Story Set Up:
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Hanging out with Sarah was great, but you probably did drink a little too much. Laying in bed you look at you phone 8:20am. You need to be at work in less than a hour. Calling in sick is tempting, part of you wants to look at the two notebooks again. Next time you'll bring them with you and show Sarah. Then maybe she'd understand why you are so shook up.
You go to the book shelf to look at them again. And find that both of them are gone.
And as you wake up more you realize calling in sick isn't an option. Not today. You are freaked out about the missing journals, but you need to get to work. You dress and wash up as quickly as possible and dash to the elevator.
You are on the 8th floor.
You live on the 6th floor.
That was not your apartment.
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And as you wake up more you realize calling in sick isn't an option. Not today. You are freaked out about the missing journals, but you need to get to work. You dress and wash up as quickly as possible and dash to the elevator.
You are on the 8th floor.
You live on the 6th floor.
That was not your apartment.
@futurebird I'd read the hell out of that. Of course, i just finished a manuscript with a ton of Mandala effect stuff.
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And as you wake up more you realize calling in sick isn't an option. Not today. You are freaked out about the missing journals, but you need to get to work. You dress and wash up as quickly as possible and dash to the elevator.
You are on the 8th floor.
You live on the 6th floor.
That was not your apartment.
@futurebird Now I'm worrying whose pants I just threw on.
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And as you wake up more you realize calling in sick isn't an option. Not today. You are freaked out about the missing journals, but you need to get to work. You dress and wash up as quickly as possible and dash to the elevator.
You are on the 8th floor.
You live on the 6th floor.
That was not your apartment.
Your husband is Mr. Pelicot.
(It's a horror story now) -
And as you wake up more you realize calling in sick isn't an option. Not today. You are freaked out about the missing journals, but you need to get to work. You dress and wash up as quickly as possible and dash to the elevator.
You are on the 8th floor.
You live on the 6th floor.
That was not your apartment.
You have already pushed the button on automatic and look behind you at the door of the apartment where you slept. 8L not 6L the same exact floor plan just two levels up.
You half expect the door to open. Should you go back? But you have locked the door.
Maybe you will call in sick after all.
Too panicked to take the elevator you run down the stairs to 6L. Rush to the door and then stop.
What if someone is in there?
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You have already pushed the button on automatic and look behind you at the door of the apartment where you slept. 8L not 6L the same exact floor plan just two levels up.
You half expect the door to open. Should you go back? But you have locked the door.
Maybe you will call in sick after all.
Too panicked to take the elevator you run down the stairs to 6L. Rush to the door and then stop.
What if someone is in there?
To your horror the door knob turns. You back away making too much noise and duck back into the darkness of the stairwell just soon enough to see yourself run past, late for work. You listen. Then realize that "you" will also notice that it is the wrong floor and so you flee down the stairs.
You're going to work after all. At least at work things are normal.
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To your horror the door knob turns. You back away making too much noise and duck back into the darkness of the stairwell just soon enough to see yourself run past, late for work. You listen. Then realize that "you" will also notice that it is the wrong floor and so you flee down the stairs.
You're going to work after all. At least at work things are normal.
As the work day draws to a close your dread builds. But you have been thinking. This other person, this near identical copy had to know more about this than you. They had to be the one who sent you the notebook.
When you get home you are very careful when picking the floor. On your apartment door there is an envelope. You don't dare go in without reading it first.
"I was also scared when I first found out about you. I assumed you were coping me. Which is probably what you think I'm doing."
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As the work day draws to a close your dread builds. But you have been thinking. This other person, this near identical copy had to know more about this than you. They had to be the one who sent you the notebook.
When you get home you are very careful when picking the floor. On your apartment door there is an envelope. You don't dare go in without reading it first.
"I was also scared when I first found out about you. I assumed you were coping me. Which is probably what you think I'm doing."
"But I think something else is going on. I was hoping that the journal would prove it. Prove that this isn't just copying. It's something much bigger.
We aren't the only ones.
When you showed up drunk last night... I wasn't ready to talk, but I think we have to now.
When you are ready. You know where I live."
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Story Set Up:
One day you get a strange envelope in the mail. No obvious significance of the return address, it's just a shipping depot. In the large bubble envelope you find... your childhood journal. An old tattered notebook full of drawings and writings you remember well. Who could have sent it? A relative?
But there is another much more serious issue. One you are reluctant to even confront.
You never lost your old childhood journal. It's right there on the shelf.
There are *two* copies.
@futurebird Maybe the imperfect copy of the journal was made by an obsessed stalker, now determined to gaslight you for reasons you need to figure out.
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Story Set Up:
One day you get a strange envelope in the mail. No obvious significance of the return address, it's just a shipping depot. In the large bubble envelope you find... your childhood journal. An old tattered notebook full of drawings and writings you remember well. Who could have sent it? A relative?
But there is another much more serious issue. One you are reluctant to even confront.
You never lost your old childhood journal. It's right there on the shelf.
There are *two* copies.
@futurebird This is great!
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Story Set Up:
One day you get a strange envelope in the mail. No obvious significance of the return address, it's just a shipping depot. In the large bubble envelope you find... your childhood journal. An old tattered notebook full of drawings and writings you remember well. Who could have sent it? A relative?
But there is another much more serious issue. One you are reluctant to even confront.
You never lost your old childhood journal. It's right there on the shelf.
There are *two* copies.
@futurebird This is terrific!
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