Every night at exactly 2:13 a. m., the whispering would begin. Initially, Hannah assumed that it was the wind that was getting into the house through the cracks in the walls of the old Victorian house. But the whispers were too clear, too deliberate, short phrases, words that were whispered in a language unknown to her.
She vowed to uncover the source and so, one night, she decided to stay up, holding a flashlight and hugging her blanket as if it was a life preserver. The clock ticked to 2:13 and the room was silent as if something dangerous was about to happen. Then, she heard it - a low, scratchy voice calling her name and she could feel the cold air coming from the floor.
It beat fast as she opened the trapdoor which was hidden under the antique rug in her bedroom and found a staircase which lead to a dark room. The voice was louder now, inviting her. Despite the warnings deep down in her heart, she had no choice but to follow it and walk inside.
The air became colder the more she got down to the level. There, in the light was a small mirror, old and dirty, larger than her. The surface of the mirror was foggy and all it showed was darkness. But the minute she got closer to it, the mirror illuminated and I saw myself in it…. trapped.
All of a sudden, the reflection of herself smiled at her and her own face didn't. The Hannah in the mirror lifted her hand and waved at her and said some words which Hannah couldn't understand. And then the voice whispered to her again, "Swap."
The flashlight illuminated for a while and then light up and never turned off again.
