On December 30th, after posting a variety of queries all over the web about my situation, my sister—with whom I was currently staying with—was visited by a man wearing a tan suit & red tie.

After we heard a knock at the door, I looked through the peephole and asked who the hell it was.

Muffled from the other side, a stern voice announced himself. “Well, I’m not the goddamn mail man. Your name is David, right? Age 28, you’re an accountant. Born and raised in Houston, now resides in Amarillo. I’ve seen your shit.”

“What the fuck?” I thought. Turned towards my sister, she shrugged with this baffled look.

Was hesitant to allow sis to approach the door, but she did anyway.

“Excuse me, this is a bit too much. Are you FBI or something?” my sister said.

“No. But allow me to help you with this thing you got going on," the stranger responded. "You allow me a few moments of your time. If this isn’t some kind of hoax for internet clout, I think I can identify your issue, and maybe even find a solution. Whaddya say? At the very least, I can get your story out there.”

I open the door ajar. The strange man waves, and I allow him to step in. My guard was up.

He requested my sister to get chairs for us all. We propped them up facing each other in the middle of the apartment.

“You can address me as Yoel, by the way,” he said and then shook our hands.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Cindy,” my sister responded. We all sat down to have a trio conservation.

“So…what are you exactly?" continued Cindy.

“Enough small talk," Yoel said. "Questions: have you spoke to the police yet, David?”

“No," I said.

“Why not?" Yoel asked.

“Because—I don’t know—it just happened, and what do I tell them? Truth be told, I planned on going to the police tonight with these damn recordings if nothing came out of what I was posting. If I tell them to go to my house and arrest whoever this imposter is when he’d normally be there, they should be able to just arrest this guy, right?”

“So, no contact with police as of now? That’s perfect,” Yoel said.

“That’s perfect?” I asked.

“Next question, and this is a big one. . . Have you made any direct contact with your doppelganger?”

I denied.

He continued. “On your days off, when you’re not working, do you notice anything strange? Do you see things from the corner of your eye? Frequent nightmares than normal?”

I denied once more.

Yoel’s hands rubbed together. “That’s all good news. This is a lot easier on my end.”

“I’m sorry, but what’s going on here?” My sister interrupted. “Honestly, if you’re not police then this is a waste of time. I fucking told David that regardless of how much this person resembles him, he’s just a guy that needs to have his ass arrested. Yet, he insists on looking for solutions on the damn internet.”

“It’s called spontaneous clairvoyance,” Yoel snapped back. “Have you ever had the ‘irrational’ feeling that something isn’t right? You ever took the longer path home because something about your usual route gave you chills? Why do you think it's so hard to sell a house where a murder has happened? Listen, I’m about to bring you two into a whole new world. And I can name about ten different reasons, off the top of my dome, why bringing law enforcement into it is a bad idea.”

Yoel then took out some kind of book from his briefcase. The cover of which had no title, with strange carvings all over the dingy fabric. He then flipped through its pages. “I’m what you might call a: 'supernatural investigator,' alright?”

Cindy rolled her eyes. “Like Zak Bagans?”

“Sure, toots," Yoel said. "Listen, go on ahead and bring up that recording you claim to have. Need to see this for myself."

I got up and did what he asked, with no doubt in my mind of getting conned. Was about two seconds from kicking this guy out of my sister’s home. Nonetheless, I got the computer and opened the files.

I explain to him my routines, what I like to do at home. Then showed him the times of myself leaving and this other 'me' entering soon after. As skeptical as sis was, she couldn’t resist goosebumps and a pale face every time she was shown this footage. I expected to glance over and see this apparent con artist trying to hide a smirk, but he was intensive, as if watching some documentary.

Yoel gradually eased his way to controlling the timestamps. We spent the next 20 minutes in silence watching, analyzing. Eventually, while Yoel flipped through more timestamps, something caught his eye. He paused the video, made sure the volume was turned all the way up, and then resumed.

At this time, the other me chatted on the phone. He had whoever was on the other line on speaker.

This is when we discovered the very thing I cliffhanger'd my last post on. My sister’s voice, as clear as day, was coming from the speaker volume.

Cindy gasped.

Yoel paused the footage. “Convinced now? Now I know for sure exactly what this is all about. So, let’s get down to business.”

Cindy reached over to fiddle with the video slider and replay the same part. She put an ear to the speaker. “I can’t believe it. It’s literally me. Whoever that girl is sounds like me to a tee.”

