scary to search for in the darkness. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. Recently, the boys asked him to put in a nightlight; and every night they asked him to plug it in. He obliged; but didn’t admit to anyone—hell, he could barely admit to himself—that it was as much for him as it was for them, maybe more so. It seemed silly that he, a hardened man in his early 30’s, would be afraid of the dark. It was something little kids feared, not grown men. The boys were asleep, their breaths rising and falling in a relaxing cadence; the tension in his shoulders eased.
Eduardo stepped back into his room and glanced at the alarm clock before climbing back into bed. 1:46am. The soft hum of the air conditioner lulled him towards sleep; and as he drifted off, he heard what sounded like footsteps in the distance. “I must be dreaming,” he thought, closing his eyes.
“Eduardo, hurry up, it’s about to start,” said Gabriela from the living room.
“Give me 2 minutes, I’ll be right back.”
It’d been four days since the Carson’s left for vacation, and so far, everything had gone smoothly. The elderly couple was celebrating their 60th wedding anniversary with an impromptu cruise to who knows where, leaving Eduardo in charge of placing their mail on the kitchen table each day. He did more than that. Every night it was the same routine; take the mail, check every room including windows and doors, and lock up before turning in for the night. The Carson’s were getting up there in age and had started making plans to find an alternative living situation, if only because the long staircase leading to the upstairs apartment wreaked havoc on their bodies. Eduardo hoped they would offer his family a chance to move in when the time came.
“It’ll be sad when they’re…” he said to himself, cutting off the thought as a small lump formed in his throat. He’d grown up on the tough streets of Sunset Park, Brooklyn, in an era when the crime rate was high and poverty even higher. He’d watched friends and family struggle to build a meaningful life, with some making it out, and more ending in tragedy. He couldn’t think of losing anyone else.
Eduardo checked his watch. 8:58pm. The X-Files started in 2 minutes. In a hurry to get downstairs, he dropped the mail on the kitchen table and made a mental note to come back after the show ended. He hustled down the staircase, skipping every other step, and nearly crashing into the heavy glass door after slipping at the bottom. It groaned as he pulled it open and he rushed into the living room, where the X-Files theme song filled the air.
“You just made it,” Gabriela said.
“Yeah, I need to go back after the show.”
“I don’t understand why you check every night. They haven’t been home in a few days and it’s not like anything is ever different.”
“I feel better knowing everything is in its place,” he said, opening a box of Junior Mints.
For the next hour, they watched their favorite show, Gabriela’s head resting in the nook of his shoulder. Recently, life was busier than usual with Eduardo working late hours, and they savored any chance they could spend together. Now, after a long week, the boys were in bed, and they could relax for a bit.
It’s 10pm, do you know where your children are? That was Eduardo’s signal. Halfway up the stairs, he noticed the door at the top was open. I must’ve forgotten to close it when I rushed out. The mail was on the kitchen table where he’d left it. Before stepping in, he reached his arm around and flipped the light switch in the kitchen; the bulb lit up for a second before popping and going out entirely, blinding Eduardo momentarily.
“Shit.”
As he tried to rub the spots from behind his eyes, Eduardo’s pulse quickened. The circuit panel was in one of the closets near the bathroom, towards the back of the apartment. Standing there, he realized his vulnerability; he was a sitting duck if anything jumped out at him. To his left was the entrance to the staircase; to his right, the entryway to the living room; and straight ahead, the hallway leading to the bedrooms. He searched desperately to figure out what to do next. I need to get these damn lights on. Closing the door to the staircase, he slinked along the back of the kitchen, stepping with his left foot and sliding with his right to make as little sound as possible; he watched both entrances.
When he reached the opening to the hallway, Eduardo peeked around to survey the area. Nothing. There’s nothing to be afraid of. He tried to convince himself, but the darkness was heavy around him. Instinctively, he turned back towards the kitchen. It took a second or two to register, but when it did, Eduardo stopped and held his breath. Sweat beads formed along the ridge of his eyebrows. Someone broke in and is fucking with me. He stepped forward, partly to catch his breath, but mostly because the doors to the two bedrooms and bathroom were closed. The last thing I need is an intruder catching me unprepared with nothing to defend myself.
They say time slows down in moments of agony and ecstasy, and as Eduardo stood there quietly, waiting for something to happen, it seemed to stretch endlessly. The soft hum of the exterior light beyond the kitchen windows roared thunderously in his ears. He knew he needed to move quickly—but his feet were glued to the floor. He watched the cavernous entryway to the front of the apartment; the black hole threatening to pull him into its gravity. You need to move, Eduardo. NOW! In one motion he turned and hurried down the stairs, making sure he didn’t accidentally trip. As he walked through the door of his apartment, he saw the look on Gabriela’s face.
