It was my favourite thing to do during stormy nights like this. Snuggling up with my purring cat Percy, reading a good horror story. I had lit some candles and turned off some of the lights, made a steaming mug of tea and wrapped myself up in my favourite blanket. Lightning flashes and the thunder booms so loudly the glass in the windows rattles violently. The rain was smacking against the window with a fury of which I'd never experienced. The storm is right overhead now and I cannot help but grin with delight. Nothing beats a good storm.

Although tired, I plough on through the chapters of the book on my lap. I want to get to the undoubtedly horrific conclusion of this tale. I am mere pages away and my heart is beating hard in my chest at the suspense.

Paragraphs away now.

Sentences!

Then a humongous crash of thunder accompanied by the few lights left lit flickering and going out. I jump at the noise, and the book on my lap flies across the bed. Fear subsides and frustration takes hold; I was so close to the end! Percy has awoken; I can see his green eye glowing up at me in the candlelight. All due to me jumping from my skin rather than the commotion. He is not scared in the slightest but has that expression that commands me to do something about the lights going out.

"I'm going, I'm going," I say to the disgruntled feline. 

I unwrap myself from my blanket and swing my legs over the bed. Grabbing the nearest candle, I walk towards the bedroom door. As I do so, my eyes snap to the mirror leaning against the wall next to the door. I could have sworn there was a shadow; it shot right to left along the bottom edge of the mirror. Looking around, Percy had curled back up on the blanket and was snoring again peacefully - It couldn't have been him. I step a bit closer, holding the candle out so it is mere inches from the glass.

Nothing.

Shaking my head and taking a breath, I mutter to myself; "You read too many horror stories. The candles are flickering, it was a trick of the light."

Dismissing the shadow as a product of my overactive imagination, my job now is to find a torch and head into the garage to reset the fuse box. I jog down the stairs and into the kitchen, ferreting around in one of the drawers for one. Laying my hands on it quickly, I take it out and test it. It works! Blowing out the candle in favour of my new found device, I grab a coat and slip my feet into a pair of old flip flops before making my way into the garage. 

It's always cold and draughty in here, but it is more so tonight thanks to the storm and the noise of the rain is deafening as it hits the large metal door. The beam of light from the torch in my hand swings around the room like an old lighthouse as I search for a step ladder. A metallic glint in the far left corner signifies its location. Walking towards the portable steps, I put the end of the torch in my mouth and reach for them. As I bend forward, a sticky veil envelopes my face from forehead to chin. I jump back and shriek, the torch dropping to the ground with a thunk. My hands fly to my face to grab at whatever it is that has me captured. It's light, extremely strong and sticky. I tear it from my closed eyes and squealing mouth, to realise in the faded torchlight, it is nothing but a cobweb. 

Shaking and cursing my own overreaction, I fumble for the torch. This time I use it to search for further spider traps before retrieving the ladder from its corner. Wincing as the metal drags across the concrete floor, I free the ladder and carry it to beneath where the fuse box is screwed to the wall. Climbing the steps to the box I see immediately that the switch has tripped. I flick down all the little switches and turn on the main power one. Slowly, I flick the others back up and hope that will do the trick. I proceed to climb down the ladder and test the light switch on the wall; to my joy, the light turns on. Folding up the ladder and putting it back in its corner, I turn the light back off and head back into the house. The lights that had been extinguished are lit once more. Proud of my success, I kick off my flip flops and lock the front door. Maybe I can now finish the last few lines of the story of my book. 

As I get to the top of the stairs, I hear a growling sound from the direction of the bedroom.

I know that noise; "Percy?"

It was the noise he makes when he was about to show some aggression or felt angry. What could he possibly be angry about? He was curled up asleep when I left. As I open the door, he's right in front of the mirror, back arched and tail in a downward 'S' shape. His ears are flat and teeth are bared. Then, with a loud hiss, Percy bolts from the room in a flash of ginger. I watch completely bewildered, as he speeds downstairs and out of sight. Rolling my eyes, I flick the main light switch on as I enter the room, I look at the mirror, the apparent source of his rage. and, unsurprisingly, there's nothing there.

I laugh at my pet's peculiarity; "Oh Percy, you're scared at your own reflection!"

I flick the lights back off, get back under the blanket and make myself comfortable. Pulling the book back on my lap, I flip through the pages until I get to where I was so rudely interrupted by the power cut. The page is rough under my finger as I trace the lines to find where I'd gotten to. 

Finding my place, I only get as far as the first word before something catches my eye. Another fleeting shadow in my peripheral vision, again in the direction of the mirror. It's not Percy; he is nowhere to be seen since his little outburst. I stare at the mirror for a few moments, convinced that the storm and the light of the candles are once again playing tricks with my eyes.

Again, nothing.

As my eyes are moving back towards the page of my book for the second time, I hear a splintering noise, like the cracking of glass. It didn't come from the window, it came from the direction of the mirror. This is just weird. Maybe Percy had knocked it while I was out of the room and cracked the glass. Very slowly, my eyes travel back to the mirror and what I see scares the life from me; the surface of the glass is jet black with no reflection from the room in which it sits. 

