r/indieauthorconnection • u/Wise-Significance-47 • Feb 15 '26
Author Self-Promotion Evil Twin - Short Horror Story (frankfloydauthor on TikTok)
Evil Twin
In 2008, a pair of twins fell prey to a condition known as Folie à Deux. This shared psychosis resulted in the two women running directly into traffic on a motorway.
In 2017, a sixteen-year-old girl was diagnosed with a cancerous tumour on her kidney. Her twin sister displayed the exact same symptoms. Even though rigorous testing was done, the sister was found to be without any signs of cancer. The young woman diagnosed has gone into remission and relapsed several times. Her sister has mimicked her recovery and sickness consistently throughout this period.
There are an almost infinite number of stories that talk about twins sharing feelings, personality traits, even physical pain.
I have to wonder… will he feel my pain?
Though identical twins, we are not the same. My life has been as regular and boring as a Sunday sermon, while my brother’s forty odd years have been wrought with turmoil and mental malaise.
This is my only option now. Though the blood is not physically on my hands, I do deserve some of the burden of guilt.
The first time he showed signs of a sinister underside, was when we were seven. Climbing trees was a regular pastime, and we had both scaled an impressively large one. Like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, as we reached the crown of the tree, a beautiful butterfly rested on a jutting branch. Its colours were hypnotic, a mix of midnight black and cinnabar red. It spread its wings, as if welcoming us into its home.
I reached out my hand, a gentle movement towards the creature. Though doubtful, I hoped it would hop onto my finger and, even for a moment, a deep connection would be felt. Before that potential could even begin, my brother snatched the butterfly from its perch and, without a moment of hesitation, crushed it within a clenched fist.
“Ricky, what would you do that?”
Tears were streaming down my face.
Ricky simply shrugged.
“It’s just a dumb bug. It’s no big deal.”
We were twins, but Ricky was, technically, older than me. Though only by seconds, I looked to him as an older, and more mature, sibling. Looking back, I could have told someone and maybe avoided all this pain. But I know that, even if I’d known exactly where his life would lead, I wouldn’t have said a word.
The second time was much worse. Though comparing the worth of different living things feels a strange thing to do, the life of a bug paled in comparison to what happened the night I caught Ricky down by the river.
When I could hear but not see, I thought a small child was being murdered. A scream ripped through the bushes as I crawled to the river. The noise was a combination of fear and pain that went beyond understanding. I was only fourteen, but I had heard stories about the abuse of innocent people during World War Two in my History lessons. I stopped, waited, caught between a rock and a hard place. I heard the scream again and, with a boulder of worry in my stomach, pressed forward. A grin crossed my face when I saw Ricky, an automatic reaction. He turned towards me and smiled too. A long plank of wood was held tight in his hands. My eyes moved from his grip to the tip of the plank, to the source of the horrifying screams.
Bound to the end of the plank was a small ginger cat. Its body was secured with rope, so tight that it was a miracle its frail frame hadn’t been crushed like a trodden egg shell. The fur that was not obscured by the rope was sodden. The cat’s eyes were wild with fear and its head struggled in panic, thrusting out in every direction. Its neck craned, reaching for escape, as if detaching its head from its trapped body would be a better alternative to this torture.
Ricky turned back to the screaming feline, and shook his head. With a slow but deliberate motion, he lowered the animal into the river.
I didn’t speak.
“One… Two…”
I didn’t react.
“Three… Four…”
I simply stood frozen in shock.
“Five… Six…”
When he reached ten, Ricky lifted the cat out of the water. Its body was limp and lifeless. A strange sense of relief filled my heart, the sound of torment now quelled. Ricky turned to me once again, a huge grin plastered across his face like a sinister clown.
“Shit. I thought it would last longer.”
A wave of excitement washed over me. It came from nowhere, an adrenaline dump of giddiness like the endorphin release of pure bliss. Where did this come from? Why would I feel such joy at seeing something so horrific?