“What the hell happened? Are you ok?”
Eduardo tried catching his breath; his nerves shot from the adrenaline rushing through his body. Answers came in short spurts. “I thin…I think someone…is up…upstairs in their…apartment.” In the rush to get inside, he’d forgotten to close the door, leaving them prone to a potential intruder; he silently thanked Gabriela as she moved past him to lock the door. He was sweating; his hair matted to his forehead and dripping from each side of his jaw. His eyes offered appreciation as Gabriela brought him a cold glass of water and a towel to dry his face.
“Eduardo, did you see someone up there?”
“Not exactly, no,” he said, putting up a finger as he chugged the water. “When I went up there before the show, I put the mail down on the kitchen table.” Eduardo demonstrated with both hands. “On the LEFT SIDE of the table. When I went back up after the show, the mail was exactly where I’d left it. Same pile, same place.” His voice dropped. “Gabriela, it couldn’t have been more than a minute, but when I looked again, the mail was on the RIGHT SIDE—and it was stacked in size order!”
The look in Gabriela’s eyes betrayed confusion. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
“I’m just trying to understand what’s going on. How could the mail move, and you not see who did it?”
“I don’t know HOW it happened. I just know WHAT happened!”
“I think you should call the police. I mean, it’s not your responsibility. Call the cops and let them handle it.”
“And what do I tell them? Officers, there’s someone up there. The mail changed places on the table. I swear I put it on one end, and it moved to the other. No, I didn’t see who did it…”
Gabriela cut him off. “I get you’re spooked, but don’t take it out on me. I’m trying to figure this out, too.”
Eduardo’s thoughts were elsewhere as he considered the worst-case scenario—a violent armed intruder. Gabriela’s voice jolted him out of his ruminations.
“Eduardo, listen,” Gabriela said, muting the television.
“What am I listeni—”
Creaking, like a rocking chair.
Back and forth. Back and forth.
Coming from upstairs.
It went on like this for over a minute, before stopping abruptly. Then, they heard what sounded like someone walking across the living room towards the kitchen. Except, the gait was unusual; where they expected to hear one footstep after another, it sounded more like a step and drag, as if the person had a limp.
Thud. Ssssst. Thud. Ssssst.
Eduardo and Gabriela followed the sound before it faded in the distance. They looked at each other, their eyes communicating a thousand unspoken words; she seemed to read his mind.
“Eduardo, you can’t go back up there. You need to call the police.”
He paced the kitchen, lost in thought; barely hearing Gabriela’s voice. I can’t wait for the police to show up. I need to go up there. But what if they’re armed? What if they have a gun? Eduardo pulled at his chin hair with sweaty hands, hoping the pain would spark an idea. What if, when they’re done up there, they try to break in here? What’s to stop them from coming downstairs? I need to do something.
Why does this staircase seem so much darker? The sound of each step reverberated off the walls. At the top, in the doorway, Eduardo hesitated; the cool air sending fresh shivers throughout his body. He stepped forward, but the aluminum bat he’d brought hit the edge of the threshold. Tiiinngg. A bitter, metallic taste flooded his mouth as waves of nausea turned his stomach into knots. Shit. They know I’m up here. His thoughts drowned out the footsteps coming from the front of the apartment.
Thud. Ssssst. Thud. Ssssst.
The intruder was almost in the kitchen by the time Eduardo heard the footsteps. “Oh shit,” he whispered to himself. Crouching low, Eduardo backpedaled until he couldn’t go any further. As it neared the opening, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath; holding it as he tried to melt into the wall in hopes he’d escape notice. The footsteps moved past him, and like before, faded in the distance. He listened for a moment; his thoughts roaring despite the quiet around him. I should have stayed downstairs. It’s too late to go back downstairs. I need to keep my family safe. What if I can’t? He squeezed the handle of the aluminum bat.
“Listen,” Eduardo dropped his voice to sound intimidating. “I’m not the one to fuck with. Don’t let me catch you.”
Eduardo moved towards the back of the apartment, confident that he’d cornered the intruder. He reached for the door on the left side of the hallway, which led to a spiral staircase that acted like a spine for the building. A person could easily move between apartments if they had the master key. The deadbolt was secure; besides, he’d have heard the loud click of the lock disengaging if anyone tried to open it.
