I went to bed shortly after getting home.

Bryce and I didn’t say much to each other - he was in his own little world, rambling to himself. I could hear him deteriorating in the middle of the night, his whispers becoming more fevered, more intense.

It was unnerving.

I woke up at 7:15 AM. Of course I did.

I left my room, not sure what to expect this time.

I entered the living room to catch Bryce already waiting for me, sitting on the couch.

“Where were you yesterday?” he asked.

I thought carefully about my response. “They texted me with a job. Ambulance duty. I’m… surprised it took you until the morning to ask me. Everything okay?”

He sighed. “They made me do that ambulance job too. Body retrieval. It was horrific.”

He looked at me intently.

“Rose, I… I’ve been noticing some things here. For quite some time now, actually. I’m piecing it all together, and I think I… I think I know what’s going on.”

“Uh-huh.”

An awkward silence between us. This time, it was me who didn’t want to talk.

“Why are you being weird? It feels like you’re afraid of me,” he said.

I read your diary. You said you liked seeing Meredith Lane get tortured.

I felt a familiar buzz come from my pocket when I noticed Bryce reacting to his own. We both pulled out our phones to check our respective messages.

My text read: “Cross the street and come inside.”

Instinctively, I glanced through the living room window. In the Victorian mansion opposite, a man stood by the balcony, phone in hand.

I turned to Bryce. “What does your message say?”

“They’re telling me to stay home today. You?”

Huh. Guess they just want me.

I swallowed nervousness. “They want me to join them across the street.”

Bryce got up from his seat and looked outside at the opposing mansion. “My boss wants you to visit?”

Your boss lives there?

Actually, you know what - it doesn't even matter. I’m tired of trying to understand this stupid place.

I turned away from Bryce, walked to the front door and opened it. I stepped outside.

“Rose, wait!” he called.

All of my rule-breaking had clearly gotten the attention of the powers that be.

I was afraid, sure, but still… it was time to get this over with.

I walked down the stairs and ventured onto the pavement. I heard Bryce’s footsteps echoing behind me. He grabbed my shoulder.

“Hold on, let’s just think this through! The folks in that mansion - my boss, the town planner, they run this place!”

“Well, thanks for the heads up Mr. Mayor,” I replied.

He whispered close to me in a panic. “Look, I’ve only ever met my boss. For the rest, I’ve just heard stories. Not great stories, mind you. The town planner, apparently she’s a real monster–”

I turned around and faced him.

“Go home, Bryce. They asked for me, not you.”

He stood resolute. “I’m coming.”

I shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

I inched up the stairs to the mansion.

As I did, I looked through a nearby glass-paneled wall to notice that the creeps - err - socialites were in the middle of their book club again. A room in broad daylight filled with lit candles, for some reason.

I turned the unlocked knob and entered.

Inside, the man who had stood by the balcony greeted me with an unsettling eagerness.

“Rose,” he said.

“You know my name,” I replied. “Of course you do.”

“You’ve become quite the celebrity with your rule-breaking,” he replied. His gaze lifted to Bryce. “I’m afraid you weren’t included in the invitation.”

Bryce folded his arms. “Well, sorry boss, but I’m coming in too.”

“Is that so?” the man replied.

The man - Bryce’s apparent boss - made way for me to enter, so I took it. He blocked Bryce’s way however, and the two of them exchanged increasingly heated words. I’d already tuned them out.

I continued onward, deeper into the mansion. I followed the voice echoing through the halls - the sound of the book club reader, paired with the rustle of flipping pages.

“Let us begin, as we always do, with a recounting of the birth of this lovely town.”

I stepped closer until the door-frame revealed a group sitting in a circle of chairs inside. The speaker, open book in hand, continued reading:

“It’s a story that starts with tragedy. The fateful morning when Meredith Lane ran a red light and crashed into Bryce, killing him instantly.”

Right. Great book club. What sort of gibberish were they going to say next?

“This cosmic accident, spurred by something as inconsequential as Bryce’s morning drive to the convenience store, gave rise to our creation.”

This place is obsessed with convenience stores, I tell ya.

I entered the room.

“Bryce left the mortal plane at 7:15 AM, with Meredith departing hours later. But! Their deaths were undone. Meredith and Bryce now live as the two pillars of our neighborhood.”

Around me, dozens of candles were scattered.

“They are the two halves of a ritual that keep us tethered to the real world.”

A table sat in the center of the reading circle.

“A ritual taken upon by someone brash enough to defy reality…”

It bore a particularly unique candle, a Polaroid camera, and a photo just out of clear view.

“Brave enough to challenge truth…”

I walked into the center of the circle and arrived at the table.

“...and see through the realization of the impossible.”

I looked at the photo.

It was a picture of Bryce. Demolished in the wreckage of a car. His head completely smashed in. Pulverized.

Wait…

Why did this look familiar?

“She still had something she wanted to say to him. She wasn’t ready to let go. So, she channeled her grief, and attempted ritual, after ritual, after ritual…”

I looked at the woman reading the passage. Her face was veiled by a shadowy cloak. Her voice sounded familiar.

Then, suddenly, the hum of a TV. One of the readers had risen, as if on cue, to switch it on.

