The Thief Asks You Not to Turn On the Light
An interactive thriller. Three endings.
The night visitor
Choose an action.
The return
“Don't turn on the light,” says the stranger. “You'll see someone else.”
Your mirror stands beside him. It was stolen yesterday. Now someone is knocking inside the dark glass.
Your finger rests on the lamp switch.
“Who's in there?”
“The man who stole the mirror.”
Two hands
You press the switch.
Beyond the glass is a narrow room. It is lit too: a man is holding a torch. He looks exactly like your visitor. His hands are unhurt. Your visitor's finger is bandaged.
He puts the lit torch on the floor behind the glass and pushes a hand through the mirror. The glass gives like water. The visitor steps behind you.
The man comes out, catching his shoulder on the frame. His jacket has the same hole beside the pocket.
“I'm Anton. He locked me in!” the man says. “I shone my torch at it, and he came out. I went in to have a look. He turned off the other torch, outside.”
He turns towards the visitor.
“Back.”
He takes him by the collar. You hold the lamp in front of you. As long as both sides are lit, the way is open.
The right hand
“What's your name?”
“His is Anton.”
“And yours?”
The visitor looks at his bandaged hand.
“I haven't got one yet.”
He tells you quickly. The thief took the mirror to an empty flat downstairs. He set a lit torch in front of the glass. Another appeared on the other side. When both rooms are lit, you can walk through.
“I came out. He went in. He wanted to look. I turned off the torch outside.”
“And locked him in.”
“Yes.”
He doesn't look for another word.
There is knocking in the dark. Three quick blows, a pause, three quick blows.
“I brought the mirror back to you. That empty flat will get light during the day, and he'll come out. I thought you might hide the mirror.”
“And you?”
“I cut myself today.”
He raises his hand as if this answers the question. Blood has begun to soak through the bandage.
“I didn't know it went on hurting for so long afterwards.”
Ending: back in place
You step aside.
Anton pushes the visitor through the mirror by his collar, staying beside the frame himself. The visitor doesn't fight. He only braces his heels against the edge. For a moment, two pale crescents of skin remain in the glass. Then they disappear.
“Switch it off.”
Anton lets go of the collar. You switch off the lamp. The passage becomes glass again.
“Sorry about the mirror.”
Yesterday, he took it to the empty flat downstairs. Now the mirror is back, along with his reflection. You see Anton to the door and change the lock the next day.
The mirror stays in the hall, facing the wall.
A week later, you decide to take it out. You turn it towards you. A handprint appears on the glass. You wipe it from the outside.
The hand stays.
Ending: a guest
You throw a blanket over the mirror. The knocking immediately grows duller.
“Until morning,” you say. “We'll decide in the morning.”
The visitor helps you turn the mirror to the wall. Someone on the other side shouts, “My name is Anton.” His voice sounds like your visitor's, only hoarse.
You wedge a folded towel between the frame and the wall. Now it is harder to hear.
In the kitchen, the visitor holds a mug in both hands. You unwrap the bandage. The cut isn't deep.
“He's real too,” you say.
“I know.”
The visitor asks for paper. He spends a long time writing from left to right. He passes you the sheet.
“I am here.” The letters face the wrong way. You don't correct them.
In the morning, the sheet is on the table beside an empty mug. The visitor is gone.
Three quick knocks come from behind the blanket. A pause. Three more.
You take out the towel and pull off the blanket. You turn the mirror towards the morning light.
The man comes out, shielding his eyes. You step back against the wall.
“Where is he?”
“Gone.”
Anton looks at the sheet on the kitchen table. He turns it over to read it.
“He's written it wrong,” he says.
You take the sheet and turn it back.
Ending: two
Now there are three of you in the hall. Anton stands between you and the frame. Each calls the other a thief. One stole the mirror; the other locked him inside it.
“Your jackets are the same,” you say. “You aren't. Not any more.”
“He isn't a person.”
The visitor raises his bandaged hand. Anton looks at it and puts his own hand in his pocket.
You open the door to the landing.
“Leave. Both of you. Separately.”
Anton takes a step and stops. His lit torch is still on the floor behind the glass.
“Get it tomorrow,” you say.
He looks at the visitor.
“No.”
Anton steps back into the mirror. The visitor reaches towards the switch on your lamp. You catch his wrist.
“I'll just hold it,” he says.
You don't let go.
Anton returns with the torch. All this time, the visitor has been holding the lamp with you.
At the door, Anton turns.
“What's your name?”
“I haven't got one yet.”
Anton opens his mouth, then closes it. You wait. This time, no one answers for anyone else.
When they have both gone, you turn the mirror to the wall. There is no need for the blanket.
Behind the glass, the room is empty.