Saturday, October 3rd, 2026
08:27am
“Can I help you?” the nurse asked, looking up from her computer screen.
“Morning. I’m here to see a patient brought in overnight. Last name Prescott, first name-”
“Oh, him.” The nurse replied before the detective could finish.
“He uh, he just got out of emergency surgery a couple hours ago but given the nature - wait a sec, are you family or a friend?”
“Coworker actually. I’m Detective Abernathy, Windsor Locks PD.” The detective produced his credential wallet and rested it on the counter.
The nurse’s eyes darted up and down slightly as she studied the ID card and gold badge displayed in the black leather case in front of her.
“Oh, I see. Okay. Well, um-”
The nurse leaned forward and lowered her voice before continuing.
“Are you aware of what happened? His injury I mean?”
“I am, yeah. I was briefed before heading over.”
“Okay well, he’s supposed to be resting his vocal chords. He’s mostly been communicating with us using pen and paper. He has a lot of stitches so we’re trying to keep him from talking more than he needs to.”
“I understand, I’ll be brief.”
“Okay, I don't know if he's awake now but you're welcome to go in. If you walk to the end of the hall, he’s the second to last door on the left. Room 207.”
Detective Abernathy made his way down the hall with his aluminum clipboard tucked under his arm. The door to patient room 207 was ajar and the detective knocked lightly on the heavy wooden door before entering the room. Lying in his hospital gown, the patient stirred slightly upon hearing the detective enter the room.
“Officer Prescott, I’m sorry if I woke you. I’m Detective Abernathy. I know you really can’t talk much at the moment so I’m gonna try to be as brief as possible and let you rest. God knows you’ve had a hell of a night.” Detective Abernathy tried not to stare at the gauze bandages covering the officer’s neck.
“The sketch artist should be coming later but I wanted to see if you could give us any details while everything is still fresh. Is that alright?”
Officer Prescott nodded silently while using the remote next to him to raise the back of the hospital bed.
“I brought a pen and paper so you can write and the nurse mentioned that was probably best right now.”
Officer Prescott began speaking in a hushed whisper while wincing slightly. “Yeah. I…I can talk…a little bit.”
“Okay that’s fine,” Detective Abernathy replied. “I’ll try to keep you from talking as much as I can. I know you’re still healing,” the detective said while opening his aluminum clipboard and retrieving a yellow legal pad and pen from inside.
“So,” the detective began, “we’re still waiting on the body cam and dash cam footage to get downloaded and we’ll have a briefing about that at noon. I just want to- well, let me rephrase. I’ll try to make this as simple as I can for you. I don’t need you to tell me what happened leading up to the attack. I just want to know any physical identifiers you might remember. Anything you can give me. Tattoos, haircut, hair color, eye color, whatever’s in your recollection. Okay?”
Detective Abernathy passed the yellow legal pad and pen to the officer as he silently reached up to accept them.
“Bottomline, we just need to know what this guy looked like so we can get word out to the media as soon as possible.”
Officer Prescott looked the detective in the eyes and let his gaze linger for a moment. He remained expressionless for several moments before looking down and clicking the pen.
Detective Abernathy continued as the officer’s hand began slowly moving the pen against the paper. “I mean anything at all. Did this son of a bitch have a fucked up looking nose, fucked up teeth, track marks up and down his arms, did he-”
Detective Abernathy stopped short as the officer handed the pen and paper back to him after writing for what was only a few seconds. A look of skepticism formed on the detective’s face as he reluctantly accepted the legal pad back into his hands. He began to shake his head slightly in confusion upon reading only four words crudely scribbled on the page:
IT LOOKED LIKE ME.
Friday, October 30th, 2026
09:14pm
“Are these a twist-off?” Mitchell asked the group.
“Yeah I think so, but if not I can go get a bottle opener from the kitchen,” Carrie replied while distributing beers from the cardboard carrier.
The three teenagers settled into their outdoor camping chairs forming a semicircle around the firepit.
“So your parents still haven’t figured out your brother gets us beer every year?” Brandon asked cautiously.
