Chapter 6 - The Doppelgänger
Elena rubbed her eyes hard, praying the horrific vision would vanish. When she opened them again, the figure in the doorway was still there. The woman turned her head slowly, meeting Elena’s terrified gaze with an expression of profound, sorrowful understanding. It wasn't a threat; it was a desperate plea.
"Mom?" Clara’s voice trembled from the front yard. "Mom, please, let's just get in the car. Call the police. Call somebody!"
"Clara, stay out front!" Elena shouted back, though her own legs felt like lead. She took a hesitant step toward the open back patio door. "Who are you?" she asked the figure in the doorway, her voice barely louder than a whisper.
The woman inside didn't speak aloud, but her lips moved clearly, forming three distinct words: Help me finish.
Before Elena could process the command, the woman stepped backward into the shadows of the kitchen, and the sliding glass door slammed shut with deafening force, the lock clicking into place from the inside.
Elena sprinted to the glass, slamming her fists against it. "Open the door!"
Inside, the kitchen was empty. The white plastic cups were back in their place on the counter, perfectly stacked. The cabinet doors were closed. There was no dirt on the floor, no frost on the windows, and no sign that anything unusual had ever occurred.
Clara ran around the side of the house, stopping abruptly when she saw Elena pressing her face against the glass. "Mom, stop it! You're scaring me! We need to leave right now!"
"Clara, look inside," Elena said, her voice hollow as she pointed to the kitchen island.
Clara hesitated, then stepped up beside her mother, peering through the spotless glass. Her breath caught in her throat. Sitting right in the middle of the white kitchen counter was an old-fashioned telephone—an antique rotary model that definitely wasn't there five minutes ago. And as they watched, the heavy metal rotary dial began to spin by itself, generating a loud, mechanical ringing sound that echoed faintly through the glass.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
"It's ringing," Clara whispered, her eyes wide with mounting hysteria. "Mom, who could be calling us on that thing? We don't even have a landline plugged in."
Elena reached out, sliding the patio door open—it unlocked effortlessly now—and stepped back inside the kitchen. The air was warm and normal, carrying the faint scent of old lavender and dust. She walked slowly toward the ringing rotary phone, her hand shaking as she reached for the heavy black receiver.
She lifted it to her ear.
"Hello?" Elena whispered.
May you like
For a long moment, there was only static. Then, a soft, trembling voice spoke from the other end of the line, reciting an address Elena had never heard before—an address located just three blocks away in the old abandoned district of the town.
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