mercoledì 28 settembre 2022

Short Story ~The Double ~ from the collection "Bright Nigtmares Horror Stories", 2021

 ~ The Double ~


Dear Editor,

I send you this story, hoping it may be of

interest to you. Fear, anxiety, horror,

desire, love, dreams and reality are all the

elements that, combined, make this story

so absurd but still sort of believable. I bet

you’ve never read anything like this before.

What I’m going to tell you here is not my

story, but something that happened to a

person very close and very dear tome—my

neighbor.

I live in a small town in the north of

Norway. It’s one of those places where

nothing ever happens, and people do lots of

sports and drink so much every weekend

that they can’t find the front doors of their

own houses.

Life here, for me, is extremely boring,

and it has been

that way for a long time. I’m a lonely

soul, and I like fine things: music, theatre

and art. This little town offers nothing like

that. My husband died many years ago,

leaving me without any kids and with a

grumpy old sick dog.

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One day, luck seemed to knock at my

door. A nice young couple moved into the

empty house next tomine. The two houses,

mine and theirs, are so close to each other

that I could see them making breakfast in

their kitchen while I watched TV in my

living room.

Their life was very interesting tome; they

seemed almost perfect but also kind of

mysterious.

Thus viewed from a distance, they were a

perfect mix of fiction and strength.

However, I soon discovered something

extremely unusual about this couple. You

may not believe me, or you might think

that I’m a poor old deceived woman, ready

to get involved in the lives of others, but I

believe that this story must be told and

absolutely deserves to be published.

One fine morning, someone knocked at

my door. And there she was, my beautiful

and mysterious neighbor. She introduced

herself and her two beautiful children,

Doris and Lukas, to me. She said they had

just moved from a town on the mainland

and that she was there to finish a writing

project. Yes, she was a writer. What a funny

coincidence!

I invited them in, and I made pancakes

for the kids while we talked and sipped

coffee.

Her name is Beatrice, and she’s

thirty-nine years old, from Italy. When she

was eighteen, she moved to London, where

she studied Literature and Philosophy and

met her husband, Michael, a Swedish man.

They married very young and had two kids.

After a few years, they moved to Germany,

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where she worked as a translator and editor

for a publishing company, and her husband

worked in IT as a freelancer.

She told me about the book she was

writing. It was a story of a little girl and her

family: her mother, her father, and her

younger brother. They lived in a sunny

apartment in Naples, in the south of Italy,

where the chaos from the street—things

unsaid and the fear of feelings—rose in

waves into their daily life.

The little girl's name was Susy. She was a

very nice girl, always helping her mother

with household chores. One day, she was in

the kitchen, setting the table for lunch. Her

mother was talking to her, but she couldn’t

remember exactly what she was saying.

Susy turned around to pick up some dishes,

and suddenly, a second later, her mother

was gone. In her place was another woman.

She was identical to her mother in

appearance, but muchmore evil. Susy knew

it; she could feel it.

The evil mother ordered Susy to do

terrible things. She told her horrible things,

and Susy was very scared. She ended up

doing what her mother wanted.

I asked if

there was something

autobiographical in the story. Beatrice

seemed perplexed, but in the end, she said,

“No, I wouldn’t say that, but there are

strange coincidences between a writer’s life

and what she might write.”

Since they’d moved, many things had

changed in their lives, she told me. When

they were in their previous home, she’d

been very busy with her work.

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I can now say that Beatrice wasn’t a

conventional woman; even if her

appearance seemed okay—that is to say,

normal. Apparently, she behaved like a

woman of moderate habits, a person who

would never attract particular attention.

She was beautiful, that's for sure, active

and independent, a workaholic, always

ready to go anywhere andmeet anyone and

organize things, make things happen.

Translation and writing were her passions

in life, but travel and meeting people were

her pleasures. I must admit, I liked her a

lot.

