Manifest Inc.

The first time I saw her, I was rejecting a proposal from the love of my life. Tentative rays of sunshine bled through the blackened sky as Finn tugged me toward the shoreline, insistent like he always was when a sweeping declaration was on the way. I knew it was coming, scoped the ring in his dresser weeks before, and tried it on for good measure, sliding it over my knuckle and grinning as it locked snugly into place.

The wet sand folded around my bare feet as he turned to face me, goofy grin spreading wide. I bounced on my toes, already lost in the daydream. But when I opened my mouth to give the answer I’d been rehearsing for years, it lodged in my throat. I stumbled backward, shaking my head, heart pounding as I tripped toward the road.

And there she was. Hunched on the sidewalk and shadowed beneath a hoodie, but unmistakable. I froze, vision blurring as she stepped onto the sand.

My lifelong skepticism flickered and faded as the days passed, pieces of my world crumbling with the mounting missed calls, the unanswered texts, the box dropped unceremoniously on my doorstep alongside Finn’s white flag. I couldn’t stop it, bound by some spell that landed me flipping through pages in the occult section.

Sylvie, my favorite librarian, took pity on me. Tucking back her tousled salt-and-pepper hair, she slid into the seat beside me and pulled a book loose from my stack.

“So You Think You’re Cursed (And Not Just Unlucky and Dramatic),” she read, raising her eyebrows. I sank my head onto the table and groaned. “I hate to break it to you, Poppy, but this is a rather advanced book of magic.”

I caught her wink as she flipped through the rest of the titles.

“I promise I was a sane person until nine days ago.”

“A descent into madness? Tell me everything,” she replied, eyes bright with the thrill of a story. I looked into her lined face and sighed. Her brow crease deepened as I spoke. When I finished, she sank back into her chair, scratching her chin.

“This girl, what did she look like?” Sylvie asked, narrowing her eyes. I swallowed hard, struck by the certainty that she already knew the answer.

“She looked just like me.”

“Come with me,” Sylvie whispered, the words conspiratorial. She led me toward the stacks at the back of the library, trailing her fingers along the shelves until she found the section labeled “Metaphysics”.

“This is my life, Sylvie, not a science fiction novel.”

“Says the girl researching curse-breaking.”

“Touché,” I sighed.

“Indulge me for one day,” Sylvie said, tugging loose a navy book and placing it on top of my stack.

“Fine. But tomorrow we dust off our brain cells and go back to assuming I’m being punished for stepping on a sidewalk crack, deal?”

***

I made it exactly eight pages into the book before I took my research to the internet.

Accidentally broke up with boyfriend when I tried to accept proposal, I typed, frowning as the search bar pulled up an article titled “15 Fun and Creative Ways to Reject a Proposal (He’ll Never See #12 Coming!)” I smashed the backspace key and tried again.

Unintentionally turned down proposal then saw my doppelganger, I wrote, paused, then added “Reddit” at the end for good measure.

The search blinked back a list of results. I scrolled past a series of runaway brides, losing faith in my search criteria until I landed on a result that sent a chill down my spine.

“Saw My Doppelganger and now my life is falling apart,” I read, hesitating for only a moment before clicking the result.

I (42F) am at the end of my rope. It started with the scratch-offs. Look, I know lotto tix aren’t the best strategy for getting rich quick, but they worked well enough. You win some, you lose some. That’s the name of the game. But a few months ago, something changed. I started to lose. Every. Damn. Time. I chalked it up to an unlucky streak. Then the lights started. You know when you get on that traffic cycle where you somehow hit every freaking red light? It was like that except every time I left the house. Drove me mad, but I wasn’t losing my marbles over it. I was suspicious. Even snuck a few books on curses from the library. But I didn’t believe it. Not really. Not until I saw that damn demon wearing my face.

I was up for a promotion that was years overdue. My time had finally come. Only, when I tried to accept, I lost my head. Couldn’t say a damn word and ended up panicking and bolting from the room. Only paused long enough to press the elevator button and when the doors opened, there she was. Smirked and strolled right past me. Next day, HR emailed me saying I was being “let go”.

And it didn’t stop there. She took everything from me. I don’t know how to stop her and I’m terrified of what she’ll take next. Please help. Before it’s too late.

The post had one lone comment lurking beneath, added years after the post went dead. I hovered my cursor over the text.

“Manifest Inc.” Another chill rose up my spine as I spoke the words into the silent room. I took a breath and clicked.

***

“What am I looking at?” Sylvie asked, sipping her cup of coffee as she squinted into my phone screen.

