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Stalking My Stalker

by AmyLuvsTheBiebss


I slowly walked into the door of my new house. I dropped my bags and ran up to my room. The house was already furnished, so I just flopped down on the bed. I let out a huge wind of breath because I was exhausted from the plane ride. My back is killing me, my ears are still kind of numb from my ear buds, my legs are half asleep, and my arms hurt from all my luggage I carried. It was about 8:30 PM here, and I have school tomorrow, so I took a shower then went to bed. I was supposed to unpack my bags, but what do you expect, I just got off a long plane ride, I was exhausted.

I yawned and stretched as I rose from my bed. I went to bags that were still packed, and got my clothes out. I picked out ripped jeans, a pink shirt from Forever 21, gladiator sandals, and some jewelry. Then, I did everything else that a normal 16 year old girl, would do in the morning. By the time I got ready and ate breakfast, it was already time to go to my new school. My mom offered to drive me, but, I wanted to explore California a little bit on my own, right now. It is so beautiful here, palm trees, green grass, and the sun was already out. It took me about 10 minutes to get to school.

Then, all the sudden, some boy with really long, black hair, with cages in his ears, wearing eyeliner and all black came up to me and started to talk to me.

“Hey, you look pretty today wearing your favorite color, just like you did yesterday, um, I mean I guess you looked pretty yesterday because you are pretty and your outfit is pretty, and usually girl’s favorite color is pink, but umm, I’m going to stop talking now,” said the boy, hurriedly.

I looked at him, not knowing what to say. “Uh, thanks, I guess,” I said, curiously.

Without saying anything else, he walked away, putting his hood up.

“Hold on, aren’t you coming in?” I asked.

“Well, I don’t go to this school, umm,” he looked around, like he was trying to think of something to make up, “I’m homeschooled.”

With hands in his pockets, looking down, and hood up, he started walking away. Without knowing if I was late or not, I ran into school, and hurriedly rushed to the main office.

“Hi, I’m Destenee Kurt, and this is my first day here, so can I have my schedule and everything?”

“Sure,” the person at the main office said, with a huge smile. She went back in the storage room, and about two minutes later, she was back with my schedule, lock, locker number and combo, etc… Just as she handed everything to me, the late bell rang.

“Should I get a pass?” I asked.

“No, honey, they know it’s your first day and that you’re not used to the halls and everything.”

I smiled and walked out of the main office, looking down at my schedule. As, I walked out of the main office, I took a quick glimpse outside. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, that boy from earlier was there again, just staring at me. I got a little bit anxious, and I fast-walked to my homeroom in the 10th grade wing. Out of breath, I arrived at my homeroom, looking back, again and again, just to make sure that boy wasn’t following me. I mean, he seems like nice kid, I guess, but I’m going to trust my instincts and stay away from him.

When I walked into homeroom, people were looking at me like I killed someone. Well, since this is my first day, in the middle of the school year, this is someone I would expect.

My homeroom teacher walked over to me, with her high, black boots walking hard on the ground. “So, you must be the new student!” she said, while she looked down at her papers. “Destenee Kurt, right?”

“Yup,” I said, smiling.

She then led me to my assigned seat. Homeroom was over and then soon, the whole school day was; boring and tiring, like any other normal day. I hurriedly walked home, being aware of all my surroundings.

Wait! Why is there rose pedals leading up to my door? I asked myself. I slowly picked one up and smelt it. I wanted to see if they were real or not……they were. I looked around, to see if anyone looked suspicious. Hold on, why was I even looking around, who would leave flower pedals on my walkway? Exactly, no one, I barely even knew anyone. I shrugged my shoulders and through my backpack over my shoulder again. As I walked through my new houses door, my mom came plowing towards me.

“Oh my gosh, honey, your home, how was your day? Tell me details, tell me!” My mom said almost running out of breath, because of how fast she said it.

“Whoa mom, call down! Anyways, my day was fine, I made a couple of new friends today and my teachers seem cool, except Mr. Calbo, he seems, hmm, how should I put this, STRICT!” I responded. “Oh, and one more thing, explain the rose pedals on our walkway.”

“What rose pedals?” My mom said confused, as she went over to the nearby, front window. “Oh, well, maybe it’s just neighbor delinquents, trying to warn us about how the rest of our years will be, when we’re here.”

“Rose pedals? Don’t you think it would be, I don’t know, a little bit less romantic and gentle? Delinquents as you say, are not that fragile and nice, to take time, to pick rose pedals, and leave them on our walkway,” I objected.

“Well, either way, they made our walkway look breath-taking,” my mom pointed out.

“Alright, mom whatever you say,” I finally said, giving up.

