When Daniel Petrov returned to his quiet mountain village after five long years in the city, everyone came to watch. Life there moved slowly — a new tractor, a wedding, or even a rumor could fill weeks of conversation. But what Daniel brought with him that autumn evening was something no one could stop talking about. 🏡
He arrived in an old truck, his face older and eyes darker than people remembered. Beside him sat a woman, her head wrapped entirely in white bandages, only her eyes visible — dark, deep, and almost unblinking. The villagers froze. Children clung to their mothers, whispers spread instantly. “Who is she?” they murmured. “And why is she covered like that?” 😨
His parents, Nikolai and Marina, were overjoyed to see their only son. They ran out of the house, tears of happiness on their faces. But when the woman stepped down from the truck, Marina’s smile faded. Her heart skipped a beat. “Daniel… what happened to her?” she asked softly. He only shook his head and said, “Please, Mama, don’t ask. Just welcome her. She’s my wife.”
From that day, the small wooden house on the edge of the forest grew strangely quiet. The woman—her name was Irina—rarely spoke. She stayed inside most of the time, and when she did go out, she wore a veil under her scarf. The villagers called her “the ghost bride.” Some said she was hiding from the police. Others whispered she had no face at all. 👀
At night, Marina heard her cry behind closed doors. The sound was faint but unbearable — like a wound that never healed. Daniel’s low, comforting voice would follow, whispering words no one else could hear.
Weeks passed, and curiosity turned into fear. The children claimed they saw Irina walking near the forest after midnight, her bandages glowing faintly under the moonlight. One even said he saw her reflection in the river, but it looked… wrong. Her eyes were hollow, and her mouth didn’t move when she spoke. 🌕
One night, unable to bear the mystery any longer, Marina woke her husband. “Nikolai,” she whispered, “we have to know who she really is. Our son has changed since she came.” He hesitated but finally agreed. When the clock struck eleven — the hour when Daniel and Irina always locked their room — they crept down the hallway and peeked through the narrow gap in the door.
Inside, Irina sat before a mirror. Her trembling hands were unwrapping the bandages. Piece by piece, her pale skin emerged — or what was left of it. Her face was covered with scars and burns, skin uneven like melted wax. But then something strange happened. As she removed the last layer, her reflection didn’t match her movements. The woman in the mirror was smiling. Irina wasn’t. 😳
Marina gasped. The reflection turned its head, slowly, toward them — as if it could see them through the glass. The lamp flickered, and for a moment, both Irina and her reflection stared at each other with terror. Daniel woke to his mother’s cry and rushed to the door.
He saw the truth in one glance — the bandages on the floor, his parents pale with fear, and Irina trembling before the mirror. “You shouldn’t have come in,” he said quietly. “Now it’s awake again.”
Marina didn’t understand. “What’s awake?” she asked.
Daniel looked at his wife, who was whispering something under her breath — a name, over and over. The light in the mirror flickered again, and for a moment, another figure appeared behind Irina’s reflection — a shadow with her same face, but smiling cruelly.
He took Marina’s hand. “Five years ago,” Daniel began, “there was a fire in the old hospital where I worked. She saved me — pulled me out when the roof was falling. But something happened to her in that fire. She… she didn’t come out alone.” 😢
Irina turned toward them, tears glistening in her eyes. “It follows me,” she whispered. “Every night. The reflection. It won’t leave until it finds a new face to take.”
The mirror began to vibrate, faint cracks spreading like veins of ice. The shadow inside started pressing against the glass, trying to push through. Marina screamed. Daniel grabbed the mirror and threw it to the floor. It shattered into a thousand sharp pieces, each one reflecting a tiny moving image — a burned face smiling. 💔
Then silence.
The next morning, the villagers found the Petrov house burned to the ground. Only one room remained untouched — the attic. There, under the ashes, they found a single unbroken mirror covered with soot. Inside, faintly visible, was the outline of a woman’s face.
They never saw Daniel or Irina again. But at night, when fog settled over the village, people said you could hear a woman weeping near the ruins — and sometimes, if you looked carefully at your own windowpane, you might see her reflection standing just behind you. 👁️🗨️✨
Even today, no one dares to touch the mirror kept in the church basement — wrapped in cloth, sealed away, but still faintly humming whenever someone whispers the name Irina. 😶🌫️
