Prologue

Emily arched her back, letting out a small groan. She had been hunched over her keyboard since the sun poked its head over the horizon that morning, making her stiff and sore. When things went well, she could churn out a few pages in a matter of hours, leaving the rest of the day for her to do as she pleased. 

Today, things were not going well. 

Shaking her head, Emily picked up her favorite coffee cup, the one with the black chaos symbol on the side that she had bought in New York City, and took a taste test. The coffee had long since grown cold.

“Time for a refill,” she mumbled. Even if it was of no consequence, she often talked to herself. Idle self-chatter often helped fill the void. 

Her last book had made a fair amount of money, more than everything else she had written. But even a sizable advance didn't last forever and Emily had again found herself back in the land of Ramen noodles and Taco Bell.  Hopefully, this new one would do at least as well as the last and she would be financially savvy enough to put some money aside, unlike last time.          

“Probably not though,” Emily uttered, shaking her head as she made her way to the kitchen and the cheap coffee pot she had since college. She was topping her cup off when she heard a small sound from the front door. 

At first, she wasn't sure that she heard anything at all.  Pink Floyd's The Piper at the Gates of Dawn was playing at maximum volume from her computer's speakers. The noise could have easily been some odd sound effect she had never noticed before. She smiled and had all but dismissed the noise when it happened again. 

Someone was in her house. 

Emily didn't write horror novels, but the realm of horror and magical realism crossed over more than a lot of people in the industry let on, so she was somewhat aware of the tropes, aware enough at least to not shout out “who's there?” like some airhead soon-to-be victim. Instead, she picked up one of her kitchen knives and slowly, cautiously, made her way toward the front door. 

What Emily Diamond saw at the door made her drop her knife, the weapon falling uselessly and soundlessly to the carpet below. Her eyes grew wide while she took a reflexive step backward, no longer thinking at all.  

She looks just like me...

“Hello,” The intruder said, in Emily's voice.