TRUE Scary Stories for Sleep

Story 1 of 1The Third Tap

I moved into that studio back in October because the rent was low and it was close to my job. It was an old place, third floor, with those heavy radiators that clanked every time the heat kicked on at night.

The bathroom was small and smelled like old soap and wet tile, no matter how much I cleaned it. There was a medicine cabinet above the sink with a mirror that had those black spots around the edges where the silvering was wearing off.

I noticed it for the first time on a Tuesday night around eleven-fifteen. I was brushing my teeth, just staring at my own reflection, when I heard a soft sound coming from behind the glass. It was a dull, rhythmic noise.

I stopped moving my arm to listen, and the sound stopped exactly a second later. I thought it was just the pipes reacting to the vibration of the sink or maybe a neighbor in the next unit, but it felt much closer than that.

The next night, I tried a little experiment because I couldn't get it out of my head. I tapped the handle of my toothbrush against the ceramic rim of the sink twice, very quickly. Tap-tap. From behind the mirror, I heard tap-tap... and then a third tap.

I stood there for a long time, just breathing and looking at my own eyes in the mirror. My reflection looked normal, just a tired guy in a t-shirt, but I felt like there was a very thin wall between me and something else.

I know how this sounds, like I was imagining things or that it was just an echo in the plumbing. But an echo doesn't add a beat that wasn't there to begin with. The third tap was always a little louder, a little firmer than the others.

I started brushing my teeth in the kitchen for a few days, using the stainless steel sink. Nothing happened there, and the quiet was actually worse because I kept waiting for a sound that never came. Eventually, I went back to the bathroom.

One Friday, I got home late and didn't turn on the bathroom light, just used the glow from the hallway. I brushed my teeth in the dark, and the tapping followed my movements perfectly. When I rinsed my mouth and stopped, I waited for it.

Tap. It was right there, right behind my forehead on the other side of the glass. It didn't sound like wood or metal anymore; it sounded like a knuckle hitting a hard surface. I didn't reach out to touch the mirror.

I decided to open the medicine cabinet to see if there was a gap in the drywall behind it. I cleared out my shaving cream and aspirin, but the back of the cabinet was solid metal, bolted tight to the studs. There was nowhere for anyone to be.

I don't think it's a ghost or anything like that, because those stories usually have a reason or a history. This just feels like a physical law of that room, like gravity or the way the door sticks in the summer. It's just a thing that happens.

I still live there because the lease isn't up until next year and I don't have the money to move again. I've mostly gotten used to it, though I try not to look directly into the glass anymore while I'm doing my nighttime routine.

Every night I finish up, I turn off the faucet, and I wait for that final sound. It always comes, just one solitary knock against the back of the mirror. I just say goodnight under my breath and go to bed.

Last Tuesday, the rhythm changed for the first time. I finished brushing my teeth and put the cap back on the tube, waiting for that single, solid thud from behind the glass. It didn't come right away, so I just stood there in the dark, watching the red light on my electric toothbrush slowly fade out.

I finally turned to leave, but as my hand touched the light switch, there were three very quick taps instead of one. They sounded lighter, almost like fingernails clicking against the silvering on the other side. I stayed perfectly still, but the apartment was so quiet I could hear the refrigerator humming in the kitchen.

I didn't turn the light off, I just walked out and crawled into bed with the bathroom door wide open. I lay there looking at the ceiling, thinking about how the lease really isn't that much longer if I just keep my head down. I know how it sounds, but you get tired of being afraid of a noise after a while.

I eventually fell asleep, but when I woke up this morning, there was a small smudge on the outside of the mirror, right where the tapping always happens. I didn't clean it off. I just went to work and haven't really thought about it since I got home tonight.