Page 7 of Her Midnight Stalker

And it excited me.

I wake up the following morning and hop in the shower. As the water falls over me, caressing me in its warm embrace, I feel eyes upon me. I am naked before an invisible observer. I don’t know how I know that, but the thought sends trickles down my spine, my breathing turning uneven in the wake of a wave of exhilaration.

As I wring my washrag over my bare breasts, I look around, trying to make sense of this feeling. Looking through the steam and at my reflection in the fog-clouded mirror, it becomes even more obvious that there’s nobody here. So why do I feel so vulnerable?

I throw on my work clothes, rushing to not be late for work, almost stumbling over the laundry pile in the middle of the living room. As I open the door, it collides with something with a thud.

My initial reaction is to panic, as I look at the necklace set tidily on my welcome mat, now dislodged slightly by the door. It looks very old.

And very valuable.

“What the hell?” I ask aloud, jarred by its presence.

It might be confirmation of what I’ve been feeling, this toe-curling, terrifying feeling of being watched. I poke myself hard in the nose to make sure I’m still awake, and I realize that none of this is a dream.

But something else pokes at my mind. I look at this jewelry, and I can’t help but feel seen somehow. Perhaps whoever left it here… whoever’s watching me now… isn’t evil, and doesn’t mean to make me feel uncomfortable. My thirst for answers deepens.

I feel my eyes cloud over, and as I pick up the necklace and its cool metal touches my skin, reflecting with the drops of rain left last night, I feel more safe than terrified. There’s still a danger to this somehow - I don’t know how I know that, but I do - but that makes it all the more exciting. I clench my legs together, trying to curb the arousal radiating down my thighs.

I pull the necklace over my head and under my shirt. It touches my clavicle, and I feel my mind fill with information I can’t possibly understand - an epiphany with no source. I’m enlightened now, but I can barely put to words what I learned.

I know that I’m being followed.

And I know that the thing following me doesn’t play by the same rules I follow.

Ten years ago, these ideas would have been sheer lunacy. But I’ve heard weird stories of the creatures that started appearing ‘when the veil fell’ - the shifters in the bar where I work are proof of that.

This necklace is a message from my suitor, informing me of his existence.

I look around, as though daring him to appear, and at first, I wonder if I’m going mad. Then from the alleyway, I see a lone shadow extend into the afternoon light, and I know it’s him. As I look upon his shadow, the necklace vibrates and fills me with a sense of warmness.

I’m tempted to run towards it, to tell him that I’m not interested. That’s the sane part of my mind - the part of me that’s dishonest with myself. It’s the voice of the people who care about me, who don’t want to see me hurt, and know that what I’m dealing with is dangerous.

But if you run toward him, I rationalize, then he’ll know that he’s having an impact on you. He might even think you’re scared to face him. And doesn’t that just make you more vulnerable?

As I debate with myself about whether to approach, the part of me hellbent on uncovering this mystery, and playing the long game, wins out. The shadow recedes into the alleyway, and I am left alone - as alone as I might have always been.

I wonder how deep this mystery will go, and where these questions will lead me.

You’re just curious, I tell myself. As soon as you find out what’s going on, that’s your chance to step away.

As I snap back to my senses, I realize that I’m already running late for work, especially since my car hasn’t been working lately, and I’ve had to walk.

I wonder if he’ll follow me there, I think to myself.

But then it seems like this sensation - that somebody’s watching me - doesn’t fade no matter where I go now. That feeds my rational mind and comforts it somewhat, because surely, nobody would follow me at all hours of the day.

On the way to work, I swear I hear a second set of footsteps echoing after my own. I turn around, not to confront whoever’s following me, but just to see what he looks like, and if he’s kind. Every time I turn around, I find out it’s just the sounds of sprinkling rain on the pavement, or of passing trucks driving over speed bumps.

But then there are moments where, out of the corner of my eye, I think I see a second shadow following mine. I look in store windows to find my reflection alone. I smell the air and all I take in is the crisp afternoon air and the smell of the cold metal object around my neck.

If this was only my imagination, I’d be seriously concerned for my mental health.

It’s probably nothing, that nagging, rational part of my brain tells me. You’re just inventing a fantasy to escape from the boredom of your life.

I arrive at the bar, and as I reach up to open the door, I notice a figure out of the corner of my eye.

This is it! My mind screams. Now’s your chance to find your answers!

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