When she’d started working in the

editorial field, she’d felt very excited. It had

been her dream to reach a certain level in

such a competitive field. She loved the job.

She felt fulfilled in it.

One day, her boss told her, "I have high

expectations for you. You’re an ambitious

person, but to get what you want, you have

to make sacrifices. But they’re sacrifices for

a good purpose. Make them for your family;

think about how your sacrifice will benefit

them.

“Your image cannot be compromised.

And somehow, they—your family, your

children—will be an obstacle to your

professional progress. They don’t match

the image that one has of you. To succeed

in this field, you must ... sacrifice a part of

yourself. Your image must be that of a

person aiming for success—independent.

To succeed, I don't say that you have to

neglect your family, but maybe hide it; put

it in the background for some time. Think

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about it. After all, you’re doing it for them,

too”.

Poor Bea. I thought and thought about

those words for many days and nights. This

torment went on for weeks. Life had given

her an impossible choice. How could she

reconcile the two? But in the end, she

made a decision that she believed was the

wisest in the long run. Her family was

everything to her, but she couldn’t give up

on herself, on what she liked to do, on her

work, on her personhood. So she decided to

follow her boss's advice.

With great caution and attention, Bea

began a new life. There was the Bea who

went to work, who went to book fairs, who

met writers and agents, who traveled. And

there was another Bea who loved her

family, who spent time playing with her

children, who went for walks in the woods.

Bea led two different lives, which never

intersected except during the night, in her

dreams.

But they were more than dreams; they

were real nightmares. In those dreams,

horrible things happened, but Bea couldn’t

remember them once she was awake, lying

in a pool of tears and sweat.

Someone could probably call her feelings

a mix of anxiety and sadness, a form of

guilt, but it was impossible for Bea to

define them.

One night, she woke up as she had for

many weeks, soaked in sweat, terrified by

something vague and remote. She felt

exhausted and restless at the same time.

Suddenly, she felt a strong pain in her

chest, as if she had just received a straight

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punch to the middle of her belly, at the

level of her heart. She got scared and

thought she was having a heart attack.

Then, she felt nauseous and quickly stood

up from the bed and ran to the bathroom

with an extreme urge to vomit.

She switched on the light and began to

breathe heavily; her retching breaths

became sobs. She again felt a strong

pressure on her chest. Bea put her hand

over her heart. She was bent over in pain

when, sobbing, she regurgitated something

from her mouth and into the bathtub,

nearly choking.

Stunned by fatigue and pain, Bea sat on

the floor near the tub. She didn't even have

the strength to get back on her feet and go

back to bed. Behind her, a strange figure

was rising from inside the bathtub; thin

white limbs stretched out and hung

alongside the tall, slender woman who

slowly laid a hand on Bea's shoulder. Bea

hadn't expected that and spun around.

What she saw scared her so much that she

screamed: the woman was herself, but a

monstrous version of herself, not in

appearance, because the woman was

identical to herself, but in her thoughts and

in her heart; Bea could read the woman

very well and interpret her, as a sister can

do with her evil twin.

When Bea woke up the next morning, it

took her a couple of seconds to realize that

everything was in the same place she had

left it the night before. It almost seemed to

her that the dream she’d had was real. Or

rather, for a moment, she was afraid that

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after the previous night, her present daily

life would never be the same again.

However, all around the room, she saw

the chest of drawers and the wardrobe, the

large mirror near the table, the chair and

the clothes that were just where she had

left them.

She got up from bed and went into the

living room; to be certain, she wanted to

see if the rest of the house was like it

always was. And above all, she wanted to

see if Michael and the children were still

there and were all right.

In fact, just like the day before and the

other days before it, Michael had gotten up

early and prepared breakfast for the

children and for her. Now, he was sitting at

the kitchen table, drinking coffee and

reading the newspaper while the children

played with their food.

“Hello,'' said Bea and went to the coffee

machine to pour herself a cup.

“Hello,” Michael replied.

