Double Exposure
On a sunny fall afternoon, a young woman walked along a narrow road. A capricious breeze played with her light brown hair, sending a few wisps fluttering across her face. She turned into a driveway and walked up to the front porch of a white two-story house, nestled in a copse of tall trees.
She pushed open the door and stepped into the house. Shrugging off her light jacket, she hung it neatly on its hook. She continued down the passageway and entered a well-lit and attractively furnished living room. Two armchairs flanked the fireplace, and a sofa stood against the far wall. Several framed color photographs hung on the walls.
She stopped just inside the room. Her eyes widened as a tall young man stepped forward to greet her. He took both her hands in his.
“Anna! My darling sister.” His dark eyes were mocking. “How I’ve missed you.”
Anna bit her lip in dismay. “David. I thought—” Her eyes flitted to the photograph that hung on the wall. It was an informal shot of two young boys, both with brown hair and dark eyes.
“You thought I was Mark,” he said softly. “My own brother, born two and a half minutes before I was. The good brother, the one that made our father proud.” A fleeting smile touched his face. “Well, I’m not. I’m David, and I’ve come back. Back from the war. And Mark—”
“Mark is coming home too,” Anna cut in sharply.
David sighed. “I’m truly sorry to have to tell you this,” he told her gently. “Your brother Mark—is dead.”
“Dead?” She sank down on the sofa and covered her face in her hands.
“Struck down by enemy fire.” David bowed his head.
The sound of a car in the driveway drew their attention to the window.
“That’s Will,” Anna whispered. “Let me tell him.”
David nodded and moved into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and examined its contents with an appraising eye. Throwing a handful of ice from the freezer into his glass, he made a perfunctory search for something to drink and finally settled for bottled water. He could hear the rise and fall of Anna’s quiet voice in the adjoining room. He waited a moment, then walked back. Will sat in one of the two padded armchairs. Anna stood beside him. David seated himself in the other armchair, facing Will.
“Hello, Will,” David said. His voice had changed; it was no longer gentle and consoling. “Now that you both are here, I have a suggestion to make. Mark is gone. He’s not coming back.” He leaned forward in his chair, carefully placing the glass on the floor beside him. “So why shouldn’t I be Mark?”
Anna took a step toward him, her face blank and uncomprehending.
“Shall I tell you why I would like to be Mark, darling sister?” David said softly. “You married Will—Mark’s childhood friend—and may I congratulate you. What a lovely amount of money came with him!” He sighed and spread his hands ingratiatingly. “I consider it only natural for me to want some of that money for myself. Unfortunately, there is no reason on earth for you to bestow some on your friend’s black sheep of a brother. So you’ll give it to Mark instead.” He sat back in his chair and sipped from the glass of water.
Will’s face was contorted with anger. Before he could speak, however, David cut in.
“You’ll give the money to me all right, Will. I know where you got it.” His voice dropped and took on a horrible dark significance. “And I can prove it, too.”
David turned toward Anna, who was sitting motionless and rigid. “And you…You knew. You helped him. Don’t even think about denying it.”
“Well, I assume you still have Mark’s clothing and his photography equipment in the spare bedroom,” David added casually, rising from his chair and moving toward the door. “It’s not too early to start being Mark. I think I’ll put on some appropriate clothing and take a little evening stroll. Maybe I can get a few shots of the local scenery before the light goes. Don’t wait dinner for me.”
The door slammed, a discordant note in the sudden silence.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Will and Anna looked at each other
“Anna,” Will said slowly, “there’s only one thing I can do.”
His wife glanced up sharply.
“We can’t spend our lives under the thumb of a man like that,” Will continued pleadingly. “We have to get rid of him.”
He leaned toward her, speaking quickly, his voice almost inaudible.
She nodded slowly and turned away.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The sun had barely dipped below the horizon, and Will could already feel the chill of the stone wall he crouched against, by the time he heard footsteps on the path. He tensed his aching muscles, waiting. As the figure passed him, dimly visible in the dusk, he rose up and brought the heavy rock down on the back of its neck. He put all his strength into the blow.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Will’s heart was beating uncomfortably fast as he tipped the last shovelful of dirt onto the mound. He walked over it a few times, scuffing his shoes in the dirt. His mouth had a strange gritty taste of earth, and he swallowed, but his throat was painfully dry. He turned back toward the house.
Silhouetted against the lighted window, standing in front of him on the path, was David.
The blood roared in Will’s ears and he felt the ground sway under him. “No,” he said hoarsely.
David laughed quietly. Behind him, the door opened and Anna stepped out. “Yes. Alive and well. And poor Mark…” He glanced at the rough rectangle of freshly turned earth. “Mark just came home at a bad time, didn’t he?”
Will backed away slowly. He felt Anna come up beside him and slip her hand into his.
“Although,” David continued, “the police might see things a little differently. Especially when they see…these.” He pulled a small black cylinder from his pocket.
A canister of film.
“The light wasn’t the best, but Mark—may he rest in peace—was a photographer. If any camera could do it, his could. These pictures should be more than sufficient.” He smiled lazily. “You know, I’ve always wanted to do this. Ever since you took over my father’s business—but it’s more than that. There’s something intoxicating about breaking all the rules…and getting exactly what you want… ”
Husband and wife stood hand in hand, their faces pale. David tossed the shiny canister into the air and caught it deftly before either of them could react. Anna looked at him steadily, her gaze never wavering.
“Which one are you?” she asked slowly.
“Does it matter?” he said, and oddly enough, she found that she was satisfied.
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Written for an English class. I have a predilection for murder and mystery as subjects for quick short story assignments; it creates plenty of tension and interest. The difficulty lies in making it both concise and believable, and--of course--working in a satisfying plot twist. Not sure how well I succeeded here.
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