I love a good writing prompt. Every so often I give myself the challenge to grab a writing prompt online that sparks an idea and try to write a piece of fiction from the prompt in and around 500 words.

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WRITING PROMPT: 

You’re walking down the street, when you spot a familiar figure. It’s another you. And they’ve come from an alternate reality to warn you about something.

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Twins

By Jess Knaus

The wind up Lexington brought with it a chill I was not ready for.

‘Winter has started already?’, I thought to myself.

Of course it had – it was November. And once the weather turned, it would be another 3 months before my coat was packed away in storage. I hated scratchy wool against my skin, especially scarves. Why were scarves so damn itchy?

I pulled around the corner to escape the onslaught of icy wind and to find a coffee shop to park myself in. I found a dark and surprisingly uncrowded place called Benson’s, selecting a table the furthest away from others I could find.

Pulling out my laptop, ordering a latte with the passing waitress, and finally unwrapping my hideously itchy scarf, I settled into my corner. My laptop warmed up and my coffee arrived. Time to get started on the manuscript.

Every so often the tinkle of the bell above the door would ring gently, announcing the arrival of another worn out street walker, hoping to find warmth and quietness. What I didn’t realise was one of the tinkerings that rang out was the making of someone I knew – me.

She pulled up to my table, hoping not to scare the actual life out of my body.

‘Hey June’, she said to me.

After a sudden moment of freeze, I lifted my gaze. What the hell? That was…me? I tried to speak but understandably was awestruck at the paradigm shift I was experiencing. What on this holy earth was happening?

‘Yes, this is weird. Yes, this makes no sense whatsoever. But yes, this is also real. Look, I don’t have much time. For the next few minutes pretend we’re twins – you’re June, I’m…Mabel,’ I said, realising just how much that name didn’t suit me.

‘What in the actual…’, I tried to say, but stopped as the waiter wandered past.

‘Hey, want anything?’, she asked, half-heartedly. She didn’t seem to care that we looked like exactly the same person.

‘Um, not yet thanks, I’ll order in a bit’, said Mabel.

‘You need to break up with Scott,’ said Mabel. ‘I don’t have time to explain it all, but trust me. I don’t want you getting caught up in it all. Yes, you’ll feel bad about ending it, he’ll be pissed, but just do it, ok?’, she finished.

I gaped at her. So I was just supposed to take her – my – word for it?

‘Yes, you are’, said Mabel, ‘trust me.’

I agreed, still sceptical, but familiar enough with myself to know it was legitimate when I said things like that.

‘So, something bad will happen with him?’, I said, curiously.

‘Yes, but I’m not telling you what, ok? Just call him now and ask to meet up later. Go, call him’, she finished, clearly planning on waiting around.

I reached into my coat pocket for my phone, unlocking it to scroll through for his number. I rang it, but he didn’t answer. I left a message saying we needed to talk, and placed the phone on the table in front of me, hoping for a return call.

Mabel looked uneasy. She was clearly going to try and wait this out until the phone call was resolved, but it had become increasingly awkward to have me sitting across from me.

‘Are you going to stay?’, I asked, uncomfortably. I didn’t want to make her leave, but, well, I did want her to leave. She looked uncertain at the question.

‘Ummm, not sure to be honest,’ she replied. Great.

Awkward minutes passed where both our sets of eyes just wandered around the cafe. Tables turned over, old coffee mugs were collected, and I desperately tried to avoid talking to myself. And to my other self. 

The raging silence was broken by Mabel’s phone vibrating loudly in her pocket, at the exact same time my own did. She had the same phone as mine – a mirror image. I glanced at the screens and was stunned with the name I saw displayed: Scott.

‘Wait, is that my Scott calling us both?’, I asked. Mabel looked concerned.

‘We have the same number don’t we? Answer it, because if you don’t, I will,’ said Mabel resolutely.

I panicked, lost in the utter madness unfolding in this quiet corner of the cafe. My knee jittered under the table and I bit my lip, trying to think about what to do.

‘Too late’, said Mabel quickly, answering her phone. As she did so she stood up and walked out of the cafe, me flailing past tables and cafe patrons to catch up. 

We made it outside, me grabbing at her arm to try and reach for the phone. She resisted my attempts and hung up the phone.

‘Hey! Hey, stop! What are you doing!?’, I yelled.

‘Saving your life!,’ yelled Mabel in reply, ‘trust me.’

Then she was gone – off to meet Scott, wherever he was, to “save my life”. I never saw me, or Scott, again.

 

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Photo: cottonbro studio