The book club members lifted their heads from their laps to watch. I joined them.

The static on the TV settled. Then, grainy footage:

On screen was a woman who looked consumed with what appeared to be grief.

Why was she in my room?

The woman drew a pentagram on a parchment, drawing blood from a deep cut on her palm. Once she had finished the sigil’s design, she lit five candles at its corners.

The scene shifted. Now, the woman had a bowl of dark water in front of her. She whispered into a raven’s feather, then delicately dipped it into the water and stirred. “Guide him back to me,” she whispered. “Return to me a Bryce that will never, ever, leave my side.”

Then, through the static, a new scene. This time, a polaroid picture lay before her, with a distinctive candle flickering beside her. She was sobbing. Her fingers were smeared with blood. She held an obsidian knife, and carved runes onto the picture while whispering a strange incantation.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The TV flickered off. I stood petrified within the ring of seated strangers around me.

“What… the fuck… is this?”

They all smiled.

“It’s what you built Rose. For Bryce.” The cloaked woman returned her focus to the book. “We’re almost done with the reading.”

She continued with the passage.

“Finally, she succeeded. Securing a special photo of the deceased’s body in the wreckage, she sprung forth a ritual powerful enough to return him to life. But not just his body and spirit - no - rather, his full headspace, brought to concrete reality in the form of a town. A community where the resurrected could be surrounded by all the things that make up his mind. Fragmented thoughtforms given solid life.”

What? How could this have even–

“The enchantress who brought upon the ritual would be split into two. One half of her would go on forgetting this tragedy ever occurred, and would one day be called upon to enter into this constructed paradise. The other half of her - the one knowing the grief - would be born into this town to bring it to life.”

The reader shut her book. So did the others in the circle.

The echo of steps pattering into the room.

I turned to the source of the noise to see Bryce’s boss - the man who had greeted us - holding an unconscious Bryce in his arms.

“What… what did you do to him?” I asked.

The man shook his head. “Fear not, I merely subdued him. The only thing that can actually kill Bryce is the graveyard.”

He smiled at me.

“Welcome, Rose, to your creation.”

The room broke into applause.

“Of course,” the man continued, placing Bryce’s body gently on the floor, “It wasn’t a singular effort.” He stepped towards the woman in the cloak - the reader - and lifted the veil from her head.

She looked identical to me.

“I’d like to introduce you to today’s very special reader. Our very own town planner,” he said, as the clapping persisted. “The architect who constructed this wonder of a community, building it using pieces of Bryce’s headspace, and ratifying it with rules to protect our existence.”

Slowly, my lookalike crept up from her chair. She limped towards me.

Eventually, we were face-to-face.

“In this neighborhood spawned from his mental landscape,” she started, “We’ve constructed everything Bryce has ever wanted. The cottage and car of his choosing. The tech office of his dreams just in reach. Convenience stores-a-plenty with clear roads to prevent accidents. And, mansions and houses built from the same prose contained in his favorite novels. Of course, as with all great towns, contrast is required. So, we also saw to it to imbue this place with some of Bryce’s greatest anxieties. Police officers, to start.”

What the fuck was she talking about.

“Now sure, some of the thought-form residents here might try to escape, in which case it’s

only fitting that their bodies end up as Bryce’s did when he first departed. But the rest of them are free to live as they please - they can work, fall in love, do whatever they’d like… just as long as they follow the rules. No calls to the outside. No office chatter to theorycraft and conspire. No leaving. This town and its residents are born of Bryce’s psyche. If things fragment and spill out into the outside world, the ritual will dissipate, and this place will cease to exist. Hence, why rule-breakers are strewn about the street as public warnings.”

What… are you… saying.

“And what about no photos?” I asked, shellshocked. “Where the fuck does that rule come from?”

The town planner grabbed the polaroid of Bryce’s dead body from the table and held it in front of me.

“My detest for photos appeared right after the stringer first gave me the picture of Bryce’s body. Photos are cruel. Bryce’s death should be struck from the record, and yet, by being the core of the incantation that birthed this town, this photo will never cease to exist.”

She tore up the photo. Immediately, there was a duplicate of it back on the table.

“You brought all of this to life with your beautiful brashness,” she said, “But it’s time now for you to follow the rules, and relish what you’ve built. Don’t let your strong headedness cheat you out of this. YOU SHOULD BE ENJOYING YOUR GIFT.”

I… I did this.

Through the sheer horror, I had one last question for my doppelganger.

“...and Meredith Lane? Did you pluck her out of Bryce’s headspace too?”

My other half smiled. “While Bryce’s subconscious would surely loathe the person who stole his life away, her current state is my creation alone. Think of it as her punishment for taking him away from us.”

I looked down at Bryce’s unconscious body on the floor. “I couldn’t let go,” I said. “And so, I brought him back into hell.” I glared at the physical manifestation of my grief standing before me. “Do you really think he’s happy with any of this?”

She gazed at me tenderly. “I’m sure, deep down he’s happy to be alive again. And by bringing him back, you gave life to so many others. To the residents here, you are the creator. You made this happen.”