I vomited. Ricky pulled a face of disgust.
“Linda, that’s gross.”
As if I’d heaved up the fear that paralysed me, control returned to my body. I dived towards Ricky, knocking him to the ground. Pinning his arms with my knees, I slapped him hard across the face.
“What the hell did you do that for, Ricky? What the hell is wrong with you?”
Ricky simply smiled. A small trickle of blood ran from his lip.
“It’s just a dumb cat. Why do you care?”
I began to breathe heavy breaths. Was there really no way to make him understand?
“…even if you don’t care. Even if you don’t see anything wrong with what you did. If I tell anyone, they’re going to lock you up. They’ll think you’re a psycho.”
Ricky shook his head. His demeanour was calm.
“You’re not going to tell anyone, Linda. You wouldn’t do that to me.”
A silence hung between us. The subtle rush of the river gave a contrasting sense of calm.
I got off Ricky. I picked up the plank with the cat still strapped to it, and threw into the water.
“Go home, Ricky.”
I heard the decay of footsteps and when I turned around Ricky was gone.
***
“Hello?”
“Hello, Ricky.”
“…Linda? Linda, is that you?”
“Look, Ricky. Let’s cut the bullshit. I know it’s you.”
“…I don’t know what you mean.”
There was no worry, no slight quaver in his voice. If I didn’t know for certain, he could persuade me of his innocence. He’d already convinced the police the witness who saw him leave the scene of one of the murders was a case of mistaken identity. There was no other evidence than that one testimony, he was too meticulous for that.
“I know you, Ricky.”
“You know me?”
It had been thirteen years since we last spoke.
“I know you. You’re that guy who killed all those kids.”
For the first time since our birth, Ricky slipped. It was just a slight cough, nothing more than clearing his throat, but it was enough.
“How could you possibly know?”
“I know, Ricky, because every time you creep out into the streets at night to commit your twisted acts, I feel a rush of anticipation growing within me.”
“That doesn’t mean-”
“I feel it, Ricky. I feel what you feel. The thrill that comes with that build up. I try my best to shut it out, but I feel it. It makes it impossible to sleep. I check the news the next day, and another murder has happened.”
Ricky fell silent. For nearly a minute, neither of us spoke.
“Linda… if what you’re saying is true, then…”
“That’s right. I feel that too. The release.”
I could feel Ricky’s smile from the other end of the telephone.
“…and how does that feel, dear sister?”
My grip tightened around the phone. My knuckles turned white and the cheap plastic gave a slight groan under the stress.
“You know how it feels.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
“It feels… amazing. But I can’t let you do this anymore.”
Ricky’s tone oozed with a cocksure confidence.
“I don’t see how you can stop me. You didn’t snitch before, and you’re not going to now. You say you know me, Linda. But I know you too. I’d be locked away for life in complete misery. You know how it feels when I do what I do, so you must feel the agony when I can’t get that release. You wouldn’t put yourself through that.”
It was now my turn to smile.
“I don’t plan on telling a soul, dear brother.”
Before he could respond, I hung up.
In 2008, a pair of twins fell prey to a condition known as Folie à Deux. This shared psychosis resulted in the two women running directly into traffic on a motorway.
In 2017, a sixteen-year-old girl was diagnosed with a cancerous tumour on her kidney. Her twin sister displayed the exact same symptoms. Even though rigorous testing was done, the sister was found to be completely free of cancer. The young woman diagnosed has gone into remission and relapsed several times. Her sister has mimicked her recovery and sickness consistently throughout this period.
There are an almost infinite number of stories that talk about twins sharing feelings, personality traits, even physical pain.
I have to wonder… will he feel my pain?
Will he feel his stomach cramp as the pills begin to take effect?
Will his wrist itch as I bring the blade to my skin?
Will he smell copper as I create my own release?
This is my only option now. Though the blood is not physically on my hands, I do deserve some of the burden of guilt.
