Imposter Syndrome

Tiger Twins

A Few Weeks Later

Her heels clicked upon the pristine polished alabaster floor as she surveyed her sunlit surroundings—a fifth floor gourmet pop-up pizza bar and wraparound balcony lounge, a view of the castle and familiar amusement park of her childhood looming up ahead in plain view of the resort.

Resort—or above-ground altered reality mind palace—or—she paused—whatever it was. Continuing down the well-lit corridor, she noticed as airy shopping venues morphed into an endless brick hallway of study rooms. A moment later, she found herself grouped with a small throng of young adults. "This is your reality?" she asked of a tall, heavyset buzz-cut male who nodded resolutely, appearing at her side.

"My reality—" as they heard a deafening roar, several hundred feet to their left—a hot pink tiger leapt out of the walls, as another roar was heard—this time, from an emerald green tiger on their distant right. She tugged on his sleeve to hurry on to a semblance of safety—sanctuary—but his eyes froze in horror at what he had created.

"Look, Zach," she hissed. "I couldn't care less about—" she gestured—"all of this. Do you or do you not trust me?"

His voice rasped. "I-I trust you—"

"Good. Now, DUCK!" She yanked his arm, pulling his form toward the floor as the others immediately followed suit. The two tigers collided mid-air above them and vanished instantaneously.

"How did you know?" he asked in admiration.

"Instinct—" she paused, noticing a pattern of capuchin monkeys beginning to screech endlessly, their miniature corporeal forms materializing from various perpendicular dividers, a veritable Lisa Frank nightmare. You've gotta be kidding me—"RUN!"

They fled the brick-lined corridor for staid hallways beyond, searching for an available planning room to take a breather from their high-adrenaline happenings.

"We're being followed!" someone exclaimed as the group picked up their pace, practically leaving her in the dust. Try as she might, running in heels had never been her strong suit. And why had she chosen today of all days to wear them?

Rounding the corner, she followed the frenzied cries—"hurry up!" as she approached a door, its inner surface papered in pale pink. She shoved herself within as a push-and-pull battle ensued, between the mysterious figure and her compatriots—for lack of a better term. Kicking the pursuer out was proving too much at first glance as she squinted—

Fire, she visualized, its sparked flames flickering upon the tips of those finagling fingers, crisp with brightness and—and pain—she heard a yelp from the opposite end of the door as they managed to shut it, with great difficulty.

Catching her breath, she gasped, pointing to the shadow looming beneath the door. Oh no, we're trapped! She stared at the door a second later, realizing with horror that there were no locks—no deadbolts—nothing—as its handle twisted of its own accord—

A woman with an aged sienna complexion poked her head in with a sly "shhh!" of her lips before ducking out, closing the door behind her. Her face—

Was a literal carbon copy of the one they'd seen earlier.

"Zach, they're identical. She is, I mean—"

"Oh, huh, really?" Somehow, he found this fact less pressing than the two tigers and rogue capuchins, and she couldn't exactly blame him, given that they'd barely escaped with their lives. Sure, it was possible they would be regenerated, but was it wise to take that chance, this reality or the next?

An hour or two later, the group found themselves crossing a seedy motel parking lot, as they discussed their most recent reads. "The Shining," said Zach.

Thumbing through her purse, she felt a familiar aqua gel capsule. Understanding they were headed to dinner soon, rife with conviviality after a hard day, she realized it was now or never.

Decisions and revisions.