Entry Two
The Doppelganger
They first appeared to me when I was eight or nine.
A little boy nobody bothered to introduce to the class, he hung around during recess and watched me for a week or so. It was creepy – his eyes were a muddled color, and he was so still when he didn’t have to move, his posture so strangely erect as he sat with me, it made everyone a little afraid just to look at him. He was not a little boy: he knew too much to be our age. He never laughed, never attempted to join our games. Monday through Thursday, he stuck by my side, always close enough for him to frighten away any other children, far enough to avoid actually talking to me.
Friday, he smiled at me. It was coy and cold and superior, and made my hair stand on end. Never before had he done something that outright scared me, but as he walked towards me, my knees started to tremble and I took several involuntary steps back.
“Don’t be afraid,” he told me. “I’m not the one you need to be afraid of.” His smile widened a little. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’m going, but you won’t be alone for long.”
The next day, early Saturday morning, I woke up to the sound of someone laughing. Someone was bending over my face, giggling.
“Hello, Calvin.”
I opened my eyes, looking directly into the face of – me. A perfect, blonde me. He threw back his head and laughed all the harder at my expression.
“Calvin, Calvin, you’re too funny!” he howled, doubling over and holding his ribs. He was dressed in my clothes – my socks, my shoes, all of it.
“Who are you?” He stopped laughing and looked at me. “Did… he send you?” My voice must have trembled, because the brat made a “pfffffft!” sound and started laughing again. He was so amused that he fell down and started to roll around on my floor.
I was so engrossed in watching him that I didn’t see him sneaking up behind me, fingers bent in an imitation of claws and his face in an exaggerated snarl. “Boo!” he said, right next to my ear. I shrieked and jumped off the bed.
He was suddenly right beside me, leaning against the closet door, eyes lowered demurely.
“I’m you,” he said. “But I have a different name.”
I bolted for the bedroom door, but he was already there, one hand on the knob. The lock made an apologetic click as it was turned.
“Ask what my name is,” he suggested.
I swallowed.
“What is your name?”
“I can’t tell you!” He dissolved into another fit of diabolical laughter. I watched him for a long time – who knows how long? His laughter slowly died down to sick-sounding wheezes. “Okay, okay. Ask me—” He looked up, still grinning. “What I am.”
“What are you?” We were settling into a groove: him laughing at everything I said, taunting me with his every twitch.
“I am you, silly boy!” He crowed with delight at his own words.
I felt indignation rise up inside me, but it was quelled by the still-fresh fear. I remained silent and eyed him, feeling sick and worry mingle with bile in my stomach.
“Oh, Calvin, don’t look at me like that,” he said, putting on a mock-sad face. “I’ve been here all along… watching you…” He slunk closer to me and twisted his neck, holding his hands up to his face, trying to look sweet and unassuming. “Who was it, do you think, that scared away the monster under your bed, in your closet, the one lurking under the floorboards…?”
He stomped one foot, and a low hiss came from the floor. He slammed the closet door, and an agonized moan came from within. He was suddenly sitting on the bed, arms and legs crossed and a haughty expression on his face. “Me.”
I was more impressed than I cared to admit, until I realized that he had made the sounds.
“You didn’t scare them away,” I said. “You are the monster in the closet.”
“And the one in the floor, the one under the bed,” he said in a singsong voice. “All little children are blessed with the monsters of the dark.” He smiled, and I was reminded of the boy, the boy from school… “But very few are allowed to take the monsters out of the shadows.” He scratched his chin. “How do they say it? Ah, yes. ‘You can take the monster out of the darkness, but you can’t take the darkness out of the monster.’”
“That’s not how it goes,” I said. “’You can take the cat out of the jungle, you can’t take the jungle out of the cat.’”
“Well, my they is smarter than your they,” he said.
“Who’s your they?” Talking was giving me courage, a foothold on a slippery slope. It didn’t matter that none of it made sense.
“I don’t know, tell me yours first.”
I stayed silent again, hoping to taunt him into answering. To my surprise, it worked.
“The Zeitgeist,” he said. “The little prick who clung to you all this week. Pissed me off so much I had to come out.”
“You knew him?”
“No.” He examined his fingernails, feigning disinterest. “He was in this room.” A chill ran down my spine. “Watching you sleep. Talking to me. Didn’t even ask to come in – just sat on your windowsill and talked.”
“What did he say?”
“All kinds of scheiss on the Zeitgeist,” he said, flicking an imaginary grain of dust from one finger. “I hate them!”
“You knew about them before?”
“No, but I hate them.”
He appeared behind me and sighed deeply. “You see, Calvin, we’re a very unique little boy. Special. Maybe nine or ten others like us in the world.” I turned around. He was gone, and standing in front of the bureau.
“Why is that?” I asked.
“Because I am you and you are I, and they are only them.” He took a step towards me, and my own leg moved forward. “Oh,” he smiled. “You’re already giving up?” He raised one hand and scratched behind his ear. I did also.
“It’s too bad I have to go now,” he said, shaking his head. I shook my head.
“Where are you going?” I flexed my fingers and brought my arm down, fighting an invisible script. He did likewise, still smirking.
“Oh, I’ll still be here,” he said, voice losing its volume. “We’ll have some fun tonight, I can tell you that…”
“Why?” I asked, my own voice also dropping to a whisper.
“Can’t you feel it?” he asked, grin broadening. “It’s full moon tonight.” His leer seemed to swallow the rest of his face, the rest of him, until he wasn’t there anymore.
**************
Okay.
I'm doing a massive re-write on Valentina's entry, but I can't really fix the problem. The problem is that this should have been the first read. Stupid mutating stories (the original storyline was from Val's PoV). Someone pointed out that the doppelganger is weak, and I did a massive face/nearest hard surface. Duh, I should have done the DG's entry first!
The creepy little kid in the first paragraph or so will come back later, but this is his first visible entry into the story so I'd like him to have a better-than-normal entrance. And the first few paragraphs suck noticeably. Help plz!
As for the DG himself...I use the word "laugh" and the variations thereof way much.
Help me, pleeeeeeeease!
xD
~Sumi
