The Doppelganger


He explained with the top down, the hot current of the clean desert dragging his words behind us. I wondered if he intended for me, as I did, to only hear snatches of what he said. We were going to a fellow he only referred to as The Doppelganger, someone who managed to manipulate time? Something about pressing himself against a dimensional fold? Not to be trusted but the only one who? And never to something in his presence?

“Never do what?”

We pulled behind a house that seemed sculptured among the white sands, its carved and undulating curves both organic and audacious in the backdrop of the distant mountains—an alabaster statement in the drop of a zen stone garden. McAllister put his finger to his lips as he shut off the engine. He paused before gingerly pulling back the door handle.

“Never do what?” I whispered, almost crouching down as McAllister leaned out of the car and let one foot and then the other crunch the pale gravel.


3 thoughts on “The Doppelganger

  1. tim

    Is this a tomkim original?

    I’m reading a book on scriptwriting and I came across a quote that I thought was befitting of you.

    As the book is at the residence, verbatim is merely a hope. “Anyone can write. You can’t stop a writer from doing anything else.”


  2. tim

    Please check your email.

    I have been successful at hoarding your comment column. One more and I will have successfully invoked the Sherman Act with the monopoly. Alas, my nose must remain clean in light of the esteemed judicial system’s unwaivering grasp on my being.


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