The children ran over to Bea to hug her

and kiss her. Just for a moment, a sense of

terrible and inexplicable anguish assailed

her. "Today, I’ll be out all day. I don't think

I'll be back for dinner," she said a little

sadly.

"Don't worry. We'll spend time together

over the weekend. I'll be with the children,"

Michael said.

He was so supportive of her work, and not

a day passed that Bea did not consider

herself a lucky woman.

Suddenly Michael told her, "You talked in

your sleep last night."

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Taken by surprise, Bea remained frozen

for a second at the idea of having said

something—something unmentionable.

"And what did I say?"

He looked at her, puzzled, and replied,

"Nothing that made sense ... You

stammered more than you spoke …”

"Ah, I had a terrible nightmare ..."

Just as Bea was starting to tell Michael

her weird experience of the night before, he

interrupted her to say, "Inmy opinion, you

shouldn’t stress too much."

He was laughing, so Bea gave up on her

story and answered him. "I'll try," she said.

"Now, I'm going to get ready."

“I’ll try,” she’d said, but she thought all

day about her nightmare and the unsaid

words mumbled the previous night to her

husband. Like a nail stuck in her head,

those thoughts went on and on and on. She

thought about the dream in the morning

while correcting proofs, at lunch and while

she ran in the afternoon. But what had she

said in the dream? Fortunately, at the end

of the day, just as she was getting on the

subway to go home, she realized she wasn’t

thinking about her dream anymore.

The obsession had finally dissolved.

But when she got home, she found

another surprise: The police were waiting

for her. They wanted to interrogate her

because, as they told her, she’d just

committed a crime. The problem was that

she couldn’t recall having committed it.

They said she had been seen entering an

antiques store, right next to her building.

She’d walked past the store every morning

on her way to work. Although she and the

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store owner didn’t know each other

personally, they greeted each other and

exchanged courtesies and gestures of good

neighborliness.

Imagine the surprise of the shopkeeper

when that morning, he had seen her

stealthily enter the shop and reach out a

hand to a bird-shaped ornament—a

magpie,

to be precise, made of

porcelain—and run away with it. They

knew Bea too well to have any doubt about

who it was. She’d snuck in the entrance and

reached out and grabbed the porcelain bird

and escaped.

The police, after having been called by the

shopkeeper, had gone to the door of her

house without hesitating. They’d waited for

Michael, her husband, to come home after

picking up the kids at school. He remained

incredulous in the face of the police claims,

but he had not resisted, because he was

convinced that they were wrong.

When they had entered the apartment,

they hadn't had to search for long. In fact,

they hadn't had to look for anything; the

porcelain magpie stood serene in its

gleaming ceramic splendor at the center of

the dining table in the living room.

“This is a joke,'' said Michael.

They waited for Bea to return home and

offer the necessary explanations. She’d

found all three of them waiting for her

there, sitting around the dining table in the

living room, along with the magpie.

Bea apologized and said she didn't

remember doing such a thing.

Her husband said, "It's not like you."

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Then, one of the policemen had tried to

arrange the pieces of the puzzle and offer

an explanation for what had happened.

"She woke up that morning and was ready

to go to work. That morning, she didn’t

take the kids to school. Toomuch to do. She

had an important meeting. Michael took

the kids. But before going to work, she

stopped outside the shop, near her home,

to wait for her husband and children to

come out. Then, she stole the object, went

home, placed it quietly on the table and

finally went to work.”

"But I don't remember any of that at all,"

said Bea, lost and confused.

"Maybe it was a moment of stress and

anxiety. You might want to take a few days

off. Kleptomania or memory loss can be

symptoms of somethingmore serious," the

other policeman told her.

“However, the shopkeeper has decided

not to file a complaint. He’s proven to be

very tolerant and understanding. But he

wants the bird back," the first policeman

said.

Bea looked at the object in question. It

wasn't even her style. How could she have

stolen it? And why?