“Nah, I don’t think so. Maybe they just don’t care.” Carrie said while discarding the empty beer case onto the ground next to her chair.
“And you’re sure they won’t be home anytime soon?” Mitchell asked.
“No, it’s their wedding anniversary, remember? They got married on Halloween so they drove to Cape Cod for the weekend. They usually don’t go out of town but this year they did. It’s their thirtieth.”
Brandon and Mitchell felt more at ease and they each opened their beers before resting their backs against the nylon covered chairs.
“Alright so,” Carrie began, “who wants to go first?”
“I hope someone has something better than that ‘Haunting In Connecticut’ rip-off you told last year,” Mitchell said playfully.
Carrie burst out laughing. “That wasn’t me asshole, that was Brandon!”
“Guilty as charged.” Brandon said while nodding.
“Ya know Mitch if you’re gonna be shit-stirrer then I think the burden is on you. Let’s hear what kinda ghost story you have, and it better be good because we might not be able to keep up this little tradition after senior year.” Carrie said before sticking her tongue out.
Brandon took a swig of his beer before adding “Yeah Mitch aren’t you in creative writing? I feel like you could just whip something up.”
Mitchell chuckled slightly. “Oh okay guys. Sorry I didn’t tell you I was Stephen King,” he said with a tinge of sarcasm.
The smile that lingered on Mitchell’s face began to fade. “Actually…” Mitchell trailed off and seemed to be lost in thought for a moment.
“What?” Brandon asked while Carrie looked on.
“I uh…I saw something on the news recently that reminded me of something I had heard before. I got a little bit of deja vu. It was a story my dad told me when I was a kid. I guess it’s sort of like an urban legend.”
“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere,” Carrie began while nodding. “What is it, Big Foot, Lochness-”
“No,” Mitchell interrupted.
“It’s something that happened here. Well not here, but somewhere here in Connecticut. I think maybe in Woodstock or Putnam. I don’t know. I’m trying to remember now.”
Carrie and Brandon exchanged looks of intrigue. “I didn’t know we had any local urban legends,” Brandon remarked.
Mitchell closed his eyes for a moment trying to access what he could remember.
“Okay so…um, let me think. Well, let me start here. I saw on the news the other day or maybe it was last week, I can’t remember. I saw this news story about a cop over in Windsor Locks who noticed a car on the side of the road. So the cop pulled over and when he approached the driver, they said the driver attacked the cop. He was taken to the hospital because the guy who was stopped on the side of the road apparently attacked him with a knife or broken glass or something after the cop approached his car.”
“Damn, he stabbed the cop?” Brandon asked.
“Well, not exactly. They said the guy swiped at his throat and he was cut. So luckily this other cop showed up and got him to the hospital but by the time they got there the driver that cut the cop’s throat was just gone. They have no idea where he went.”
“Did the cop live?” Carrie asked.
“He did.” Mitchell replied.
Brandon raised his eyebrows. “Damn Mitch, this sounds like something from ‘Reservoir Dogs’.”
“Okay but it gets weirder,” Mitch continued.
“I saw an article online just yesterday that the cop that went to the hospital actually lived but then, he uh…”
“What?” Carrie asked.
“He committed suicide.”
“What?” Brandon asked incredulously.
“That’s your ghost story?” Carrie asked, frowning.
“No, it’s not that. I started reading some other stuff online about this cop and then I found this Reddit thread that said some really bizarre stuff in it that reminded me of the story my dad told me when I was a kid.”
Carrie and Brandon lowered their beers and leaned in closer to Mitchell.
Mitchell continued, “So, get this. I have no idea if this is true or not, but this Reddit thread is supposedly from someone who knew him personally. I can’t remember if they were like a neighbor or if it was another cop or somebody who worked at the hospital but it was an anonymous user that said after he was released from the hospital, he started saying things that weren’t in the original news story from when he was attacked. Weird stuff about the attacker that just didn’t make any sense.”
“Like what?” Carrie asked.
“Like his face changed.”
“Whose did?”
“The guy in the car. Hang on.” Mitchell pulled his phone from his pocket.
