Rachel glanced up as cop cars sped past her parked car, their strobing lights painting the scene in flashes of red and blue. The lights reflected off her face, and sirens wailed in her ears. In the passenger seat of one patrol car, she spotted a rotund officer wearing a P.I.A. cap.
"What's that all about?" Emily asked as she sipped on some lemonade she purchased at a hot dog stand.
"I don't know, but I guess there is more than one P.I.A. agent in town," Rachel replied as they headed towards the thrift store at a mall plaza.
Teenagers and retired elderly couples walked the sidewalks as Rachel and Emily navigated around the vehicles, searching for a good parking spot. Nail Salons and clothing stores dominated the plaza, coated and sanitized in corporate, minimalistic architecture. Neon signs buzzed faintly, their letters stuttering like dying fireflies against the gray afternoon sky. A THREADS & THRIFTS sign hung crookedly above a small clothing store wedged between a blockbuster and a hair salon.
Rachel pushed open the thrift store door, releasing a wave of stale air laced with fabric softener, Pine-Sol, and something heavier—desperation clinging to every thread. Rachel and Emily browsed the antique bobbles, propaganda posters, and recently owned clothing on display. Her eyes narrowed as she saw Mike's reflection in an antique mirror, talking to a group of girls at the back of the store.
"Of course, he is here," Rachel muttered, gesturing for Emily to look in the mirror.
"Where?" Emily asked with a raised eyebrow.
Rachel glanced back at the mirror and then back to where she had seen Mike, but there was no sign of his presence in the store. A short, blonde-haired teenage girl wearing a jacket that shouted in color like a peacock stood where Rachel thought Mike was.
"Rachel? Thrifting? Never pegged you for the type," The blond-haired girl said, raising an eyebrow as if spotting a unicorn at the mall.
Rachel's temples throbbed as she closed her eyes momentarily before greeting the girl with a forced smile. "Sara, did you see Mike?" Rachel asked as she glanced around the store.
Emily lowered her eyes to the ground before gazing back up at Rachel, watching her perplexed expression as she searched for Mike.
"Ummm, no. Mike is not in here, or at least I haven't seen him," Sara replied, shrugging. I did see you talking with him earlier, though. So, did you guys get back together?"
"Pfftt no," Rachel replied as she rolled her eyes. "He even showed up to Em's place with his boombox and somehow managed to damage my new car in the process."
"Wait, are you still hanging out with Emily?" Sara replied with a raised eyebrow.
"Funny, I thought being interesting was still cool. I guess I missed the memo," Emily replied as she sipped loudly on her lemonade with a stoic expression.
Sara's eyes widened as she noticed Emily. "Oh, you're here," she groaned, rolling her eyes and forcing a smile.
"Don't be like that, Sara. Emily is the most talented person I know. She may be a little strange but has a good heart."
"Whatever you say, Rache."
"Why don't you come to watch her practice with her band? She got this sweet set up in her garage,"
Sara raised her eyebrows. "Em got a band? That is news," Sara replied as she gazed at Emily with a perplexed look.
Emily's eyes darted across the store, and an awkward smile stretched across her face. "Yeah, totally. Next thing you know, I'll be serenading prom queens with power ballads and leg warmers," she said as she chuckled.
"Rache, I am not in a band. Have you been watching 80s movies lately?"
Sara rolled her eyes. "Cute, but I will pass. Anyway, Rache, there is a pre-festival party happening on the weekend. You should come, and I guess you can bring this trainwreck along."
"Takes one to know one," Emily replied as she grabbed Rachel.
"I want to punch that bitch in the face," Emily muttered as they left the store.
"I don't know why she hates you," Rachel said as they approached her car.
"Please tell me you're not considering going to that party, Rache?"
'I mean, do we have anything else better to do this weekend?"
"You are so infuriating sometimes, Rache."
Rachel's eyes widened as they got in her Miata and turned on the Engine. "And you keep secrets like you're a serial killer."
"I'm sorry, Rache...maybe I do wanna keep that I see myself dying over and over in my dreams as a secret!"
Rachel's heart skipped, and her voice fizzled out mid-syllable. "Wha?"
"Just forget it, Rachel, and drive...I am not in the mood to talk about it."
"But."
"Rache- just drop it. We can talk about it later. I don't want your parents to see the obvious trainwreck that I am," Emily said as she gazed out the window.
Rachel opened her mouth but stopped herself. She forced back a tear as she focused on the road. The color of the sky mimicked Rachel's swirling emotions as dusk began to set. Street lights flickered on as she parked her dented Miata in the driveway. She noticed her mother in the living room window as they exited the car.
