Nightmare in Clonee

ANONYMOUS MOVING IMAGES FAIR USE

Iam jolts awake, a young girls desperate plea echoing in his ears. Kathleen. The name comes to him, though he doesn't know how. The dream feels intensely real, her face etched in his memory. He sits up in bed, disoriented, a sense of dread settling over him. She's being stalked. The thought is a cold, sharp blade. "Why did she call out to me?" He knows he needs to find answers, even if it means venturing into the unsettling reality. He glances at the empty space beside him, the usual comfort of his mask absent. Without it, he feels exposed, vulnerable. The morning light filtering through his window feels less like a new day and more like a warning.

Then, a soft but insistent knock at the door. Iam freezes, his heart pounds. He slowly, cautiously, gets out of bed. Every instinct screams at him to don his mask, to become the anonymous filmmaker, but it lies inert on his nightstand. He reaches the door, takes a deep breath, and pulls it open.

And there she is. Kathleen. Her eyes, wide and terrified, lock onto his. Her hair is disheveled, her clothes rumpled, as if she's been running. "Iam," she whispers, her voice hoarse, "You have to help me."

written by ANONYMOUS

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