“I saved the Reddit thread. Okay here it is. So, this person claims to have talked to him days before he…you know. Anyways, they said the cop told him that the guy’s face ‘shifted’ and ‘gleamed like glass’ before opening up entirely and-”
“Wait, wait, wait a minute.” Brandon shook his head with confusion.
Mitchell glanced up from his phone screen. “Dude, that's just the beginning, trust me. It gets weirder.”
“Let me see if I got this straight Mitch. This cop gets his throat sliced by a random motorist, lives to tell the story and then kills himself? And now some anonymous person is saying the cop told them that the motorist who sliced his throat…had a face that turned into glass?”
Mitch sighed heavily. “No, he said it gleamed like glass. It-”
“Jesus Brandon just shut up and let him finish.” Carrie said sternly before returning her gaze to Mitchell.
“Go on Mitch, this is interesting.”
Mitchell took a breath and resumed looking down at his phone screen. “This cop apparently said the guy’s face shifted and turned into a mirror and that was when the cop saw his reflection in the guy’s face. He-”
Mitchell was interrupted by Carrie and Brandon bursting into laughter.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Brandon said, trying to regain his composure.
“Was this cop on drugs or something, like what the hell is he talking about - the guy’s face turned into a mirror?” Carrie said, still trembling with laughter.
“Guys, just stay with me okay? I know it sounds ridiculous but it leads into the thing my dad told me as a kid, I promise.”
Mitchell continued despite Carrie and Brandon still snickering.
“He said his face, arms, chest, and body made sounds like pieces of glass grinding and crunching together. Like as if someone was stepping on a pile of broken glass. The cop then said just before he was attacked that he saw not only himself in the mirror of this guy’s face and body, but he also saw every regret in his life. Every bad deed was shown to him in the mirror of this guy’s face and body. It then goes on to say-”
Mitchell looked up from his phone noticing Brandon and Carrie were no longer laughing but instead listening intently.
“It then goes on to say that his hand, along with most of his body appeared to be made of shards of glass. The cop said he had his hand on his gun but he couldn’t move. Like he was paralyzed while being forced to watch his actions from his past in the mirror.”
“The mirror being the guy’s face and most of his body?” Carrie asked.
“I guess so, yeah. Obviously whoever he told this stuff to thought he was insane but it reminded me of this story my dad told me when we went camping as a family when I was a kid.”
“A story about a hallucinating cop?” Brandon asked, grinning sarcastically.
“No. It was about this shapeshifter who lived in the woods and killed bad people. I'd have to ask him again because I can't remember if this thing was like an alien or a mutant or something. It took place a long time ago. Backstory aside, it killed this guy or maybe it was a group of teenage boys, I can't remember exactly, who were torturing animals in their town. Like killing people's pets and stuff like that.”
“Damn Mitch, your parents were into some dark shit when you were a kid.” Brandon remarked with a laugh before sipping what remained of his beer.
“I was like seven dude and it's not like he went into graphic detail, okay? It was called the mirrored man or something. This thing appeared in the woods as a man and then it revealed itself to be made of these little mirrors kinda like a mosaic. I remember my dad used that term and had to explain to me what a mosaic was. Within the little mirrors the person saw their evil actions and then it - whatever this thing was, killed them.”
“Oh okay so it was like retroactive justice. Like karma,” Carrie said. “Or like…Jigsaw from the ‘Saw’ movies.”
Mitch gave Carrie a look before sighing as Carrie and Brandon’s laughter echoed into the night.
Sunday, December 10th, 1961
07:13am
The sound of Walter's Winchester 70 rifle cracked through the sky like lightning disturbing the otherwise silent morning. The helpless doe sprinted for a moment and then began limping before eventually stumbling over itself. Walter watched through the crosshairs of his scope as blood pooled on the doe’s hip.
“Bingo,” Walter whispered to himself while rising from his crouched position in the shrubbery about thirty feet away from where the doe now lay. Glancing down for only a second at his boots as he stepped over various tree roots, he didn’t notice the transition that had taken place. Looking up and ahead at where he expected the doe to be lying in a state of agony, he found only the eyes of a man staring back at him. Walter nearly fell back from being startled.
