Intro
THE SUN HAD NOT yet peeked over the horizon of the urban cityscape, and the usual bustle of the Toronto streets was dulled to a placid tranquil, it’s overcrowded populous still waking from slumber. A dim glow—a mixture of pink and orange hue stained every surface and structure, organic and man-made alike, as though the morning had yet to decide. The trees were still bare from a long winter’s chill. While millions of Torontonians slept in their beds, caffeinated themselves alert, or hurried out their doors, a lone woman huffed with steadied breath as she jogged along the Don River trail. Running was not part of her morning routine, as one might expect by the early hour, but rather a means to clear a troubled mind and calm her wayward thoughts.
Chelsea had been having trouble sleeping as of late, her dreams filled with visions of torment—unspeakable atrocities she wouldn’t dare speak aloud, and could not shake if her life depended on it. Amongst a medley of hazed memories—twisted fragments of an all but forgotten war like pieces of an opaque puzzle that could potentially fit together if she could only focus, but only one vision seemed to stand out to near perfection. She remembered the Dark Man all too well, his shadowy figure silently lurking over every dream with great interest, as though studying her every traumatic reaction, his evil glare masked by the shade of his campaign hat, watching . . . always watching.
Weekly sessions with her psychologist had yielded little results, and prescription medication was still in the experimental stages. No chemical concoction could remedy her nightly visions, and most attempts would only make the night terrors significantly more vivid and frighteningly more frequent.
“When the body suffers, the spirit flourishes.” she would often recite like a sour prayer—a means to push herself past the thresholds of her physical and mental capacities. This common phrase from her childhood had never left her; branded on her very soul, it seemed. When all encouragement seemed out of reach or generally inadequate, it was her father’s disciplinary lessons that somehow remained, the words tattooed in bitter ink behind her eyelids, when the worst of challenges arose in her adult life. It was a last resort of a desperate woman. Though her dad had perished years prior, every stride felt like a punishment—every burning muscle or aching joint like a leather belt clapped against reddened flesh. A subconscious guilt weighed down her conscience, her pain somehow justified for some unknown crime, lost in the haze of a conflicted and faulty memory. And so, she would attempt to sweat her demons out, hopeful that physical exertion couldn’t possibly worsen whatever was happening to her.
She wasn’t sure just how long she could keep it up; the restless nights, consistently wired on caffeine during the day. How many times would she be caught drifting off in the studio, her band mates growing all the more impatient with her obvious lack of focus? At what point would she be dismissed for not making yet another deadline or rehearsal? Chelsea was in the music business, a rising star on the main stage of the entertainment industry, but that dream was quickly losing its momentum with each passing day—every missed gig or failure to remain alert during regular recording sessions.
The shift had come rather abruptly, and almost supernatural in nature. Out of nowhere, a lifetime of devout passion—such a fierce love of music and pursuit of success now seemed like a fleeting memory, her dreams slipping from her grasp with each passing day. Singing and performing was her life, and had been since childhood, but lately, the mere sight of a microphone sickened her. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, and with every breathy stride along the Don River jogging path, Chelsea wondered what would happen if she just kept running and never looked back.
She maintained a steady rhythm as the soles of her runners tapped lightly along the asphalt trail, muffled by the sound of hard metal blaring her latest sample track; a work in progress. The hard distortion and quick-footed double kick pedals were the cleanest and tightest her band mates had ever managed, but the vocals were sub-par, not nearly as crisp or perfect as they once were. This was a depressing thought, seeing just how far she had come—how hard she had pushed for so many years. She was losing her drive, there was no denying.
A thick sweat suit and constant movement kept her warm in the last stretch of the winter season, her long, black hair freshly dyed from her natural chestnut hue and tied into a messy bun atop her head. Jog turned stride—a speed-walking pace as she checked the step counter on her wrist, and noted the time. She counted the hours in her head until the scheduled rehearsal later that morning, reasoning that if she got home within the hour, a few hours of uninterrupted sleep might be possible, now that her body had exerted enough energy to grow tired.
A high-pitched note could be heard cracking her vocals through the ear buds.
‘Damn-it!’ she changed the track with a bitter groan, pressing hard on the touch screen—any harder and it would have surely cracked. ‘Motherfu—’ the silence between songs had allowed for a sound she had not expected; a slight whimpering that seized her pace to a halt. The acoustic intro to the next song was paused as she listened, her tired eyes roaming about for the source. It was an animal of sorts, she was positive—more than a whimper, but now the low yelp of a wounded beast from behind the brush of winter greenery that lined the trail on one side. The gentle but steady flow of the river which paralleled the jogging path was all she could hear as her emerald eyes shifted about the area. Her brow crinkled, expecting a sickly animal or possibly a homeless person, as the less fortunate would sometimes occupy the urban trails.
