Reflections of the Forgotten

Rain hammered against the windows, each droplet tapping like an impatient visitor. Sarah sat on the edge of her couch, scrolling through an online marketplace for vintage trinkets, a hobby she’d developed to pass the time. She paused on an old locket—golden, delicate, but worn by time. The caption read: An heirloom with a story waiting to be discovered.

Without thinking twice, she bought it. Something about it felt oddly… familiar.

Two days later, the locket arrived. She sat at her kitchen table, holding it between her fingers. It was heavier than she’d imagined. Gently, she pried it open. Inside was a small, sepia-toned photo of a young woman. Her features were soft, her eyes deep and distant. Sarah’s breath caught in her throat.

The woman in the locket looked exactly like her.

She slammed the locket shut, heart racing. A sense of unease crawled under her skin. There had to be a mistake. Maybe it was a coincidence—a relative she didn’t know about, some long-lost ancestor.

She picked up her phone and dialed her mother.

“Mom?” Sarah asked, her voice trembling slightly. “Did we have any relatives that looked like me? From way back?”

“Not that I know of, sweetie,” her mother replied. “Why? Is something wrong?”

Sarah hesitated. “I… I bought this old locket. It has a picture in it, and the woman looks just like me.”

“That’s strange. Maybe it’s just a resemblance. People do say we have doppelgängers.”

Sarah nodded, though her mom couldn’t see her. “Yeah, maybe.”

That night, Sarah tossed and turned in bed. The image of the woman in the locket haunted her thoughts. She finally gave in to the insomnia and got up, deciding to examine the locket more closely. There had to be some explanation—an inscription, a name, anything.

She reached for it, fingers shaking slightly, and opened it again. This time, there was something different. Beneath the photo, etched into the inner rim, were faint initials: S.R.

Sarah froze. Those were her initials.

She dropped the locket on the table as though it had burned her.

“This can’t be happening,” she whispered, backing away. “It’s just a stupid coincidence.”

Just as she turned to leave the room, her phone buzzed. It was a message—from an unknown number.

How’s my locket, Sarah?

She stared at the screen, cold dread crawling up her spine. She hadn’t told anyone about the locket.

Her fingers trembled as she typed a response. Who is this?

Moments later, another message came through: I think you know.

The air around her seemed to thicken, the shadows in the room growing deeper. Her heart pounded in her ears as she rushed to the front door, checking the locks. She was alone, but every instinct told her she wasn’t safe.

Her phone buzzed again. This time, it was a photo. The woman from the locket, standing outside Sarah’s house.

Sarah’s breath caught. She rushed to the window, pulling back the curtain ever so slightly. The street was empty, drenched in the downpour, but there was no one there.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

“Sarah,” a soft voice called from the other side. “Let me in.”

She stepped back, her pulse roaring in her ears.

“Who are you?” she demanded, her voice shaking.

“I’m you,” the voice replied, gentle but distorted, like a familiar melody played out of tune. “You just don’t remember… yet.”

Sarah’s hands shook as she backed away from the door. Her phone buzzed again, but she didn’t dare look at it this time. Instead, she grabbed the locket and hurled it against the wall. The metal shattered into pieces.

Instantly, the room grew silent. The knocking stopped. The phone went dark. For a moment, it was as though time itself had paused.

Sarah stumbled backward, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The reflection’s grin widened unnaturally, stretching across its face. She tried to scream, but her voice caught in her throat, paralyzed by fear. Desperate, she grabbed her phone and dialed her mother again, her fingers shaking so violently she could barely press the buttons. As the call connected, a voice answered—not her mother’s, but her own. “You can’t run from yourself, Sarah,” the voice on the other end of the line said, eerily calm. “It’s time you remember.” The phone went dead in her hand.

The room felt like it was closing in on her. Sarah stumbled toward the mirror, hoping to see something—anything—that might explain what was happening. But her reflection was wrong. The woman staring back at her was still smiling, her eyes no longer soft, but sharp and menacing.

It felt like a thousand eyes were watching her, every shadow now hiding a secret she didn’t want to discover. The reflection began to move, not in sync with her but independently, as if it had a life of its own. Sarah’s breath quickened as she reached toward the mirror, her fingers trembling. When her hand touched the cold glass, her reflection leaned in and whispered, “You’ve forgotten what you did. But I haven’t.”

Her mind raced. What I did?

The room plunged into total darkness for a moment, and when the lights flickered back on, Sarah saw something that made her heart seize. The shattered pieces of the locket were gone, replaced by a perfect replica of the locket sitting in the middle of the floor—intact, pristine, as though it had never been broken. She bent down, hand trembling, and when she picked it up, the weight in her palm felt heavier. The locket clicked open on its own, revealing a new photograph. This time, it wasn’t the woman inside—it was Sarah herself, but older, her eyes hollow, her face twisted with the same eerie smile that haunted her reflection. “Now you understand,” the voice whispered from everywhere and nowhere. “Time to come home.” Behind her, the door creaked open slowly, the air turning colder. Sarah stood frozen, knowing that whatever waited beyond that door wasn’t human—but it was coming for her.