Pieces of the puzzle
Lara sat cross-legged on the worn carpet, the photograph lying on the table before her like a taunt. She stared at the unfamiliar faces, her mind grappling with the absurdity of it all. How could there be a picture of her—smiling, happy—with people she'd never met in a place she didn't recognize? The longer she looked, the more the image unsettled her.
The woman on her right seemed almost too perfect. Her face was symmetrical, her features sharp but generic, like a character in a dream you barely remembered. The two men were similarly vague, their smiles too broad, their postures too stiff. None of it felt real.
Lara flipped the photograph over again, scrutinizing the handwriting on the back. August 13, 2020. That date meant nothing to her—no significant event, no memory to tether it to. The ink smelled faintly fresh, as though it had been written recently.
Something about the photograph felt wrong in more than just its existence. The edges of the picture curled slightly, as though it had been exposed to heat. The more she touched it, the more her skin prickled, a faint buzzing sensation creeping up her arm.
Frustrated, Lara grabbed a magnifying glass from her desk drawer. She held it over the image, scanning for any details that might give her a clue. Her breath caught when she noticed something she hadn't seen before.
In the background, beneath the branches of one of the willow trees, stood a figure. It was blurry, almost imperceptible, but undeniably there—a tall silhouette cloaked in shadow. The figure's head tilted unnaturally, and even though its face was indistinct, Lara felt it staring directly at her.
A sharp knock at the door jolted her from her thoughts.
She opened the door to find Victor, holding a steaming mug. "Thought you might need this," he said, handing it to her. "Chamomile. Helps with the nerves."
Lara smiled faintly, grateful for the gesture. "Thanks. You didn't have to."
Victor leaned against the doorframe, his eyes scanning her apartment. "I didn't mean to pry earlier, but… you seem shaken up. Did something happen?"
Lara hesitated. Trusting Victor felt natural—he had always been kind, always grounded—but the photograph and the reflection felt too bizarre to explain without sounding unhinged.
"It's nothing, really," she said finally, cradling the mug. "Just… one of those days."
Victor nodded, though his brow furrowed with concern. "Well, if you need anything…"
"Thanks," Lara replied, and before she could stop herself, she added, "Actually, have you ever noticed anything strange about this building? Or the people in it?"
Victor blinked. "Strange how?"
"I don't know," Lara said quickly, backpedaling. "Forget I asked."
Victor opened his mouth to say more but was interrupted by the sharp clack of heels against the hallway floor. Margot appeared, her green eyes glinting with curiosity.
"Am I interrupting?" she asked, her lips curling into a faint smile.
"No," Lara said, stepping aside.
Margot's gaze flicked to the photograph still lying on the table. "Interesting picture," she remarked. "Is it new?"
Lara froze. "No," she said slowly. "I found it here. Do you… recognize anyone in it?"
Margot stepped closer, peering at the photograph with unsettling intensity. Her expression remained neutral, but something in her eyes darkened. "No," she said after a moment, though her tone was less than convincing. "Where did you say you found it?"
"It was just here," Lara replied, her voice tightening.
Margot straightened, her smile returning. "Curious. Well, if you want my advice, I'd get rid of it. Sometimes objects like that… carry things with them."
"Carry what?" Lara asked, but Margot only smiled enigmatically and left without another word.
Victor lingered for a moment before following her. "Take care of yourself, Lara," he said softly.
Alone again, Lara returned to the photograph, Margot's words echoing in her mind. Objects like that… carry things with them. She felt a surge of defiance. She wasn't going to throw it away—not until she understood what it meant.
Grabbing her phone, Lara snapped a picture of the photo, intending to reverse-search the location. As she reviewed the image on her screen, her stomach dropped.
The figure beneath the willow tree wasn't blurry anymore.
Its head had tilted further, its shoulders hunched unnaturally. The shadow seemed to extend outward, tendrils of darkness reaching toward the people in the photo.
Lara's pulse quickened. She flipped the physical photograph over again, hoping for some hidden writing, and gasped.
Beneath the date, faint words had appeared, scrawled in the same handwriting:
"Don't look too closely."
The phone in her hand buzzed, the sound sharp and jarring. A text message flashed on the screen, from an unknown number:
"Stop."