“Isn’t it obvio— Oh, sorry, that’s a text from my mom.” I navigated back to the browser and handed her the phone, squatting down beside her. The webpage bloomed to life, neon green and offensively bright, the tagline nearly lost beneath it. The life you’ve always wanted, guaranteed.

“It’s a service,” I clicked the dropdown menu and navigated to the package plans. “Price points for different levels.”

“Levels of what?”

“Manifestation. The idea that you can bring anything you want into your life by setting the intention to get it. And look at this,” I clicked on the testimonials page and scrolled. “Dozens upon dozens of satisfied customers.”

“Placebo effect?”

“‘It only took Manifest five days to bring my on-again-off-again ex back. I dumped him for good, but I’m hooked on this service for life!’” I read aloud.

“The list goes on. Sudden windfalls, miraculous recoveries, jobs falling into people’s laps. And,” I scrolled to the text at the bottom. “Results within six months or your money back.”

Sylvie raised her eyebrows, impressed, then paused and leaned into the tiny screen.

“So did you get your money back?”

“What?” I asked, eyes locking on the review at the bottom of the page. Can’t believe I’m saying this, but it worked. Wedding’s set for June 22nd. I could pinch myself. My fingers shook as I read the name written in bold red letters beside it.

***

Sylvie falls into step beside me, dancing along the cobblestones of the courtyard as the church comes into view. I pull my hat lower over my eyes as we approach the archway. There’s a bustle of activity down the hall, familiar faces whispering excitedly. My stomach drops, and I turn away.

“The website said the suite is separate from the church,” I mutter, slipping down a side passage and eyeing the stone building as it comes into view. I jog toward the window and perch beneath it, listening closely.

“Thanks so much, Jess. Yes, yes, all that’s left is the dress. I’ll be ready in 20.”

Sylvie’s eyes bulge. I raise a finger to my lips, tiptoeing around the corner and watching the blonde woman flounce toward the church.

I catch the door and slip inside. Sylvie slides in behind me, and we both stare at the girl. She's turned away, chestnut locks falling in delicate waves over her white slip as she fusses with her makeup in the vanity.

We lock eyes in the mirror, and she freezes, wearing an expression I’ve only seen in candid photos.

“You really thought you’d get away with it, didn’t you?” I ask, sweeping the baseball cap from my head.

She spins, stumbling over the leg of the vanity chair and landing hard on the cushion, staring up in disbelief.

“But I suppose you were just taking what you were owed, right?”

“That’s not—” she starts, tripping over her words before taking a breath and trying again. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“You got your happily ever after. You didn’t have to go through life knowing you’d screwed things up with the person you were meant to be with. I would have done anything to get Finn back, and Manifest took advantage of that.”

“Meaning?”

“I wanted the life I was supposed to have, but I didn’t know I’d have to steal it.” She says, eyes wide and insistent. “By the time I realized, it was too late. I’d come too far to turn back.”

“I understand the feeling.” I paint a sympathetic smile on my face, and her shoulders relax. “You could even say I feel the same way.”

My smile morphs into a smirk as the realization lands. Her jaw clenches, hands closing into fists.

“I won’t let you take him from me.”

“Oh, I’m not going to take anything from you,” I say, taking a step closer and fishing a gold switch from my back pocket. “That’s the thing about manifesting, isn’t it? You don’t have to do the dirty work yourself.”

Her eyes widen as I flip the switch. She tries to speak, clutching at her throat when no sound comes. Sylvie closes a hand around the girl’s wrist. She attempts to jerk loose, but only manages a weak tug.

A knock rattles the door, and we all look up. I press my hand to the wood and lean in, listening.

“Poppy?”

“Finn,” I breathe, sinking into that familiar voice.

“You don’t have to open the door. I know it’s bad luck,” he says. “I just couldn’t shake this feeling you were slipping away.” I look over my shoulder, meeting the eyes of my doppelganger, tears cascading down her cheeks.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper back. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

He pauses, soaking in my words, then steps away. His footfalls fade, and he’s gone, but his absence has no echo in this world.

Sylvie tugs the girl forward, and she lunges at me. I slip easily out of her reach. The two women disappear through the doorway, one leading the other across the open field. The tree line swallows their shadows. Soon the gateway will follow suit. All will be right in the world.

Almost.

I pull my phone from my back pocket and dial the number, trailing my fingers along the lace of the delicate white dress as it rings.

“Hi, I need to cancel my membership. Well, memberships, actually. You created two accounts for me by mistake,” I say, lifting the hanger and draping it over my neck, admiring my reflection. I tilt my head.

“A new membership tier?” I pull back the curtains, glancing toward the church. It is rather small, I think, the daydream taking hold. “I guess I have a few minutes to chat.”