Fear

****

A sound from the next room paralyzed him with horror — it seemed as if even his lungs had forgotten how to breathe. Fear crawled up his spine like a vile cold snake, crept into his head, and froze there, cutting off control over his entire body. If Kostya hadn’t been lying on the couch, he probably would have collapsed onto the floor as his legs gave way.

That sound couldn’t have happened. No, it wasn’t a scream, not a growl, not the childlike laughter so beloved in horror films. It was the sound of something wooden falling. And nothing wooden could have fallen — even if all the windows had been wide open — simply because the only wooden things in that room were the furniture, and the sound of furniture falling would have been completely different.

Ten-year-old Kostya didn’t much like it when his parents left him alone in the huge apartment. It wasn’t that he was afraid of anything; he just didn’t like it, and he couldn’t explain why. The only thing Kostya could do after he closed the door behind his mother was read a book. Neither the television nor the computer could lure him with their screens. Kostya lay on the couch, completely immersed in *King Solomon’s Mines*, when the sound rang out.

The boy’s fingers grew damp with sweat and no longer wanted to hold the book. With difficulty, he turned his head and looked toward the doorway leading into the hallway.

“Who’s there?”

Silence. The child’s mind desperately clung to reality: *It’s just the neighbors dropping something… what nonsense… there’s no one there…*

The only way to check was to go and see. Tears welled up in his eyes; he wanted to scream and curl up in a corner. But the fear did not subside, and even at ten years old Kostya understood that the best way to calm down was to go into the next room.

Kostya clenched his fists and walked toward the door. He had to step into the hallway and turn right. The fact that the hallway was dark told him that the door to the next room was closed, and since he hadn’t heard it open, it was probably safe to go out.

That’s what his mind said, but fear rarely listens to reason. On trembling legs, Kostya moved toward the door. Listening to every rustle, the boy heard only the pounding of his own heart. Halfway there, the fear grew stronger, sweeping aside all rational explanations… Bending slightly at the knees, Kostya peered into the hallway toward the neighboring room. Nothing. Everything was as usual. There was the door. Kostya froze, straightened up, and suddenly a laugh rose to his throat for no reason. He began to calm down and, almost without fear, walked to the closed door leading to the room from which the sound had come.

Taking hold of the handle, Kostya pushed the door open. A wave of fear returned, but it was too late to do anything else. The boy stepped into the room. Nothing wooden lay on the floor, and in general the room looked almost as it always did.

Almost. Something was wrong. A nervous chuckle escaped Kostya’s mouth. What was wrong?..

His hand reached for the light switch. The light only intensified the feeling that something had changed. Kostya’s gaze stopped at the large mirror hanging on the wall, and his eyes widened in astonishment — the mirror reflected something that wasn’t in the room. Stepping to the right and realizing what it was, Kostya screamed in terror and, stumbling, ran to the place where he used to hide when he was very small — the toilet.

In the mirror, in the middle of the room, stood a coffin.

His legs buckled and Kostya fell before reaching his hiding place. The horror was so overwhelming that for a moment he completely lost the ability to move. Glancing back toward the room, the boy realized that no one was following him, and that gave him a fleeting burst of strength. The bathroom door was ajar, and light spilled from it — that was at least some salvation, though subconsciously Kostya wanted to lock himself in the toilet, which was a little farther away. He had always done that when he was younger. The small space of the toilet had always given him a strange sense of calm. But now there was no choice: the toilet was closed and dark — turning on the light would cost precious seconds. All these thoughts flashed through Kostya’s mind in an instant, and he rushed into the bathroom.

The gray haze of fear retreated slightly when he clicked the lock behind him. Kostya slid down onto the floor on weakened legs and, afraid to make any sound, began to cry quietly. *This simply can’t be*, his father’s rational voice sounded in his head. *It’s impossible.* But the details of what he had seen began to surface in his mind.

