Confessions of a female stalker

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: January 29, 2019

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Submitted: January 29, 2019

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Inspired by true (and possibly disturbing) events

Confessions of a female stalker

Predators. They were deadly, they were resilient and now they were all around me. They say your life flashes before your eyes but for me it was a pair of discounted stockings and some 2 for 1 sunglasses. David Attenborough describes this moment as ‘utterly sensational’ as two mums fight over the last pair of mum jeans. I was lost in the midst of last minute Christmas shoppers and was two special offer socks away from giving up until I saw him. Suddenly I didn’t care if the second pair was free.

People describe the moment of falling in love like fireworks but for me it was more like switching on one of those energy saving lights. His face was one I remembered staring into on the television screen. Staring, day dreaming and re-watching shirtless scenes like it was the answer to all my struggles.

His name? Sam. Sam Claflin.

His relationship status? Who cared?

He was married with a baby.

*cough

If you didn’t know who he was you were probably not a female between the ages of 13 to 25, but the easiest way to describe him was as the newer and shinier version of Robert Patterson. Before I could wipe the saliva that left my mouth, he walked into the lift which closed like the final curtains of a theatre production. I just stood there unable to process it all.

The predator within me was awakened and I was determined to search the entire department just so I could take in his scent, because I was sure he smelt of unicorn sweat and teenage heartbreak. Even if he obtained a restraining order against me, nothing could keep me away. Not the Prime Minister, not the Queen nor the lost civilization of Atlantis.

I forgot to mention his wife was with him the entire time. She was holding on to a stroller with his arm around her as if they were this perfect stock image. I could see myself becoming the evil witch from Snow White and I was equally prepared to offer her something, perhaps a faulty apple product would be the perfect symbolism.

I was going to start from top to bottom so I hurried all the way to the children’s department and was definitely sure the distance to heaven would have been much closer.

Hell.

Make that hell.

I had arrived in Munchkinland, only the children were shorter, their voices were squeakier and they were arguably a better form of contraception than a condom. A bratty kid resisted letting go of a doll as her mum dragged her away. It became clear that Sam and his family weren’t there. I asked myself then, where I would be if I was obscenely rich, incredibly handsome, gorgeous —Okay I’m getting off track.

I stared into the fanciest of all fancy restaurants that made Buckingham palace look like a dodgy McDonald’s in Mexico that handed out sachets of cocaine with every kid’s meal. The fancy place’s tea was served in the kind of teapots that would make the most perfect noise when smashed into someone’s head. Not like the ones sold in the Argos catalogue which would make more of a krrrsh sound, this was more like a krrrsh with the pinkie raised.

Alas, he wasn’t there.

I listened in on some employees’ conversations to hear if they knew of his whereabouts. I almost expected them to follow him around while shouting into a walkie talkie ‘the eagle is on aisle 4 I repeat the eagle is beside the cornflakes!’ .Unfortunately all I gathered while snooping in on their conversation was that some girl named Katie was a total slag.

*Heavy sigh

I imagined what my future looked like without Sam in it. Sure it would look just like any other day but the moment I saw Sam’s face I knew we would spend the rest of our lives together even when we were thousands of miles apart. Me behind bars and him behind the doors of a Hollywood mansion filing a lawsuit against me. His wife would receive a letter through the post detailing the events of her soon murder. I would provide illustrations of a stick figure of me ripping into her throat with a Louboutin heel. I would take extra care in signing it  Yours truly, Sam’s next wife Using the blood of a lamb. OK maybe just the fake blood from Tesco’s fancy dress range.

They say it’s important to stay strong but nobody said anything about staying sane. Sam was now standing ten feet away from me, unaware that I was analyzing his every move. Hell I could have followed him to the bathroom cubicles wearing a Scream mask and he still wouldn’t notice me.

His wife led him further into the abyss of overpriced clothing. I followed them all the way to the lingerie department like a lioness approaching a gazelle. Stalker level: 100

They held onto each other and the baby stroller as if the lingerie section was the teacup ride at Disneyland. I despised every beautiful second of it all. Before I knew it, I saw them heading for the exit to the car park.

I made one of the biggest decisions of my life then, to follow them out and possibly cross the line from creepy stalker to disturbing psychopath. I stumbled through the exit and let out sounds that resembled a dying fox. Sam was not there. Instead his wife waited by the lift, looking at me like I were Freddy Krueger. There was something at the back of my mind telling me to kill her but I didn’t think Sam would like me very much if I did.

Like a half human, half bore with a speech impediment, I asked if I could take a picture with her husband. Why didn’t I just ask to snog him while she recorded the entire thing? Sam then entered the elevator as if it were the gates of George Lucas’s residence.His wife whispered something to him that sounded like “Watch out for that creepy bitch”

Sam smiled at me uncomfortably but agreed to take a picture. I was going to give him a speech about why he should have chosen me but somehow I only let out incoherent sounds.

Looking back at the pictures I had taken, Sam had a look in his eyes I couldn’t quite make out. Joy? Delight? Fear?


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