“Holy shit! Jesus Christ you scared the hell outta me buddy!” Walter exclaimed. “What the hell - are you alright?” I just hit a-” Walter stopped short realizing the man was now standing where he expected to find the doe.
Walter looked over the man’s shoulder in confusion. “What the…where’d she go? She was just there where you’re standing.”
The man remained silent as his gaze remained fixed on Walter.
“I didn’t hit you, did I?”
The man spoke after a moment, looking Walter up and down. “I think I’ll be fine, Walter.”
A look of confusion formed on Walter’s face upon hearing his name.
“Do I know you mister?”
“No, but I’ve been waiting for you.”
At that moment, the man’s face, neck, and upper torso began to split down the middle. The tear in his body though wide, revealed no blood, no bone, no muscle. Instead, hundreds of pieces of glass surfaced from within. Some of the small pieces fell to the ground at his feet in a small pile. The glass was not transparent, but reflective. The being that now stood before Walter may have resembled the outline of a human but was anything but.
“Good God, what the hell are you?” Walter asked in a frightened whisper while taking a step back and gripping his rifle tightly. His breathing quickened.
The being spoke although its face was now made entirely of broken pieces of glass varying in size with no mouth visible. “I'm nothing more than a reflection of you, Walter. A reflection of your deeds,” the being said, its voice still emulating that of a human’s.
Walter's eyes widened.
“I know why you come into these woods, Walter. You don’t like to kill the deer. That would be too quick for you. You like to wound them first. That’s when the real fun begins right? That’s when you like to skin them alive. You-”
“Stop, just stop, please.” Walter interrupted.
“Maybe I could skin you, Walter.”
The being took a step forward towards Walter.
The horror Walter felt while looking at the being was suddenly overshadowed by his inability to move. Although he couldn’t explain it, Walter knew it was responsible for his sudden paralysis.
“Would you like that, Walter? Or is your pleasure a one way street?”
“Please, just give me a chance. I’ll…I’ll get help. I’m sick.”
Walter felt his brain exhausting itself trying to command his legs to run. His feet remained frozen.
“You never gave that little blind boy a chance, why should I give you one?”
“How-how in the hell do you know about that?” he stammered.
“Oh please Walter, that was in the papers for weeks. The little blind boy who wandered into the woods one morning while you were on the prowl didn’t stand a chance. The search party spent weeks looking for him before they found his body. You mangled him so badly they told his parents he must’ve been attacked by a bear.”
Walter saw the boy’s face in the pieces of glass that covered the being.
Walter hung his head in shame. “I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just have these urges.”
“Maybe we’re not so different after all, Walter. You asked what I am and it seems you don’t know what you are either. I don’t know why I exist Walter but I can tell you that your cruelty permeates the universe. My kind knows of your evil and the evil of others like you from lightyears away.”
Walter suddenly saw his reflection looking back at him. The glass covering the being gleamed in the orange light of the sunrise. The faces of his victims, the sudden paralysis, none of those compared to the horror Walter felt from looking at his own face reflected back at him in the mirrors. Unable and unwilling to face his own demons, he realized he couldn’t remember the last time he looked at himself in a mirror. As he looked himself deep in the eye one last time, the being extended its arm composed of glass shards at the speed of light some ten feet away. Walter’s jugular opened wide, spilling his sin-stained blood on the snowy ground in atonement.
Friday, October 2nd, 2026
08:46pm
Officer Prescott slowed his Ford Explorer upon noticing the black Toyota 4Runner parked on the shoulder with its hazard lights flashing. After coming to a full stop, Officer Prescott activated his light bar and put his SUV in park.
Cupping the radio receiver in his right hand while his left rested on the interior door handle, he announced “Control, 287. I’m westbound on Bradley International Connector twenty, west of interstate ninety-one. Possible ten forty-six. Black, late model Toyota 4Runner. Occupied…one time. No plate visible.”
