The house was cheap. Suspiciously cheap. That’s how Eli knew it was perfect.

  It was a crumbling Victorian beast on the edge of nowhere, all sharp eaves and peeling paint and windows like eyes that never blinked. There was a For Sale sign out front, but it had been sun-bleached to near invisibility, like even the plastic had given up hope. Eli hadn’t asked many questions. He’d simply shown up, signed a few papers, and moved his few belongings into the house’s dusty skeleton.

  He wasn’t expecting company.

  On the first night, the house creaked and whispered like all good haunted houses do. Eli didn’t care. He lay on the floor of the main bedroom, staring at the cracked ceiling, still wearing the same hoodie he hadn’t washed in weeks. It smelled like sleep and sadness.

  Then, at exactly 3:33 AM, the mirror above the dresser fogged from the inside.

  Words wrote themselves in the condensation:

  GET UP.

  Eli blinked. Then rolled over. “Nope.”

  The mirror clinked — sharp, crystalline, like a single fingernail tapping the glass.

  Then the whispering began.

  “You’re pathetic,” a voice said. It wasn’t cruel — not exactly. More like amused. “Look at you. You’ve got the face of someone who could conquer the world and the ambition of a wet sock.”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Eli sat up, slowly. “Oh great. I’m being haunted by a motivational speaker.”

  The mirror shimmered. Then cracked. From the crack emerged a figure — not through it, but out of it, like the reflection stepped forward while the real world stood still.

  The man was tall. Impossibly tall. He wore a crimson suit and had eyes that gleamed like gold medals.

  “I am Pride,” the man said, bowing slightly. “And I will be your spiritual advisor for the foreseeable future.”

  Eli stared. “I’m hallucinating.”

  “No, you’re depressed,” Pride said brightly. “But don’t worry — you’ve come to the right place. This house? It’s a special kind of fixer-upper. We fix you, while you fix it. Seven demons, seven sins, seven chances to get your life together.”

  Eli scoffed. “Demons?”

  “Yes. Demons. Us. Hi.” Pride sat on the air like it was a chair, legs crossed, adjusting imaginary cuffs. “We usually do the whole temptation and damnation thing, but... well, management upstairs and downstairs agreed on a pilot program. Redemption through sin. We help you, you help yourself, and maybe — just maybe — you crawl out of the sad little hole you’ve dug.”

  Eli blinked. “And you’re... Pride. So you’re going to teach me how to be an arrogant asshole?”

  Pride rolled his eyes. “Confidence is not arrogance, Eli. It’s the refusal to be small. You’ve spent so long making yourself invisible, it’s like you’re trying to disappear from your own story. I’m here to remind you that you matter. That you’re allowed to take up space.”

  Eli looked down at his hands. They were pale and thin and trembling slightly. “I don’t even know where to start.”

  Pride leaned forward, golden eyes intense. “Then start here. Get up. Take a shower. Brush your goddamn teeth. Put on something that makes you feel like someone.”

  “That won’t fix anything.”

  “No. But it’s the first step to fixing you.”

  Eli stood. Slowly. Awkwardly.

  The mirror fogged again. New words wrote themselves:

  TODAY, YOU CHOOSE TO BE SEEN.

  And for the first time in months, Eli didn’t feel invisible.