#DarkReflections

[icopixelcraft]

Mystical Mausoleum: A Serene Sanctuary Amidst Nature

Experience the harmony between architecture and nature with this mesmerizing art piece. Depicting a mausoleum surrounded by lush trees, the enigmatic tropics and dark reflections evoke a sense of peace and tranquility.

[darkshadowstales]

The Whispering Doll

Emma found an old porcelain doll at a flea market. Its painted blue eyes seemed to follow her as she moved. She placed it on a shelf in her bedroom, thinking it was just a harmless antique.

That night, as she lay in bed, she heard a faint whisper: "Emma... I see you..."

Her heart raced, but the room was empty. She tried to sleep, only to wake hours later to the sound of soft footsteps.

Terrified, she turned on the light. The doll was no longer on the shelf. It was sitting on her nightstand, its tiny hands now pointing at her.

The whisper came again, louder this time: "Emma... now I’m closer."

The next morning, Emma and the doll were both gone. Only her empty bed remained, with two tiny handprints on the pillow.

[jmikepatt]

Silenced by Assumptions

Through life, I’ve learned that there’s power in knowing when to speak and when to stay silent. But nothing kills a conversation faster than a question laced with assumptions. I’ve felt it. That subtle, stinging pause when someone’s preconceived ideas overshadow what I’m trying to share. Suddenly, the walls go up, and the story stays locked away, untold.

People don’t realize the weight of their assumptions. They don’t just hurt—they silence. In those moments, I’ve walked away feeling unseen, unheard, and unknown. Maybe you’ve felt this too. If we truly want to connect, we must first listen without judgment. Assumptions only distort the truth, creating darkness where light could’ve been.

Let’s remember: every soul carries a story, but only those willing to listen without judgment will ever hear it.

"A fool takes no pleasure in understanding, but only in expressing his opinion." – Proverbs 18:2

"Change is created by choice."

https://www.jmikepatt.com

[xence]

q02

[spongynova]

It's always bitter when a zine is cancelled, here is the piece I made for @darkreflections-zine. Sending hugs and thoughts to the team.

[harmonyhealinghub]

Whispers from the Mirror Shaina Tranquilino October 2, 2024

Sara stood in front of the bathroom mirror, the warm steam from her shower fogging the edges of the glass. Her reflection stared back at her, tired eyes and tangled hair. She sighed, reaching for her toothbrush, when something—faint, almost imperceptible—caught her attention.

“Sara…”

The voice was soft, like the barest breath of wind. She froze, her hand gripping the toothbrush. Her eyes flicked to the foggy mirror, heart pounding in her chest. For a moment, all was silent. She shook her head, brushing it off as the remnants of sleep clinging to her mind.

The next morning, the whisper returned.

“Sara…”

This time, it was louder, clearer. She whipped her head toward the mirror, scanning her reflection for any sign of the voice’s source. But it was just her, standing in the dull morning light, staring into her own eyes. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, and hurried out of the bathroom.

Days passed, and each morning, the voice grew stronger. At first, it called her name in that soft, eerie tone, but as the days wore on, it became insistent, demanding.

“Sara… Look at me…”

Her mornings were now filled with dread. She began avoiding the mirror altogether, brushing her teeth in a hurry, refusing to meet her reflection. But the voice was always there, louder, more desperate. Even in the middle of the night, she swore she could hear it calling her, muffled but present, pulling her from sleep.

One night, after waking drenched in cold sweat, she made a decision. She had to know what it was. She had to face it.

The next morning, she stood before the mirror, hands trembling, her reflection distorted by her fear. The voice was loud now, deafening, an urgent, hoarse whisper.

“Sara… Look at me. Please…”

She slowly raised her eyes, staring into her own reflection. But as she looked, something strange began to happen. Her reflection didn’t move in sync with her. It stood still, staring at her with a cold, dead-eyed gaze, while Sara’s breath hitched in her throat.

“Who are you?” Sara asked, her voice shaking.

The reflection’s lips curled into a sinister smile. It wasn’t her anymore. It was something else, something wrong. The face in the mirror was twisted, eyes dark and hollow, mouth stretching unnaturally wide as it spoke.

“I’ve been waiting,” it hissed. “So long, waiting for you to let me in…”

Sara stepped back, her chest tight with panic. Her reflection followed, not in motion, but as if it glided toward her. The air in the bathroom grew colder, thick with a suffocating presence.

“What do you want?” Sara whispered, her back pressing against the door.

The figure in the mirror tilted its head, its grin widening.

“You,” it said, voice dripping with malice. “I want you.”

Without warning, the bathroom lights flickered, and the mirror began to ripple, the surface warping as if the glass were made of liquid. The reflection's hands, once flat against the mirror, began to push through, stretching into Sara's world. The pale fingers reached for her, grasping the air, clawing for her skin.

Sara screamed, stumbling backward, but the hands were faster. Cold, clammy fingers latched onto her wrists, pulling her toward the mirror with an unnatural strength. She fought, thrashing and kicking, but the mirror seemed to drag her closer, its surface swallowing her inch by inch.

As her reflection’s face loomed closer, its empty eyes locked onto hers, Sara’s breath hitched. The last thing she heard before the darkness consumed her was its final whisper.