“Copy 287,” The radio crackled in response. Officer Prescott exited his vehicle looking over his shoulder at the traffic passing from behind and shifting away from the two SUVs now parked on the side of the road. The red and blue lights illuminated his path as he approached the 4Runner.
Officer Prescott retrieved his flashlight from his utility belt and shined it at the two rear tires noticing no signs of a flat as he continued approaching the SUV. He shined his flashlight towards the front left tire which also appeared fully inflated and touched the back of the SUV with his right fingertips briefly just above the taillight. Just before arriving at the driver door window, he activated his body worn camera in the middle of his bulletproof vest.
2026-10-02 20:47
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Officer Prescott shined his flashlight into the window as the man in the driver seat slowly turned his head and squinted up at him. The window came down about half way before Officer Prescott greeted the driver.
“Hi there, I’m Officer Prescott, Windsor Locks Police. Do you need some help?”
“I can’t really see you,” the man replied, his hand coming up slightly in front of his face to block the light from the flashlight.
“Yeah, well that’s kinda the idea,” Officer Prescott replied before continuing. “What’re you doing out here on the side of the road? Are you having car trouble or something?”
The man continued squinting while saying nothing.
“I noticed you don’t have a plate on the back either. Is this your vehicle?”
The man’s eyes relaxed from their squint and his hand came down slightly.
Officer Prescott found himself unsure of what he was looking at. The man’s eyes were not watery or bloodshot, but rather gleaming and reflective like crystal. So reflective that Officer Prescott could no longer see the black pupils of the man’s eyes shifting downward to the officer’s small rectangular nametag pin that read ‘R. PRESCOTT’.
“Are you alright? What’s going on there with your eyes?”
“Maybe you should be more concerned with yourself, Riley,” the man finally responded after a few moments.
Officer Prescott took a step away from the door and spoke into the radio clipped on his shoulder.
“Control, 287. Requesting ten-thirteen.”
“Copy, 287. Ten-thirteen.”
Officer Prescott scowled slightly as he asked the driver, “What did you say?”
“I said maybe you should worry about yourself, Riley.”
Officer Prescott blinked silently in confusion for a moment before speaking.
“Do I know you from somewhere, sir? Have I stopped you before for something?”
“No. Although I certainly know you.”
Officer Prescott’s radio squawked. “Control, sixteen responding to 287.”
Officer Prescott continued holding his flashlight that was still squarely aimed at the man’s face in his left hand.
“How do you know my name?”
“I know everything about you, Riley. I know how you sometimes go looking for uh, shall we say, a sadistic thrill in the homeless encampments just up the road from here. The ones in the woods. That’s where I first saw you.”
Officer Prescott paused for a moment before continuing.
“You got some ID on you, sir?”
“No. Believe me, I wish I knew who I was here.”
“Here?”
“This human cesspool you call a planet.”
Officer Prescott chuckled slightly before asking, “Oh okay, are you under the influence of anything right now? Any alcohol or medica-”
“I’m only influenced by you, Riley. I’m simply a reflection of your deeds.”
“And what’s your name?”
“I’m nameless, but I’m not without a purpose, Riley. I’ve come to rid this place of degenerates like you.”
With his left hand still firmly holding the flashlight, Officer Prescott began feeling for the steel grip of his Glock with his right.
“I’m gonna need you to step out of the vehicle.” Officer Prescott commanded.
“I’m not taking any steps Riley and neither are you.”
“Step out-”
At that moment, Officer Prescott felt his body freeze. His left hand remained holding the flashlight, his right hand resting on his Glock, which was still holstered. Although he could still speak and blink, he couldn’t so much as turn his head let alone move his limbs.
The being smiled slyly while watching a look of panic wash over Officer Prescott’s face.
“What’s the matter Riley? Never felt control of a situation slip through your fingers so quickly?”
The being lowered its eyes and delighted in watching the officer’s heart beat faster in his chest.
“What…what the hell are you doing to me?” Officer Prescott asked with a shakiness in his voice.
“Just giving you a new perspective, Riley.”
