Loop

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but the night I arrived, a candle burned in the window.

A candle I didn’t light.

I fumbled with the keys in front of the entrance, licked by the cab’s headlights one more time as it turned its rear lights on me. Heavy raindrops pattered on my umbrella and wet the bark of the sharp spruces piercing the blind sky like obsidian spears. Goosebumps rose on my skin.

Craving the comfort of the artificial light that drowned into blackness as the driver left me behind, I pulled out my phone and glanced at the time. Five minutes past midnight. No reception. Several notifications taunted me; unopened messages—The reason why I needed to take this woodland break, away from my practice. That’s why I booked the cabin with Infinity Stays.

“Dr Lee, I heard this terrible rumour that you had an affair with one of your–”

“I know you are supposed to be going on holiday, but can I book an appointment–”

“David, we broke up. Call me when you can. Jessica said she is suing you, but–”

“You call yourself a couples therapist? Disgusting. See you in court.”

“I want a full refund. Couples’ therapy was my wife’s idea, and we’re getting d–”

“Can I stay at yours tonight?”

Half-wanting to reply to the last one, I sank the phone into my pocket and embraced the dark.

There would be no more texts, as long as I stayed here. No more “you aren’t good enough”, no more demanding of my time. No more accusations of seducing my clients’ husbands and wives.

Which I didn’t do.

Didn’t plan.

It just—happened.

The flame danced inside, its warm light glowing red like a warning sign.

Looking behind my back, I played with the thought of turning back; but I could no longer make out the road leading home.

The distant rumblings of the brewing storm spurred me on.

I better go in.

The key didn’t turn. Fuck. My pulse jumped. Jamming them into the keyhole repeatedly, I tried to turn the key without breaking it inside the lock.

‘For God’s sake!’

Leading with my shoulder, I threw my whole weight against the door. The rusty hinges screamed like nails on chalkboard as it pushed open. It was unlocked. My heart skipped a beat as I lost my balance and stumbled indoors.

A fusty smell filled my nose. In the sparse space stood a wooden table and two chairs, covered in cobwebs, opposite the grimy kitchen units. Shadows lurked and yawned on every surface, cast by the dim, flickering light. The floorboards, dark with fresh mud, cried and squirmed underneath my trainers.

Closing my umbrella, I quietly placed it in the corner behind the door, suddenly hyper aware of the sound of my heartbeat, as I was trying to make the least amount of noise possible. A chill ran down my spine as my hand brushed against another two umbrellas, still wet. Presumably they belonged to whoever lit the candle and made a mess of the floor. I swallowed.

Whilst it was true I had made a few enemies, getting all tangled up in that affair, but… I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. Only the agents, so I was safe here. Still, I would have preferred they informed me, if there was to be a reception.

‘Hello?’ My wavering voice hung alone in the dark silence. Whoever was here must have left in that other black cab we met on the bumpy dirt road that led to this dead end. It must have been the property agents, anticipating my arrival. There was no need to be paranoid. After all, the cabin seemed abandoned, and there were no neighbours for miles. I sighed, trying to take my mind off the remote nature of my new residence, together with the uncalled-for intrusion. I was on my own. Only that mattered.

I needed something to distract myself from how different the atmosphere was from what I expected. Terrifying, rather than tranquil, but at least, there was no wifi. No phone signal. I would not be able to call a friend, but those death threats from divorcees couldn’t reach me either.

I pulled out my notepad and a pen. It was dark, but I needed to attach these to the inventory on the lease.

That’s it.

A task to focus on.

Experience taught me that if I didn’t want to be blamed and lose my deposit, I needed to be thorough. In case there was any permanent damage caused I wouldn’t be able to clean up, I needed to document it. Prove that it wasn’t me—like I should have saved the texts from Jessica’s husband, Brad. Despite myself, my heart fluttered. Forget about him!

A cold draught whistled, as I turned on the flash and started taking pictures with my phone, writing my grievances into my notepad.

Dirty floor, I scribbled.

Wet umbrellas. I shivered at the thought of the strangers coming in the cabin.

Property left unlocked.

My breath hitched—a strong gust of wind slammed the door shut behind me and blew out the candle. Cursing under my breath, I shoved my notebook back into my pocket and, using my phone’s flashlight, rummaged through my backpack. I found some matches. Relit the candle. Electricity was something I would have to sort out in the morning, once the storm had passed. There was an old generator somewhere, most likely broken, but the agents had arranged to have a new one delivered for the next day. I only had to make do without it for one night. Then, everything would be fine. I threw the burnt out matchstick into the ashtray. beside the two already there. The hairs stood on the back of my neck. I must tell the agents not to send people without telling me first.