Springing out of the blanket and onto the opposite side of the bed, my heart races at the eerie sight before me. I freeze and all I am able to do is stare wide-eyed at the glass. How can what I'm seeing be possible? Inanimate objects don't just change their physical appearances without a cause. I sidestep into a position that would normally show my reflection in the mirror; there is no reflection. Not of me, not of the wall behind me, nor the bed before me. It's just a black void. The longer I stare the more I feel the tingle of cold fear creep down my spine, my heart beat faster and my chest constrict. 

Steeling myself as much as I can, I step carefully towards the mirror. My mind is desperately whirring for a rational explanation. if I move from where I stand, the angles will change and there is a chance that this is all just a trick of the light. Edging forward while not daring to blink or breathe, until I am about a metre away. The surface remains as black as obsidian. Looking into the glass fills me with dread that I cannot explain. such a feeling of fear would normally send me running, yet I cannot move. I am frozen to the spot, unable to do anything but gaze intently into the void. 

As I stare into the blackness, I am drawn closer. The closer I get, the more I hear something. A whispering of words, but in a tongue I don't recognise. Closer and closer I get and with every step, the whispering seems like it is inside my head.

I get within inches of the glass and stop.

Deeper and deeper into the blackness my gaze drifts.

Something moves, like swirling smoke.

My eyes strain into the dark.

Something with a wide grin, sharp teeth and claws smacks into the glass. Screaming I jump back and hit the bed, my trembling legs giving way beneath me. The twisted form has no eyes, but I feel it looking at me with malice and hunger. It scratches its long claws down the inside of the glass and I cover my ears from the shrill noise. Then with a demonic roar, it rushes out of sight. 

My heart is beating faster than I've ever felt and I feel deathly cold. I am too terrified to move. Not that my legs would take me anywhere. What do I do? What the hell is happening? A sudden flash of lightning makes me jump and shriek. Looking back at the mirror it is no longer black; I see myself in the reflection, crumpled on the floor and white as a sheet. Has it gone? I lean forward a little to inspect the glass. As I do, my reflection doesn't move with me. I watch in terror as the reflected image smiles. Its grin widens to grotesque proportions and displays the same sickening teeth as I saw in whatever it was that jumped at me in the blackness. The eyes slowly turn black and melt into empty black sockets. Then it laughs an evil, low, bloodcurdling laugh. 

Adrenaline and fear shoot through my veins and I run from the room and slam the door on my way out. Stopping in the upstairs hallway, I try to breathe. I can still hear the laughing from behind the closed door.

"It's in my mirror... It's in my fucking mirror!" I gasp to no one.

My mind races and I look wildly around the hall, looking for something, anything that could possibly help stop this horrifying situation.

I'm desperate. Then my eyes fall on a metal pole propped against the spare room door frame, which is used for pulling the ladder down from the attic. I grab it and clutch it tightly in my trembling hands. 

I don't think or even make a plan. Bursting back through the bedroom door, I face the mirror. The creature is scratching at the glass mockingly and laughing. I don't hesitate. With an almighty swing of my arm, I bring the pole to the mirror. A thunderous roar and rush of cold air erupt from the splintered surface. The creature charges at the fractured glass in rage, trying to get to me. I swing the rod again and the glass shatters, falls from the frame and rests upon the floor like jagged confetti. No more laughing, whispering or roaring; just the ragged breath from my lungs disturb the silence. 

Once my heart stops pounding and my lungs stop burning, I carefully walk around the shards of mirror glass. I stare at them for a long time, making sure there is no sign of the non-reflective blackness or the creature. My fragmented reflection doesn't distort either. I prod a couple of the fragments with the pole; nothing. Relieved that my actions had been effective, I sought the vacuum cleaner, some newspaper and a bin bag. I gingerly put the larger pieces into the newspaper before throwing them into a bin bag. The rest I thoroughly vacuum and empty into the same bag. Adorning my flip flops once more, I deposit the bag into the trash can at the side of the house. 

On my return, I decided to sleep downstairs on the sofa. I'm too scared of going back into my bedroom tonight, even with the mirror smashed to pieces. Still trembling, I arrange the cushions and fetch a blanket from the armchair, I make myself comfortable. Percy reemerges from where ever he has been cowering, hops up next to me and settles down. At first I'm too on edge to even close my eyes, but eventually, Percy's soft purring lulls me to a dreamless sleep. 

I didn't have to open my eyes to know it was still dark; I could feel it. Fortunately, though, the storm had passed and there is just blissful silence. I roll onto my side and begin to doze back off again. Before I succumb to sleep a light touch grazes my cheek.

Smiling I say; "Percy, it's too early for your breakfast."

Predictably, the touch ceases as I speak. I hear the cat shift and sit on the arm of the sofa above my head. Sleep begins to wash over me again but I feel another touch, this time sharper than the last. Percy would often use his claws a little if I ignored him, just to make his point.

This time my forehead was his area of interest; "Don't make me get up and shut you out, cat..."

Opening my eyes, I am confronted not with Percy, but with the pointed teeth of an abnormally wide grin, black claws hovering above my head. My blood runs ice cold and I am paralysed with terror, not even able to scream. 

I hadn't destroyed the creature at all. Instead, I'd set it free.