Doppelganger

Reads: 155  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic


You are your worst enemy.

Submitted: October 26, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 26, 2017

A A A

A A A


Doppelgänger

By Stone Rose

 

Vinga stood alone, eerily still as the wind whispered around her body, silent in its intensity. Her piercing gaze fixed itself upon the burgeoning flames, vibrant and fiery, as they licked up the sides of her ancestral home. Long ebony tresses surrounded her, swaying like a curtain in the wind. Blood, tears, and ash now tarnished her once ethereal countenance. An ankle-length shift of deep-blue cotton swathed her willowy frame within its heavy folds. Crimson stains dotted the no longer pristine material; a glistening dagger held aloft in one dainty hand. The other was pressed against her chest, nails clawing at the flesh there, leaving rivulets of dark scarlet in their wake. The salty evidence of her weakness slowly streamed down porcelain cheeks, one scorching droplet at a time. She heard the screams but remained motionless, as if paralyzed.

 

"You did well."

 

The voice came from behind her as a sylphlike figure glided forward. Dressed in a black, knee-length slip over which rested a diaphanous gown of gray satin, the newcomer uncannily resembled Vinga. Where Vinga's hair was dark and cascaded freely, the newcomer's silver locks were plaited. Where vinga's face was smeared with soot, the newcomer possessed a flawless countenance. And where vinga's lips were pressed into a thin line of horror, the newcomer's visage radiated icy placidity. Though the fabric of Vinga's garment hid her bare feet, the feet of the newcomer were displayed, childishly small in their fragility. Both had the same aristocratic bearing, high cheekbones, delicately upturned noses, and eyebrows that arched over crystalline-green irises. Their hair, though different in style and color, possessed the same glossy sheen. Though they were clothed differently, their svelte forms matched in posture.

 

The newcomer's hands were adorned by red, decoratively silken gloves, the tops of which disappeared into the flowing sleeves of her gown. A bloodstained rose lay in her left palm, held out to Vinga as if in offering. In her right hand she held an intricately carved mirror, the Yin symbol engraved into the perimeter. Black velvet shrouded the handle, contrasting with the vermilion of her glove. The oval glass was set in a rectangular frame, ornate but not to the point of gaudiness. The mirror was positioned in such a way that the newcomer's face was obscured, with the glass facing outward.

 

"Why do you not look at me?"

 

The newcomer spoke again, her tinkling voice carrying an amused lilt. She drifted closer, stopping when she faced Vinga. Vinga, for her part, remained silent.

 

"You fear me," the newcomer stated flatly, all traces of amusement gone. "You fear where I came from. You fear my beauty because I am all you once were. You fear my words because-"

 

"Stop it!"

 

Vinga's voice came out high and shrill as she tore her gaze away from the flames.

 

"Stop it, you know nothing about me!"

 

The newcomer flashed a seraphic smile of satanic honey.

 

"But I do, Vingana," she murmured.

 

Vinga's eyes widened fractionally.

 

"My name is Vashti," the strange maiden continued. Vinga blinked.

 

"No, Darling," Vashti pressed on ruthlessly. "I am not a reincarnation of the little girl that lies, now lifeless, on the marble floor in front of your bedroom door. I am not the little girl that tried to save you from the fire you yourself lit. I am not the little girl who loved you, and died because of it."

 

With each statement, Vashti took a step forward.

 

"The truth is much worse, I fear."

 

They now stood face to face, separated by less than six inches. The mirror fit the contours of Vinga's face perfectly.

 

Vinga trembled uncontrollably, pressing bloodstained fingers against her lips in shock. She stared at the girl looking back at her, not registering that it was her reflection. Her tears still fell freely, her breathing erratic and desperate.

 

"You do not know what it is you speak of," she whispered raggedly.

 

"But don't I?"

 

Vashti leaned forward and tucked the rose into Vinga's hair. Vinga flinched as if burned. A thin stream of blood trickled through her ebony strands as the thorns grazed her scalp. She tried to take a step back, but to no avail.

 

"Why are you here?" Vinga inquired tremulously.

 

Vashti laughed, the sound incisive and harsh.

 

"You still don't see it, do you?" she mocked rhetorically. Vinga could smell Vashti's breath, overwhelmingly saccharine.

 

"come now, Vinga. Look. You are so far gone, you do not even see yourself."

 

Vinga stared.

 

"Take your dagger, Vingana. Kill me, see if you can."

 

Vinga lifted the dagger.

 

"Go on, darling," Vashti coaxed. "Go on and slay me. Kill me, kill the girl you see."

 

Vinga's hand shook, Vashti's voice reverberating throughout her head.

 

"Do you see?" Vashti simpered. "Do you yet understand?"

 

Vinga opened her mouth, lips forming soundless platitudes. She screamed, the sound imbued with fear. The dagger plunged forward, Vashti's laughter echoing in her ears as Vinga collapsed, staining the ground beneath her. Vinga coughed, blood bubbling between her lips and trickling down her chin, obscenely akin to uncontrolled salivation.

 

"You never learn, do you?" Vashti whispered quietly. Malice was to longer prevalent, her tone almost wrought with sorrow.

 

Vinga's eyes blinked rapidly as she searched for Vashti's face. She found nothing.

 

"Open your eyes, Vingana," Vashti's voice implored as it grew fainter.

 

Vinga coughed again, struggling to blink. No one had called her Vingana, no one except for, Vashti. Vashti-Analena, her now deceased sister. As for Lareh, Vinga had never before uttered the name; a piece of herself she'd always treasured, for the simple reason that no one else knew. Not even Vashti. There was still time... Vinga had no time left.

As Thanatos carried Vingana to the gates of Hell, Pluto granted Vashti-Analena entry into Elysium, to mingle with the other consciences that had tried, and failed. 


© Copyright 2019 Stonerose . All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

More Horror Short Stories