An open coffin upholstered in red velvet stood on stools in the middle of the room. The lid lay on the floor beside it, and Kostya understood that its fall had made the sound that started this nightmare. As far as he had managed to see, the coffin was empty. At the thought of where whoever had been inside might now be, the boy began to tremble. His mind refused to process anything, and for about twenty minutes Kostya, curled into a ball, shook on the floor near the sink. Beyond the door it was quiet — so quiet it seemed the whole world had fallen away. Only a little boy and the reflection of a coffin remained.

The mirror… There was a mirror in the bathroom too! As soon as this thought came to Kostya, the trembling vanished. His whole body went limp, and he felt as though he might simply die. His heart stopped, but after a few seconds it began to beat again, and Kostya found the last of his strength to look at the mirror. From the floor it was hard to see much. And even standing upright, he couldn’t see himself in it, as he hadn’t yet grown tall enough.

To see himself in that mirror, Kostya had to stand on the edge of the bathtub. Somehow he found the strength and forced himself to get up.

The reflection in the mirror was ordinary — the ceiling and part of the wall. Kostya braced himself against the sink and climbed onto the edge of the tub. Standing on unsteady legs, he pulled himself up along the wall with his hands, fearfully watching the view in the mirror change. Nothing… Everything as it should be. The washing machine, the towels, the door.

And then his heart stopped again. The latch in the reflection was in the “open” position. Kostya blinked and looked at the lock. Closed. In the mirror — open…

And then the light went out.

Kostya bit his tongue painfully to avoid making a sound. The bulb hadn’t burned out — someone had switched off the light from outside. A split second before the darkness, he heard the click of the switch. His chin began to tremble. Another second — and he would have screamed. But then something happened that made him lose consciousness — the door in the reflection began to open…

Falling from the height of the bathtub and striking his elbow against the sink did not prevent Kostya from blacking out. His body, drowning in adrenaline, was granted a few minutes of relief.

The bathroom was still dark when Kostya regained consciousness. Turning toward the only patch of light, he realized that it was coming from the mirror — light from THAT reflected hallway was streaming through the open reflected bathroom door, and that was what Kostya saw the moment he came to. So the door THERE had indeed opened.

The boy no longer cared what was in the mirror. Curling up like a wolf cub, he pressed himself into the corner between the tub and the wall. His chin trembled, his teeth chattered, his mind barely grasped what was happening. After about ten minutes in that state, Kostya slowly began to come back to himself. Clamping a hand over his mouth, he began to sob. All the fear of the past hour poured out in those tears. With swollen eyes, Kostya stared without blinking at the strip of light on the reflected bathroom ceiling. Suddenly the strip narrowed slightly, as if someone had stepped into the passage.

The boy’s heart was ready to leap from his chest. He pressed both hands to his mouth, afraid to make a sound. Five minutes passed, nothing changed. Kostya closed his eyes and tried to stand up. With his eyes closed it was even worse, and as soon as he opened them, his gaze fell on the mirror. From it, without blinking, some old woman was staring at him. Wrapped in a shroud, with a scrap of paper on her forehead, she looked directly into the boy’s eyes.

Without understanding what he was doing, Kostya lunged for the door, opened the latch with numb fingers, and rushed out of the bathroom. In the first moments, the daylight blinded him, and that was enough for him to trip over the threshold. Getting up, Kostya ran into the room — the very one where he had seen the coffin in the reflection. In the hallway stood a mirrored wardrobe, and from the corner of his eye Kostya saw in it that the old woman was coming out of the bathroom, somehow still looking at him.

Suddenly a creaking old whisper sounded: “Why didn’t you cover the mirrors?.. Why didn’t you cover the mirrors with sheets?..” Kostya could barely make it out. He saw only the window and the blue sky beyond it…

*“City News,” March 12, 19..:* “A terrible incident occurred today on N Street. A ten-year-old boy, having broken a window, threw himself from the eighth floor. No signs of a crime were found in the apartment. A criminal case has been opened. The most probable cause of the incident is suicide, as the apartment was locked from the inside. The investigation is ongoing.”