I was woken by a tapping sound. For a moment, floating in that sleepy haze, I was back in the old house listening to the oak playing silly tree tunes on my window.

Then my brain caught up to the present and I was jolted wide awake by the fact this house didn’t have any trees close to it, nothing at all to tap against my window in fact, and I sat up to listen closely.

The sound wasn’t coming from the window. It was coming from somewhere to my left. I wanted to dive under the covers and scream for mum and dad, but… waking everyone up because I heard tapping would make them so exasperated. And they’d be grumpy tomorrow. And Dave would be REALLY grumpy.

It occurred to me that the tapping sound might be Dave, up to whatever weird teenage things he did late at night, and I was briefly comforted. I slipped out of bed and crept over to the wall to check.

Dave was snoring. My nerves returned. I supposed he could be fake-snoring, and had been tapping on the wall to freak me out, but… he’d never been a pranking sort of big brother. And he was ADAMENT he didn’t snore. Imagining him conceding that argument was even harder than imagining him pranking.

The sound came again, from right next to me.

Tap Tap Tap

Not from the wall. From the mirror attached to it, left from whoever lived here before us. It was the reason I was in this room; it stretched from the floor up as tall as the door, perfect for dress-up or play-pretend or practicing dance. I loved it. I fancied that it made me look pretty and a bit older.

The girl I could see tapping on the other side of the mirror was definitely a bit older than me. And she’d probably been pretty. But her neck was dark with bruises and her face was swollen and her eyes bloodshot and her tongue sticking out-

That’s when I screamed.

She was gone as soon as the light went on, and didn’t come back when it was turned off. Mum and dad said it must have been a nightmare and cuddled me and put me back to bed, and mum sat up with me until I finally fell asleep.

When I woke up the next morning and checked the mirror, which only showed what it should, I was able to convince myself they were right.

The day was normal. Everything was fine.

I only stayed up listening to PROVE to myself that it had been a dream. At least, I MEANT to stay up, but after the long day I dozed off. Until…

Tap Tap Tap

I jerked up and stared at my alarm clock. I could only just make out the hands; it looked like midnight.

Tap Tap Tap

It was the same urgent cadence as last night. I crept over on shaky feet.

Yes, there she was. Just like last time. I couldn’t bear to look at her face so gazed past her. Into a completely different room. While it was just as dark on her side, I could make out that the bed was under the window, there were ballerina posters all over the walls, and a big flower-shaped rug taking up most of the floor.

Now that I was standing here she stopped tapping. Pressed close against the glass and waved one puffy, bruised hand. I felt sick to my stomach but I was determined not to scream.

She was trying to talk. I couldn’t hear anything but her… her FACE was contorting like she was trying to force words out. It was revolting and wasn’t working anyway, so I dashed over to my bookshelf.

The tapping resumed immediately. Thankfully my survival book was easy to find - only one with a clasp. I carried it over to the mirror and leafed through. Here. Morse code. I held it up to the mirror and hoped she could read it.

She tilted her misshapen head this way and that, then pointed behind me. To the window.

I mouthed “open”? and did my best charades go at pulling curtains apart. She nodded.

When I obeyed the streetlight around the corner peeked in. Not much illumination, but… maybe that was good, given how she’d vanished before. I hurried back and found her waiting.

And the curtains on her side were open now. Had she done that while I was opening mine, or…?

This time when I held the book up she studied it closely. Was it backwards to her? Maybe. But thankfully it should still be easy to figure out.

Sure enough, when she started tapping it was in clear patterns. I whispered along.

“D… A… D… Space… A… N… G… R… Y… Space… B… A… S… E… M… E… N-”

Car headlights set the room glowing, making me jump, and when I blinked the spots away she was gone.

“…Basement?”

What else could she have been spelling? I clutched the book to my chest like a shield and crept out to the landing and down the stairs. They creaked loudly underfoot but nobody else should be up, so…

The entry to the basement was under the stairs. I clicked the light on and peered down. All I could see was the yet-unpacked boxes piled up. So I descended.

It was a large basement, spilling out around the circle cast by the bare bulb. Our stuff only filled the half near the stairs. I paced around that safe perimeter, my eyes searching the gloom.

Tap Tap Tap

My breath caught in my throat. This tapping sounded like someone knocking on the concrete floor. Fom the corner piled with mouldering boxes covered in a tarp.

Tap Tap Tap

I slowly bent to peel back the tarp. Just unsealed cardboard boxes filled with junk.

Tap Tap Tap.

Oh. The concrete under them looked… different. Fresher?

Tap Tap Tap

Oh NO.