You’d seen me before and I wouldn’t tell you where or when or how because it would just defeat the purpose. I knew you, I knew your story, but you’d been so rude as to never ask for mine. Don’t think I’m a stalker because I never intended to hurt you or your family, and I never did, did I? Plus, if you didn’t know I was there then there was no reason for me to stop. We were just so much alike and I wanted you to know that. I guess that’s why I did what I did, and do what I do. You fell asleep. Everyone everywhere was doing everything. Why couldn’t you keep up? Walls were built up between you and the people that loved you. In this reality, you had forgotten and lost the ability to even feel. The work dragged on and the pace dragged you back into an oblivion you didn’t know existed. You woke. The morning was average and one could already see the mysterious, milky light of the night mix with the interrupting brightness of the day. You brushed your teeth, slipped on your shoes, and had Nell fix your tie like any old Dawson Tax cubicle worker would do. “When do you think you’ll be home from the office, Mack?” “About 7:30, I’m working late.” “Aww. Okay, that’s not a problem! I’ll help Maddie with her project,” she said with a smile not wanting to let you know how much it meant to …show more content…
The sun stroking your face ever so gently, you sighed and put the key in the ignition. The road was the only thing you were supposed to see until you arrived at work. Somebody who didn’t know you couldn’t understand quite why you turned off Meade Lane instead of at Atlas Street where you always did. I’m not even sure Nell would understand. But to somebody like me that knew everything, I knew exactly why you turned, and I knew where you were headed. Your pulse started to quicken and your veins flared up. Gripping the steering wheel tight, you were brought back to an old
Richard Ramirez is an infamous serial murderer who terrorized Los Angeles, California in 1985. The media gave him the name the “Night Stalker” when he was on his vicious rampage of forcing himself into the homes of his victims late at night and committing his heinous crimes. Though he was only convicted of thirteen murders, he had many more victims. His crimes were so random, disorganized, and impulsive that the law enforcement officials of Los Angeles had no luck finding Ramirez for months as he grew increasingly more violent. (Tripod.com, 2012) Finally, in August of 1985, the police had enough information from many of his victims to release a sketch of him to the media. The sketch had only been on the news for one
Crunching rocks filled the girl's ears as she woke up. Allison was unaware that she had ever fallen asleep. She opened her eyes and glanced at her phone, which had stopped playing music about an hour ago, based on the fact that it had reached the end of the playlist. "Wake up honey, we're here," Allison's mother whispered. Allison sat up straight and looked out her window. The sun was shining bright for the first time in ages. Allison suddenly spotted her friends walking their horses to the stables.
It was a pleasant fall Tuesday when Stephanie went to work. Her day normal consisted of writing reports, and filing paperwork for her office. She turned on the television to see if there was anything alluring in the news. “NEWS FLASH: MAN CONVICTED OF MURDER HAS ESCAPED PRISON.” The warning did not phase her, considering the jail was far from her office. She concluded that she was safe. By four o’clock, it was time for her to travel home from a laborious day of work. She arranged her things into her bag, and began her trek. Walking out the door, she was met with warm rays from the sun. It was an astounding way to end a strenuous
“Shit, shit, shit…” Kelsey mumbled to herself as she leaned against the wall of her room to put her other black stiletto on. She quickly zipped up her black dress, applied red lipstick and ran out the door. The warm night air brushed against her legs as she quickly walked to the bar downtown. She was on a mission tonight… and being late wasn’t part of the plan.
The 1979 science fiction film Stalker, directed by legendary Soviet filmmaker Andrei Tarkovsky, is a film which contributes to historical understanding by being a product of its time. For many individuals in Soviet audiences, Stalker presented itself as an allegory for the yearn for greater freedom: personal, artistic or ideological freedom depending on the interpretation one ascribes to the film. Stalker’s titular character’s obsession with the the Zone, a paradise-like location, resonated with audiences’ growing dissent with the repressive nature of the Soviet Union, and their desire for that which lay outside its confines. Additionally, for Tarkovsky as well as others, Stalker is a story of faith and the arduous task of keeping one’s faith intact in a world which no longer believes. A commentary of the
It was 5 A.M. and my thoughts were everywhere. I kept tossing and turning, desperately trying to fall asleep, but knowing I couldn't. I finally slipped out of bed, carefully so that I wouldn't wake up Olivia, and proceeded to walk down the stairs. I sat down on the living room couch and exhaled deeply as I stared into the sunroof.
The sunrise could have not looked more attractive than it did that morning of the field trip Beecher Prep took. The wheels of the bus shined a reflection onto the street puddles. The kids loud screams filled the air with laughter and joy. The Innocent August Pullman did not know he was out for a surprise on that magical day. They had arrived at their destination and began setting their covers on the grass; preparing for a movie.
