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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Mystery
- Subject: Horror / Scary
- Published: 06/07/2014
Cloned
Born 1954, M, from Southampton, United KingdomLife had gone on without incident for as long as I could remember; I considered my life to be inordinately dull and routine. I have to qualify this by mentioning the time, oft repeated to friends, when I checked into a flight to Paris.
It was a couple of years ago now; just a week away, to visit the art galleries and take in a few tourist sites. I had presented my documents to the check in lady who was quite resplendent in a gold and crimson uniform. It wasn't really a flight of course, more a transference of atoms, but we still used the old words.
She asked my name. As usual it was Ian Helterman, so why the frown on receiving this information?
"Yes," I replied.
As I retrieved my passport I caught my finger on the steel beading of the desk.
"Oh ... it doesn't matter of course," she went on. "It's just that we're having another Ian Helterman through the desk today."
As well as shock there was satisfaction and excitement that I was not alone. I couldn't remember my childhood; some sort of trauma was the reason for this. I must have been adopted and that was an end to it.
Today that incident was troubling me; the name of the man about to enter my office was also Ian Helterman and his C.V. stated that he was a fifty year old certified accountant. so was I.
I looked at my hands and fingered with the cist.
The door was opened quite slowly, the head showing before the rest of his body.
He walked across the floor and I held out my hand.
"Have you ever been to Paris?" I asked.
@
Cloned(Neil Hotson)
Life had gone on without incident for as long as I could remember; I considered my life to be inordinately dull and routine. I have to qualify this by mentioning the time, oft repeated to friends, when I checked into a flight to Paris.
It was a couple of years ago now; just a week away, to visit the art galleries and take in a few tourist sites. I had presented my documents to the check in lady who was quite resplendent in a gold and crimson uniform. It wasn't really a flight of course, more a transference of atoms, but we still used the old words.
She asked my name. As usual it was Ian Helterman, so why the frown on receiving this information?
"Yes," I replied.
As I retrieved my passport I caught my finger on the steel beading of the desk.
"Oh ... it doesn't matter of course," she went on. "It's just that we're having another Ian Helterman through the desk today."
As well as shock there was satisfaction and excitement that I was not alone. I couldn't remember my childhood; some sort of trauma was the reason for this. I must have been adopted and that was an end to it.
Today that incident was troubling me; the name of the man about to enter my office was also Ian Helterman and his C.V. stated that he was a fifty year old certified accountant. so was I.
I looked at my hands and fingered with the cist.
The door was opened quite slowly, the head showing before the rest of his body.
He walked across the floor and I held out my hand.
"Have you ever been to Paris?" I asked.
@
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