Writing Prompt

The clicking of the computer keyboard is sending shivers down my spine as I witness a clone of myself sitting in my soft,white chair. The stranger’s head slowly lifts up and twitches, water cascaded down my legs as the clone stares deeply into my soul. “Who are you?” I question curiously

“I’m Serena! Who are you because we look like each other?” The clone innocently says.

My h...

As I walked up to my cubicle, I saw it had already been filled with someone else. At first I questioned if it was really my space. I looked at the shiny black name plate, definitely my name. I took a quick glance at the cubical walls with the photos of my family, definitely my family. And then finally I glanced at the person occupying the desk, the man looked exactly like me, even down to our clot...

She’s at my window. She knows I can’t come out. This makes it all the more annoying.

I open my window. “Claira,” I start, “you know just how well this places’ security is. You can’t just walk up to the window and say ‘Hey, let this idiot out of the room.’ That’s not how scientific research facilities work.”

“What kind of research are they even doing? It seems like they’re torturing you or someth...

When I opened the door, he was there. He looked up for a moment, smiled, waved, and then went back to studying the screen.

I stopped back out. The sign next to the door still had my name on it. I reopened the door.

"Excuse me," I said. "I think you might be in the wrong office."

"Passive language," the man said. "We can't have that."

He said this to me as he continued to study the screen, on...

(This is a sequel to "What's with the Torch?" and "Torch the Fucking Place!")

The moment I entered my office, I knew something was wrong. I’d normally be greeted by the solemn nod of the head, or the always welcoming "good morning." But today I was greeted by frowns with the pulling back of one's head. That and mumbling from under one's breath. I initially thought there was something wrong w...

“I think you’re in the wrong…” the rest of my sentence dies in my throat.

Because the person sitting at my desk is ME.

I open and close my mouth in quick succession, still hardly believing what I’m seeing. “What’s happening? This is my-“

“My office, Charlie,” the other me says tiredly, “now, believe it or not, I’m trying to work.”

I set my briefcase beside the door, only to see an identical ...

Somehow I managed not to drop my coffee, and instead just stared, slack-jawed, at the woman sitting at my desk. She was me. She was absolutely me. I spend a lot more time than I probably should thinking about how I look to other people, and there she was - long dark hair, pale hands tapping away at the keyboard, brow furrowed and chapped lips pursed as she focuses on her reply to one of the many e...

“Anything good?” I asked and took a sip of coffee.

Other me sighed and rubbed her eyes.

“If I have to type ‘per my previous email’ one more time I might actually go find these people and hit them.”

It was a good thing I worked from home, or else two of me might be alarming.

“We both know you wouldn’t do anything like that.” The other me was always so timid, too afraid of confrontation. It was...

Creak. Click. Hiss. The floor. The key fob. The door. Welcoming hubbub suddenly dissipates into an eerie suspension of silence. Wide eyes stare. Collars shifted uneasily. Shoes scratched anxiously at the loose carpet fibres. A low cough split the tense atmosphere. The simple sound wove itself craftily into the fabric of time, adding an extra dimension.

Unable to stand the unspoken accusation of...

Cornelia walked to her office slowly, weighed down by Monday blues after a fun weekend with her family. She ran into her assistant, Walter.

“Ah, good morning, Walter!” She smiled at the thin, nervous man in front of her. “Hope you had a nice weekend. Just want a quick update on the Lopez contract, and then you can get me my espresso, with one spoon of sugar and... two, shots of cream. I’m feelin...