‘Hello?’ she called out, but there was no response. Chelsea shrugged her shoulders and turned her attention back to the trail, deciding that she hadn’t the time to dawdle. She barely took a single stride when she heard it again, much louder and clearer than before, a low growl lurking somewhere unseen in the shadows. An eerie sensation churned her gut and lifted the hair on the back of her sweaty neck. There were eyes upon her; she was never more certain—ravenous eyes of want and primal intent.
The numbers on her digital watch turned red, warning of a rapidly increasing pulse, but she walked nonchalant and casual. It was this moment that Chelsea realized just how alone she truly was. In an overcrowded city, teeming with life—at least most of the time—there was not another soul to be seen at this hour. Suddenly, an early-morning setting once thought tranquil and peaceful would double as prime hunting ground for a predator, a thought that had escaped her until now.
Gulping nervously, she picked up the pace a bit at a time, senses on high alert, certain that someone or something was following her, though she dare not look back. As the soles of her running shoes tapped quicker over the pavement, Chelsea tried not to think of the what-if scenarios—the countless stories she had read about in news articles about abductions or assaults in urban areas. The more fear built in her mind the faster her feet moved, the sound of quickened steps gaining on her from behind fueling the compulsion to cry out for help. Just when she felt the approach mere feet away she turned, arms and legs braced for a fight as she screamed into the darkness.
‘Leave me alone!’
Short of breath, heart racing more than a mere jog could produce, wide and panicked eyes glared into the dim but empty trail. She backed away slowly, cautiously under the flickering light of a trail-side lamp post, but it too would betray her, equally unreliable as her own sight. There was something there, she was never more sure—something invisible to the eye, as though a ghost had been stalking her. This was no mere phantom, however, as Chelsea had been around enough creeps in her career—played enough dive bars to know the vile glare of perverted—even malicious intent.
‘Hello?’ she called out again, but only the flow of the river and her quickened breath could be heard, joined by the occasional distant rumble of an accelerating engine from above. A foreboding sense of dread seized her lungs as a thick fog rolled in from all directions like misty walls closing in around her, as though a pack of ethereal wolves surrounded their prey. In that moment, she had never felt more isolated or alone—vulnerable and exposed. Within a population of millions, there were only two that mattered, but only one could be seen. She was being hunted, but her predator lurked behind an invisible veil, watching and waiting.
As the light flickered out completely, a looming darkness settled with the fog, and clammy fingers gripped a tiny canister of dog mace in her zip-up jogging sweater. She held it out at arm’s length, ready to engage with the slightest of visual movement.
‘D-don’t c-come near me!’ the words tumbled off her tongue, terror catching her voice. Eyes sharp as a hawk, she lifted her device to her lips. ‘Call Meredith,’ Chelsea spoke clearly, engaging the voice command. Before the line began to ring, however, there was an instant regret. She could have called the police—or perhaps should have, but for some impulsive reason beyond her comprehension, her sister was the first to come to mind, and she was hours away. The ringing continued as she stood in the foggy darkness, feeling the sense of dread envelope all around, but her sister didn’t pick up—most likely still sleeping at such an early hour, she reasoned. ‘Come on, pick up, damn it.’
There seemed no sign of movement, no snapping of twigs or shuffle of snow, yet the growling grew in bass, and the abstract creature she pictured in her head grew in mass by the second, though there was nothing physically there. The ringing stopped, and her sister’s voicemail beep ended the call.
‘Look, whoever you are. . . I just want to go home,’ she gulped, not wanting to hear or see a response of any kind.
Was she losing her mind?
Had the lack of sleep and fatigue finally caught up to her?
‘Pull yourself together, Chels,’ she tried to catch her breath, her eyes lowering as she questioned her sanity. ‘Damn meds.’ Widened eyes surveyed the space, convincing herself that she had imagined the ominous presence. ‘It’s gotta be the meds.’
The very thought of turning from the brush felt like lowering eyes to an enemy, and every morsel of her being protested, but she couldn’t just stand there any longer. Chelsea’s cheek had barely turned when her feet stumbled back, fear wedged down her throat in a flash. A blood-curdling scream echoed through the fog and into the morning air, every bird from blocks away flapping from their urban crevices as she locked eyes with an unsettling and unworldly sight.
A lone dark figure stood but feet from her.
The twisted woman was made visible by the glow of pale, glistening flesh, steaming in the cold, bitter air. Soaking wet hair, long, frosted and untamed covered one eye, but the identity was unmistakable, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Chelsea herself. Her heart pounded out of control, pulse racing as she glared into her own naked flesh standing eerily still in the haze.