Yoel nodded. “Indeed. What I’m about to say will sound outlandish, but let me explain what I believe this is. David, you—my friend—have caught the eye of a Mimic.”

“A fucking what?” Sis and I said, simultaneously.

“Lookie,” Yoel said as he gestured his book towards us.

What we saw on the palimpsest pages was bone chilling. Imp-ish monstrosities with one eye, round body, skinny arms & legs, razor sharp teeth and hardened, green skin with a slimy texture.

Yoel continued. “Disgusting, is it?”

“Um…it’s horrible,” Cindy said.

“Okay, but what do you mean I’ve 'caught the eye' of this thing?” I said.

“I’m not quite sure myself, to be honest,” Yoel said. “Does your family have any history with witchcraft? Maybe your great, great, great, grandfather had some generational curse placed on him?”

“I wouldn’t know,” I stuttered out.

Yoel went on. “Okay. Well, then we’ll have to assume you’re one unlucky bastard. You see, hauntings and possessions are due to two factors these days. Either a long-ago generational curse or being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe somewhere with a lot of bad history, trapping negative energy within it, to then be a gateway & attraction for heinous entities. Or maybe you’re just the right type of person, but that can’t be quantified. Either way, I don’t know when, but somehow, someway, this thing noticed you. It’s attached to you. It’s goal, for now, is to copy you to the finest detail. It can manifest aspects of reality that are associated with you: your entire body, your clothes, your voice, the sound of your sister's voice over the phone, or anyone you've ever spoken to in the proximity of your home. All imitations.”

I laughed. “Okay, okay. What the fuck, man. What is this? You expect to me to believe this shit? Who even are you?”

Yoel held up a finger. “Like I said, I’m a supernatural investigator.”

“Yeah, a con artist,” I retorted.

“Man, the human mind is a bitch, ain’t it?" Yoel said. "You just watched an entity not only pose as you, but simulate your sister’s voice perfectly, but you still won’t make any leeway? Because the brain will try to keep you programed against instances of abnormality. Listen, you wanna go back to a normal life? You need to twist the key, a key that's been given to you by making contact with this thing. Open your mind to this new world. Accept it, undeniably.”

I took out my phone. “Fine. Assuming ghost, ghouls and all things that go bump in the night exist, what’s stopping me from recommending a SWAT team on this monster?”

Yoel chuckled, briefly. “Sure, go fuck off to the police. Yeah, piss off the overly attached alien living in your home. Better yet, let the government be aware of your attempts to get local authorities involved in the paranormal. Let’s see how far you get. It’s amazing you haven’t been sniped already.”

My sister, who’d turn silent in this conversation, spoke up. “David, let’s hear him out. It won’t hurt. Yoel, let’s say you’re right. How do we stop it? And what do you mean by ‘overly attached’?”

“Finally, intelligent questions,” Yoel smiled, put one of his legs over the other, and rested his cheek on his fist. “First things first. The primary motivation for a Mimic is love. This thing is in love with David and doesn’t wish him any harm. Yet.”

My eyes widened. “Yet?”

“Focus. There are reports of Mimics killing, what we’ll refer to you as, its lover. As for when this happens is unclear, but it takes a long while for that to happen. If it even does. Could take years, or months. I doubt it’s been in contact with you that long,” Yoel said.

“Kay, cool, but we’ve yet to reach a solution. What. Do. We. Do about it?” Cindy said.

Yoel sat up, put his hands flatly together, and aimed at me. “Simple. I have a plan. Step one: David, you’re going back home.”

“Hell no,” I said. “Are you out of your mind?”

“This thing’s goal is to copy you, right?" Yoel said. "It can’t do that if you’re not there. Ask yourself: how do you think it knows so much about you? You think it leaves when you return home. But in reality, it merely dematerializes itself. It’s always watching ya’, David. When you're not working, it's an invisible force bound to your home—a stalker. In your bedroom, living room, bathroom, no matter what. Wherever you are, it’s there. According to the book’s limited knowledge about these things, you’re spiritually connected to this thing, which will allow it to channel you. Either of you understand with this means?”

Sis and I shook our heads.

“David, just by being here you’ve put your sister at risk. You’re a danger to everyone. If it realizes you’re not returning home, it will use its established link to follow you. Get it?”

Cindy grabbed my shoulder. “Screw that. I can’t let my bro spend another night with that thing sizing him up. If it wants to come here, then fine.”

Yoel put his fingers to his forehead and sighed. “Don’t be ridiculous. No offense. There’s a reason men and women who live alone are the primary interest of these things. If it spots you with your brother, it may be jealous and tear you both to shreds. But, hey, at the end of the day, it’s David’s call.”