"Rachel...what happened to your car?" She asked as she met Rachel and Emily at the front door.
"Mike followed me to Em's house, then decided to try to serenade me before kicking his boombox at my car," Rachel groaned as she hugged her mom.
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"Well, I will be having a word with his parents tomorrow. And this must be Emily?"
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Harper," Emily said as she rubbed her neck and glanced around the spotless living room and expensive entertainment system.
"Likewise, Rachel won't stop talking about you. Please stay for dinner; we are having my famous Meatloaf and roasted potatoes. Oh, and Rache, can you get your father out of his man cave while I get Emily situated?"
Rachel nodded, then looked back at Emily, who refused to look her in the eye. She sighed and headed towards the basement. She was too stuck in her head to notice that her shadow wasn't moving in unison with her as the wooden floorboards creaked under her feet. Football merchandise and movie posters cluttered the basement walls. Her barely visible reflection was that of a grinning static doppelganger on her father's large television. Her reflection grinned too wide; its hollow eyes glowed faintly. Static crackled around its edges, distorting its features until it looked almost human—but not quite.
"Dad...dinner. I brought Emily home, by the way," Rachel said as she stood near the basement steps.
"Oh, what the fuck was that!" Rachel's dad yelled at the TV while he watched a college football game.
Rachel rolled her eyes. "Dad!"
"Oh, you come to watch some football with your old man?"
"In your dreams. Dinner is ready, and I brought Emily."
"What, she came over? Give me a minute, I be right up."
"We won't leave any leftovers."
"Fine, fine," Rachels dad groaned as he turned off the television and followed Rachel upstairs.
The dining room was filled with the delicate and rich aroma of perfectly cooked Meatloaf and roasted potatoes as Rachel and Emily helped set the mahogany-wood dining table. Rachel smiled as she noticed Emily staring at several of her childhood photos.
"Rachel was such a cute and well-behaved child growing up. She was also a chubby kid," Rachel's mom said as she set the utensils.
"Mom!"
Emily chuckled as she gazed at Rachel.
"I swear if you make a fat joke, Em."
Emily smirked and threw her hands up just as Rachel's father entered the dining room.
"So Rachel tells us you are a very talented musician and artist," Rachel's dad said as they began to eat.
"Lies," Emily replied as her eyes lit up as she took a bite of Meatloaf. "This is good, Mrs. Harper."
"I am glad you like it. But seriously, you should come over more often. You are always welcome here, and I know a few people who can help you get into a college with an excellent art program.
"She means Vanderbilt," Rachel whispered before looking at the flickering light above the dining table.
"Ugh, again. I am so glad the Reactor will be up and running by the end of the week. Getting tired of this crap." Rachel's dad muttered as he got up.
"I am going to go help your dad with the breaker box. You girls have fun, and make sure you two don't oversleep. You still have school in the morning," Rachel's mom said as she smiled at Rachel and Emily before leaving the dining room.
Rachel gazed back up at the flickering lights above her, fixating on their consistent rhythm of on and off. Then, she refocused her attention when she noticed Emily getting up from the table.
"So you ready to talk?" Rachel asked as they both cleaned the dining table.
Emily sighed as she put the dishes away.
"Your insomnia... it's because you don't want to sleep because of your dreams, right?"
"They are not just dreams, Rache...I think they are visions," Emily explained as they headed upstairs, lights still flickering as she saw Rachel's parents outside fiddling with the breaker box.
"And all that art and lyrics... that's from your dreams, too?" Rachel asked as they walked down the hallway toward her room.
"Rache, I don't wanna get into details. It is difficult to explain, but it feels like I am watching another Emily's life," Emily explained as she leaned against the hallway window. "Sometimes, I am married to someone I never met. Sometimes, I live in a completely different country, but every dream ends the same. Me dying in some unlucky or violent way."
"Do you ever see me or anyone else you know?" Rachel asked, leaning next to Emily.
Emily's legs started to shake as her eyes drifted towards the carpet. "Yes, but you're very different."
"Like how?" Rachel asked just before all the lights flickered out. Rachel gazed outside to see if she could see her parents, but all the streetlights were out as well." Great, a power outage. There should be some flashlights and candles in the basement."
BRRRZZZZTTTTT
"I've got bruise-colored skies in my eyelids,
Sewn with thread from a dead star's dress,"
Rachel and Emily's heads turned sharply toward the speakers that somehow were turned on despite the power outage.
