Late at night, never comb your hair in front of the mirror.

Author: Xinxin
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2004-01-01
Features: This book is edited by Xinxin and published by China Drama Publishing House. It includes 75 classic horror short stories that are quite common nowadays. Horror stories are a type of entertainment fiction that move people's hearts through a sense of terror. The exploration of mysticism and the depiction of death experiences in these stories bring deep shock and endless feelings, allowing readers to experience the truth that once intrigued, frightened, or even repelled them, all in a virtual setting without any real cost to humanity. It only requires experiencing, feeling, and imagining—nothing more. Therefore, during breaks from work or after meals, it’s a good idea to pick it up for a read.
In the fourth borrowing room of the school library, there was no one left but me. It was already 5 PM in the evening, dinner time, but I had forgotten about my hunger. I had found a dusty book in the corner with a cover that was worn away. When I opened it, a small piece of paper fell out. I set the book aside and picked up the paper, reading it: "At midnight, never comb your hair in front of a mirror." Strangely enough. I threw the paper on the ground and turned back to pick up the book, but it was gone. No way, I was the only one here. I had clearly placed it on the side. Suddenly, footsteps were heard at the door. Who would come to the library this late? I couldn’t help but shiver. The door opened—it was Teacher Li, the librarian. "This student, I’m locking the door now. Please leave quickly. If you want to borrow books, come back tomorrow." Alright, I stood up and left the fourth borrowing room. As I left, I picked up the paper. The paper was still there, but the book was gone—how strange.
Soon, I forgot about it. I was a new student, and the number of boarding students in this school had increased dramatically over the past two years. All the dorms were full except for one—the 213 dorm I was living in. I’d heard that if four people lived in that dorm, bad things would happen. But I didn’t believe in superstitions. If I couldn’t stay there, where else could I go? I couldn’t forget how my classmates in the building looked at me when I first moved in. Though they were polite in words, their eyes were full of hostility, as if I were already a ghost. Later, Jun told me that someone else had lived there before, named Xi Mei, but she really brought disaster to the dorm after she arrived. Of course, she only told me this after a series of strange events happened. Jun was the dorm head, and the other roommates were Xiao Jing and A Rong—both lovely girls. I didn’t believe in ghosts or go to fortune-tellers. Because my hair was long but of poor quality, like a bunch of straw, my friends jokingly called me "Straw." Even after coming here, they still called me that, which offered some psychological comfort.
For a month, nothing happened, and I felt that my classmates’ hostility toward me had lessened. Haha, I guess I still have some charm. But today, I saw something strange. Since I didn’t believe in superstitions, I didn’t take it to heart. Now, thinking back, if I had truly taken something seriously, maybe none of the following events would have happened.
After finishing evening self-study, I returned to the dorm. Tomorrow was an exam on modern literary works, so I had to study late at night. Jun accompanied me—the most studious person in the dorm. Xiao Jing and A Rong were already asleep. When I finished, I checked the clock—it was 5 minutes to 12. I got out of bed and headed to the bathroom. The corridor was quiet, and I could hear the sound of running water from the washroom far away. So late, who would still be there? Passing the washroom, I took a peek inside—a girl in a white nightgown was washing her hair. It looked like she was almost done, combing her hair with a wooden comb. Water dripped from her hair, wetting her back. At midnight, combing her hair—wasn’t she afraid it would dry out?
I turned around and entered the adjacent bathroom. The faucet in the bathroom was broken, so I had to use the washroom. The girl was still there, combing her hair. I entered and washed my hands at the faucet next to her. Her hair was long and black—so envy-inducing. Unfortunately, my hair was just like straw. Her hair covered half of her face, so I couldn’t see who she was. It might be a classmate I hadn’t met yet. I shifted my gaze from her hair to the mirror above the faucet, wanting to see who she was. In the mirror, I couldn’t see her face—only more hair in front of it. She kept combing her hair, and more terrifyingly, the drops falling from her wet hair weren’t water—they were blood. I froze. The water from the faucet kept running over my hands. I turned my head and looked at the real her—her hair was dripping water, not blood.
