Bloody Mary vs. The Jinn: Mirror Mayhem in Room 13

It started, like most terrible decisions, with a sleepover and a teenager who thought she was braver than she actually was.

Thirteen-year-old Mariam was hosting a horror-themed birthday party. The lights were off, the fairy lights were dim, and someone had dared her to summon Bloody Mary. Classic move. Western ghost games were trendy on TikTok, and Mariam had watched at least five tutorials on how to do it "properly."

What she didn’t watch were any videos about South Asian jinns and what happens when you mess around with mirrors without saying Bismillah (“In the name of Allah”).

Big mistake.

The girls gathered in the bathroom. Candles? Check. Mirror? Check. Nervous giggles and shaky phone cameras? Double check.

Mariam looked into the mirror and said it. “Bloody Mary… Bloody Mary… Bloody Mar—”

CRACK.

The mirror shimmered like a heatwave.

But instead of just Bloody Mary, something else pushed through the glass — something smokier, angrier, and definitely more desi.

A jinn. The kind your nani (grandmother) warned you about if you whistled near a tree after dark or went out after Maghrib with your hair open.

“Who are you?” Bloody Mary hissed, stepping forward in her usual Victorian blood-drenched dramatic flair.

The jinn crossed her arms. She was older, ancient, less polished. “Who am I? I live in this mirror. You’re the visitor, angrez bhootni (white ghost lady).”

Bloody Mary scoffed. “This mirror is mine. I’ve been summoned in more high school bathrooms than you’ve had hot meals.”

“Please,” the jinn rolled her eyes. “Try being trapped in a Pakistani salon mirror for thirty years. I’ve seen everything.”

Their bickering turned into full-on supernatural chaos. Lights exploded. Hair straighteners levitated. The mirror cracked deeper as the two spirits threw ghostly jabs at each other.

One tried to drown the room in dripping blood. The other lit the air with ancient smoke and the smell of ittar (perfume).

Meanwhile, Mariam and her friends were screaming — and not the fun horror-movie scream.

Then Mariam remembered something her dadi (grandmother) once told her after scolding her for looking into mirrors at night:
“Kuch bhi karo, beta — Bismillah zaroor parh lena.”
(“Whatever you do, my child — always say Bismillah.”)

Heart pounding, she whispered: “Bismillah-ir-Rahman-ir-Raheem.”
(In the name of God, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful.)

POP.
Both entities froze.

The jinn growled. “Rude.”

Bloody Mary groaned. “Ugh. Not the God clause.”

They glared at each other once more before getting sucked back into the mirror like dust into a vacuum. A final flicker, a spark of light, and then—

Silence.

The bathroom was trashed, the girls were traumatized, and the mirror would never look quite right again. But Mariam? She learned a valuable lesson.

Never summon a Western ghost without prepping for desi consequences.

And always — always — say Bismillah first.