The Life of a Spy Chapter One

“Once you are chosen, there is no way to be ‘un-chosen’”

“So this is the shell?” I asked eyeing my clone suspiciously. It was a very good copy with the hair parted the same way his is naturally, the nose and mouth shaped the same but there was no real light in the eyes.

“Yes, it is. The plan is that this will enter your home tonight and make itself known to your family as you. At a predetermined time int he night this clone will unexpected "pass away" making your family believing it to be you.” The man said almost in admiration.

I nodded. “Then I can undergo the training?”

The man nodded and chuckled replying, “You almost sound eager. Many fear the training years. We aren’t bound by more ‘common’ laws'.”

“Why would I fear it, it’s not like my life was anything to miss.”

“We’ll see…” The man said as he walked away. Before he left the room he whispered something to the guard at the door. The guard nodded and the man left.

So the plan was in motion.

The following morning the clone passed away and caused my parents to do exactly what was expected of them. After discovering the clone's demise they contacted medical attention and before long would be on their way to hospital.

There was a fake doctor in position that would give them the news about what had happened and that there was nothing they could do to save me.

I smiled and giggled a bit from across the street hidden by my old neighbor’s bushes, then I cursed myself for acting so childish, but I could not help it. I entertained the thought of this being a practical joke that a normal child would come up with. I would pop out of nowhere and yell surprise! and we would have a good laugh.

I knew all too well that this was not a game or a trick.

The ambulance left soon after and I knew my parents were gone as well, probably one was with my body and the other racing for my siblings.

I sprinted across the street and climbed the few stones steps up to the door and entered my old home, one that once welcomed me in with open arms.

Now I felt like a stranger intruding in someone else’s home.

I crept up the stairs, past the framed eyes and painted smiles, ones that watched me as I ascended up those steps I had so many memories of.

Once at the top I took a peek into the rooms, taking my last good looks at them.

My parents room, my brother’s, my sister’s they were all the same.

But the air was becoming heavier and more suffocating. I felt as if I would panic if I stayed in this house too much longer.

I now turned to my door, the one at the end of the endless hallway.

The carpet slid under my shoes as if unwilling to let me progress to my old room, until I gripped the biting knob of my door and entered the dark room, smaller than I remember.

I had a reason to be there, and I was not going to let my growing panic keep me from achieving it.

Sitting on my bed was a briefcase and inside that briefcase I knew housed the reason I came. My journals from the moment I could write were inside of it, and I could not leave that behind.


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