When my parents bought a house that used to be a funeral parlor, a burst pipe revealed a hidden, sealed room. Inside was a cracked mirror, a chair, and a journal from the original owner, Arthur Bellamy. He wrote that the mirror showed people days before their deaths—including his fiancée, Lillian Monroe, who vanished in 1929.
Soon, we all began seeing a woman near the mirror. One night, she appeared to me, whispering, “He didn’t bury me.” A priest told us to dig under the mirror. We found a box with a ring, a locket, and bloodstained fabric. The locket was traced to Lillian.
After that, the hauntings stopped. Later, Lillian’s grand-niece visited, left flowers, and said, “She just wanted the truth.”
The mirror is still there, but silent. Some stories wait decades for someone to uncover them.
