Doubleganger: The First Encounter

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Doublegangers: The First Encounter

A few years back after my grandfather had passed, I had a most unnerving experience. Firstly I’ll start by telling about my grandfather. He was a holy man, a healer of sorts, average in height and very slender. My youngest memory of him is of hearing an alarm clock sound, I believe it was in the kitchen, and him walking promptly down the stairs to greet my grandmother and his cup of coffee- Anyway, I digress- I never have smelled anything more delicious than her coffee-

Eh- ehm. Now where was I? Right- Grandpa, or ‘pop pop’ as I called him. He spoke to me a lot about things. Diving things. Holy creatures. He had a way of knowing he was the only one I could speak to as a child having been tormented by lost souls, witch spirits, and maybe even demons–

It was a chilly fall night, I believe it was October. I had just finished cleaning my room. Wiping down the smudged windows, folding all of the bawled up clothes. Vacuuming the carpet. I was now placed in front of the mirror that was attached to my dresser organizing hygiene products, nail polish, pens, thumbtacks and so many more irrelevant things I can’t seem to remember. At this point I was just ready to go to bed. I had put hours of effort into this work and dammit I deserved sleep.

All of that suddenly vanished as a figure appeared in the mirror- I figured that by the time I turned around that the apparition would have vanished. I’ve seen them before probably over 100. Spirits are everywhere. Inherently so, because we are everywhere. I slowly turned around, and when I say slowing I mean snail slow, an inch a minute, vertebrae by vertebrae. My eyes slowly rotating toward the 5 headed flower lamp that stood directly behind me. And guess what? There he was, still, pop pop was standing in my room. He was a little shorter than I had remembered- And it didn’t just stop there. His arms down past his knees, he wasn’t even dressed the same. His shirt a plaid, red button up the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His shorts appeared ripped midway to the calf – This could not be my grandfather, In fact at this point I’m certain it was not my grandfather.

My eyes scoping this creature out. He wasn’t wearing any shoes and appeared as if he had just came out of the ground. His toe nails looked as if they hadn’t been cut in a hundred years, they like his fingers were abnormally long and discoloured as were his phalanges. His fingers and toes were about 10 inches long in length. This let me know that whatever the heck was in my room wasn’t even the least bit human despite it’s efforts. His eyes were pitch black and were nothing worse than the large veins that had shown through his skin. The ears pointed and angled. It’s mouth drew out so long that it’s snarled grin was ear to ear. Literally. This that was grotesque. I wanted to leave but I couldn’t- I wouldn’t. My sister was resting on the bed after all. I absolutely would never leave her for that… that.. thing to do what so ever it pleased. As I stood studying the creature in my now frigid cold room- So cold you could literally see your breath cold room- It started becoming familiar. This thing wasn’t just a thing, this thing was a demon. A real life in the flesh demon.

Drop. Drop.

All of a sudden blood was spilling from my nose. I kept watching it though. I didn’t move- This amused him. His mouth curling with content. Hundreds of sharp dingy brown shark-like teeth exposed.

“Be gone filthy demon- Leave me, leave this home, you are not welcome her,” I spoke looking into its nothingness eyes.

Its smirk lingered as light bulb by light bulb began to literally burst. The room, now dimly lit by only two out of the original five light bulbs, the remaining two flickering. Me eyes didn’t let up- Blood still trickling, pouring down my night top. I don’t know what happened or why he let up. But he did. After a good five grueling minutes it was gone. It had left.

I did research later that night finding that certain demons like taking on the physical appearance of deceased loved ones. This didn’t make sense. Pop pop wasn’t dead. Not that I knew of. Needless to say that next day my father told me, while we were riding to a customers house that my grandfather had passed a week earlier and that he didn’t want to tell me because blah, blah, blah.

Even today, I still wonder if sweetness would win…

©copyright Kyanna Kitt

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