Thin rays of sunshine poured through the blinds, spreading across my face in tiny beams of fire. My cheeks twitched slightly as the black haze of sleep started to lift. A soft groan left my throat as I stretched my neck to a more comfortable position, wiping my face as if to wipe away the strips of fire.
It's a Monday, and I'd prefer not to wake up early just because Mother Nature decided to burn me awake.
Through the haze, I heard my wife moving around, each shift producing that comfortable shuffling sound that only silk bed sheets make. Subconsciously, I began getting annoyed. Between the sun burning my cheeks and Selene just not being able to get comfortable, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to fall back asleep.
As the grogginess cleared up and sleep left me entirely, "Are you okay?" I mumbled more sourly than I intended, putting my arm around her, annoyed that my sleep was ruined.
My waking ears kept twitching, trying to focus in on the sound. I just couldn't push it away. It was a soft shuffling sound, a swish-pull-step… swish-pull-step.
Eh, maybe Selene was going to the bathroom, I thought, as I gently tightened my arms around her warm, tender frame.
My eyes jutted open, and my body tensed. I felt my skin crawl as my brain shocked itself awake.
My mind began spinning. Stupid. I am so stupid. Even if she was shuffling to the bathroom, our master bathroom is right here. Right in our room. That isn't much of a walk.
And let's not forget the fact that she's lying right next to me. In my arms. Snoring, and not gently snoring either. The, "I need a C-pap", snore. And obviously as comfortable as she can be.
My ears zoned in. Was this a mouse? An animal?
No. No, this wasn't a mouse. It wasn't any kind of small animal. I don't have to be an expert with perfect hearing to know there's a difference between a small rodent and... well, something else.
After a few seconds, I realized someone was in our home. Oh god, are we being burglarized? Someone was, no is, in my home. Right now. At this very moment.
Selene and I are first-time homeowners and have been living here in perfect suburbia for five months. It's a stark contrast to our chaotic environment in the city.
While our refrigerator loves popping out random ice cubes like mini gunshots, that's been the worst of our experience since leaving the city.
Oh God. Someone is in our home. In quiet little suburbia.
The creak and groan of our wood floors matched with constant slow footsteps. It sounded like someone was searching around for something in short distances, as if the item kept eluding them.
I heard the pillows on the couch bump around and the coffee table shift as my ears continued to zone in. My heart started to pound heavily, and I felt a tightness around my chest.
Slowly, and as quietly as possible, I leaned over to my nightstand and opened it to grab my handgun. Panic continued to swell in my chest as my wife began to stir, slowly waking up. I quickly shushed her, pressing my hand gently over her mouth.
She was feisty and immediately gave me an angry look, probably more upset about being jarred awake than anything else.
I love her. Selene is an amazing partner. She's headstrong, sharp, and sometimes jumps to conclusions without thinking. But she always knows when a situation is serious and when she needs to stay levelheaded. Especially in moments like this, when my hand is over her mouth, a gun is in my other hand, and my eyes are probably more terrified than I'd like to admit.
She motioned to speak, and I slowly lifted my hand from her mouth.
"There's someone in our living room," I whispered, keeping my voice as low as possible while quietly heading toward the bedroom door.
Selene looked like she wanted to say something, but instead stayed silent. She watched as I carefully unlocked the door. I left it slightly ajar to avoid making noise, then crept into the hallway.
I looked back to see her still sitting on the bed with her phone in hand, probably calling the police.
In hindsight, I should have stayed in the bedroom and let them handle it.
But I can be quite the brave idiot.
Actually, I'm just an idiot. I wouldn't call this bravery.
My heart pounded hard as a warm rush of blood flooded my face. Growing up in the city, I had found myself in many dangerous situations. I've been jumped. I've been robbed. I've been a lot of things. But I never could have imagined how terrifying it would be to have an intruder invading your home in the early morning.
My mind raced as I crept closer. I saw the hunched back of a figure wearing a black tank top and baggy black shorts. My coffee table blocked the view from his calves down. The figure had pale white skin, seemingly Caucasian, maybe even albino, and its bent-over frame had its hands buried in the crevices of my couch.
He wore either a tight black beanie or had a thick buzzcut. The distance was too far to be certain. I wondered what he expected to find in my couch. Certainly not dust bunnies or loose change.
Slowly, I walked closer and aimed my firearm at the intruder. The floor creaked beneath me.
He stood up quickly, startled. His head whipped toward me to look directly into my eyes as the rest of his body slowly turned around. As he turned, everything about him seemed to shift, almost shimmering in the light streaming through the bay window blinds as if he was made of fine silver-colored sand.
