Naomi stared at her reflection in the hotel mirror, her violet-blue eyes focused on the black lace lingerie outlining her body. The floral patterns on the fabric delicately embraced her skin, complimenting the creamy complexion beneath. She barely noticed her phone vibrating in her hand. Her blonde hair curled around her shoulders, a striking contrast to the intricate detail of the lace. Yet, something else lingered in the room that her reflection could not capture—an unseen presence.
She lowered her phone, the leopard print case glinting under the tungsten light as she stepped closer to the mirror. She wasn’t just admiring herself, no, she was stalling. Heart racing, Naomi leaned in, her breath fogging up the cold glass. The air behind her shifted. It wasn’t just in her mind—someone else was there.
Earlier in the day, it started with a message. “I saw you. I know.” The anonymous text had sent chills down her spine, but she had brushed it off as a prank. She wasn’t one to be intimidated so easily. After all, Naomi wasn’t just any woman capturing a sultry reflection for the sake of social media clout. She had a reputation to maintain—the bold and fierce Naomi Sinclair, a detective in the shadows, her cover never once blown. Until now.
Another buzz. Her phone vibrated again. This time, the message was crystal clear: “Turn around.”
A shiver ran up her spine. She tightened her grip on her phone, the decorative case smashing against the fine leather of her palm. The casual, intimate setting she’d chosen to unwind after a long day suddenly didn’t feel so cozy anymore. For a second, Naomi hesitated, then counted her breaths and, finally, turned.
Nothing. The empty hotel room stared back: the unmade bed, the suitcase spilling clothes, and the dim, ambient lighting casting shadows across the room. But each shadow seemed… wrong, distorted. She squinted, her pulse quickening. It felt as if one shadow, in particular, didn’t quite belong. The outline hovered near the edge of the ceiling, crawling like a spider, moving across the walls too unnaturally for comfort.
“I’m not losing my mind,” Naomi whispered as she adjusted her posture, her legs slightly apart, ready to take action if needed. From her phone’s reflection, something shimmered behind her—no, not just shimmered—shifted. Her own face became obscured as another face appeared just over her shoulder, eyes hollow, mouth twisted into a leer.
She spun around fully, grabbing the bedside lamp in a swift motion, but there was no one physically there. A trick? Some kind of augmented reality hallucination? No, Naomi had seen too much in her work to dismiss it so easily. The hair on her arms prickled with warning. Whatever this was, it wasn’t natural.
Naomi knew she had to keep moving. Gathering herself mentally, she reached into her bag, taking out the small emergency device she always carried—a sleek data blocker hacking tool. With rapid precision, she dialed up her tech expert, Carter, on a secure line. The phone rang once. Twice.
“Answer. Dammit, answer!” she hissed, her anxiety turning palpable as the chilling presence loomed closer. Once more, her phone buzzed before she even heard Carter’s voice.
Another anonymous message appeared. “There’s no one to call. He’s already here.”
This time, as she looked in the mirror, the figure didn’t hide. He stepped out from behind the reflection, his gaunt form shimmering through the glass, until the shadow stood behind her, completely visible now. And this was no hallucination. Naomi understood that she had waded into something far darker than even her covert assignments, something that lived between reality and reflection.
Her breath caught as the figure whispered, “Naomi, it’s time you remember who you really are.”
The source…check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: Femme Fatale Fashion: Black Lace and Leopard Print—Sensuality meets Bold Elegance
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