Taking a seat by the table, I unwrapped the sandwich I packed and took a bite, scrolling through my messages whilst I ate.

“David, we broke up. Call me when you can. Jessica said she is suing you, but I don’t think she’d go through with it. I told her you didn’t initiate anything. She threw all my stuff out the window and kicked me out the house. Said she was calling divorce lawyers. The worst is, she is calling my family, too.

“Can I stay at yours tonight?”

My finger tapped on the screen. “I’m currently at this address,” I started typing, then deleted it. “I might lose my licence over this” Delete again. “It would be nice…” NO! Backspace. “The spare keys to my flat are in the geranium pot—” I was tapping backspace again.

Finally, I only wrote,“I’m sorry.”

Not like it mattered.

The text couldn’t be delivered without phone reception. It was probably for the best.

I scrunched up my sandwich wrapper and tossed it to the far end of the table, where it bumped into another two scrunched up paper balls next to my notebook. Why was there so much rubbish?! Fine, I would make a note about that too. I snapped a photo and grabbed the notebook. But where did I put my pen? Patting my pocket and I found it—and the notebook. I was not able to swallow the last bite inside my mouth. My heart drumming inside my chest, I pulled out the notebook.

It was mine.

They both were…

Identical.

Drawing the air in too sharply, I coughed, choking on that last bite of my sandwich. I flicked through the pages.

The same handwriting.

The same words.

The. Same. Creases!

My fingers raked through my hair as I stared at them. Impossible. Was I going mad?

With my heartbeat drumming in my ears and my breaths quick and shallow, I grew aware of a noise other than my anxious panting. A noise that was coming from outside, but was not of the forest. Behind the veil of raindrops hitting the roof and the ground, a scratching sound, like small stones in the earth grinding on metal alternated with heavy thumps.

Slurring a quick prayer for all the gods out there, I grabbed my phone and snuck out into the night. Behind the cabin, I could just make out the silhouette of a man, working, the ground lit by the weak light of his cellphone.

My dad was a gardener.

I should have recognised the sound of digging with a shovel.

‘Excuse me?’ I took a step forward, but tripped over something heavy and somewhat soft, like an animal. I scraped my hands in the muddy gravel, and feeling for my phone on the ground, I grabbed it and shone its bluish light onto what tripped me up.

A dead man.

Wearing my face.

The sound of digging stopped, and the man with the shovel climbed out of the grave. My breath hitched as he limped towards me and I scrambled onto my feet.

He had my clothes. He had my body. He, too, wore my face.

Another me.

I grabbed the first thing on hand, a big branch, and flung it towards the monster. In the movies I had seen, all it took was one blow—But he only stumbled. The branch, slick with rain, slipped from my grasp as he raised the shovel, and shoved it deep into the ground between us. The metal sliced into the ground, through my shoe, skin and ligaments and bones, severing my foot. The creature in my shape stared at me with a face of terror, wide eyes and flared nostrils, knowing one visceral truth: in one world, there was no space for two of us. Screaming, I gripped the handle of the shovel and fought, like my life depended on it. It did.

I wished it wasn’t so much like me, that thing—just as scared, and just as much in pain. Clinging to life the same as I. A dying me. It locked eyes with me in agony, screaming in my voice as I pushed him against a tree and jabbed the shovel into his abdomen. I felt it catch on his spine, watched the light go slowly out the eyes mirroring my own. Staggering back, I collapsed onto the ground. In shock and high on adrenaline rather than relieved, with my head spinning, I could only process one thought. I was the one left standing. Alive.

Digging a grave for two, I half expected the dead creatures to get back up and grab at my ankle. Still, I kept shovelling. Still, I stood my ground.

I’ll leave this place, at the first light of day. Go to the hospital. Text Brad, I promised myself, no longer caring if I got sued or lost my licence. All I wanted was to get out of here and into a warm embrace.

Trembling, I tightened the makeshift bandage around what was left of my foot, and, once I could breathe again, checked the time on my phone. The numbers changed as I watched - from 01:00 back to 00:04. Just past midnight again? I furrowed my brows. It had to be the blood loss, the pain and shock, playing tricks on my mind. I continued digging, half aware of the noise of a passing car. I forgot about it. Clenched my jaw. Dug.

Then, like I was on the wrong side of a memory, I saw my fate clear in the choking dark, as footsteps approached, a light shone onto me and I heard my voice from another mouth.

‘Excuse me–’