MicroHorror

You’re home alone when you hear it on the news; it’s like something you would hear from a fifteen-year-old girl around a campfire. A murderer is on the loose in your neighborhood, having just killed three women, gutting them with a meat hook. Still, something about this gives you the creeps, in that personal, something-just-isn’t-right way. All the news channels have his picture posted up; it’s almost a foregone conclusion he’ll be caught by morning.

You stay up for a while, with the typical I’m-just-being-paranoid attitude. Of all the houses around, it’s not like the killer would randomly choose your house. He’s probably already been caught anyway. Around midnight you decide to go to bed. You step into the bathroom to brush your teeth and glance out the window, something you do a million times without even thinking twice. But this time is different.

The killer is standing right in front of you, staring back with cold, emotionless eyes. You saw his picture on every news channel, there’s no doubt in your mind it’s really him. The phone is sitting right there by the sink. Did you lock all the doors? Yes, you’re pretty sure you did. You slowly reach down and dial 911, but the phone slips out of your hand. Oh God, it’s covered in blood. The killer is still standing there, his lips twisting into a smile as you hear a far-off siren.

You stand there for what must be a good five minutes, you not moving out of pure fear, him not moving for God knows what reason. The sirens are definitely getting closer. The 911 call must have gone through. The police will be here any minute. It is then that you look down at the phone and panic tightens its grip on your heart. and you realize the blood is not just on the phone, but on your hands and arms. Christ, it’s all over you. You turn your head back up toward the window and he is
still there.

You start to laugh. You’ve made a terrible mistake, and you laugh harder and harder as you realize the killer isn’t standing outside your bathroom window at all. This bathroom is on the second floor. And besides, you weren’t staring out the window. You were looking in the mirror.