MicroHorror

The mirror was turned to the wall.

“Are you superstitious?” I asked. “Afraid it will steal your soul?”

He chuckled. “Something like that.” He turned the mirror around so that it caught my reflection. For a moment I could see my own face. Then there was a horrible blurring of my features. My face melted away. Nothing was left.

“It doesn’t steal your soul,” he explained, “just everything else.”