Chelsea cautiously stretched to her feet, fighting the urge to run as fast as her feet could carry her, yet not daring to take her eyes off the strange anomaly—the doppelganger in the fog.
‘Who . . . wh-what are you?’ only a slight twitch of her neck replied—an erratic flinch that accompanied the sound of cracking of bones. She dared not approach, keeping her distance and gripping her mace tight as she glared at the haunting sight. It was like looking into a hellish mirror, questionably inhuman as the same visible breath that pushed from her lungs could not be seen from the replica’s frigid-blue lips.
It wasn’t breathing.
‘Wh-what do you w-want?’ again, the response was movement, which startled her. Buckling knees backed away as the twisted doppelganger lowered its brow, a wide and unblinking gaze locking onto her, lacking her usual emerald hue and replaced by a dense, charcoal iris.
’P-please leave me al-lone—’ Chelsea let slip from her quivering throat, but paused as the doppelganger moved its jaw in unison, seemingly matching up her words almost robotically. Whatever it’s purpose, the strange creature seemed to be trying to sync the unique pitch of her voice. Its face tilted, black eyes observing her every human move.
‘I’m calling the police.’
‘I’m calling the police.’ it repeated, raising an invisible smart watch and commanding a non-existent phone call, but the true screen on Chelsea’s wrist went black before any call could be placed.
She lowered her wrist slowly, jaw dangling and eyes locked on the creature, accepting that any attempt to call for help was futile.
‘Just let me go,’
‘Just let me go.’
‘Stop that.’
‘Stop that.’
Its eerie gaze would not be moved, as though studying her likeness in every aspect. The stranger looked exactly like her, the form and voice impossible to mistake—every blemish, freckle and birthmark exactly where they should be.
’Please . . . j-just go away.’ she pleaded, but the copy just repeated her words and actions in unison, somehow knowing exactly what she was going to say—every slight facial movement as though the two were ethereally linked.
‘LEAVE ME ALONE!’ she screamed desperately, but the stranger did not repeat her words this time. Its head tilted slowly to the side, jaw dropping even lower as though the attempt to mimic the scream had caused its body to malfunction. An oily black substance leaked from its frozen lips, onto her bare breasts and her wide, feminine hips.
All went eerily silent, as though they were trapped in the eye of a tornado. The rush of the river somehow muffled, and the distant sounds of the early morning metropolis were gone.
It was a disturbing sight; a scene straight out of her nightmares. The doppelganger’s eyes were wide and stared blankly into the low glow of the morning sky, completely still as though someone had pressed a pause button on her vessel.
“Could I simply walk around it?” she wondered as clouds of rapid breath steamed from her mouth, hoping this encounter to be just another story to tell her psychologist and nothing more.
Shaking, body quivering and heart racing, Chelsea stepped wide around the frozen figure, keeping her gaze on the eerie figure. The asphalt trail at her rear, she turned at the heel, stepping backward one small stride in reverse at a time, unwilling to pull her eyes away until she was at a safe distance.
‘What in God’s name are you?’ she asked, a breathy tone ripe with terror, but it did not respond, nor did it move in the slightest. Ten feet, she felt better; twenty, uncertain tears streamed from her cold cheeks, accepting that she would have to make a break for it; thirty, she was ready to turn from the creature and bolt as fast as her feet could carry her. As comfortable as she could be, Chelsea finally turned her back, ready to flee for her life, but as the shoes of her feet brushed the asphalt trail, there it stood, nose-to-nose.
A scream pushed through the air as she caught sight of the sickening woman, frozen stiff in the exact position before she had turned her back. She scrambled and stumbled onto the asphalt, and as Chelsea looked up, blackened eyes eerily rolled independent, then locked on its victim with a gut wrenching grin—a smile reserved for the deepest crevices of Hell. Fingers cracked and shifted into claws, teeth grew sharp as its stare turned demonic and vile, thirsty and hateful. Fear froze her every muscle, locked her eyes open as urine trickled down her thigh, and a muffled scream refused to burst forth.
An inhuman roar echoed from the beastly woman’s dripping throat as claws gripped the pavement, and the creature leaped forth. Flesh ripped and tore, blood spraying the snow as screams turned to gargled quivers, then muffled to silence. The rushing river barely masked the snapping of bones, the wretched stretching of tendons ripping from opened flesh, and Chelsea’s emerald eyes glared into the morning sky, lost in oblivion. As the darkness hid from the coming light that slowly crept across the city, so did it take her into its depths, never to see the light of another day.
