The Copycats

Nobody remembers when they appeared, some think they have been here since the beginning of time and space, or at least since the first human existed, others think they came into existence more recently. I personally don’t care where they come from, or how they got here, I only really care about keeping myself alive.

The copycats, that’s what we call them. Most of the time they look almost human, trying to copy the appearances of their last victims. I say almost, because they often appear as tall as the streetlights, or have big bulging eyes and smiles with too many teeth. Some of them can speak too, sort of as a way to lure us out. In reality, most of them aren’t really talking, just reusing things they hear before their victims die. Their mouths never move when they “speak” and they never move an inch when they do.

But those who can speak dont sound human. They speak in tongues with deep voices that sound gentle, masking their violent natures, calling out for their victims, asking them to accept their fates, to finally accept death and come to them, the reapers.

They like to live in dark spaces, areas where you can’t tell if they’re human or not. Basements, alleyways, anywhere with a shadow to conceal them. The feds say to keep every corner in the house (or in my case, apartment)  bright, and to make sure all doors or windows are locked. Because once they get in, anyone inside will never come back out.

I was sure that my apartment was safe, that I could live there forever.

But recently, people have been running low on food. They have to risk going outside, opening the doors and letting the monsters in, forced to run through the masses of inhuman faces that flood the streets, growing as restless as we are. I see some of the braver people sometimes, out my window. I see them running through the streets, only to be devoured by the Copycats, who fight over the scraps of the bodies.

It’s been weeks now. I’m almost out of food. I’m pretty sure the other people in my apartment building have died, either of starvation or by running into the Copycats. I’ve noticed that the lights have been flickering in the apartments, and that the rent forms have stopped coming in. I don’t know if anyone else is alive, I don’t know how long I’m going to last in this hell. Some people might say I’m the lucky one, surviving this long. Personally I think it’s hell, watching as people I love die, as the world around me dies, as this new race of monsters climbs its way to the top of the food chain, wiping us out in the process. I’m keeping this journal in case I’m not the only one, in case there are others out there who somehow manage to survive against these monsters, in case someone finds me, dead or alive.

Day 1

I can’t do anything but keep the doors locked and keep my neighbors shotgun at my side, though I doubt the gun will do anything against them. From what I remember from the news, the military tried to use tanks against them, barely making a dent in the Copycats numbers before being consumed by the freaks. I managed to get into a few apartments and snag some food, but I was almost caught by one of the monsters that got in during the food runs. They know I’m here now.

Day 2

I saw one of my neighbors today, or I guess whatever saw them last. I remember that she was a nice old woman, with kind caring eyes and always helped other tenants with groceries. The kind of neighbor who would show up to your door when you first move in with a plate of cookies in hand.

Now she was different, forced to become one of the worst disguises that I’ve ever seen a Copycat use. She stood at around 7 to 8 feet tall, forced to crouch down to not touch the ceiling, and her face was rounded, wider than it should have been. Her smiling mouth was filled with around 20 large teeth, stretching ear to ear, and one of her eyes was impossibly big compared to the other. I ran the other way when I saw her, or I guess, it, and quickly closed the door of the random apartment behind me.

I didn’t have time to lock the door, I could only hold it shut and pray I was strong enough to survive when the thing kept ramming into the door.

Day 3

I think it’s given up now, but I can still hear it shuffling around outside. I’m gonna wait another day before I go back out.

Day 4

It was waiting. It wasn’t moving, it wasn’t breathing, it was just standing there, waiting for the door to open.

How the hell does something stay alive that long? Over 24 hours without a single breath of air? I guess I should count myself lucky that I was able to shut the door.

Day 5

It’s angry now, I can hear it screaming, it sounds like a human voice mixed with the sound of a guitar getting kicked down the stairs, a loud wail with pauses every one or two seconds. I managed to hide in the bathroom before I heard the sound of shattering wood. It’s in the apartment now.

Day 6

I managed to sneak out through the window. Luckily I was high enough to be out of reach from the flood of Copycats on the street. I almost fell several times, but I made it back to my apartment without dying.

Day 7 

The food started to rot.