That evening, Michael slept on the sofa

bed. He and Bea had argued after the police

had left. He thought Bea needed to slow

down a little with her work. All that work

was driving her out of her mind. She was no

longer the same. Bea, on the other hand,

felt that he had been distant. He was no

longer present.

The discussion had gone on for hours and

hadn't gotten them anywhere. As had been

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happening more and more frequently, Bea

felt like she listened to the conversation

from outside herself--like her her head

was separate from the rest of her body

Now Michael was on the couch, trying to

sleep, and the more he tried, the less he

could sleep. At three o'clock in the

morning, when he’d finally fallen

half-sleep, he saw a shadow crossing the

arched doorway that led from the bedroom

corridor to the living room. Quickly and

surreptitiously, the shadow went around

the table and the television. And although it

had an unusual shape and way of walking,

there was no way that Michael could be

mistaken; there was no doubt that the

shadow was Beatrice, his wife. But there

was something about the figure that was

different, unrecognizable. In a moment,

Bea was at the foot of the sofa.

Michael looked at her. In a single

movement, she took off her turquoise silk

nightdress and slipped under the rough

wool

blanket—an

uncomfortable

requirement for camping overnight in the

living room—her naked body next to his.

At 05:15 the alarm sounded, as it did

every morning. Bea was standing there

making coffee, as she did every morning.

Michael looked at her, but she looked

indifferent—almost

irritated by his

presence, there in the kitchen, hampering

the morning preparation ritual, disturbing

her concentration. She looked like a

different person from last night. They took

leave of one another with a quick kiss in the

front doorway, one of those kisses where

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they grazed their lips as though afraid of

actually touching each other.

Bea checked her agenda on the train. She

had a very long, busy day ahead. That

morning, Michael would also take their

children to school. Bea wouldn't see them

all day.

With meeting after meeting, the day went

by very quickly and was tiring; it ended late

at night, after the last meeting, which had

taken place at dinner. Bea had been

drinking that night, but she wasn't really

drunk. She only felt a little tipsy.

After dinner, outside the restaurant,

there were no taxis, so Bea decided to walk

a bit to clarify some ideas she had. She

walked to the taxi station around the

corner, but there were no taxis there,

either. She had to wait. She was cold and

felt tired and upset, when she saw

something that terrified her.

Her boss was just coming around the

corner, probably to get a cab, too, when he

was assaulted, brutally and for no reason,

by a woman who had run across the street

holding a stick. She hit the man on the head

and in the stomach with it several times

before he fell to the ground. But even then,

the woman, caught up in her savage

wickedness, didn’t stop. She kicked the

poor man until he was no longer breathing.

Bea was wordless with shock. She

couldn’t say or do anything. She was

immobilized by a feeling of deep anguish. It

was like being imprisoned in a block of ice.

Her voice had stuck in her throat. Then,

fear took over.

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The murderess, whose identity had been

a mystery up until then, turned to look at

her.

Bea felt ice stream through her veins, and

it then turned to fire. She recognized the

murderer instantly. It was herself, or rather

the evil twin version of herself—the same

one she had seen a few nights earlier in the

bathroom of her apartment.

The woman started laughing. She laughed

louder and more and more and with the joy

of her own laughter—as though a hilarious

comedy show were unfolding before her.

She bent over with laughter. Bea looked

herself up and down, to figure out why her

twin was laughing so much. But there was

nothing wrong with Bea. She was just

standing there.

The woman suddenly stopped laughing

and started running in the opposite

direction. Bea thought of following her, to

learn where she’d been hiding. But

something stopped her. If this was the

situation, no one would believe such an

absurd story—a diabolical double who was

haunting her and had just killed her boss.

So Bea decided she had to do something to

cover up the evidence of the murder and

make sure it couldn't be traced back to her.

She took the walking stick that the

murderer had left behind and hid it under

her coat. She had to destroy it.

