Voice Note
My sister sent a voice note asking me to stop calling her from the basement.
I was standing beside her when my phone began ringing downstairs.
Fear of an identical double replacing or imitating a person.
My sister sent a voice note asking me to stop calling her from the basement.
I was standing beside her when my phone began ringing downstairs.
The hallway camera has a five-second delay, so I watched myself leave the bedroom before I actually opened the door.
In the delayed feed, something followed me out.
The police found my missing son after six years, and the DNA test says he is unquestionably mine.
Every night he stands beside our bed crying and asks why we brought home the thing that took him.
Our newborn finally stopped crying when my husband picked her up from the crib.
I reached for him in the dark and found him still asleep beside me.
During hide-and-seek my daughter giggled from inside the wardrobe and told me I would never find her.
Her mother called from downstairs to say they had just arrived home.
I covered the bedroom mirror because I kept waking up to my reflection standing beside the bed.
This morning the sheet was still covering the mirror, but there were footprints leading away from it.
My reflection smiled before I did, so I smashed the bathroom mirror.
Every shard showed me standing behind myself.
The fitting-room mirror made me look thinner, younger, and strangely happy.
When I stepped away, the better version of me stayed behind and started pounding on the glass.
Halfway across the Atlantic, the passenger beside me whispered that there was someone walking on the wing.
I looked out and recognized myself tapping on the window.
Something circled our tent all night while my husband whispered that it was probably a deer.
At sunrise I found his boots outside the tent, still tied.
The ranger warned us that the trail looped back to the parking lot after four miles.
On the seventh mile we passed our own campsite, where two people wearing our clothes were asleep.
Across the fire, my friend asked why I kept staring into the trees behind him.
I was watching him stand there too.
The elevator display showed 0 even though the building had no floor below the lobby.
When the doors opened, everyone inside stepped out except me, including another me.
The playground swing beside my daughter kept moving even after the wind stopped.
She waved at the empty seat and asked why the little girl had no face.
The school called to ask why my daughter had missed class for three days.
I watched her step off the bus each afternoon and sleep in the room across from mine.
My bathroom reflection has started copying me half a second too late.
This morning it finished shaving before I picked up the razor.
I saw my wife smiling at me in the rearview mirror during the drive home.
She had been asleep in the passenger seat for twenty minutes.
The elevator mirror showed one more passenger than the security camera did.
When the doors opened, the extra reflection stepped out first.
I woke to find HELP ME written backward across the bedroom mirror.
My reflection was still asleep.
I dropped the mirror and watched my reflection shatter into a hundred pieces.
Every piece crawled toward a different corner of the room.
I installed a camera to find out why I kept waking with mud on my feet.
The footage shows me standing beside the bed all night while something wearing my pajamas leaves through the window.
My husband says I talk to someone beside the bed every night in my sleep.
Last night he recorded the conversation and heard himself answering from the closet.
The first night on Mars, someone tapped twice on the habitat window.
Our mission roster says there are six of us, but seven sets of footprints surround the base.
My reflection kept rubbing its cheek as if something was caught beneath the skin.
Then my own face began to feel loose.
A hand pressed against the outside of my airplane window at thirty thousand feet.
It was wearing my wedding ring.
I woke to see a child crawling silently down the airplane aisle toward me.
His mother across the aisle was still holding him asleep in her arms.
My suitcase arrived on the carousel before our plane had been unloaded.
Inside it was the shirt I was still wearing.
I found a narrow crawlspace behind the basement shelves that was not on the house plans.
At the far end, I could see the back of myself searching with a flashlight.
An old landline in the basement rang even though the house has not had phone service in years.
When I answered, I heard myself upstairs asking who was in the basement.
I heard a baby crying from inside a hollow tree miles from the nearest road.
When I leaned closer, the crying stopped and my own voice asked for help.