Clementine

Authors Note: To my return readers, this will be familiar to you. For any new readers, please read carefully and fully, consider my advice and follow my guidance as you see fit. While these are my personal journal entries, they are written as to be published for the wider world. You should consider these entries to be fiction. The stories are from other worlds and in other times and so it would only make sense to stay on the path of comfort and contentment. Do not burden yourself wondering what lies beyond your sight and ability to perceive.

So, once more I insist and so you shall agree, this work is beyond a doubt, fiction. What else could it be? Illustrations, on the rare occasion they are provided, illustrations are the only visual proofs of any of the Doolittle tales. And so, it is. Would you believe me if I showed you a photo of a twenty-foot-long serpent with three heads? I should hope not. That would be ludicrous.

Best regards and my sincerest apologies,

Floyd Doolittle, Junior.

From the journal of Floyd Doolittle Jr -

What I am about to describe is quite an odd tale. Indeed, truly unbelievable. If I had not seen it with my own eyes, I would have never given a story such as this any credence, and may, in fact, denounce as insanity.

The subject of this tale is a man. At least, that is what he appears to be. Before the tale begins, however, there are some things you must know. This “man” may certainly be deranged and is most definitely dangerous. Is this a byproduct of his surroundings or is it his natural state? This, I am afraid, is one of the many mysteries still surrounding this “man” and those like him. If this man had friends, which he certainly does not, they would remark how he enjoys talking. He loves to hear his own voice it would seem. I can confirm this. He will talk and you will hear, he is truly mad. If you saw this man walking down the street, he would seem like any other man... at first. But upon closer inspection... ah yes see here, something not quite right with his smile. It appears fixed upon his face, like a painting. But you know this is not a painting, for the man is talking and you can hear him. But that smile, that smile is not quite right. And upon remarking to yourself about how this man does not look quite like a real-life person, you would notice the “man” suddenly look towards you and too fast for words he was right in front of you. And then it would be too late. That would be the end of you.

I have researched this creature and those like him for many years. Yes, they are creatures and are most aptly described as such. I have taken it upon myself to name this new species, although I doubt there will ever be any more information about them then what I have gathered. My data is limited but not uninteresting. Mimicus pseudohominum is a creature that mimics a human. As I continue, I will simply refer to this creature as a “mimic” or simply, as “it”.

Every mimic I have encountered has appeared within apocalyptic worlds. I have seen worlds where humankind has been decimated to the point of extinction. I have seen worlds that have been torn apart but are rebuilding. Worlds being slowly destroyed while they are still trying to piece together something that they consider the “best” civilization. And I have seen a mimic within them all. Sometimes the mimics become leaders, most often in worlds too devastated to ever piece themselves anew. A more apt term in those worlds would be gods. Are they gods? Certainly not. But powers unknown to most, they do have. And to the people in a world that has been burned to the ground, these powers intrigue and entwine.

Are these mimics responsible for these dystopian worlds or are they created by these worlds that have simply run out of time? I am afraid this too is another mystery. I do not know the answers to the most important questions. And I am sorry for this. But I do not wish to ever venture forth once again to unravel the last mysteries of the mimic. No, not ever again. And now we have arrived at the end of my warnings and wonderings. We have now started at the beginning of the tale. A short tale and thankfully so. Fact or fiction, I lay the story down here. For the history books. Or the comics.

August 20, 2042

I had been observing the mimic for about an hour before it set out on its journey. It was mimicking a man. Along the empty and darkening streets, it/he hurried. All the while muttering and gesticulating.

“Oh, Clementine where are you?!? Sweet Clementine I know I can smell you!”

And as I moved along the rooftops, I could see and hear that it was sniffing the air as it said this last. It was most revolting. As it continued down the street, it continued to profess its love for Clementine. Whoever she may be.

“Oh, my sweet Clementine, they call you Clem for short. You hail from Georgia but moved to the west coast with your family when you were only ten. You acted brave but deep down you were scared. It’s a big bad world out there! Oh, sweet Clementine.”

