Copyright 1994(c)

                           REFLECTION
                       By Patricia Carmel

     I woke with a start... screaming again. Mindy rushed into my
room and turned on the light, heading for my outstretched arms.
     "Same one." She said it more than asked it, and I nodded.
     "Is the medication helping at all?" she asked.
     I sat up, calmer now, and brushed the hair back from my
forehead, wrapping my arms around my knees. "Not that I can tell,"
I said. "I simply don't understand it. If something doesn't work
soon, I'm going to believe I'm as crazy as half the town thinks I
am," I said, ruefully.
     "They do not," snapped my twin, positively fierce in her
loyalty. 
     "Small towns do not harbor secrets well, Mindy." I was chiding
her and at the same time daring, hoping that she could prove me
wrong. What makes a perfectly normal person suddenly begin to
experience odd dreams that wake one screaming, if not insanity? It
was a question I often asked of myself.
     In six months, I'd lived a lifetime of therapy, hypnotism,
drugs and self-modification, all of which had evoked no response
from my psyche, which continued to repeat the dream. 
     It never started slowly and built. It was always right there
in my face from the moment it began... Mindy was struggling and
pitifully calling my name in a kind of wonder.
     Over and over she called to me, until I thought I would go mad
if I didn't stop the sound. She made the pitiful, mewling sounds
right up to the moment her eyes glazed over and she slumped to the
floor. Once a night, for the past six months, I'd killed my twin
sister and awakened horrified at what I'd done... feeling that
surreal reality more overwhelming than any real terror.
     It was ridiculous, of course. The Blake twins were the town
mascots. We'd won every talent contest and beauty pageant held in
the small community throughout our school years. Our successful
Blake Advertising Agency represented the majority of business in
town, and the genuine respect and admiration we felt for one
another totally aside from familial love, made us an unbeatable
team. Murdering anyone, much less my own sister, would be
unthinkable for me.
     "Don't go in today," Mindy encouraged. "We have only one
luncheon meeting and I can take it. You stay here and rest."
     "I'm rested to a surfeit, Mindy. Sitting around here is making
me as nuts as the thought of a 'nice long rest' somewhere where the
staff is dressed in white."
     "Stop that," Mindy ordered. "You're not going anywhere.
Melinda Sue Baker is not about to let anyone take away her twin."
They were brave words, but we knew we were coming to the point
where something would have to be done. "What would I do without
you?" she asked, tilting my chin upward to her encouraging gaze.
"This is just the summer heebies."
     She wanted to believe it. Heck, I wanted to believe it. But
why was I suddenly dreaming nightly of very deliberately killing
my twin? I had no deep-seated feelings of resentment that I, or any
of the myriad of "experts" we'd consulted, could find. I was
persuaded that it was some sort of genetic madness that I would be
unable to control or halt.  
     And so, we went on, day after day. Mindy carried the load at
the office while I tried to make some sense of it all. I visited
neurologists, psychotherapists... anything I could think of. And
still the dreams kept coming.
     It was a relief, then, when the dream changed. I woke, not
excited and on the attack, but rather choked, gasping for air. I
looked up into the face of my attacker, my eyes widened and I died.
I remember thinking as I felt myself slipping away, 'Well, at least
the dream is finally different.'
                               ***

August 4, 1994
Rodney, Texas

By Staff Correspondent

   Amanda Jo Blake, 24, daughter of the town
founder, Rodney Blake, and co-owner of the
Blake Advertising Agency, was arrested last
night, charged with the brutal strangulation
of her twin, Melinda Sue Blake.
                               END