If The Price Sounds Too Good To Be True, Then It Is Too Good To Be True. I Learned That The Hard Way.

The door opened and I didn’t even think. I just ran. I ran all the way to my apartment and quickly unlocked the door then locked it behind me. I backed away from my door, pistol still in my hand. I was sweating and could barely breathe. Just as I backed into the living room, I heard a loud thud on the window behind me. I spun around, aiming my 1911 at my patio windows. There was nothing there. Not on my patio, at least. But across the street, there I was. And not just one of me, this time. There were three of me. One in every window of every room in the condo across the way. And the condo no longer looked kind of like mine, it was now an exact copy. The only thing missing was a confused and scared me, holding a pistol and staring out at myself.

The me in the bedroom was precariously standing on a chair, his neck attached to a rope, the rope attached to the ceiling fan. He stepped off the chair and I saw his neck snap. His hands and feet started to shake and his body began to convulse. The me in the living room was being beaten to death by a man in all black with a ski-mask and a metal baseball bat. Each blow sent little clouds of red into the air, and I could see a big fucking grin through the ski-mask mouth hole. The me in the kitchen was getting ripped to damn shreds by three big dogs. Attacked by god damn dogs. Why the fuck is this happening to me? That’s all I could think as I watched myself die three times at once.

Then the lights in the condo across the street all went out at once. It was pitch black over there again. After a few seconds, my cell phone began to ring loudly. I never have that thing off vibrate. Before I could even pull it out of my pocket, my home phone started to ring loudly as well. Then my microwave timer began to sound. My TV and radio both turned on to very noisy programs at full volume. My alarm clock beeped piercingly from my room. The stampede of sounds began to work my eardrums over, and I felt like my head was going to split in half.

“Stop it, you mother fuckers! Leave me alone!” I shouted, waving my gun around as though there were anyone to shoot or scare.

And right then, everything stopped. The TV and radio turned off, the phones stopped ringing, and everything else in the condo fell silent. Even I held my breath a little, making no noise, waiting for the next wave. Then, I heard the first one. A light scratching sound on the glass behind me. Then another scratch joined the first. Then another, and another. I slowly turned around, so afraid at the thought of what was on my patio and how it’d gotten there. Then I saw them. At least a dozen dead versions of me, scratching at the glass. There was a me covered in burned flesh, and another with a metal pipe right through his chest. One of them bled from bullet holes over most of his body. Another had a huge chunk of flesh ripped from his stomach and neck, as though he’d been half eaten by something. And all of them were scratching at the windows of my patio with rolled back eyes and gaping but silent mouths. Just standing there, telling me I was soon to join them with their blank, lifeless eyes.

I was so fucking scared out of my mind, I nearly emptied my clip at them. The only thing that stopped me, was the thought that breaking the glass would let them in. Instead, I pointed my gun and shouted at them to just go away and leave me alone. I could feel my throat start to burn, I yelled so loud and hard. And then, just like that, they were gone. It’s not as though they even disappeared, they were just one. I blinked and my patio was empty. And thank god the scratching sound was gone.

I’m at the end of my rope. I don’t know if I can keep taking this. And now I don’t even know if I can leave my apartment. It’s out there… whatever “it” is.