Updated: Mar 16

Dear Dr. Cook,

I can’t stand mirrors. To this day I don’t look into the mirror whenever possible.

When I was about 8 my family and I moved to Whitewater, Wisconsin. Perhaps you had already heard this but the Midwest is an… unusual place. Perhaps it's the endless flatland broken up only by a few rolling hills and valleys. It causes the eye to wander and see things others don’t want to acknowledge.

The move was rushed and we only had a weekend to move in. My mother had died a few months before and my father was left to raise me and my younger brother. For financial reasons, we moved from our large home in the country to a small one in the suburbs. As a kid, I was ecstatic to move into a home that had neighborhood kids so close by. It helped take the emotional pressure off of my mother’s death. Though, at times, I remember feeling guilty for those small moments of happiness. The only thing inside when we first walked into the gray stone building were 3 mirrors painted black. One in the hallway, one in the living room, and one in the primary bathroom from my father’s bedroom. We had bought the home around Halloween, so we had figured it was just decoration from the previous owners. We replaced the mirrors while moving in, and for a few months, we focused on adjusting t our new surroundings. The new school that my brother and I went to just became a school. Dad began to get more hours at his job and was away for longer periods of time. Refrigerated dinners and a TV babysitter became the norm. Everything was manageable until we began to notice small items disappearing from the home.

I at first believed my little brother was stealing from me. A bracelet that I had just put down would be missing for weeks on end. A random t-shirt that I had planned to wear the next day was gone from the hamper. My brother would always say, “I don’t know Em. I don’t know where you put it.”

I thought I was just tired. I had just begun middle school and was staying late for drama club. That was until I came home one day to find the sheets on the floor and my mirror drawn over in lipstick. A strange symbol had been written in a dark red. I remember chasing my brother around the house with lipstick. “You little shit!” I shouted at him.

He hid under the table. He was about five and could easily run in between the legs of the chairs. I could never catch him when he was in there since I had had my growth spurt and was just pushing my arm in between the legs of the chairs trying to grab him.

“It wasn’t me Em” he shouted back.

I swiped my hand to grab his shirt and just missed by an inch. “Bullshit! Who else could it be then?” I snapped.

“I don’t know!” he cried.

“I don’t know!” I mimicked.

“When dad gets home you are going to be in so much trouble.” I said and then got up to deal with most of the mess. We didn’t have a camera so I couldn’t take a picture so I cleaned everything up, except the lipstick on the mirror, and went to the living room to watch TV.

When dad came home I immediately dragged him to my room, only to find the lipstick gone and my dad’s patience gone with it. My brother was nowhere to be found during this.

“If you’re going to make up stuff about your brother, at least have something to show for it.” he grumbled and went to his room. I tried to tell him about the missing items and that the mirror was really freaking me out. But unless I had hard proof he wouldn’t believe me, he just said, “It’s my fault. I know you’re just doing this for attention but please Emily. Just stop.”

Things went from bad to worse when dad began removing the old carpet in the living room. As it had started to smell and we feared something had died under the carpet. Instead, we found a loose floorboard and under it was a large bible hanging on a hook and ten jars of rusty nails next to it. When he picked up the stuff and brought it outside it was as if a sudden pressure was set loose in the house. My brother and I found it unbearable to be alone in any room and began having nightmares every night for a week.

Until Sunday, when we saw it.

I had just taken a shower and was in front of the same mirror that had had the strange symbol on it. I saw something in the corner of the mirror begin to move. Horrified, I took a closer look and saw a man with goat horns sticking out of his head, and large yellow eyes staring back at me. I screamed and tried to run away and felt something lift me up by my throat. Kicking and screaming I tried to get free. My dad and brother were in the next room and my dad tried to run in to save me. But the door was locked and just as the light began to drain I saw the man holding me up in the mirror and choking me. My dad kicked in the door and I dropped to the floor bruising my legs.

My bed began to shake and posters began to be ripped off the walls as if something were tearing them down. My dad picked me up and ran back to my brother and grabbed his hand and dragged us out of the house and into the car. We drove down the street and could see lights flickering and could hear furniture banging around the house. We never went back to the house. Dad found a motel and then a rental home and we left all our belongings there and sold the home. We started from scratch again. But sometimes I swear I can still see things in the mirror at night. Sincerely, A Conservationist

~Image Courtesy of Photo by Mariana Montrazi from Pexels under Public


**Added to The Repository as the first data entry for phantom and poltergeist occultists.**

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