The bathroom was directly across, but Eduardo paused as he grasped the knob. The door was slightly ajar, maybe 4 inches or so. I know this door was closed. Eduardo tightened his grip on the baseball bat; the rubber padding on the handle gave him a slight friction burn. Using the tip, he pushed the bathroom door open gradually, letting his eyes adjust to the light before stepping in.
It felt like hours since Eduardo took the aluminum bat out of the closet and went upstairs. He should have been back by now; it unnerved her that he wasn’t. Why didn’t he listen to me and call the police? She’d pleaded with him, but Eduardo was stubborn. A native New Yorker, Gabriela was the youngest of her siblings; stubbornness was familiar, comfortable even. Anxiety was harder to deal with, and she couldn’t remember the last time she felt like this. “Eduardo, hurry up already,” she said to no one. Gabriela looked at her watch; another minute passed. I need to call the police; it’s too quiet. Where is…? She heard Eduardo’s footsteps moving towards the back of the apartment; Gabriela listened as the noise started then stopped. “Where are you going?” she said under her breath, dialing on the cordless phone.
“911, what’s your emergency and where are you located?”
“Hi, yes, I need a police officer to come to my home—three eighty-six, fif-”
Her voice trailed off as she heard the intruder moved towards Eduardo.
“Miss, I didn’t get that address,” said the 911 dispatcher. Say it ag—,”
Gabriela heard the line go dead.
The silence was maddening.
The light hanging outside the frosted window to his right gave the small bathroom an eerie ambiance, making it seem larger than it was. Eduardo immediately noticed the stand-in shower to his left. The curtain was shut, creating the perfect space for an intruder to hide. Holy shit. Eduardo pulled the curtain open with his left hand, the baseball bat in his right. Skktttt—the rings echoed as they slid against the rod. He exhaled, his breath warming the chill in his bones; the shower was empty. Eduardo’s relief was short-lived as the horrible sound traveled to his ears.
Thud. Ssssst. Thud. Ssssst.
Eduardo pressed himself into the wall, his right shoulder tucked behind the bathroom door. He held his breath as the footsteps grew louder. He wanted to close the door to put something between him and the intruder but decided against doing anything to attract attention. Standing still, he turned his head slightly to catch a glimpse from the corner of his eye. By now the intruder was outside the bathroom door. Blood rushed to his temples as Eduardo strained his eyes to see who it was. He took a small half-step to his left and turned to face the open doorway, the bat ready. It took him a second to register what he saw, the gloomy hallway tricking his eyes. “What the…”, he said quietly under his breath. He listened as a bedroom door opened—which one he couldn’t tell. What the fu…No fucking way. A shiver slithered up his back, his head spasming at its end.
The two bedrooms loomed over him; doors shut tightly. He started with the guest room. The door opened smoothly, and the warm yellow nightlight offered some visibility. Eduardo stuck the bat inside the partly opened closet, clothing and coats offering resistance. So far, so good. He inched cautiously around the bed to the drapes shrouding the windows, his heart in his throat; nothing. There was only one more place to look—the bed. He stared at it, his breath shaking. Just a quick look. Two seconds. He crouched low, his left knee touching the soft shag carpet, and lifted the bed skirt. Drops of sweat fell as Eduardo looked under the bed, his eyes softening as he recognized the shape of Mrs. Carson’s shoes. Jesus.
Eduardo moved carefully to the master bedroom. He gripped the knob, and though it turned, the door didn’t open. Stuck. Fucking great. He pushed it open with his shoulder, the door giving way with little effort. What’s that smell? A faint aroma of perfume hung in the air; it was a scent he had difficulty recognizing. Lavender, maybe? As he stepped into the room, he heard a familiar sound.
Thud. Ssssst. Thud. Ssssst.
Gabriela steadied her nerves as she walked into the small foyer outside the two apartments. The door to the apartment was open. “Eduardo, you okay up there?” she called, hoping he heard her. No answer. The crackling of the bug zapper, hanging outside the front door, startled her. Eduardo, where are you? Gabriela gasped as she saw Eduardo standing at the top of the staircase, facing her. She had difficulty seeing his face, but his form came into view. “Eduardo,” she whispered. He didn’t answer; instead, she saw him raise a finger to his mouth, telling her to stay quiet. Her heart nearly burst from her chest as he motioned for her to come up the stairs.