I thought for a second, but needed less than that to know there wasn’t a way in hell I was gonna endanger my sister…if this really was all true. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“But—”

“Please, don’t argue,” I anticipated a rebuttal from Cindy and replied sharp. “Look, most likely, this guy is crazy, right? But on the off chance, what kind of fucked up brother would I be to risk it? So, let’s say I go back home. What then, Yoel?”

“Live your life," Yoel said. "Do the things you normally would do. And for goodness’ sake, don’t act so damn suspicious. Pretend you’re totally clueless of it. You called off work, yet?”

“Was planning to,” I said.

Yoel waved his finger. “Don’t. Keep working. Give it time to come into your house when you’re gone. Let it do its thing. Await further instructions.”

“What’s in it for you then? You expect me to pay you or something?” I asked.

“Good you asked. There is a price, actually. Not monetary. All I ask is that you become my client,” he said.

“Your client, huh?” I asked with a suspicious tone.

Yoel had a big grin on his face. “Correct. That just means you allow me to record and post your story. That’s my schtick. My job is searching for people like you with abnormal cases. But broadcasting them online is a little extra thing I like to do sometimes; call it a hobby.”

“So, you’re using David and his fright as a guineapig for entertainment?” Cindy said.

“Like Zak Bagans,” Yoel said with a wink towards Cindy. “In all seriousness, you’re acting as if David wasn’t already trying to get his story out there to begin with. Besides, people are a lot more open-minded than you think, trust me. Maybe someone could help. Who knows. In any case, I’ll be doing research while you’re living your ‘blissful’ life. Meanwhile, you can type me a detailed account of everything that’s happened to you thus far. You don’t have to be a writer or anything. I’ll do that part. I’ll revise & pretty it up as a coherent story. Whaddya’ say?”

I’ll admit, he had a manner that made me want to believe in him just a little bit. I took him on his offer. He soon left after I got his contact info and said I’d hear from him in the coming days. We decided it best to wait later into the night for me to return home, for obvious reasons. My sister made us dinner, after which I collected my few belongings. Gave Cindy a hug, told her I loved her, and said everything was going to be okay.

The drive home was filled with contemplation. It felt like I was doing everything wrong. As if every action I took up until this point was completely irrational. Every rational piece of wiring in my head, whatever function is responsible for making things make sense, screamed at me to call the police. Report a breaking & entering. Let law enforcement go through with it.

However, the more I focused on the footage I was able to capture, it gave me some kind of willpower to ignore those thoughts. It was eerie. Its feels like the equivalent of going against the body’s callings to breathe when you’ve been holding your breath for too long, or to blink when your eyes are burning.

When I rode into my driveway, my lights illuminated the front lawn. My home had such a thick layer of darkness over it now, I couldn’t look at it the same. It took me a solid thirty minutes to muster up the courage to step into the black stretch of midnight over my porch.

Yoel said it was always watching. So where was it then? Given what the guy had said, I guess it wouldn't be possible to see it in person.

Every step towards the front door, a burning sensation came over me to look around. To see if I could spot anything. Yoel told me to act as natural as possible, but that’s a hard task. I cringed at every leaf that crunched under my boot, like I were announcing myself to the violator of my home as I walked to the front door.

My hands gripped the doorknob. Deep breaths. I opened the door to my house, slowly. Was ready for something to jump out at me as soon as I stepped in. My fingers fidgeted near the light switch to the chandelier, but I stopped.

My living room lamp was on already.

“Whatever. Be natural.”

I flicked on the chandelier anyway. Light engulfed my living room, and I let out an exhale at the sight of not a damn thing. There were some obvious screw ups by this imposter, though—whether intentional or not. The sink in the bathroom ran water, my pantries were wide open. One of my books were completely misplaced. This was the worst case yet. I wondered why it had been so blatant then. It seemed like before it was at least trying to match my behavior. Regardless, I cleaned up and didn’t show a single sign of distress.

This is where I’ll end this update. Through the first week of January, I've been living my life as normal. I've also been holding up my end of the bargain and typing up my accounts, including the one you’re currently reading, then giving it to Yoel so he can do whatever he needs to with it in order to share it with you all. Its currently the 6th as I'm writing this.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you. I'm not sure when Yoel will publish this, but he told me he'd like to debut the first of these accounts by the 11th. Hopefully, he kept to that promise. Assuming I'm not dead, the next update for you all should be pretty damn soon.

part 3