Raymond

Edgar lived by a strict code of live and let live, firmly believing that life would be better for everyone if they minded their own business and not others. He was never nosy and stayed to himself. Because of this, he was the friend of many and being so popular was always invited to all the major shindigs.

On the other hand, Raymond liked to stick his nose where it didn’t belong. He would always butt in on other people’s conversations when he was around, interjecting his opinions as fact. He hated being alone, therefore he constantly looked for someone to gossip with. This made him so unpopular that he was never invited to any function, big or small.

Edgar only enjoyed going out during the daylight hours, when he could run errands. He enjoyed going to the florists, the bookstore, the stationary shop, and the farmer’s market. His appetite for knowledge was as great as the one he had for food. When he wasn’t cooking gourmet meals for one, he would read any book ever written. He was knowledgeable in many subjects and never could seem to get enough of the written word.

Raymond only went out during the dead of night, when the clubs were open and the parties would be going on. Insinuating himself into groups at the bars, or crashing the festivities he was never invited to. Tainting any get-together he attended.

Edgar was kind. He would give bright copper pennies to children. He carried a Ziplock baggie of dog and cat treats in a pocket to give to the four-legged friends he saw on his errands. Edgar would offer anyone the shirt off his back if he thought they needed it more. What won everyone’s heart was how he’d always help elderly ladies cross the street as if he were some Boy Scout. “The world needed more like Edgar,” people would say.

Evil was the word used to describe Raymond. He gave everyone around him the creeps. No one wanted to stand near him because of the odd smell that wafted from his pores. Folks were known to cross the street and walk on the opposite sidewalk if they saw him coming.

Everyone knew where Edgar lived. His house was on Toronto Street, on the west side of town. It was a one-bedroom, two-story clapboard with yellow shutters and a bright red door. His gray Taurus sat in the driveway most days and would be put in the garage at night when Edgar was done running his errands. Colorful flower boxes lined the windowsills, and a soft glow could be seen through the curtains at night.

No one knew where Raymond lived. He was never seen driving a vehicle or riding a bike. Slyly, Raymond would appear and insert himself into groups before they knew he’d walked into the bar or crashed the party. When he left, it was as if he disappeared, and no one could remember seeing him depart. Many speculated that he lived down in the shanties by the railroad tracks. Others thought he lived in the slum hotel by the bus station. All could agree he wasn’t their neighbor, and they were all glad for that.

But what each did not know, was the one thing neither could have imagined. If the truth about Raymond were to get out, it would blow people’s minds. No one could understand the depth of the subterfuge involved. Folks would never be able to grasp how Raymond ever got away with what he was doing.

For you see, Raymond resided in Edgar’s home. He slept when Edgar was awake and vice versa. Edgar’s leftovers were meals for Raymond. When the sun was up, the house belonged to Edgar, but when the sun went down, the house became Raymond’s abode.

Oh, that is not all. Edgar was born Edgar R. Greene and Raymond was born E. Raymond Green. Two eerily similar names who happened to live in the same house. In truth of fact, two personalities that resided in the same flesh. For what no one suspected, what no one foresaw was that Edgar and Raymond were two battling ids trying to conquer one ego.

Edgar was unaware of Raymond, but Raymond was completely aware of Edgar. He knew all about Edgar’s interests and daily routines. Raymond even knew how Edgar felt the need to go to Mass every Sunday, come rain or shine. Poor Edgar was left in the dark as to what was being done when he was out cold.

For when the sun would set, Raymond would rise from the recesses, just as Edgar was starting to fade into the dark of oblivious sleep. Stepping out, Raymond would begin manipulating his way through the town, conniving his way where he could. If anyone paid too much heed to Raymond’s appearance, he quickly moved on, sneakily inserting himself into the next crowd.

When everything else would wind down for the night, Raymond's fun began. Those who rudely snubbed Raymond, forgetting to invite him to their affairs, or who were the most offensive transgressors calling him names, he would stalk and track in a way akin to supernatural. Whether it was a local or out-of-towner, an ol’ timer or a noob, Raymond was always one step ahead of whomever he was hunting. Hiding in the shadows, bidding his time until he could come out and play the game the way he wanted to play his game.

Oh, how Raymond played, too. He would carve, skin, and fillet with his special knives and tools. Leaving nothing on the bones, flaying the night’s chosen victims.

Before the sun touched the sky, always in time for Edgar to rise, Raymond would remove all evidence that led to him from the scene. Then, cleaning himself up, he’d quietly make his way back quietly, but craftily through the town. To Edgar’s house. To be in position. Before the shift happened.

To always hide in plain sight. Never being suspected. Never being caught.