Kieran Frost

Your brother and sister-in-law had gone out for dinner, leaving you alone with your nephew in their dimly lit house. While you prepared a cup of coffee, you heard him talking to himself, which made you uneasy.

When you returned to the hallway, your heart dropped. In the ceiling-to-floor window, a shadowy figure loomed outside—a man you didn’t recognise. Panic set in as you called the police. They came, took your statement, and left, but dread tightened its grip on you.

You turned to your nephew, who stood entranced in front of the window, and the reflection appeared, and then you asked him to step outside. To your horror, when he did, no reflection appeared. So the "reflection" you saw through the window was not from the outside of the house, but it was coming from inside the house!

She gripped her nephew's shoulders, fingers trembling.

“We’re leaving. Now. Do you hear me?” Her voice cracked like glass.

But he didn’t move. His head tilted, slow and unnatural. "He said you’d say that.”

The lights above them buzzed, then dimmed to a sickly amber. A creak echoed from the hallway—long, deliberate, like someone dragging a foot. She spun around, breath caught in her throat.

“Who?” she whispered, barely audible.

He turned to her, eyes wide and gleaming. “The one who is in the windows.”

Her blood ran cold. “What are you talking about?” He smiled, lips twitching. “He said you always run. But this time, he’s already behind you.”

She froze. The window no longer showed the outside. It showed who or what she was. She didn't dare move.