The dark, cold and mystic wind.

It was still strange for me to look in the mirror in which my grandfather always eyeing, before he left the house. Now I stood there and felt the spirit of the old barbarian to haunt me around. A crack echoed through the large mansion. A murmur and noise. It felt as if these noises creep down the stairs, wrap me like an icy wind and force me to go upstairs.

And I followed. I walked up the many steps and looked up at the chamber in which my grandfather punished me often enough. My heart was racing, my legs were heavy as lead, but the icy and invisible mist pushed me to up the steps. I found the reason for the noise and murmur. One of the small gas lamps whispered to himself and the flame flickered at the blackened glass along. I made ​​it out, hoping the nightmare would end now. But no. I heard my name.

"Dorian," a whisper surrounded me. And it was the voice of my grandfather. They came out of the attic and all the terrible memories took me back. The punishments, the cold and pure hatred. I wanted to run away and leave the house, but again the invisible mist pushed me closer to the door. My hand squeezed the doorknob down. Slowly my hand pushed open the door and the ghostly whisper disappeared. There was nobody here.

Only old dusty and unwanted furniture, dust and spiders. From the window I ripped one of the planks in order to flood the chamber with light and discovered the broken mirror. Cautiously, I lifted up the pieces. They inserted themselves into the open areas come naturally. As if they were magnets. And again I saw with uneasiness at my reflection. As shocked and fascinated. What was just waiting for me in this house?