All alone

The morning started like any other. I woke up in bed like I always do, grabbing at reality while wiping crust from my eyes. I began to dress in my normal attire: steal toe boots, for safety reasons, Black cargo pants with two large pockets on both legs, and an open red wool vest that sat on my bare shoulders revealing my chest. Who needs shirts when you’re "free" right?

                Anyway, I slammed my size twelve boots down on the hardwood floors of my parents two story New Orleans style stilted home. Left.  Right. They get so pissed at this. I did this every morning just to push their buttons.

It made me feel like I had control.... control of their emotions. Control over their day. Control over their work. Control over their silly routine. For a split second I was the big deal, the head honcho. I was the situation. I was the topic of conversation. Even though it wasn't really a positive reason, it might actually be the only time they cared that I existed. They never remembered or showed any interest in the things I showed them. My parents. The people who gave birth to me. My care givers. I hated them but I wanted their attention so badly, and that’s what I got. Until this morning of course. There was no response, not even a murmur.

                I stomped once more with both feet as hard as I could without knocking pictures off of the walls. I'm sure they will love that. Silence. There wasn't a groan or even a scoff. Something didn't seem right.

                As quickly as my feet could get me there, I bolted out of the door, down the stairs and towards the kitchen. That's where my parents were usually drinking coffee, talking on their cell phones and flipping through newspapers as if something was lost inside.

                My steel toed boots pounded away as I threw them down on old splintered wooden steps. Silence. I sped up my pace as I reached the living room. With sonic speeds I crossed the open room, arms stretched out towards the off-white swinging kitchen door. After hurdling over the lonely ___ couch in the middle of the room my palms connected with so much force I’m surprised the blow didn't rip the hinges right off of the wall.

Pause.

                My life was alone. All I had was alone. I had no friends and my parents didn’t care. Alone. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. On the other side of the door was something that I couldn’t prepare myself for. My heart instantly filled with emotions of amazement, excitement, fear, and confusion. I froze. Standing in from of me was ....Darkness.

                Before I could fully process the image the swinging door reminded me of its functionality, swooshing back to its original place. Exactly where I was standing.

I awoke and I was back in the living room, except this time no running. Instead, I was on my back now staring at the ceiling. My fingers ran across my forehead to see if there was a scrape or a bruise. There was nothing there. I didn’t feel a thing, but the image of what I had seen had been burned into my memory. My mind seemed as if someone turned up the contrast on a plasma screen. Savoring the image in my mind, I grew as excited as an eight year old child on Christmas Eve.

                A smile pushed its way onto my face. I was a bit shaken up still, but found the nerve to control my hands and pushed my body upwards. My legs soon followed. I laid a palm on the kitchen door once again. My lesson was learned and this time I just cracked it and peered in slightly, just to make sure my eyes hadn’t fooled me before. It was real.

                Standing in front of me were two guys identical in every single way. They were both about 6 feet tall with light brown skin showing through red woolen vest. Short Dark Brown hair, like a black sheep, curled just above their ears and brow. Black cargo pants covered their legs and all four feet wore steel toe boots. I felt as if I had stepped into a wax museum. A wax museum of me. They had my bushy eyebrows, wide nose, squinty eyes and full lips. Not a thing was missing from these two. Except maybe one thing…animation.

                The doppelgangers that stood before me didn’t seem to be alive in anyway. Their arms hung by their sides and their eyes stared directly forward. Directly at me. I wasn’t sure what to do. A part of me wanted to believe this was a dream. I wanted to believe that this was all a joke. A hoax. The other part of me wanted to investigate. Where were my parents? Why are their copies of me standing lifeless in the kitchen? Was I dreaming, and if so what did it mean?

                After a few minutes of contemplation I decided to start answering some of my questions. First, was this a dream? Slowly, making sure not to make any noise, I took two steps backwards away from the door closing it slowly behind me. While taking a deep breath I raised one hand and wrapped two fingers around a few sideburn hairs. With one quick pull I was faced with reality. Pain. This wasn’t a dream. Those clones in my kitchen were there for a reason. Now, I had to figure out why before I received any more answers. This meant I had to actually go into the kitchen. A shiver shot up my spine with that thought and more questions began to form. Were they dangerous? Were they capable of movement? Did they think like me? Who made them?

                The need to know eventually outweighed the fear that grew inside of me. My hands were shaking as I raised them to once again touch the swinging door. This time I didn’t push. I stood there shaking and staring at what seemed like the longest moment of my life. My eyes glared at the back of the door as if they were trying to burn a hole through it with my stare. My lungs took in as much air as it could and my body braced itself. My fingers tensed up as they eased the door slowly forward. How could this be? Emptiness. There were no steel toe boots, no red vest, no cargo, NO CLONE.

                Behind the door was nothing but a kitchen table, four chairs, a fridge, a stove, and a rusty old sink that hung slightly forward off of the wall. What was this? Where did they go? How did I not hear them move? I ran to the middle of the kitchen and dropped to my knees. There had to be a clue here somewhere. Maybe they left behind a hair, a finger nail, a piece of grass, a smell. Nothing. The two "me" had vanished and there was no trace that they had ever been here. Not even as much as a scuff mark.

                I quickly pinched myself on the back of my hand hoping that my test earlier was flawed. Pain. This didn’t make sense. I saw the two clones with my own eyes, twice. Another shiver shot up my spin. Had I lost my mind? Was this all in my head? I sat down on the kitchen floor in front of the swinging door. My mind needed clearing and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go back to the living room. The surprises today were growing a bit too heavy on me. I slowly turned and looked at the clock. 8:00. It had only been an hour since I had gotten out of bed.

Author's Note

Ignore grammar. I I really want people to give me input about the story not the errors. This is a rough draft.

Reviews

[ocean_side]

Ha, you had me at steel toed boots and black cargo pants.

Interesting concept. I imagine the transitional flow will smoothen out in later drafts with some red pen editing, but the overall topic of your writing does come through.

It'll be interesting to see how this novel develops. Good work.

[Chrissy]

I like this. It flows good, and is easy to follow. It captures the readers attention at the start. I would love to read more1

[Coyote Poetry]

A very good opening chapter.
" Standing in front of me were two guys identical in every single way. They were both about 6 feet tall with light brown skin showing through red woolen vest. Short Dark Brown hair, like a black sheep, curled just above their ears and brow. "
I liked the set-up and the storyline. You open the door to question and mystery. I liked how you ended the chapter. A open ending. Was dream or real? Thank you for sharing the excellent chapter.
Coyote

[Valentine]

Very intriguing and this is just the start? One thing I wondered...why isn't he more concerned where his parents are? Your tale holds the interest. Valentine

[D. Earl Barnes]

Well, He doesn't really like his parents.. do you think I should make that a bit more clear? Or could I just save it for another chapter?

[Valentine]

If something is happening early in your tale your audience might wonder . Valentine

[D. Earl Barnes]

Yea.. i think ill try it a few ways.. and see what works when Im done with the second chapter. Thanks.