A Suspence Filled Sci-Fi Short Story: Cinco

I swung the heavy piece of wood in my hand, effectively severing the quivering body beneath me. All of a sudden, it stopped moving. As I stared at the pool of blood on the otherwise pristine floor, I heard steadily approaching footsteps. My heart leaped to my throat as the door swung open; there she stood, paralyzed when she saw her own body in a puddle of blood. I stood there frozen as Stella’s head hit the carpet.

Few cycles ago

Hiding between the dirty coats inside this niffy closet isn’t what I had in mind. It’s Christmas; I bought gifts for my secret Santa. Sadly here I am, trying to breathe through this unsettling ambiance. Stella should clean her clothes more often; it smells disgusting here.

It’s 2 am. The alarm buzzes, waking the poor woman up. Squishing both her eyes, Stella gets up, wondering whether she even set the alarm. She gets on her feet, faltering towards the drapes. I couldn’t see much once she pulled the curtains shut, leaving the room inky. I guess there’s a torch somewhere around, but I don’t remember owning one. Her silhouette stumbles across the bedroom as she notices the door open. It was me; I left it open. She looks at the door, puzzled. She didn’t want to exercise her brain late this night, so she started walking toward the door to shut it. As soon as she reached there, I let go of the closet door I held. On purpose. She leans over and pushes the closet door with her torso, ramming her knee against the teak. “Dammit!” Stella mutters. She hurts her knee. By the time she was doing that, I had taken 5 seconds to look at her unusually familiar tattoo. Once again. My tattooist calls it The Odd Engrave. I don’t remember getting a tattoo ever in my life, or if I’ve been doing this for a long time, my memories are beginning to fade away.

Now that she’s gone, I slowly step out of the closet. She didn’t notice me. I’ve got exactly five minutes to do this. The picture of my dad and me was placed sideways, sitting on the teak, collecting specks of dust. I never left it like that. I grab the picture from the table and gaze at it, wiping the dust fragments off the surface. This picture was taken the time we went on the Paris trip. Dad loved the Eiffel tower. He was an architect, one of the best in his days. I still remember the day we took this picture. We were sneaking down the basement of a bar, and dad accidentally tripped a barrel. It was all over, and I bet they won’t notice it as the room reeks of beer anyway. We put the barrel back and fled. It was one of my happiest days of mine.

I remember my parents very well and friends from some places. I don’t know it all, but some are still in my head. It’s like some memories never happened. I don’t get why they killed themselves. People say it was a false death for an insurance scam. Maybe they’re alive on the other side of the world. Even though it’s hogwash, I wish it were true. These good memories I have, I don’t remember being there while it happened. Strangely, I am unsure whether any of my memories are accurate. It didn’t click with me before. I remember having pictures of my family from multiple generations, but it feels like they never existed. These memories I got were created to make me feel alive. Or, I’ve been doing this so long that I’ve forgotten what it was like before. I wish that it is just my brain doing tricks, and I am going insane.

Connecting the dots. The picture I am holding was placed sideways first; the foot of the bed is across the wall; the clock has twenty-four numbers, just like before. But it seems like I’m not getting something. I grab the phone from the table and set the alarm to 2 am. I don’t know why I do that every cycle, but I did. I never found the answer to this enigma. Even if I redid this a million times, I still wouldn’t break this paradox. Something wants me to try again. ‘This one time, Stella.’ my medulla speaks.

“You were never born.” says a strange disembodied voice inside my head. It wasn’t clear at all; it was muffled. I’ve heard this voice before. I mean, I hear voices but this one’s different. It was louder. Even though I’m sure of what I heard, it was muffled, so I’m losing my mind to be sure if it was what it was. You were never born. What does it mean?

As I breezily glimpsed the bottom of the bathroom door, I realized the lights weren’t flickering. “Can you hear me?” the voice asked me, this time precisely clear. It was a guy’s voice. “This will sting a bit.” he assented, just when everything goes dark and I’m experiencing ear-splitting pain at the center of my wit. “Sorry for that, but you’ll be alright,” he assures, while I rub the back of my head as the pain gradually dissolves. The light inside the bathroom flickering could be seen from the gap under the door. I approached it as soon as I noticed and swung the door open. All I saw was darkness. “Welcome to the multiverse, miss Stella!” The man said as I was about to take the step. Hesitant at first, then realized I had no choice but to walk in. Where am I? I wonder, lingering through eigengrau. I’ve done this a million times; I don’t once recall this happening.

“Am I clear now?” He ensures. “Yes, yes…” I stutter, clutching onto dad’s picture. “Am I dead?”

“You’ll be offered a dilemma. Look behind you, miss Stella!” He insists. Amidst the fact that I am inside darkness itself, I quickly turn back to find two flamboyant buttons appear in front of me. One says ‘ERASE,’ and the one on the right says ‘STAY.’ “I’m afraid you can’t end your story with a cliff-hanger, miss Stella!” he states, followed by a cough. I don’t remember coughing once, despite the closet reeking of sweat.

“You didn’t answer my question,” I ask again. Instead of him saying no, there was an uncomfortable silence.

I knew what my choice was going to be.