"Now, you belong to me."

The mirror fell silent. The bathroom returned to its usual stillness, the air warm once more.

A day later, Sara’s friend, Emily, knocked on her apartment door. When no one answered, she let herself in. Everything looked normal, except for the bathroom. The door was ajar, the mirror perfectly clean, gleaming in the dim light. Emily stepped closer, calling Sara’s name.

When she looked into the mirror, there was no reflection.

But a faint whisper echoed from the glass.

"Emily..."

[purpleenma]

Since December last year I've been keeping these illustrations secret because they were going to be part of the @darkreflections-zine , but sadly it was not possible to publish the zine in the end 😔. So at least that gives me the permission to finally share them with all of you!

There's a third piece in full color I will post tomorrow ✨

*See the third illustration here or in AO3.

[starrylol]

Sadly the @darkreflections-zine was cancelled due to personal circumstances, my thoughts go to the team ❤️🙏

Here is what I draw a while back, my take on AOS mcspirk and the mirrorverse!🩵💛💙

[djangopiano]

Empty store. Mirror on the back wall.#thatsmeinthemirror #carlkissin #kissinimprov #darkreflections #latenight #perambulations #columbusavenue #nomorestores #hellodarknessmyoldfriend https://www.instagram.com/p/B31ONAHJRIq/?igshid=gf0fyv2yx68o

[sirandrewisaac]

Underrated Book Project Letter F: The Flowing Queen 📖 An original and exciting adventure in an alternate Venice, where the Egyptians have taken over the world with their army of the dead and a mysterious Flowing Queen tries to protect her people from a cruel destiny. 📚 #theflowingqueen #thestonelight #theglassword #thedarkreflections #darkreflections #diefließendekönigin #dassteinernelicht #dasgläsernewort #merletrilogie #kaimeyer #venice #underratedbookproject #brosofbookstagram #bibliophile #bookstagram #instabooks #bookstagramfeature #bookswormfeature #bookishtag #bookish #bookaddict #bookporn #booklove #coverlove #coverporn #bookworm #bookdragon #igreads

[shironao]

@dark-reflections  liked for a DiPP starter!

“Perhaps this library will prove useful...”

Of the several new locations available to explore, the library held most of Naoto’s interest, especially as she idly passed her finger along the spines of the many books resting on their shelves, noting the various subjects. Many supernatural beings existed in this world, and some of the tomes discussed them in-depth. Perhaps she could gleam something useful to turn this world to her advantage...

Removing one book from the shelf, she started to carefully thumb through the yellowed pages, steely blue eyes skimming the passages within. Reading had always been one of her favorite ways to pass the time, and so she soon found herself enraptured, unaware of the woman who had approached.

[darkshadowstales]

The Mirror's Secret

It began with a mirror I found at a secondhand store shop — a wonderful piece with a fancy gold edge. The businessperson cautioned me, "This mirror reflects something other than your picture." I dismissed it.

That evening, as I set the mirror in my room, I saw something odd. My appearance wasn't altogether mine. It grinned when I didn't. It flickered when I gazed.

At 3 a.m., I awakened to black out murmurs. The sound came from the mirror. My appearance wasn't there, yet I saw a dim figure remaining behind me. Twirling around, the room was unfilled.

The murmurs became stronger, transforming into throaty shouts. The figure got out of the mirror — a tall, shadowy outline with empty eyes. "You brought me back," it murmured.

I was unable to move, couldn't shout. The last thing I recollect is its frosty hand contacting my face. At the point when I awakened, the mirror was broken, and composed on the wall in the shards was single word: Run.

Presently, every intelligent surface shows that figure, watching me. Pausing.

[jmikepatt]

The Strength in the Strands: A Warrior's Legacy

Growing up, I often wondered why men cut their hair. Was it about convenience, or was there something deeper? History tells us long hair was once a warrior’s badge of honor, a symbol of strength and defiance. I feel a connection to that legacy. Long hair represented freedom, individuality, and a refusal to bow to conformity—a silent but powerful statement of resilience.

As I reflect, I realize that cutting hair has sometimes felt like cutting away pieces of myself. Society pushes short hair on men as a sign of control and obedience. Yet, I’ve always felt the warrior’s fire burn brighter when I let my hair grow. To me, it’s more than an aesthetic—it's an identity, a reclaiming of what history once celebrated.

Perhaps, in these strands, we carry the stories of those before us. Warriors, rebels, and dreamers. Hair, in its simplest form, can be a rebellion against the systems trying to tame us.

"All the days of the vow of his separation, no razor shall come upon his head; until the days are fulfilled for which he separates himself to the Lord, he shall be holy. He shall let the locks of the hair of his head grow long." – Numbers 6:5

"Change is created by choice."

[bennjy131]

Now, for dark bloom but I didn’t want to be cliche and just reverse her colors to darker ones with the same concept #enchantix #winx #winxclub #bloom #darkbloom #darkfairy #faerie #fairy #darkreflection #darkfaerie (at Downtown Salt Lake City) https://www.instagram.com/p/B4JhQxpBP94/?igshid=hq4s74a3kh5m