Every spring my father goes hiking, and every time he returns sunburnt and smiling. But this year he did not return.

A man did come into our home that day. A man who said he was my father. A man who was sunburnt and smiling. But he was not my father.

My mother hugged and kissed him, and called him by my father’s name. My sister sat on his lap and talked about her day. And it’s only on father’s lap she sits, when she talks about her day. But the man is not my father.

Stolen story; please report.

He does not eat at mealtimes and I have never seen him drink. And while he has my father’s shape, his shadow is not the same. And when he went to pet the dog, she growled. I have not seen her since.

Mother will not listen, and my sister shakes her head. But in the night I hear the noises coming from the shed. The man is building something. He no longer has my father’s shape. And when he speaks, his voice… it throbs.

I am scared to look inside the shed. But something inside compels. I creep outside and lift the latch. And though it’s very dark, at least I finally understand the sounds. Before me stands my double. “Hello,” it says and strikes.