The circle of strangers beamed smiles at me. Strangers… who would kill me for breaking the rules of the town I brought to life with my selfishness.

“You’re right,” I started. “I made this happen”

I stood over a lit candle on the table.

“And so, it’s up to me to fix things. After all, the lord giveth, and the lord taketh away, right?”

I tipped the candle to the floor. A fire spilled onto the rug and spread. Immediately, I moved from window sill to shelves to mantles, knocking candle after candle to the ground, igniting patches of fire around the room. The members closed in to stop me. I grabbed their discarded books and hurled them into the flames to speed up the spread.

I picked up a final book from the floor, already partially burning, and threw it across the room into another section of the manor. The residents scattered in their desperate attempts to quell the growing blaze.

Amidst the chaos, I spotted my twin. I snatched the Polaroid from the table and tackled her to the ground. She struggled against me.

“But you worked so hard for this…” she said.

I forced the camera into her hands, turning it to face her as the fires drew near.

“We worked so hard for this…” she continued.

I forced her finger onto the shutter button and held it down, the lens pointed directly at her.

CLICK.

The light flashed to illuminate my other half. She looked weary. Tired. Broken.

I left her as the flames spread. I got up, sprinted to Bryce, and shook him until his eyes fluttered open.

He was weak and barely conscious, but was able to get to his feet with my help. He leaned on me for support.

We escaped to the exit, when I noticed there was something already there. A creature tapping at the front door from outside. The same silhouette from the night I’d first arrived and snapped that selfie.

I opened the door.

“She’s just down the hall,” I said.

The horrific entity strode past us and walked into the house.

Slowly, Bryce and I descended the stairs and emerged onto the street.

–

I held Bryce’s hand as we walked down the middle of the road, stepping past the odd dead body in a stretcher.

“Are we getting close?” I asked him.

“Yeah. Almost there.”

He lifted his head to the sky. “I kept noticing…” he started, “Things from my past that shouldn’t have been here. Random portraits of things I uniquely cared about, the faces of people from my past, stuff from books I’d read. I wish that I could’ve pieced it all together sooner.”

“There’s no way you could’ve known.”

We kept walking.

“So… why did you bring me back?” he asked.

Clearly because I’ve been in love with you my entire life.

“I think I just really missed you. Sorry. Bit of a dick move on my part.”

“That’s alright. I’m just excited to get some sleep now.”

We were closing in on the graveyard now. I could tell because the damage to his body was becoming more and more apparent.

With each step, he looked more unrecognizable.

“S-see you on-on the other–”

We’re almost there, buddy.

“---side…”

I laid him in the grave that was marked with his name. He looked just like he did in that cursed photo.

I looked at the grave beside his, marked with my name.

One day, when it’s time, I’ll come back here.

But for now, it was time to go.

I had one more stop.

–

Clearly, Bryce’s demise had taken its toll on the town. There were fires everywhere, residents holding each other and crying, others standing like statues in the street, devoid of breath.

I walked through the sliding doors of the Parker Group building.

I took the elevator up to the ninth floor, then walked the corridor down to Meredith’s dungeon.

When I entered, her keeper was already leaning against the wall, coughing up blood. He didn’t notice me enter. He was probably busy keeping himself from fading away.

“Meredith,” I said.

She lifted her head.

“Is your leg broken?”

“...ye–”

“No. No. It’s okay. You’re safe with me. Is your leg broken?”

“Maybe–”

“Is there a piece of metal lodged in your chest?”

“N-no… no there–”

“Meredith. It’s alright. You’re not supposed to be here. You and I both know this. You were in an accident.”

She teared up.

“You didn’t make it.”

“No, No, I’m–”

“Meredith, listen to me very closely. You’ve been dead for quite some time now, haven’t you?”

She took a while to answer me. Finally, she smiled.

“Yes,” she replied, weakly.

She collapsed from the chair to the floor, chains removed, dead, as she was supposed to be.

–

I made the long journey to the edge of the now-empty town.

I entered an ambulance that had been parked near the forest and drove into the night.

Further and further, until I was deep in the fog that had killed Matthias, Svetlana, and so many before it.

The mist stretched long.

But eventually…

I was out. Back on roads familiar.

And with dense forests on either side of the road… I noticed something ahead in the distance.

I steered closer, and caught sight of Bryce walking by the side of the road. Or, welp, the version of Bryce I’d encountered on my first night in town. The happy, smiling “Imposter Bryce” who’d shown up at the house past midnight, waiting outside the door.

Stranger, still, was who he was holding in his arms. It was me! Or, err, the ‘town planner’ me. My grief-stricken half.

As I took in the morbid sight of them walking in the glow of the moonlight, I realized…

This Bryce must’ve been the creation of a different ritual.

Ah yes, that other ritual. The one with the feather and the bowl of water, where I wanted to manifest a Bryce who would “Never, ever leave my side.”

I guess he ended up rescuing my other half from the horrible fate that befell her. Yes, her body looked mangled beyond recognition, but I could tell she was still alive.

Maybe, just maybe, they’d be good for each other.

As the ambulance barreled past and I made my way home, I had to admit that it was a bit unfortunate that I was driving.

Because I really would’ve liked to take a photo of them.