This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Weird-Suggestion-152 on 2024-09-24 16:43:26+00:00.

It started on one of those Friday nights when I found myself tumbling down a digital rabbit hole. The Wayback Machine had always been my go-to when I wanted to dig into internet history, and mystery. I’ve always found exploring the ghosts of old websites, lingering on the fringes of existence, to be interesting. I was reading old blogs, forums, and digital diaries, searching for something to entertain me and feed my imagination.

It wasn’t a website I recognized. The URL was strange, like an old subdomain of a now-defunct hosting site. “The Reflective Mind”, or something equally obscure. I’m not even sure how I ended up on the page. It looked like it had been abandoned for years—one of those late 90s or early 2000s blogs that someone created and then abandoned. The post was buried deep in the archives, the kind of page that didn’t get many visitors even when it was live.

“He’s Watching. The Vanity Man is watching,” the title read.

Curiosity got the better of me, so I read on. The post was surprisingly long, much more in-depth than typical internet drivel. The writer talked about a figure, not unlike the Hat Man or the Midnight Man, but they called it, “The Vanity Man.”

“It starts with a simple ritual,” the post began, which immediately piqued my interest. The writer described a process that felt more clinical than supernatural, as if they were detailing any other common creepypasta, or conducting a mundane experiment. There was no mention of witchcraft, no pentagrams or chanting. Just an odd set of instructions.

The Ritual:

1. Start at midnight.
2. In your home, turn off every light, every screen, every source of artificial light. The only thing you should see is the natural darkness around you.
3. Find the largest mirror in your home, the one you catch glimpses of yourself in without meaning to. If you don’t have one, a reflective surface will do, but a mirror is best.
4. Stand in front of the mirror and light a single candle. Hold it in your left hand.
5. Stare at your reflection without blinking. Not for 10 seconds. Not for a minute. But for 6 full minutes. You have to stare. You can’t look away, even if your eyes start to water.
6. At the end of the 6th minute, the candle will go out on its own. Do not attempt to relight it. You’ll know it’s time when the mirror reflects something back at you that isn’t you.

The post went on, recounting the writer’s own experience.

“I didn’t believe it at first,” they wrote. “I thought it was just another urban legend. But when the candle snuffed itself out, and I saw him… no, it… I knew it was real. It’s always watching now, just outside my vision. I can never truly see it unless I look directly into the mirror, and that’s a mistake you only make once.”

The rest of the post was filled with frantic recounts, warnings, and regrets. The writer claimed that The Vanity Man was something ancient, something that only comes when summoned. It didn’t physically attack. It didn’t chase you. But it lived inside the reflection, just out of view, watching you always, a shadow behind your own. The final words on the post sent a shiver down my spine:

“I can feel it even now, as I write this. If you find this, turn back. Don’t look. Don’t summon it. Don’t invite it into your home.”

Naturally, I ignored the warning.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the post. Over the next few days, I found myself constantly searching for more information about The Vanity Man, but nothing concrete came up. A few scattered mentions on obscure paranormal forums, some dead links, and a couple of blurry images posted by anonymous users, but that was it.

I was hoping to find more posts from the same author or blog. I recovered a few more obscure pages, others who had apparently encountered The Vanity Man. They all followed the same format. The writer would find the ritual, perform it, and then their life would fall apart. They would see him in reflections, at night, in windows, in puddles on the street.

Some of the writers vanished from their online circles soon after their final posts. Others were later reported missing, or worse. My skepticism should have been enough to stop me. But there was a part of me, some reckless, insatiable part, that wanted to know if it was real. What if there was something to it? What if I could figure it out? So, I decided to do the ritual and see for myself.

The night was quiet. I had prepped everything exactly as described. I turned off every light, every source of electronic glow. My phone sat useless on the other side of the room, the screen completely dark. There was nothing but the stillness of my apartment and the vague reflections in the massive mirror that hung on my bedroom wall.

It was 11:57 PM when I stood before the mirror with the single candle. My hands were trembling. The darkness was so thick I could barely see my own reflection. I lit the candle and held it in my left hand, the flickering light casting long shadows on the walls behind me.

As soon as the clock struck midnight, I began to stare. I kept my eyes focused on my own gaze, just like the instructions had said. The seconds dragged by. My eyes started to burn from the strain, but I refused to blink. After the second minute, the burning was excruciating. But I forced my eyes open, eager to prove the story wrong. I told myself it was all in my head, that nothing would happen. The minutes passed. Five minutes… six minutes…

That’s when the candle flame began to flicker, even though there was no draft. And then it went out.

I was plunged into total darkness. My breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t see a thing, but I felt something change. The air in the room grew colder. I could hear my own heartbeat, loud and thudding in my ears. I didn’t want to look back into the mirror, but I couldn’t stop myself. My eyes adjusted slowly, and that’s when I saw it.

There, standing just behind me in the reflection, was a figure. It wasn’t human, not really. It was tall, almost impossibly tall, and its face… its face was mine. Not exactly, though. The face in the mirror was a twisted, distorted version of me. Its eyes were sunken, its skin pale and gaunt. But the worst part was the expression. Its lips were pulled into a wide, unnatural grin. It was looking at me. My hair stood on end, shivers traveled down my spine. I was completely frozen in fear. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t. I felt as if I had been plunged into ice cold water.

I spun around, trying to catch a glimpse of it in real life. Nothing. Just darkness. I was alone. But when I looked back at the mirror, it was still there, standing behind me, grinning. I backed away, my heart racing, but the figure didn’t move. It just stood there, staring at me through the glass, waiting.

I couldn’t take the sight of it anymore. I grabbed the mirror, ripping it off the wall, and threw it face down onto the floor. The crash was deafening, the glass shattering into a million pieces. For a minute, I thought it was over. I thought I was safe.

But then I saw the shards. In each tiny fragment of glass, The Vanity Man still stared at me, grinning, hundreds of reflections watching from every angle. I finally mustered the strength to scream, and ran out of my apartment. I frantically ran to my car, eager to get as far away as possible. I saw it again in my rear review mirror. I saw him in the reflections of the windows outside of my apartment. In every reflective surface, there he was.

That’s when I realized what the blog post meant. The Vanity Man doesn’t live in just one mirror. It lives in every reflection. Since that night, I’ve covered every reflective surface in my apartment. I avoid windows, puddles, anything that can reflect. But it doesn’t matter. I see it everywhere now, lurking, always smiling, always waiting. I’ve become a complete hermit, scared to leave my apartment, scared of my own face. The eviction notices are piling up outside my door, and I know it will be any day now that they come for me.

Even when I close my eyes, I swear I can still see it standing there. Just waiting for me to look.

You should stop reading now. Don’t search for it. Don’t try the ritual. It’s not worth it. Because once you’ve seen The Vanity Man, it’ll never stop watching.