It is said that there exist two versions of yourself. The first version is the one that you have full control over. It’s you; it’s the person that lives your life and makes your decisions and contains your memories. The other version of yourself is your shadow. You never actually meet them, for they always seem out of reach when you try shake their hand. When you smile at them, they stare back without emotion, without a face. Your shadow feeds on your darkest fantasies and your evilest thoughts, and when it grows strong enough, it is rumored to materialize into its own separate being, free to lurk the streets as it pleases…

You get home late one night. It’s just started to sprinkle outside, but the storm will be full-blown before long. You rub the exhaustion out of your eyes that comes from a long day at work and head to the bathroom. You turn on the faucet and rub some cold water all over your face to wake yourself up a bit. When you look in the mirror, you jump. Staring back at you is you… and… you. There are two of you standing in the mirror’s image.. How can this be? you think as you begin to panic. You flip around to see what lies behind you… but nothing is there.

You look around you, behind the shower curtain, below the toilet, but nothing’s there. You take some deep breaths as you begin to calm yourself down, and you convince yourself that it was your imagination getting the best of you. A side effect of a stressful day.

You walk back into your room to grab your clothes for after your shower, and a gasp escapes your lips because of what you find there. Standing by your bed is you, again. Somehow, you know it's the same one from the mirror. You both take a moment to examine each other. You stare in wonder at the creature before you. You tilt your head to the side, and it does the same. You hold your right hand up, and it matches your actions. A sinister smirk crosses its face as a look of terrified curiosity crosses yours.

It looks like you, but, somehow, it doesn’t appear to be human. There’s a rustic tint to its hair that makes it shimmer in the moonlight. Its facial structure is too well defined, as though it was carved by a gifted sculptor himself. Its eyes glow red, giving the impression that the irises are filled with blood. The evil angle of its brow combined with the devilish smile on its face sends shivers down your spine. Its clothes are simple enough: black jeans with a dark grey shirt and a leather jacket. It begins to make its way towards you slowly, and your heart races.

“Who,” you begin, but your nerves make it hard to speak, “Who are you?”

It playfully rolls its eyes and returns it gaze to yours. “We haven’t officially met. I’m you.” It shrugs. “Well, the better version of you.”

“What do you want?” you ask, as forcefully as you can manage.

“What I want is simple,” it replies in a sickeningly singsong voice. “What I want is you gone.” Your heart pounds against your ribs as you anticipate what is to come. “Because with you still here, I can’t be free. And I’m tired of being confined to a never ending patter of trailing behind you and being forced to watch your dull, boring life unfold in the exact same way. Every. Single. Day.” Its demeanor has changed now. The smile is gone, and the eyes burn with a fury that is buried below its surface. Its hands clench at its side as it gets closer, closer… “Now, I’m finally strong enough to separate myself from you forever.”

“Please,” you begin to beg, “please don’t hurt me.” Adrenaline gives you a brief moment of courage to make a defiant remark. “How do you know you’ll survive if you do?”

“I’ll take my chances.” It raises it hand and flicks the air, and suddenly you’re pinned against the wall. You struggle, but it’s like invisible shackles have you chained against your will.

“Ta-da!” it sings in a mocking tone. “Once I’m free, there’ll be no bounds to what my magic can do. Can you imagine what I’ll get to destroy?” Its eyes begin to grow distant as it relishes in its gruesome fantasies. “All the people I’ll get to hurt?”

You try to kick free in a desperate, last ditch, effort, and it brings your doppelganger’s attention back to you. “But I can’t have any of that until you’re gone. Goodbye, me! It’s been terrible following you.”

It winks, raises its hand as though holding caressing something gently in its palm, and squeezes. Your chest collapses with the action, and it is seconds before the world is dark.

The doppelganger exits your home, but before it flees, it turns to the house and tilts its head as it decides what it wants to do with its crime scene. It raises its arms and closes its eyes in concentration as it imagines volcanoes, hot-boiling, lava, flames everywhere. When it opens its eyes, the house is in flames, burning to the ground with your body inside of it.

With a satisfied smile, it snaps its fingers and is gone.