Gran's box

I'm not one for superstition or believing in the paranormal. But some things can't be explained. I suppose we resort to the 'Supernatural' as a last resort. Well, after what happened to me, I'm still not sure what to believe. I guess I'm in denial, just shrugging it off, assuming it didn't really happen. Who knows? It started when I was 12. I was living with my parents in an old manor in England. It was a home for the elderly and owned by my Grandmother. MY parents both worked there full time and I went to the school down the road. It was a quiet town and not much happened there. So naturally I turned to exploring the old house, checking out the attic and cellar, wandering around the corridors. The old people in the home scared me, I won't lie. They'd often shriek and scream in the night and for a young boy, it was pretty unnerving. My parents and I lived on the floor below the attic, reserved just for us. They were always so worn out from work that they'd often sleep through the scary wailings of the old women, and the scratching noises on the old wooden ceiling above my bedroom. I was scared at first, but fear eventually turned to curiousity and I worked up the courage to explore the attic again, searching for this scratching sound. Mum and Dad were down in the kitchens, helping the other staff cook lunch for the residents. I borrowed a chair from my Mum's dressing table and stood on it, fingers outstretched, reaching for the door to the loft. With an old creaky groan and a waft of dust and mildew, the door swung downwards and the rusty metal ladder rattled noisily down. I took a deep breath and climbed up. It was the same as it had always been. The untouched boxes of old resident's belongings were stacked in uneven rows, looking a bit ominous in the dull grey light from the small window at the far end of the room. It was silent. Then the scratching began. I turned around, standing solid and my eyes were searching frantically for the source. I could see nothing. I walked back past the ladder and to the darkest end of the attic, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling. I carried on and just walked past more and more boxes, until at the end of the room, leaning against the wall was a pristine mirror. An intriguing thing with an intricate pattern carved into the frame, resting on two legs and it had one of those pegs in the middle so it could flip over. It was as tall as I was when I was ten. The scratching had stopped, but I walked towards the mirror anyway. I was fascinated. It had some chips around the edges and there was a crack in the top of the oval, but other than that it looked in pretty good condition. I instantly decided that it would live in my room in that house. Later that same day my Dad carried it down for me, unsure as to why I wanted such an odd thing in my room. I mean, let's be honest. Old antique mirrors are hardly the things coveted by a ten year old boy. But still, this mirror had a charm about it. It was the same night that it was in my room, that it held my reflection in the light, that the 'paranormal' things began to occur. I woke up to the scratching noise again. I instantly looked upwards, but it wasn't coming from the attic. It was the mirror. Perplexed, I flicked on the lights and stared at the mirror. I stared back at myself. But then in the corner of my eye, I saw the face of a man, Chinese, glaring at me from underneath my bed in the reflection of my mirror. I swung my head over the side and saw nothing. There was nobody there. I thought I had just imagined it. But then I looked back at the mirror, and the same man, angry and glaring, his presence malevolent, was staring at me from outside my window. I rubbed my eyes and gaping, started for the window. Of course there was nothing there. This continued as I grew up. We moved out of that house and down South, into a smaller home for the elderly. Again we lived on the top floor and again, the mirror went with me. It scared the crap out of me, but I was still curious. Who was this man inside the old mirror? Angry. He never spoke or moved, h