As soon as I opened my eyes, the bright light from my window streamed into my sight. My aunt stood there, breathing in the musty smell September, her petite figure enveloped by a sweater and a long dress. I was compelled to bury myself in the covers before noticing the time on my alarm clock; I was almost twenty minutes behind schedule. I yelled a short good morning before running into the rest room and preparing the day ahead of me. Pulling my hair into a pony tail, I grabbed my pancakes to go and headed out the door.
Imagine if a person was following you around and you did not even know. This is a scary situation and most people would not know what to do. These people are not mentally stable and can become dangerous. The question is how would a person know if they are being followed by a crazy unstable person. The show Stalkers aired on CBS reveals how stalkers choose their victims and what extent they can go to get that person. It also shows what the stalker is going through and why they take the steps they do. It also has a police aspect which shows what they have to go through to find the person and figure out who is doing the stalking. These kinds of shows are based on real events that happen to people. By having these shows on the television, the audience
“No worries,” the man replies, “Can’t have you keeling over again, gesturing me a flirty wink.” “Name’s Jack”, shaking my hand in a firm grip. “Ellie,” I reply, still flabbergasted that this is truly happening… I haven’t spoken to a different man since my previous life. Unless you count the guy at the post office… So I promised myself one thing in this life. That I won’t meet the man that concluded me becoming a crumbling, emotional mess. But then again, I can’t make any new flipping decisions! Maybe all this was meant to happen…
Blood pounded in his ears. The air filled with the think tension of nervousness, and the electric buzz of excitement. Ethan paced around in the living room, waiting for this girl, Spencer, who he had heard so much about. Finn had been telling him about her for months now, to the point where he felt like he knew her as well, even though they had never met. He had even taken it upon himself to look her up online, not in a weird, stalker way, of course, but to see her work for himself.
Jack smiled as he walked down the street to Chris’s house, he had already had breakfast but knew he could expect another once he got there. Jack glanced over the water at the brightening sky. The sun had not risen yet today but there was already signs of activity in the city, workers moving around the port, ships getting ready to sail, and several small shops opening their doors. However, as he moved inward past the common district and into the bureaucratic district people were only just beginning to awake, though of course it was already in the third hour of morning. He also knew that Chris would still be in bed at this time, and expected he would arrive at Chris’s house soon after he arose.
When the next cycle started the night mist started to get burned off by the rising of the suns. Jovic looked at Meredith and decided then and there that she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He rose slowly from the comfy moss that they had been lounging on all-night and offered her a hand to rise as well. She accepted the help gratefully and with the grace and beauty of a dancer she got up and stared deep into his eyes with admiration. He held her gaze and in a moment of passion fueled confidence he bent forward to give her a kiss. She returned the advance and then there was a different kind of stars that had filled his head. They walked slowly back to town and had breakfast at the same little pub that was now an eating establishment. He ordered some Jama-juice and an omelet of avian eggs and wild fungi and Meredith got a fruit bowl and some Anacardi juice. They sat talking until mid-day and then Meredith said she had better return home figuring her elderly mother was probably worried sick about where she had been all night. Jovic paid the tender and they left. Starting back the way they had come from Jovic walked her to her door hand in hand and when they arrived he asked when he could see her again. Meredith smiled and said she was free tomorrow and every night after that. Jovic smiled back and said he would see her tomorrow and that he already missed her. He gave her one last kiss and she disappeared inside behind a slowly closing door
Puzzled, Tilly and I gave each other a confused look. She mentioned while walking out the door, “Well aren 't you coming?” We hustled to find a cab. In the cab to the park, we chatted about what we might find. I paid the cabbie driver and we dashed to the center of the park. Thankfully, Tilly had her mobile, and we were able to have a compass. The compass read north, south, east and west. Heading south, I murmured, “Isn’t this ridiculous? I mean, this could have been just a coincidence. We don 't know who or what we will find!" Tilly snapped me back into reality. This was real and I didn 't care what I had to go though, but I need to figure it out.
On a chilly October evening around 8 o’clock a sole road leads me from Bowlus to Royalton. My eyes burn from the wind blowing into them all evening, my body aches from sitting in a single spot for hours, unable to make a move, not seeing a thing. As dusk sets, the chilled air pricks my pale skin with an abundance of goosebumps. The heat blasts through the vents to prevent the windows from frosting over and brings warmth to my skin. The car has no insurance yet, so my parents were hesitant to let me drive it. After pleading to them that I was responsible and old enough, the moment finally came. They said multiple times that I needed to be extra careful, but eventually they handed me the keys. The radio echoes the lyrics May We All through the car while I hum along. The rumbling of my stomach silences the thumping of the bass, since the last time I ate had been around lunch. The sky was somber and the moon was hidden behind the jet-black clouds. The headlights of the car reflects off the tar like a spotlight lighting up an empty stage. Warm air glides across my relaxed hand on the steering wheel. Corn and bean fields, soon to be harvested, surround the road that takes me home. It's a serene night. I am about five minutes away from home and just about to go around one of the only curves that I drive on every day, so I slow my normal 65 to about a 60, and prepare for the turn.