I lost it for a short distance after he crossed the street and rounded a corner. I was avoiding the street, however. What had happened in this world, it was still happening. My best guess is biological. There was fighting, and some of the bodies were grotesque. If you are thinking along the lines of a “zombie” apocalypse, you may be headed in the right direction. But this seemed like something more. It was like both sides were almost.... equal. It was a war. But nothing seemed interested in the mimic, and it continued along, unimpeded.

I caught up with it five minutes and two blocks later. It was singing now.

“Clementine the flow of your hair, Clementine your skin laid bare! Clementine behold the sun, Clementine you are the one!”

It was catchy and made me think of a medieval bard performing for the court. I could see faces peaking from the windows lining the streets. So, there were other people here, although they did not seem inclined to go outside. The mimic didn’t seem to notice them, slightly unusual but he seemed to be thinking of only one thing. Poor Clementine.

“Clementine, you smell so sweet, Clementine your love can’t be beat! Clementine I’m coming for you, Clementine you know it’s true!”

Yes, poor Clementine.

He seemed to be incapable of stopping to think. It seemed to me that every time this creature had a thought come into its head it would say it out loud. Like the joke, when you say something out loud that was meant only for only you. But this was not funny. The more the mimic walked the livelier it would become. And now, as we entered downtown, and the sun would shortly be gone, the true scope of this worlds war was made plain. The way was almost impassable, with debris from destroyed buildings blocking access along the once bustling streets. Burnt out cars were overturned in the middle of the road. However, this was of little concern to me as I was still able to follow along on the rooftops, only having to face the terror of below when a building was gone. This started to happen more often as we entered downtown. What was truly concerning were the bodies. Every streetlamp lining the sidewalks had a body hanging from it. For the amount of destruction I had observed up until this point, I was amazed there were so many street lights still standing. The bodies swayed slowly in the evening breeze. From within each skull shone a ghostly light, it did not look like those lights could provide much illumination, but as the skies grew darker, I was dispelled of that notion. Those ghostly lights seemed to light up my entire being, I felt that under those lights, you could never hide. But the mimic moved along and did not seem to need to hide.

Yes! Finally, the fiend stopped. As I look back upon this moment, I think about how easy it should have been to look away. I felt it then as I feel it now and I should have looked away. But it was harder than I could ever have imagined. So, I watched as this foul beast found Clementine. She looked so young, but as he approached her, she did not seem afraid. No, she knows this man. Or at least, she once did. As the mimic approached the girl, she held out a hand. She was holding something out to the mimic, I could not see from where I was hidden but the mimic took the item and held it close to his face. What happened next, happened so fast that I will never be sure that I remember it correctly. But perhaps this is what I tell myself so I can sleep at night. The mimic dropped the item it had been examining and in the blink of an eye it was on the poor girl. It had a knife; I do not know where the knife came from, but it was there, and it was coming down upon Clementine's chest. He then proceeded to carve out her heart. He held it out in front of him, the blood pulsating from the still beating heart. I had never seen anything like this, and never could I have imagined what it did next. The mimic, joyously crying out brought the knife down upon its own chest. Amazingly, the mimic then proceeded to carve out its own heart. And with a sigh of satisfaction that boarded on erotic, the mimic replaced its heart with that of poor Clementine. The mimic then replaced Clementine's heart with its own. I was shocked. I was shocked again when Clementine, poor Clementine arose and took the mimic by the hand. She was smiling. But there was something not quite right about her smile. It was fixed upon her face, like a painting.

When I could finally bring myself to leave my hiding spot, I approached the area where this drama unfolded. On the ground lay a small heart-shaped locket appearing to be made of gold. It was heavy in my hand as I stood up, opened it, and peered inside. A small photo with three smiling faces peered back out at me. The photo was cut out to fit inside the locket. It was done with care, ensuring every face was able to fit inside the small space. The photo was of Clementine and a woman who looked exactly like her, but older and more worn by the world. And beside the older world worn Clementine was a man. He was smiling in the photo, smiling like he had been the last time I saw him. But this smile looked real, it looked genuine. It looked.... human.