"What the fuck?" Rachel froze mid-step, her breath catching. The lyrics hit like a punch to the gut—they're familiar but wrong. She remembers snippets from Emily's sketches and eaten pages:
"No, no, no, no," Emily muttered with wide eyes as she saw a streetlight flickering an ominous red that matched the song's rhythm blasting from the speakers.
"You paint our future in static and sirens,
But the Engine's hum's all I confess.
We're flickerin' ghosts on a cracked TV screen,
Dancin' in snow that's Mulberry-red,"
A sharp pain throbbed behind Rachel's temples. Flashes of memory crash over her. A tall Latina woman full of hate and determination dying in front of her feet. Crying alone in Emily's room, high on gloom, clutching crumpled lyrics. Watching her static doppelgänger collapse as someone pulls a trigger.
Her hands trembled as she whispered."Emily… why does this sound like you?"
Emily's forehead dripped with perspiration, and her hands were clammy as she gazed at the pulsating red streetlights engulfing the entire neighborhood that slowly began to creep toward Rachel's house.
ɎØɄ ₣ⱤɆɆⱫɆ ₮ł₥Ɇ, ฿Ʉ₮ ł’VɆ ₳ⱠⱤɆ₳ĐɎ ₴ɆɆ₦,
ⱧØ₩ ₮Ⱨł₴ Ɇ₦Đ₴,
ⱧØ₩ ₮Ⱨł₴ Ɇ₦Đ₴…"
Emily lunged for the speakers, yanking the cord free. Sparks flew, but the music didn't stop—it grew louder, pulsing with the red strobes engulfing the neighborhood. The red glow seeped through the windows like spilled ink, casting long shadows across the walls. It hummed faintly, vibrating in Rachel's molars like a tuning fork.
Rachel stared at Emily, but her mind was elsewhere. Her eyes dilated as fragments of familiar yet alien memories rushed through her head. "Emily...why did that sound like you?" Rachel muttered as she curled into a ball on the stairs.
"Rachel, snap out of it!" Emily shouted, grabbing her shoulders. But Rachel's eyes are hollow, unseeing. Panic clawed at Emily's chest. "Not here. Not now. Not again."
BRRRRZZZTTTTTT
The once haunting dark pop tune changed to a different track suddenly.
You're flickerin' ghosts on a cracked TV screen,
Caught between what was and what could've been.
The static threads pull tight; they won't let go,
We're sewn from the fabric of a dead star's glow.
Oh, the hollow hums louder when you try to sleep,
It whispers your name in rhythms too deep.
"Rewind," it says, "but don't look back too far—
You're just a shadow stitched to a dead star."
Rachel chuckled as a grin began to form on her face. "Ⱨ₳...Ⱨ₳...Ⱨ₳..Ⱨ₳Ⱨ₳...₳Ⱨ₳Ⱨ₳.₳Ⱨ₳₳₳₳! What are you not telling me Ɇ₥łⱠɎ! What secrets are you hiding from me Ɇ₥łⱠɎ!"
Threads unravel, skies bruise-colored blue,
Every choice is a mirror reflecting you.
Paint our future in static and sirens' cries,
This is the ₴₮₳₮ł₵ ₮ⱧⱤɆ₳Đ ĐɆ₳Đ ₴₮₳Ɽ ⱠɄⱠⱠ₳฿Ɏ
Rachel's eyes began to glow mulberry. A cold, mechanical voice sliced through Rachel's mind.
"₳₦₳ⱠɎⱫł₦₲... ₣ⱤɆQɄɆ₦₵Ɏ ₥₳₮₵Ⱨ. ₱Ɽł₥Ɇ ₥₳₮₵Ⱨ ₵Ø₦₣łⱤ₥ɆĐ."
Static Thread Dead Star Lullaby, oh-oh…
Sing it soft so the Ɇ₦₲ł₦Ɇ won't know.
Emily slapped Rachel hard across the face; the sound cracked through the chaos.
Sing it soft so the Ɇ₦₲ł₦Ɇ won't know.
The red lights flickered once, twice—and then faded. The speakers fell silent.
The cold mechanical voice faded away, as did the images Rachel saw. She buried her face in her hands, her voice breaking. "What the fuck am I?"
Emily pulled her close, holding her tightly despite the tremors running through their bodies. "I don't have all the answers, Rache. But whatever happens, I'm here. Okay? I'm here." Emily whispered as she looked back at the front door as Rachel's parents entered the room.
"What the hell happened?" Rachel's dad asked as he gazed at Emily, hugging his sobbing daughter.
"Don't worry, I got it under control," Emily replied before gazing at the speaker. "Thank you, Emily," Emily whispered as if another Emily was in the room with them.