In the meantime, she would go home and

think about what to do. After a long walk,

she found a taxi and reached the door to her

apartment building. There was her double,

waiting for her, with a hysterical evil grin,

as always. When she saw Bea get out of the

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car, the double opened the front door and

started to go inside.

Bea chased her. The double ran up the

stairs, opened the door to Bea’s apartment

and entered. Bea was just in time to grab

the open door and slip into her apartment.

Everything was dark. Everyone was asleep.

Bea walked in and made her way into the

living room and the kitchen, then into the

hallway, looking in all the rooms to find the

intruder. But she was gone. She’d vanished

into thin air.

From that day on, Bea started to feel

secretly persecuted by her double.

The identity of the violent murderer of

her boss was never revealed. This did

nothing but create terrible distress for Bea.

She began to feel that her colleagues

secretly suspected her, and she felt guilty,

not only because she knew who the killer

was, but because she had helped her to hide

the evidence. Oddly, the terrible and sudden

death of her boss had caused an unexpected

advancement in her career.

The most horrible thing was that Bea

couldn't share her secret with anyone, not

even with Michael, because she knew

nobody would ever believe her. Maybe she

really was under stress, exhausted. So she

decided to cut back on work, even if it

significantly affected her career, and spend

more time with her family.

This was when the real nightmare began

for Bea. She realized that her cruel twin was

taking her place in her life. Maybe she’d

already started a long time before. Bea

noticed it in this way.

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One Friday morning, Bea decided to pick

up her children at school. She was almost at

the entrance to the kindergarten when she

saw her double. The other Bea stepped past

her, ignoring her and with a brisk step,

reached the glass door before her.

Bea was astonished. There was

something uncanny about all

that

naturalness, all that ease. Her double had

done this before, many times. It was like a

habit.

Finally, Bea saw Doris and Lukas leaving

with her double. At

that moment,

undecided about what to do, Bea crossed

the road and hid behind an ice cream truck

parked by the opposite sidewalk. From

there, she could see what was happening.

She saw the three of them walking

together, and they seemed happy. The

children spoke and smiled at her double.

Bea felt overcome with loneliness, and then

a terrible rage assaulted her—an anger

against herself.

From that day on, Bea ran into her double

in different situations,

several times,

always with her family, taking Bea’s place.

The double wasn't always present,

though. She appeared and disappeared

suddenly. She came forward in Bea’s

absence. For example, on weekends,

Michael went with the children to the park

or the zoo, and Bea stayed at home to tidy

up and get ready to meet them; at that

moment, the double would appear and

replace her. So when Bea finally caught up

with her family, she’d find her double with

them.

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Then when they went back home, the

double would vanish and Bea could resume

her role within the family.

The same thing happened at work.

When Bea went to the bathroomor maybe

even when she was sitting at her desk, she

would see her double come into the office,

greet her colleagues and move around like

nothing had happened, as though Bea

didn't exist.

Sometimes, the double would even enter

Bea’s office. Bea saw her sitting there and

laughing, mocking her. She threw paper

planes at Bea. But she never said a word to

Bea.

The situation had become unbearable for

Bea, until one day, when she got home

from work and she found her double on the

sofa, mending Bea’s son’s clothes. Bea was

in the kitchen, and she went into the living

room to speak to her double. The double

was lounging on from the sofa, looking like

she had no intention of moving.

Bea stopped. She had no idea what was

happening. This person didn’t exist; she

was a figment of Bea’s imagination, her

disgust, her distress. Yet now, she was

there, sitting on the couch, cuddling her

children, sleeping with her husband and

taking the glory for Bea at work.

Bea didn't have the courage to say a word,

to take a step. She turned, opened the door,

went down the stairs and began to walk

aimlessly. Myriad thoughts crossed her

mind. A sense of suffocation choked her.

Tears ran down her face. That night, she

slept in the street and did so for many more

nights.

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Many weeks passed.