Oh my god, what was going on? "Do you need a comb?" A hand reached toward me—it was the girl’s, pale and without any hint of blood. It held a wooden comb. I couldn’t take the comb, but my hand reached out anyway. Just as I was about to touch it, I suddenly noticed that blood was also dripping from the comb. "No, I don’t need it," I startled and quickly ran out of the washroom. Just as I reached the dorm door, I saw the girl carrying a basin out of the washroom. Oh my god, I quickly opened the door. Jun was already asleep. I locked the door and came to the bed. By the moonlight, I saw it was 5 minutes past 12.
"At midnight, never comb your hair in front of a mirror. Otherwise, you’ll invite ghosts." I remembered the note. That night, I couldn’t sleep well. With my eyes closed, I kept seeing the image of the girl with blood on her head, combing it. It wasn’t until the sky was almost bright that I finally drifted off. When I opened my eyes, the dorm was empty. I checked the clock—it was a little past 6. What’s wrong? Usually, everyone was still asleep at this time. Today, why? I got up and was about to go to the bathroom when I noticed a crowd of people on the other side of the corridor. Wasn’t it just for washing my face? I carried my basin and walked over. Some classmates left the crowd and came out. Just as I was about to ask what was going on, they turned and walked away, as if avoiding a plague. No matter—they I had to see for myself. As I approached the crowd, everyone quietly made a way for me. What was wrong with everyone today? They seemed reluctant to encounter me. But this way, I could see what was happening inside.
A girl in a white nightgown, long and black hair, some black things between her hair—it was blood. She was already dead. "She said last night her hair was a bit dirty and itchy, so she wanted to wash it, but she never came back after going." Her roommate was crying and telling her classmates, "Straw, you went to the bathroom last night, right?" Oh my god, they suspected me. I hadn’t done anything. Should I tell them about the note? I hadn’t told Jun about the note—she wouldn’t believe me, especially since I hadn’t done anything. Over the next few days, I clearly felt that everyone’s hostility toward me had increased. I wanted to regain their trust, but soon, the same thing happened again.
This time, the school’s literature club was throwing a party. Jun was a member of the club and didn’t come back until half past 11. A Rong was already asleep, and Xiao Jing had gone to her aunt’s house, unsure if she’d come back. Only I was still reading a novel. That night, Jun looked particularly beautiful. When she returned to the dorm, she kept looking in the mirror. She had her hair tied up, but now she was taking it down, as if ready to sleep. I saw her pick up a wooden comb, hesitate for a moment, and then start combing her hair. Alright, I’ll go to sleep too. I whispered "good night" and lay down.
I don’t know how long it took, but I suddenly woke up. I checked my glow-in-the-dark clock—it was half past 12. How could I have slept for so little? I turned over and faced the outside again, trying to fall back asleep. Just as I closed my eyes, I suddenly felt something was wrong. I slowly opened them again. The dorm was dark. By the moonlight, I saw someone in front of the mirror combing their hair—it was Jun. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, her eyes fixed, holding the comb and moving it up and down mechanically. Had she been combing for an hour? From my current position, I couldn’t see the mirror, so naturally, I couldn’t see Jun’s face. I quietly got out of bed and crept toward Jun.
"Jun? Are you okay?" Jun’s face was hidden behind her hair, so I still couldn’t see her. With no other choice, I looked at the mirror again. Jun’s face was also hidden behind her hair—I couldn’t see it at all. I couldn’t help but shiver. The same thing was happening again. Unluckily, both times, I had seen it. At this moment, she casually picked up some hairspray and started spraying it on her hair. What was coming out was clearly blood. The blood dripped from her hair onto her body and then onto the floor. But she showed no intention of stopping. Because I was so close to her, some of it even sprayed onto my face and body. I saw my reflection in the mirror—my face was covered in blood, as if I had just killed someone. Oh my god. I lowered my head and looked down—there was no blood on me, only hairspray.
No, this time I couldn’t stand idly by. I didn’t believe in ghosts. I snatched the comb from Jun’s hand and threw it on the ground. Jun turned sharply, facing me: "Why won’t you let me comb my hair? I want to comb! Give it to me! I want to comb!" Oh god, oh god. As she turned, her hair fluttered, and I saw her face. I’d rather not have seen it. Under the moonlight, I saw her black pupils gradually turn white—until there was no black left. Her lips were also colorless, like her eyes, turning white. And her eyebrows too—this wasn’t Jun. This was a ghost.
