I was stood frozen, facing the old ornate mirror, and too scared to open my eyes...

That night had been a dark night, but it definitely wasn't stormy. It was dead silent, so silent I had felt trapped. It was like I was in a dream and couldn't get out. A silence so strong it felt like anything could happen.
I had been standing before the front yard of a broken down mansion, one of those fancy Victorian era houses, a few minutes before. There were winter-dead trees all around, silhouetted black against a half moon. The big iron gate that lead to the cracked walkway was falling off its hinges. I had no idea how I had gotten there in the first place. The whole thing had a dreamlike effect. I had been under the impression that something was after me, and that I was trying to get away from it. But I had little control over my body and everything in my mind was hazy. I had been so desperate to get out of the open area, for fear of... well I didn't actually know, just fear of that silence. Outside seemed like a bad place to be; but I don't know why I had thought the house seemed any safer.
I had pushed the gate open with a loud creaking and grinding sound, amplified by the dead silence of the night. That sound could have made me even more of a target for anything that had a mind to attack.
But it didn't. The absolute calm of it all had seemed to promise something far more omonious to come later.
I made my way up the concrete walkway, trying not to trip on the huge cracks overgrown with weeds. All the windows were dark. I walked slowly to the front door...

I had placed my hand on the wood and felt my heart quicken. I was about to go in. I grabbed the cold metal handle and pushed, the door ground against the frame and then gave, slowly and with an unearthly silence, as if someone was waiting for me inside. I stepped hesitantly in. Next I had heard a sweeping sound behind me like the shuffling of feet, then turned around, and saw that the door was now completely shut.
Terrifying as that was, I had felt no desire to go back outside. I was suddenly overcome with the feeling that there were things outside which were less than desirable to deal with. I hadn't questioned where the feeling came from. Instead I just turned back around and faced the hall in front of me.
The only light came from nowhere in particular. There were no torches, lamps of any kind really, only a slight glow, just enough to see by. The windows were all shuttered and no moonlight slanted in.
I made my way down the hall to the staircase at the end. The carpeted steps thumped softly with each step I took. When I got to the top I felt an unspoken command or desire to stop and wait. I remember there seemed the possibility that something would happen to me. Fear and irrationality. I froze and waited, my heart thumping louder. Still nothing happened.
Turning right, I went down the hall to the dusty, paint-chipped door at the end, and entered. The room inside was a mess. Heaps of cloth on the floor, odds and ends, a vanity with an empty mirror frame and all sorts of items spread clumsily across it. Across the room, propped up against the wall, was a mirror.
I had crept up to it, slowly, walking one step at a time.
Step.
Step.
Step.
The surface was covered in dust so I wasn't able to see my reflection, but I could see the vintage gold frame, intracately carved.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Once in front of it, I had reached out and wiped away a lot of the dust, but closed my eyes before I could get a look in. I had been suddenly overcome with a fear, this time stronger than ever, and it was all I could do to keep from crumpling to the ground in paralyzation. That's how I came to be in front of the mirror, the worst part of my experience yet.
I waited for the feeling to pass, but it didn't. I struggled to try to open my eyes - fear told me not to, but I felt oppressed by the fact that I couldn't overcome that and wanted to regain control of my own body.
The fear built until I could hold it in no longer. My eyes shot open and the first thing I saw was a reflection in the mirror of an image behind me.
It was a terrifying thing, dead, a skeleton with skin stretched over it and with big, bulging eyes. I gasped at the sudden reflection but didn't even have time to turn around or scream before it flew across the room and grabbed me, turning me to face it. It didn't look at me, instead it's dead eyes darted all over the room. I was too terrified to react, I could only take big breaths. It opened it's mouth, revealing rows of huge fangs and let out a scream, blood-curdling and echoing through the house like thunder. I finally found the strength inside me to react and struggled, but its hard iron grip held tight, finger bones pushing into my arms. Then I stopped as I saw what had just entered the room.
The demon-thing had beckoned others of it's sort, gangled dead creatures that also had cloudly, bulging eyes. They all approached me slowly, laughing collectively with the first demon - at least I took it to be laughing - a horrible sort of thing that sounded like demonic screaming. They distorted as they drew closer, like a carnival mirror or wisps of smoke stretching and morphing.
They were all around me. Right when I felt I couldn't take it anymore, I let out a scream and they stopped, and stared at me. The dead silence was overwhelming. Minutes passed.
"Stop, stop," I whispered.
They did not stop staring. Then suddenly, no flash or puff of smoke, they were gone. With as much silence as was in the house when I first entered it. I collapsed on the ground and was instantly unconcious.
When I came to, it was morning and I was in my bed.

I never found out where I was that night. It was nowhere I recognize and cannot be explained. But now, whenever I see a Victorian style house, I hurry by quickly. I never forgot what happened that night.
Especially since when I got out of bed, there were red bone-marks on my arms.