From that day on, Bea wandered

aimlessly in the streets. Now, her days

consisted of reaching certain places at a

certain time, not for interesting business

meetings, but to get food, clothing and

shelter. Wandering gave her a lot of time to

think, but she couldn’t reach a clear

conclusion about what was happening to

her.

Bea would go home secretly, from time to

time, stealthily, to bathe, to change and to

eat, but she always slept in the street.

Everything at home was perfect—the light

coming in through the windows, the

garden with the walnut tree, her children’s

fragrant clothing.

Finally, Bea decided what to do. It took

her many weeks and many days, but she

finally decided to face her cruel twin and

defeat her, at any cost. She came up with a

plan: she would hide in the living room and

wait for a moment when she could be alone

with her double. Bea had begun to think of

her double as “Bea Number 2” and of

herself as “Bea Number 1.”

One morning, after Bea’s husband and

children had gone out to play soccer, Bea

Number 2 was preparing lunch and

cleaning up. Bea Number 1 jumped out from

behind the sofa by the window. Bea Number

2 was a little bit surprised, but she didn't do

much, as though she’d seen a distant

unwanted relative.

Bea Number 1 had a kitchen knife with

her, and she said, "I don't know who you

are or where you came from, but I want you

out of my house and my life immediately."

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She was trembling all over as she spoke;

trembling, with the dagger felt ridiculous.

Bea Number 2 didn’t flinch. She entered

the room and sat on the couch, the same

one where Bea had seen her the first time.

She crossed her arms and said, "What do

you think you're going to do with that

knife? Kill me? You put me here. You

wanted me to be here. Don't you

remember?"

"What do you mean?" answered Bea

Number 1. She felt lost and confused. She

lowered the knife and looked around, first

at the room, at the furniture, and then at

herself. Everything suddenly seemed

foreign to her—even her own hands, her

legs and her feet.

"It’s absurd for me to have to tell you

this,'' said Bea Number 2, “but you created

this whole thing. I’m your real fear, your

hidden desires, your anxiety released. You

made your own rules ... You want to be

perfect and still be yourself. What did you

expect? Accept reality, as it is now. Live in

the shadows—the shadow you have

become."

Bea listened in silence, then looked out

the window and found the strength to react.

She raised her knife, angrily and

menacingly,

and

said,

screaming

hysterically, "I won't let you take my life. I

won't let you do this." She took two steps

toward the sofa to attack Bea Number 2 but

had to stop immediately and back away a

little. Bea Number 2 had eased herself off

the sofa, and slowly her body had changed.

It was slowly stretching. In her black

trousers, the legs had grown and bent

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backward at the knee, like the broken

branches of a tree. Her arms in the white

pullover had become thin legs. Her back

and her trunk had lengthened and widened

to make room for a huge mouth with rows

of teeth, while the little head and face

remained where they were, on the neck.

"Now, you force me to do what I don't want

to do. But at least we’ve reached the end.

Soon, all this will be over. We’ll return to

being one," said the monster who was Bea

Number 2.

The huge, thin-legged creature moved

over poor Bea Number 1 and swallowed her

piece by piece until nothing remained but

the knife.

The monster slowly recomposed itself

into the human form of Bea Number 2,

which was now the only Bea left, since it

had swallowed the first.

And it went on again and again over time,

feeding on the lives of other women

without ever stopping.

My young friend had finished telling her

story and was quite downcast. I understood

that this story had touched her very deeply,

but I didn't know the difference between

reality or fiction.

From the window upstairs, I watched her

leave and reach her house. When I looked

again, I was struck with a shudder of

horror. I saw her at the window, her eyes

turned toward me, the thousand legs and

the two heads. The alien monster was

behind the window, looking straight at me.

Maybe I wouldn't be able to escape, either.


Elda Oreto


~ from "Bright Nightmares  ~ Horror Stories", 2021

Bright Nightmares: Horror Stories: Oreto, Elda: 9798701485653: Amazon.com: Books

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