"At midnight, never comb your hair in front of a mirror. Otherwise, you’ll invite ghosts." Jun was combing her hair, and the ghost had come to possess her. At that moment, I couldn’t breathe. Not because I was scared, but because Jun—or the ghost in front of me—put her hand on my neck and squeezed hard, shouting, "Let me comb, give me the comb, I want to comb!" I felt like I couldn’t breathe—just a little more force, and my neck would break. Jun didn’t squeeze that hard—she couldn’t be Jun. Yes, my consciousness started to blur. I didn’t believe in ghosts—I didn’t believe it, but how could I explain what I was seeing? Suddenly, I had an idea, and I collapsed to the ground. Jun collapsed too, crushing me. Xiao Jing had returned. She turned on the light, and A Rong woke up. The ghost seemed to have left, but Jun was unconscious.
"What’s going on here? The moment I came back, you all did this?" Xiao Jing looked at me, "What’s wrong with Jun?" It seemed I had to tell them about the note. "Here’s what happened," I said, spilling everything I knew. A Rong listened and said slowly, "How do we believe you? Do you have evidence?" Evidence? Of course, I had the note. I quickly found the clothes I wore that day and took out a small piece of paper from my pocket, handing it to A Rong. A Rong looked at it and passed it to Xiao Jing. Xiao Jing took the note without saying anything.
"Straw, this is your evidence?" A Rong said. Yes, if it were me, I wouldn’t believe a note either. Anyone could write a note like that. "What’s written on it?" Xiao Jing handed the note back to me. What? Nothing? I took the note and saw some folds, but no words.
The next day at noon, Jun woke up, but she had no memory of what happened the night before. Thank god. If Jun had died, I wouldn’t have been able to stay in this school. A Rong didn’t believe me at all, but Xiao Jing was curious about everything and willing to help me. She volunteered to go to the library to look for the book and find evidence for me.
A week passed quickly. The next day was another exam, so I had to study late again. It was already 9 PM, and Jun, Xiao Jing, and A Rong hadn’t returned. I was holding the book and murmuring "zhī hū zhě yě" (archaic literary expressions) when I dozed off without realizing it. I don’t know how long I slept, but I woke up because the exam was approaching. I checked the clock—it was just after 10. Luckily, I continued studying. Xiao Jing wasn’t back yet—had she gone to her aunt’s house again? And where were A Rong and Jun? It seemed the dorm was just me tonight.
I shook my head, feeling my hair was sticky. My hair was always like this, sticking together, so I should comb it. But as my hand reached for the comb, I stopped. I remembered the note. It should be fine, it was still before 10. I picked up the comb. In the mirror, I looked pale and my hair looked like a bunch of straw—no wonder everyone called me "Straw." I looked in the mirror and started combing my hair. One, two—today, my hair felt unusually smooth. The more I combed, the more comfortable it felt, and I kept going without wanting to stop. What time was it? I had to keep studying. I looked at the clock on the wall, and suddenly, my blood seemed to freeze. The clock showed 5 minutes to 12. Oh my god, I had mistaken the hour and minute hands. This small mistake could cost me my life. I wanted to stop, but my hand kept combing—like it wasn’t even mine anymore?
I was the only one in the dorm. I had to stop, but my hand kept combing.
Book Contents:
Night. Extreme Horror
- A story: Never comb your hair in front of a mirror at midnight
- A story: My first encounter with a ghost
- A story: A child’s revenge
- A story: The ruby
- A story: Dorm 414’s suicide
- A story: The doll’s head fell off
- A story: The sound of a chopping board at midnight
- A story: Did you see that child?
- A story: Jump! Jump! Jump!
- A story: The kid who always goes to the bathroom
- A story: The baby’s hand
- A story: A story from childhood
- A story: The last page you can’t read
- A story: The elevator in the hospital
- A story: The terrifying elevator
- A story: The horror elevator in school
- A story: The suicide elevator
- A story: Should you take the midnight bus?
- A story: The 22nd bus’s last stop
- A story: The ghost bus
- A story: The midnight strange bus
- A story: Never take a free ride