A Walk Home

The Wind howled. I wrapped my scarf tight around my neck in hopes it would not blow away. The streets are dark and empty while fences rattled against their posts.  It was going to rain soon, it likely be a large storm. I left the bar early in hopes of getting home before it started. I only had four blocks to walk, and the trip home now is better than a later trip drunk and in the rain.

After a block I heard footsteps following me. I turned to see someone much further down the road, hands in his pocket, coat and scarf blowing in the wind. He seemed familiar I wondered if he was he was coming from the bar as well, perhaps I had seen him there. I walked on, not giving it another thought. The wind blow in my face, I tucked my head down into my coat trying to block most of it, keeping my hands in my pocket to keep warm.

Another block, the man was still behind me. I could not catch a good look at his face but he was walking faster than me. He would catch up soon; I wondered if he was a neighbor, we seemed to be heading the same way. After a bit more time I took another look back, he was still keeping a fast pace, his hands still in his pockets. Growing a bit worried, I started to walk faster.

One more block before am at my apartment, am getting scared now. The man behind me is taking wide and fast steps getting closer. I see now that his scarf is covering his face, and his hands still hide in his pockets. I decided to run for the last stretch of my trip. The moment I start to run, I hear the footsteps behind me pick up the pace as well, am being chased!

The footsteps are right behind me. I look around for anyone to help, am ready to yell when I feel something cold in my back, I trip and fall to the ground. I try to pick myself off the ground, when my hand reaches for the feeling on my back. I feel something wet on my coat, and when I bring my hand back around I see the blood on my hand. I yell, when something grabs me from behind and covers my mouth. I reach for it and feel his hands, he forces me on my back and I finally see his face. Oh god…oh god his face! Why does he have my face!? The last thing I see is a knife in his hands as he jabs down. Before I lose conciseness I can hear him say “Don’t worry, no one will miss you.”


“The night is quiet, the streets are calm,
In this house my beloved once lived:
She has long since left the town,
But the house still stands, here in the same place.

A man stands there also and looks to the sky,
And wrings his hands overwhelmed by pain:
Upon seeing his face, I am terrified–
The moon shows me my own form!

O you Doppelgänger! you pale comrade!
Why do you ape the pain of my love
Which tormented me upon this spot
So many a night, so long ago?” -Franz Schubert’s Der Doppelgänger


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