I was trying to scavenge, sneaking around the Hidden in the hallway, and found a couple cans of food, nothing special, just some loosely screwed shut jars of beans, tomatoes and peaches. Fueled by hunger, I opened one and was immediately hit by the smell. It was horrible, like the smell of an egg after being microwaved until it was burnt. I don’t know how long I can keep this up.

Day 8

I’m all out of food, the hallways aren’t safe, and it’s not like I’d risk going through the window again. All I can do now, is wait to die from either the Copycats, or starvation.

Day 9

Since I’m (probably) gonna die here, I think it might be helpful to make a list of as many Copycats as I can, how they look, how they act, stuff like that.

First off are the Hidden,

If you remember the neighbor I ran into earlier, they’re like that. Barely humanoid figures that hide in the shadows to distract from their appearance, imitating loud noises drag out those who it’s hunting.

They are usually extremely disfigured, most of them having a permanent smile on their face, and stand at heights from 6ft all the way up to 10ft tall. They can put themselves into some sort of self induced hibernation of sorts where their bodies cease any and all activity. This can last for an undetermined amount of time, the longest I’ve seen this happen for was a day. I think that they do this to trick their prey out of hiding.

Next are the Muttering,

They look almost the same as the Hidden, albeit smaller, only growing to around 7ft max. They have noticeably less disfiguration, especially around their mouth, and don’t hide in the shadows as much as Hiddens do. Instead they usually stand motionless, constantly repeating the words of their victims, waiting for someone to see them. If you see something standing and talking like this, and can’t tell if it’s a person or not, listen to what they are saying. Most of the time, a Mutterings voice will change depending on what it’s saying (or screaming). Common things said by Mutterings are:

”Help me”

”Please don’t hurt me”

”Take me instead”

Or they will just stand there and scream for around 20-30 minutes.

The third kind are what I like to call Stalkers. They’re some of the most dangerous of the Copycats. They grow to around 6ft tall, and can go weeks without eating. They hide behind doors, completely still and motionless, and strike the moment the door opens.

They have small round eyes on the sides of their heads, leaving room on the front of their bodies for a large mouth that stretches from the top of their head to stump at the end of their torso. They don’t have legs, and walk around on their hands when they need to. They don’t even look human, their skin looks like a skinned tomato, red and slimy.  If you think you might be trapped by a stalker, I recommend finding anything long and sharp. It might take a few tries, but you should try to stab through the door until you hear it shriek. They normally run away after that.

I’m getting tired. I might write some more in the morning.

Day 10

One of them got in again. I think it crawled in from the window. I haven’t seen anything like this. It’s tall, it has to crawl to be able to fit in the apartment, much bigger than the one disguised as my neighbor. It’s talking too, not random snippets or sentences, but full fledged statements. Its skin is a dull gray, and its face is like a skull, it’s wearing what looks to be an old black curtain around it. I heard about these in the earlier days, mostly rumors, short stories writing about them. I thought they were fake, publicity stunts by people trying to become famous, but this, this is real, a behemoth of a monster, staring me in the face. I can just barely make out some of its words:

“Why do you wait here? Why do you try and survive knowing that we are around every corner, when you know that you are the only one left, the one we have been watching for so long? What is it that fuels you? Is it hope? Fear? Or is it something else? some primal instinct? An urge to survive when you know there is nothing you can do to stop us, all of us, from finding a way out of this hell? You were never surviving. We have been watching you all this time, studying you, copying you, learning from your actions. We have been keeping track of every move, sending one of our own to occasionally remind you of the hell you are in. You will never escape this, you will never survive this, because eventually when we run out of things to study about you, when we run out of things to copy, ways to scare and traumatize you, we will kill you. There is nothing stopping us from tearing this apartment to the ground, nothing stopping us from ripping through every hallway and room before finally finding and devouring you, body, mind and soul. This is your prison, these halls are your cell, and we are your captors. Never forget that at any moment, any split second, we could destroy you the instant you stop being of interest to us. So every second, you better be moving, because the second you stop is the second that the thoughts you engrave in that little book you so desperately scribble in stop.”

And with those words, it left. It didn’t attack, it didn’t kill me, it crawled right back out of the window. I don’t know how much time I have left, but I think I should focus less on writing all this down and more on finding out how to get out of here.