By Stella López Ruiz
It was seven minutes after midnight. Leila was reading one of her favourite books, a horror story. No one understood why, but the nine-year-old-girl loved reading books like that. Under the covers, with a flashlight and all the house in silence. Yes, this was the best. Or so she thought. She was just finishing chapter number six when a thunderous noise from downstairs interrupted her. The girl completely pushed the bedclothes away and finally breathed fresh air. She looked at the time. It was so late. She picked up her yellow robe and placed it over her pijamas. The truth was that it was cold. She also put on her slippers with rabbit ears, took her flashlight with her right hand and put the book on her left arm. She didn’t want to separate it from the world. Once ready, she left her room with silent steps up to the kitchen, where she thought the strange noise came from. And she was not wrong, just some steps away she saw the proof of the crime. A skillet was on the floor. She left the flashlight on the counter and took the skillet. Then she put it in one of the coffee colored closets. Just as she was going to turn around to return to her room she noticed something odd. There was no light. She turned quickly to the place where she had left her flashlight but it was not in place. Suddenly she spotted something, a shadow. She gasped in surprise and tried to recover the skillet. Just in case. However she had no time. The shadow rushed over. Leila tried to hit it with her book, which she had not yet released, but what was her surprise that the object crossed the shade. What the hell was that? She tried to run away but it was too late. The shadow dealt a heavy blow to Leila in the head with her own book. And she could not stand, she fainted. The shadow dragged the girl through the house until the girl’s room and they went through it. And the villagers tell that her mother waking, went to the kitchen and found, lying on the ground, a thick hardcover book in which you could read in large letters: The mirror. But there was no sign of the child. Be careful what you read… You never know when you could become the protagonist of your favourite book.