In countless moonlit nights, my dreams bear witness to dual existences of myself. Amidst soirées and banquets, when my name graces someone’s lips, both I and my other self raise our heads in recognition. Yet, while my twin speaks with familiar eloquence, I’m confined to shadowy corners in mute acquiescence — a spectacle none find amiss.
Every time I awaken within this phantasmagoria, my counterpart confronts me, making my nights a dizzying waltz of mirrored encounters. These revelries, teeming with mirthful guests, see me cornered, nursing a bitter brew, grappling with the torment of duality. On one such spectral night, I chanced upon another lost soul, ensnared in a similar quandary. In hushed tones, I inquired if slaying one’s reflection offered any solace. With a weary sigh, he confessed his trials; to dispatch one’s double in secrecy is but a fleeting victory. For the fallen soon rises, having usurped your very essence. Only a public reckoning, under the gaze of all, ensures the phantom’s eternal demise. As he divulged this, his gaze settled on his living mirror image.
Laughter and jubilation filled the room. From a dim recess, he discreetly signaled to me, a morbid pact without words: to unleash carnage and erase this absurdity from the dreamscape. An opportune blackout set the stage. In the enveloping void, the chilling symphony of death and gore resonated.
But when illumination returned, it revealed him as the fallen. In our world of doubles, thoughts intertwine mysteriously.
Without a moment’s hesitation, I flung open a window and made my escape, my footsteps echoing with urgency until they met the muffled grounds of a marsh. Bathed in silvery moonlight, I stole a glance back, discerning another form— my echo. His features eluded me, as I presumed, mine did to him.
Memories of transgressions, both real and imagined, flooded back. Were some the devilish designs of this doppelgänger? My disdain for him was palpable.
Discarding his taunts, I ventured further into the marshland, trudging through the sludge. He, ever my shadow, followed suit. Time seemed to stretch until the distant wails of sirens pierced the silence. A voice, authoritative and cold, rang out:
For, in that fleeting moment, I wished for him to endure existence, forever shackled by remorse. I felt a sardonic ripple from him — a testament to our shared malevolence.