Dark Writes

Today’s excerpt comes from something new in the works. Without giving too much away, let’s just say Ashley is incorrect in her assessment of what the ‘other’ girl on the stage is. Keep following for more excerpts and notification of when my second novella – Betterme – will be released.

The office was empty by the time she decided to call it a day. Martin had taken off before five, as per usual, laughing on the phone to his wife. Ashley despised the man, sitting in his lavish office all day schmoozing clients on the phone. A day of real work would probably kill him.

Emerging from the dimly lit office building onto the high street was bewilderingly disorientating. The bright Christmas lights draped between the buildings strobed and twinkled, their garish glare made double with their reflection on the wet road below. Although it was nearly seven, late-night shoppers and early-evening drinkers crowded the street, all woolly hats and cosy scarves, their breath making puffs of white in the chilly air.

Rosy-cheeked couples pushed past, arm in arm, grinning stupidly at each other. The flamboyant pink Christmas tree in the department store opposite screamed out of the window, flamingo-shaped lights flashing on its plastic branches. Over the babble of voices, the evening air carried with it the unmistakable melody of Slade’s Merry Xmas Everybody; Ashley must have heard it twenty times already this year. She bloody well knows iiits Chriiistmaaas and doesn’t need reminding again.

Tutting to herself, she heaved her bag higher on her shoulder and set off through the drizzle to the train station. A little way up the street, a man was selling roast chestnuts from a stand. She’d tried them before – they were grim – but they smelled divine. Her stomach rumbled. She hoped Dan had sorted out something for tea. 

The station concourse was busier than ever; workers rushing for trains, mums herding flocks of children, old people shuffling and peering at information boards. But a particularly large crowd had formed in an open area just in front of WH Smith, a big huddle of people all straining to look at something. A woman was saying something over a tannoy.

Ashley checked her watch. She had ten minutes to get the train, in theory long enough to grab a snack, but given the crowds and the fact her departure was ten platforms down, she ignored her stomach and pushed on through the masses. As she drew level with the clump of people, the amplified voice started to become audible.

“…and can do everything you can do either as well as you or better!…”

A sharp beep made her jump, and she turned to see the station mobility car attempting to transport a disabled man and his carer through the throngs. She shuffled out of the way and waited for it to pass. 

“…so you can enjoy life instead of being stuck with all the work…”

As she resumed her position in the flow of human traffic, Ashley glanced across to where the crowd had gathered. Through the rows of heads, she saw a woman, around her age, wearing a headset microphone. She was talking animatedly, her hands moving to drive home her words; her perfect teeth flashed out of her smiling mouth as she spoke.

“Nice to be that confident,” Ashley muttered, and was turning away when something made her do a double take. The confident woman had a twin! Up on the platform with her, standing politely to one side, was an identical replica of her, even down to the pink satin shirt.

“She’s the ultimate Christmas present – to yourself!” the woman was saying. The crowd began to clap. The twin took a step forward and smiled. Ashley stopped in her tracks.

“For God’s sake,” complained a man as he stumbled into her. But Ashley wasn’t listening. She stood, frozen, her mouth hanging open, as it dawned on her what was going on. The second woman wasn’t a twin at all. She was a clone.