She ascended slowly, her eyes fixed on Eduardo. What is he looking at? she thought, as she watched him turn. Eduardo was standing motionless, now staring into the apartment. Four more steps, she thought. As she neared the top of the stairs, panic flooded her as Eduardo stepped into the apartment and out of sight. “Wait.” The unlit kitchen unsettled her, and as she fumbled for the light, she heard shuffling somewhere in the living room. “Eduardo where are you?” she whispered, as her hand found the switch. She flipped it; nothing happened. What am I doing up here? This was stupid. As she inched towards the hallway, a flicker of movement caught her by surprise. A silent gasp escaped as she watched Eduardo step into the bathroom, his back to her. “Ed-Eduardo?” she sputtered, the humidity in the air catching in her throat.
He remained silent, staring at the back wall.
In the distance, the kitchen door creaked, and as Gabriela turned to look, Eduardo yanked her into the bathroom. For the first time, she saw his face. His forehead gleamed with sweat; eyes hollow and distant, looking past her as if on alert. Something is wrong. She tried to wriggle her arm from his grip, but the more she moved, the tighter he held on.
“Eduardo, what are you doing? Let me go!”
Finally, he relented.
What the… Gabriela scrunched her brow at Eduardo. She swore his face had changed; his sharp features replaced with something…else. A split second later, faster than she could blink, he was back to normal. She examined him, the hairs on her neck standing on end. It must be the lighting.
“We need to get out of here. Please, Eduardo, can we go? I don’t want to be up here.”
Once again, he put his finger to his mouth.
Gabriela scrunched her brow at Eduardo. What is wrong with you? The exterior light flickered as the air conditioner revved up, and for the first time, she could see his eyes were black and fully dilated; two unending pits. If I go now, I can make it to the stairs. A sharp pain shot up her arm as Eduardo squeezed her hand, her fingers pinched together with the force of his grip. She flinched as she heard the faint sound of someone calling her name.
“Gabriela?”
I know that voice. “Gabriela?” Closer. That sounds like Eduardo. Gabriela swallowed hard, the realization setting in quickly that Eduardo was supposed to be standing behind her. “How could he be out there calling me?” she whispered to herself.
She turned. Eduardo wasn’t there.
Suddenly, Gabriela was running towards the staircase, stumbling in the darkness. She was stunned to find the door closed. I know I left this open. Gabriela fumbled with the knob; her sweaty hands incapable of turning it over. “WHY WON’T YOU OPEN?” Strong hands caught her shoulders, easing her fall as she slumped to the door helplessly. As she faded to black, she glimpsed Eduardo standing over her as the horrifying sound of footsteps filled the space around her.
Thud. Ssssst. Thud. Ssssst.
“Gabriela?” The voice was now in her ear. “Gabriela, wake up. You were having a nightmare.”
She jerked awake, her heart a snare drum in her chest. The window unit blew cold air throughout the room, sending a shiver through her body. What a terrible nightmare, she thought. She turned to face him, relieved to be awake, and smiled softly as he cupped her ear.
“Must’ve been a hell of a nightmare. You ok?”
She nodded. “It felt so…” Gabriela struggled to catch her breath. She looked past him as the red digits on the alarm clock blinked brightly. 1:42am. “I’m gonna grab some water,” she said.
Maybe I should see a doctor about these nightmares. The ice water shocked her awake. What’s that smell? A floral scent wafted through the room, carried along by the air conditioner. Her skin crawled as she peered into each corner, sensing she was being watched but seeing no one. She skipped to the bedroom, her heart racing and breathing shallow. Gabriela pulled the covers up past her shoulders and rolled closer to Eduardo, hoping to quell the chill in her bones and get a few more hours of sleep. His soft snoring settled her; his warmth helping to roll away the tension in her body. She glanced at the alarm clock once more. 1:46am.
Then, she heard it.
Thud. Ssssst. Thud. Ssssst.
Gabriela sat up straight and looked beyond the bedroom. The light refracted off the frosted kitchen windows, producing a crystalline effect throughout.
There, crossing the threshold into the kitchen, was Eduardo; a wide grin spread across a featureless, white face.
Oh I really enjoyed this. Home imvasion, to me, is the absolute scariest horror, loved that you combined that with something unexpected.
I really felt a semse of place too, the reference to the X files was lovely 🥰
This was fantastic! I just finished reading along while listening to the audio version on your podcast. Your capacity for building intense atmosphere and dread is nothing short of incredible.
This story was selected for a shout out on my podcast, so I’m looking forward to talking about it in more detail!