Identity Lost

Chapter 1

Alice cut though the park on her way to school. She was running late, as usual, and she hoped she could win herself some time by taking a shortcut. And if not, she could make herself feel better by saying she tried. Usually, the park was completely empty at this time of day, as everyone was either at work or school. But not this time.

A lone man working away diligently at his easel caught her eye. But not because she wasn't used to seeing people at the park this time of day. Rather, it was his clothes. He was wearing a large, bright red overcoat, and a shiny black top hat. It seems that he wasn't expecting anyone at the park, either, because he momentarily paused when she came closer. 

Alice planned on speed walking straight passed him.  She knew better than to talk to strangers, especially when she was running late. But she didn't want to be rude, either. So she lifted her head and muttered a quick hello. Now she planned to keep walking, but the painting caught her eye. When she first saw him painting in the park, she assumed the painting would be of the park. Instead, it was a quaint outdoor cafe, with cobblestones and vibrant trees and flowers in the background. Despite the lack of people, it looked very lively. Alice had absolutely no talent when it came to painting, so she couldn't help but feel a little jealous and extremely intrigued. Against, her better judgment she continued to stare at the painting, gaining his attention.

"Do you like it?" The painter asked.

"Yes. It looks very realistic. You're very talented."

"Thank you. I have been working on this piece for quite some time. Reworking and reshaping it. Why don't you come take a closer look?"

"Actually, I'm already late for school. But it was nice meeting you."

The painter watched as she hurried away. She would be back, that much he knew. It was a shame he couldn't add her to his collection quite yet. But he would just have to be patient. She will be back. He would make sure of it.

****

Alice walked along the sidewalk, the air eerily calm. Even though there were people around her, she couldn't hear anything. The only thing her brain chose to focus on was him. Only him. Alice felt inexplicably drawn, not just to him, but to his painting. He was interesting too, of course. One probably had to be in order to paint such things. He donned a top hat, a red overcoat, and a smile that never seemed to leave his face.

As she grew closer, the painting became clearer. The colours were vibrant, and the technique was simple, yet effective. Even though it was always the same painting, she felt a wave of excitement wash over her. She could see the small round cafe tables coming into view, along with the colourful flowers. Despite there not being a soul in sight, the painting was extremely lively. And realistic. She wondered how he made it seem so realistic.

Right on cue, Alice was filled with dread. Why were there no people?  She immediately stopped, in the same spot she always stopped, and looked up at the man. She knew he could sense her fear, because his eyes stopped smiling, while his mouth curled into a sickening grin. He reached out a hand, as if to invite her to take a closer look. 

This is when she started running. And this is when she would always wake up. Every single time.

****

The alarm clock blared, causing Alice to shoot straight up in bed. She groaned, feeling an oncoming headache. Despite sleeping a seemingly normal amount, she always felt exhausted, and she knew it had everything to do with her dreams. Ever since she had met the man a week ago, she felt uneasy, like she was being watched.  And every single night, she dreamt the exact same dream. It felt like a calling of some sort. Calling her to him. Since then, she had avoided cutting through the park on her way to school from the bus station. Although she was incredibly curious, she wasn't incredibly stupid. Not yet, anyway. Nonetheless, Alice could not get the painting out of her mind, and she would often see the man's face in the unlikeliest of places, a constant reminder of what had ocurred a week ago.