Mara woke up to the soft beep of her alarm, the same as every morning. She groaned and hit the snooze button before sitting up in bed. The light outside her window was dim, gray clouds threatening rain. The same morning routine unfolded: brushing her teeth, picking out clothes, grabbing a quick breakfast of cereal. Her apartment was quiet, save for the hum of the refrigerator. Nothing unusual.
As she walked to the bus stop, she passed the usual faces—neighbors, the homeless man who always asked for change, the shopkeeper waving from his store. Nothing out of place. She sat down in her office cubicle and typed her daily reports, checking her phone for any messages. But something nagged at her, an unfamiliar feeling tugging at the edges of her mind. She couldn't place it, but it was like... she had done this before.
That evening, as she lay in bed, her mind replayed the day's events. Every action, every word spoken, seemed to blur together, like an echo reverberating through her mind. Had she lived this day already? Was she forgetting something? She shook the thought away, exhausted. Tomorrow would be a new day, and she would push it from her mind.
Mara woke up again to the soft beep of her alarm.
No—wait. She had already done this. Her heart skipped. The same routine, the same gray sky, the same cereal. It was happening again.
At first, she tried to convince herself it was just a coincidence. Maybe the weather had been exactly the same yesterday. But as she walked to the bus stop, something felt different. The homeless man wasn't there. Instead, a woman stood at the corner, staring at her with wide, unblinking eyes. Her face was pale, her expression twisted in a way that made Mara's skin crawl. But when Mara turned back to glance at her, the woman was gone.
She shook her head, dismissing it. It was probably just someone who looked similar.
But then, as Mara sat at her desk, her colleague Brad said something she had already heard yesterday. "You look a little tired, Mara. Didn't you sleep well last night?"
Her stomach tightened. She remembered that exact exchange. She had heard those words, in that same tone, just the day before.
That evening, as she headed home, a man in a dark coat passed her on the sidewalk. His face was obscured by the hood, but his footsteps were unnervingly loud, echoing through the quiet street. She shuddered and quickened her pace, but as she glanced back, he had disappeared.
Mara locked herself in her apartment, her mind racing. The feeling of déjà vu had returned, but this time, it was accompanied by a creeping sense of dread. Something was wrong. Something was off.
The next morning, Mara woke to the same soft beep of her alarm, and the world around her felt even more... distorted. The light outside her window wasn't just gray—it was an unnatural, sickly hue, casting long, twisted shadows. She checked her phone, but it was stuck on the same time it had been the previous day—7:15 AM. She tried restarting it, but it wouldn't respond.
Her apartment was no longer quiet. From behind the walls, she could hear scratching noises, like something was trying to break through. The sound was faint, but as she strained her ears, it grew louder, more frantic. She opened her door, but everything seemed normal, just like the day before.
But when she looked down the hallway, the floor seemed... wrong. The wallpaper was peeling in places, and the light above flickered in a way that made her feel like she was walking through a dream.
The bus was late. And when it finally arrived, the driver's face was distorted, his skin stretched too tight over his skull. His eyes were wide, unblinking, black pools that made Mara's heart race. She boarded the bus and sat down, trying not to look at him. But then, the person sitting next to her—a man she had never seen before—turned to her and grinned. His teeth were too sharp, his smile too wide.
"You're going to see it soon," he whispered.
Mara's breath caught in her throat, and before she could react, the bus jolted to a stop. When she looked up, everything was normal again—the driver was just a normal person, his face unremarkable. The man next to her was gone.
But something was different. The world felt colder, the air thicker. It wasn't just déjà vu anymore. It was a nightmare that looped and twisted around her.
The next morning, Mara woke up again to the alarm, but this time, she didn't try to ignore it. She sat up, her eyes wide, her mind reeling from the terror of what was happening. It was the same day, but worse. Every morning felt like she was being pulled deeper into something she couldn't escape.
The walls of her apartment were now covered in dark, shifting shadows. Her reflection in the mirror was distorted—her eyes too wide, her face too pale. Her heartbeat was too loud in her ears, a constant drumbeat that rattled her bones.
She decided to take a different route to work, desperate for something, anything, to break the cycle. But even as she stepped out onto the street, she felt a sense of inevitability—like the path was already set, like she was walking on rails.
The woman she had seen yesterday at the bus stop was there again. Only this time, her face was far worse. Her skin was cracked, peeling in places like dry paint, and her mouth was stretched wide, too wide, showing rows of jagged teeth. She smiled at Mara, and for the first time, Mara understood.
This wasn't déjà vu. This was something far worse. This was a loop—a nightmare that was becoming more twisted with each passing moment.
The world was falling apart around Mara. No matter what she did, no matter where she went, it was always the same day, but each time, it grew darker, more terrifying. The streets were empty, but whispers followed her wherever she went. The faces she saw in mirrors weren't her own anymore. The clock on her wall was ticking backward, counting down to something she couldn't understand.
In the reflection of her bathroom mirror, the man in the dark coat appeared again. This time, he didn't disappear. He stepped toward her, his eyes empty and hollow.
"You can't escape, Mara," he whispered, his voice echoing in the room. "It's always the same. It will always be the same."
Mara screamed, but the sound was swallowed by the darkness closing in around her. She turned to run, but as she reached the door, she found herself back in her bed, staring at the soft glow of the alarm clock as it flickered 7:15 AM.
Her heart sank. The cycle had started again.
And this time, she knew it would never end.