At the moment, the face of the being changed in an instant. Although he was still in a state of panic and shock from the sudden loss of his motor functions, Officer Prescott found the face that was now looking back at him to be deeply unsettling. As if looking into a mirror, Officer Prescott couldn’t understand how the being was suddenly reflecting his face.
“How’re you doing that?” Officer Prescott asked with a helplessness in his tone.
“You couldn’t ever face yourself in the mirror, could you Riley?” The words rang in Officer Prescott’s mind for a moment before the being continued speaking.
“I don’t even think you’ve ever felt regret for anything you’ve done until this moment, have you Riley?”
Somehow in his state of heightened panic, Officer Prescott heard another vehicle pulling up a short distance behind his patrol SUV. Unable to turn his head and confirm, the edge of his peripheral vision detected another set of red and blue police lights suddenly illuminating behind his own.
Officer Brennan activated his light bar and slowed his vehicle before coming to a complete stop a few feet behind his fellow officer’s SUV.
“Control, this is sixteen. I’m ten ninety-seven assisting 287.”
Officer Brennan put his car in park and activated his own body worn camera.
2026-10-02 20:52
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“Copy, sixteen.”
Officer Brennan calmly stepped out of his police cruiser and retrieved his flashlight from his utility belt completely unaware of the tense standoff waiting for him only feet ahead. Taking only a few steps towards the front of his vehicle, he activated his flashlight which in turn activated his adrenaline. The beam of light revealed a very red-faced and sweating Officer Prescott, his hand shaking with curled fingers desperately clawing to retrieve his Glock from the holster.
“He’s got me!” Officer Prescott shouted at the top of his lungs with bloodcurdling horror.
“Shit!” Officer Brennan exclaimed as he broke into a sprint racing towards the officer. As he slid to a stop just behind the 4Runner, he tossed his flashlight from his right hand catching it with his left, enabling his right hand to retrieve his gun. Within the blink of an eye, the barrel was now beside the flashlight, both aimed at the driver just out of view behind the door pillar.
“Hands! Let me see your hands now!” Officer Brennan shouted at the driver.
“As you wish.”
The being extended its glass arm through the open window striking Officer Prescott’s neck at the precise moment Officer Brennan squeezed off a shot. The bullet shattered the glass into an innumerous amount of tiny pieces spraying both officers in the face. Officer Prescott fell back, dropped his flashlight, and clutched his throat as Officer Brennan regained his vision and began firing several more rounds toward the driver door and window. With Officer Prescott now flat on his back and both hands wrapped firmly around his bleeding throat, Officer Brennan now stood squarely beside the driver door where his fellow officer had been standing only a moment before and aimed his gun through the open window. Instead of finding what he believed to be a man inside the vehicle, Officer Brennan was left confused to see only the hind legs of a deer as it leapt through the open passenger door.
Officer Brennan ran to the front of the 4Runner standing between its headlights with his gun and flashlight aimed at the dark woods beside the road. After seeing no sign of a driver or anything else posing a threat, he holstered his gun and ran back to the driver side of the 4Runner where Officer Prescott continued clutching his throat.
Officer Brennan frantically shouted into his radio while attempting to help hold pressure on Officer Prescott’s throat.
“Control, shots fired, shots fired! Ten thirty-three, ten thirty-three, officer down, officer down! Sixteen, 287! Need medical ASAP!”
“Hold on, let me get the first-aid!”
“Copy, sixteen. Medical enroute.”
Officer Brennan rose to his feet and sprinted back to his patrol vehicle, returning with a first-aid kit in a matter of seconds. As he retrieved fistfuls of gauze from the kit and began applying pressure, he could hear Officer Prescott struggling to speak between gasps while clearly in shock.
“What…what was that…”
“Just stay with me Prescott, you’re gonna be alright. Okay? Just keep your hand-”
“That thing’s not…real…”
“Prescott, c’mon man, just stay calm. Okay? Just stay with me. Listen, there’s an ambul-”
“It wasn’t…not…it’s not…
“Prescott-”
“Not a deer…not-”
“Prescott, listen to me man. You gotta stop-”
“It’s not…human…he…it…it was…it was glass…”
