Strange familiar faces

When I was a little girl, my grandmother would sometimes warn me about seeing doppelgangers—figures that resemble loved ones or relatives. She said they usually appear around noon or shortly after, a time when people are resting and their guard is down. One story she shared from her youth, years and years ago, still haunts me to this day. She recalled that it was a little past noon, and she was walking home from school when she spotted her older sister hanging clothes outside a neighbor's house.

Puzzled, my grandmother called out to her, wondering why her sister would be hanging clothes at the neighbor’s place. Her sister turned, but she didn’t respond—she just stared, expressionless, which only deepened my grandmother's unease. Then, without a word, her sister began walking away, her eyes never leaving my grandmother, as if urging her to follow. For a moment, my grandmother considered it. She wanted to understand what was going on. But something held her back, and she chose to continue her way home instead.

When she arrived home, still unsettled by the encounter, she was startled to find her sister already there, waiting for her, as if she had been home all along. Her sister greeted her warmly, and suddenly, it all clicked—why the woman she’d seen had made her feel so uneasy. It wasn’t her sister at all. It was someone—something—that only looked like her. My grandmother shivered each time she recalled that moment, wondering what might have happened if she had followed that doppelganger.

Growing up, I believed stories like this. I've always considered myself open-minded because there are just too many things out there that cannot be explained by science or reason. I go through life knowing there are mysteries we know nothing about and cannot explain. In a way, that mindset has made me more aware, more attuned to oddities or things that don’t add up, always wondering what they might be trying to tell me.

However, I have a cousin who refused to believe any of those stories. It’s ironic because, among all of us, she eventually had the most paranormal experiences that cannot be explained by reason or science.

In her twenties, she moved to Manila. Adjusting to life in the big city wasn’t easy after growing up in a small town. One afternoon, around noon, she was riding a jeepney when she noticed a woman who looked uncannily like my mother—her aunt. Yet, something about the woman’s smile made her skin crawl—something unnaturally wide and fixed.

Confused, my cousin greeted the woman, asking why she was in Manila when she knew my mother still lived back home. The response chilled her to the bone. My mother’s lookalike just kept smiling, her unblinking eyes locked onto my cousin, the grin never wavering.

Even as the woman got off the jeepney, my cousin could feel her eyes following her, as if urging her to come along. My cousin said she might have done so, but a growing sense of dread made her realize that this woman wasn’t who she seemed to be.

When my cousin visited home that month, she immediately asked my mother if she’d been to Manila recently. My mother, bewildered, assured her she hadn’t left our hometown. Though my cousin never admitted it openly, I believe that experience changed her view of the unexplainable. I once overheard her wondering aloud what might have happened if she’d followed that woman who looked like my mother.

I find myself wondering, too. I don’t think my grandmother’s and cousin’s experiences were isolated. Surely, others have encountered these unsettling figures. I’ve spoken to a few with similar stories, but like my family, they all resisted the urge to follow the doppelgangers. And I’ve never met anyone who did otherwise. Maybe I shouldn’t wonder too much—perhaps those who turned away are the only ones who made it back, the only ones who lived to tell the tale.

My grandmother always told me never to follow blindly, even those who seem familiar, because sometimes—just sometimes—they aren’t who they appear to be.