His pale skin tone shifted to a tan hue. Tattoos appeared on his chest and arms. His plain face rippled and shifted as if skin stretched over his eyes and mouth.
I froze, terrified by what I was witnessing, but my firearm stayed aimed at the stranger.
I was staring at myself, or rather a very good mimic of myself.
The figure was no longer albino in a black outfit. Instead, he was shirtless, wearing stained sweatpants, sporting my messy bed head and even my hairline.
Everything about my doppelgänger was a clear mimic, not perfect, but to an untrained eye, foolproof.
I faced myself, holding a firearm, while he held what I perceived to be a firearm, but if it was made of dark glass.
I took a step forward. He, or rather it, took a step. I walked toward him. He did the same. I stopped a short distance away, and he mimicked me.
My chest pounded as my reflection's face flushed slightly.
My breathing was calm yet heavy. So was his, but without the sound of breaths being taken.
I took a step back, aimed at him, and he copied. I took a few steps left and continued walking backward, my doppelganger mimicking every movement. Suddenly, he backed into the coffee table and fell. "Hah, fooled ya!", I couldn't help exclaim.
Suddenly, a noise erupted. Or maybe the better explanation is that noise was disappearing, almost as if it was being vacuumed up, including the buzzing in my ears.
In a panic, I pulled the trigger, and then continued pulling. Six bullets sped their way towards this creature, five making their mark.
I almost feared I might feel the pain myself.
My wife ran down the hall to see the scene unfolding.
"Please tell me you're seeing what I'm seeing," I pleaded.
She confirmed my sanity with a rapid, "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, what the hell is that? What the hell is this? What is going on?"
Before I could say anything, the house security alarm went off.
"Why the fuck didn't the security go off earlier!" I yelled, realizing this creature hadn't triggered the system. "What the fuck are you? What the fuck do you—"
"QUIET," my mirror image screamed. The voice sounded like someone recorded me and played it back on an old speaker. It was my voice, but grainy and rough.
I didn't hesitate. I fired two more rounds into him.
The silence hung heavy in the air.
"That was not your voice," my wife stated as we watched blood pour out of him. However it wasn't blood, but more like sand flowing out of a vial than liquid.
The body lurched forward as my name, "CASSIAN!" screamed out.
My neck was punctured by two rows of teeth, and my doppelgänger stood over me, my gun flung across the floor.
I think I pulled the trigger one last time before it reached me, but everything happened so fast that the next thing I remember was punching the creature's ear as it bit harder and deeper, its cold fingers gripping my shoulders.
Fear struck my heart immediately as I felt the warmth of my blood dribble down my neck. I fell down and gripped the wound, the creature, a pale version of me with a chunk of flesh in my mouth, standing over. He slowly began transforming before my eyes again, blood dribbling down his chest and-
BEEP BEEP BEEP. My morning alarm was going off.
My heart was pounding. My body was soaked in sweat. I sat up quick and grabbed my neck. My wife groaned, "already"?
The pounding in my chest dissipated as I realized that all I had gone through was just a vivid dream.
In my fear, I checked the magazine of my firearm and counted fifteen bullets. All was well… just a horrible dream.
Selene looked at me confused, still lying down, but didn't ask any questions. It was too early to question my shenanigans.
I went to the bathroom, washed my face, and went to the office to write down every detail I remembered while my wife got up and got ready for work.
I began telling Selene about the dream, and as memories popped up, I jotted them down on anything I could find. Reliving it helped me pull everything together.
"That's got to mean something; maybe we should play the lottery?" Selene joked as she went to shower.
Ahh, Selene. A carefree woman who loves astrology, mythical whack-oh-yahoo stuff and believes that rocks and essential oils can influence a person or put them to sleep. But she couldn't take my nightmare seriously.
"Listen, it was just a dream. Dreams are something we can't control. There is probably something bothering you that you don't know about, maybe your work? How about you just worry about something you can control… Like work," Selene said as she grabbed her bag and walked away to the garage.
She rushed out the door and as I prepared for work, I began to push the nightmare away. Maybe it'll make for a great story, I thought to myself.
Today I was heading down to Philadelphia for an office survey. While I know the city pretty well and know some back routes, it's still an hour and a half drive so I needed to hurry up.
I put my jacket on and made my way toward the kitchen to make my morning coffee.
As the machine whirred away two espresso shots, I decided to take a moment and stare into the living room.
Thank baby Jesus nothing stared back. Everything looked utterly normal. No evidence of an intruder, no evidence of an attack, the couch was untouched. My brain could rest easily. Nothing happened here.
Nothing.
At least until something shiny caught my eye…