---
Lara stood at Margot's door, hesitating as she raised her fist to knock. The photograph burned a hole in her pocket, the weight of its mystery gnawing at her nerves. Margot had been cryptic earlier, her words vague but unsettling. Objects like that… carry things with them. Lara needed answers, and she had a feeling Margot had more to say than she let on.
Before she could knock, the door swung open. Margot stood in the doorway, her emerald-green eyes locked onto Lara as though she had been expecting her.
"Changed your mind, didn't you?" Margot said smoothly, stepping aside to let her in.
The apartment was immaculate, as always, but it felt colder than Lara remembered. Everything was arranged with unnerving precision—the velvet couch perfectly centered, books lined up by height on a glass shelf, and a single orchid blooming on the windowsill.
"Tea?" Margot offered, gesturing toward a porcelain set already prepared on the coffee table.
"No," Lara said quickly, her voice sharper than she intended. "I need to know what you meant earlier. About the photograph."
Margot tilted her head, her expression unreadable. "Sit," she said, her tone brooking no argument.
Lara reluctantly sank into the plush armchair across from Margot, pulling the photograph from her pocket and placing it on the table between them. Margot's gaze flicked to it, her lips pressing into a thin line.
"It's not just a photograph, is it?" Lara asked, her voice trembling.
"No," Margot replied softly, her fingers brushing against the edges of the frame. "It's a tether."
"A tether to what?"
"To a memory that doesn't belong to you," Margot said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Or at least, not entirely."
Lara's stomach twisted. "What does that even mean? How could I be in a place I've never been, with people I've never met?"
Margot leaned back, her gaze sharpening. "This city… it isn't what you think it is. It's not entirely real, not in the way you understand reality. There are layers, reflections. And sometimes, those reflections leak through."
Lara shook her head. "You're not making any sense."
Margot's expression softened, and for the first time, Lara saw something almost vulnerable in her. "I know it's hard to believe, but think about it. Haven't you noticed things shifting? People repeating themselves? Shadows that don't quite align with the light?"
"I have," Lara admitted. "But—"
Margot cut her off. "The photograph is a crack, a fracture in the mirror. It's showing you something you're not supposed to see."
Lara's hands clenched into fists. "Then what do I do? Burn it? Destroy it?"
Margot's eyes darkened. "No. Destroying it won't help. If anything, it might make things worse. The tether exists for a reason. You need to follow it."
"Follow it where?"
Margot hesitated, her gaze flickering to the photograph again. "Do you see the figure in the background?"
"Yes," Lara said, her voice barely a whisper.
"It's waiting for you," Margot said, her tone grim. "And if you don't find it first, it will find you."
Before Lara could respond, the lights in the apartment flickered. Margot stiffened, her head snapping toward the window.
"It's starting," Margot said under her breath.
"What's starting?" Lara asked, panic creeping into her voice.
Margot stood abruptly, pulling a velvet curtain across the window. "You need to leave. Now."
"But I—"
"No!" Margot snapped, her calm demeanor cracking for the first time. "You don't understand. If you stay here, it will follow you here. Go back to your apartment, lock the door, and don't open it for anyone."
Lara staggered to her feet, clutching the photograph tightly. "Margot, what are you talking about? What's coming?"
Margot grabbed her by the shoulders, her nails digging into Lara's skin. "You've already invited it in, Lara. You need to be ready."
"Ready for what?"
But Margot didn't answer. She shoved Lara toward the door, slamming it shut behind her.
Lara ran down the hallway, her heart pounding in her chest. The shadows seemed to stretch and twist around her as she fumbled with her keys, finally unlocking her door and slamming it shut behind her.
Her apartment was eerily quiet, the air thick with an oppressive stillness. She sank onto the couch, the photograph still clutched in her hand. Her mind raced, replaying Margot's words.
The lights flickered again, and a faint sound reached her ears—a low, rhythmic tapping, like footsteps. It was coming from the hallway.
Lara's breath hitched. She peered through the peephole, her pulse hammering in her ears. The hallway was empty, but the tapping continued, growing louder and closer.
A shadow passed by her door.
Her phone buzzed, startling her. She grabbed it and saw another message from the unknown number:
"It's here."
---