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'William Wilson,' by Edgar Allan Poe, Part Three


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You will remember that in the last part of my story I told of my experiences in my first school; I spoke of my early meetings with a boy who looked and behaved as I did – whose name was even the same as mine: William Wilson.

I told of the night when I went to Wilson’s room, with a plan to hurt him. What I saw that night so frightened me that I left the room and the school forever.

As I stood looking down at his sleeping form and face I might have been looking at myself in a looking glass.

It was not like this — surely not like this — that he appeared in the daytime.

The same name, the same face, the same body, the same day of coming to school! And then his use of my way of walking, my manner of speaking! Was it, in truth, humanly possible that what I now saw was the result and the result only — of his continued efforts to be like me? Afraid, I left the old school and never entered it again.

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