I sprinted up the stairs, into my room. I walked into my room, only to find my suitcases, still packed. Ugh, I would think my mom would have unpacked them, since she is such a neat freak. But, before she said something about “me taking responsibility for my belongings,” so I guess that’s why. I started unpacking my bags and I put everything up on my closet hangers and in my draws. You might think it isn’t a lot of work, but jeez, that was tiring.

“Destenee, it’s time to eat!” I heard my mom yell from down stairs.

I let out a huge breath, and changed my outfit before I went down to eat dinner. I put on sweatpants, my old softball shirt, I took off my jewelry, and I put my hair into a pony tail.

I jotted down into the dining room. “Dad, why did you even cook this early, it’s like 4?” I asked, still being annoyed from unpacking my bags.

“First, cool the attitude, and second, I cooked roast, and I wasn’t sure when it was going to get done, alright” my dad responded, apparently being annoyed too.

After that, I just didn’t respond anymore because I knew it was going to go on and on, and I wasn’t going to hear the end of it. My mom got out 3 plates, and the rest of the silverware. She also, took everything out of the pots and put the food into bowls, so she could lay them out on the table. After she was done, we all passed around the food. We can be a peaceful family, but not all the time, I can tell you that. Anyways, the food was really good, mmmmm! Buttery corn, crispy roast, cheesy scallop potatoes, and salad with a lot of carrots and cucumbers, oh how I love cucumbers and carrots! I burped right after I was done eating.

“Oops, excuse me!” I giggled.

“Well, that means, the food was good,” my mom smiled.

My mom always says that, “if you burp, the food must have been good,” sometimes my mom just makes up her own sayings and everything. Yeah, the food was good, but even when I eat something I’m not crazy about, I sometimes burp.

I went back up to my room, to do my homework. When I went to take out my binder, a crumpled piece of paper fell out. I picked it up and undid the crumples. I read it. It said “How did you like the rose pedals? Ha-ha, what am I saying, I saw you react! Anyways, there’s gonna be more stuff like this to come.” I was frozen, how was I supposed to react to this note? I’m speechless. I couldn’t even think, of how I WAS going to react. I re-crumpled the piece of paper, and tossed it into my mini trashcan.

The next day, I asked my mom to drive me to school. I was still a little freaked out about this whole situation and didn’t have the guts to walk to school. I asked her to drive me all the way to the entrance instead of a corner. She did.

“Thanks mom,” I uttered.

“No problem, sweetie!” She responded and she then drove off.

Out of nowhere, the same boy from yesterday appeared from behind a tree. “You get my note?

“Huh?” I murmured, hiding my face.

“Oh um, I said, do you get totes? Like at the mall, like in Hollister, and yeah.”

I did a ‘humph’ noise. Maybe I was hearing wrong, maybe I wasn’t. Maybe I was paranoid, maybe I wasn’t. Either way, this guy was freaking me out.

“Why do you even come out in the morning, when you have school at your house? There’s really no point.” I added.

“Who do you think you are? I can go out, when and if I want to. It’s a free country! And, I didn’t get the memo that said, you were in charge of me!” snapped the guy.

“Jeez alright, I asked you a question, no need to get all feisty about it! Calm down! It’s almost as if you’re hiding something, if you’re going to be that defensive,” I argued back.

“Oh my gosh, do you ever cool your attitude?” he questioned.

“See, there you go again! How do you even know I always had an attitude?” The guy flipped his long hair back, revealing his face.

The guy put his head back down; I’m guessing, so I can’t see his face.

“Alright, well whatever, there is really no point of me arguing with you!”

“I just want to know one thing, how you knew all that stuff about me, like, that I dressed nice all the time, apparently, always had an attitude, and even where I lived!?”

He didn’t respond anymore and just walked away. Shoot, I was caught up in the moment and forgot all about that I was late. I ran into school and then into homeroom, not going to my locker or anything.

“Excuse me, Ms. Kurt, why are you late?” my homeroom teacher, Mrs. Herly asked me, stopping me dead in my tracts.

“Uh, well, I couldn’t get my locker open, and plus that’s the reason why I still have my things with me,” I lied. I didn’t like lying, but this was my first week of school, I didn’t want to make a bad impression. I’m new here; she couldn’t expect me to get my locker open, just like that, does she?

“I guess I understand, just take your seat,” she calmly said.

I went to take my seat. I then started to talk to one of my new friend’s I made yesterday. “Hey Camille, Do you ever see a gothic kid around here?” I asked her.

“Ugh, of course, he’s like everywhere!” she responded.

“Did he ever, like I don’t know, stalk you?” I asked her, not trying to be too awkward.

“Well, by stalking do you mean putting rose pedals on your walkway, leaving you notes, and showing up everywhere?”

“Oh my gosh, that’s actually exactly what I was talking about. Hold on, but, how do you know he did the stuff to me?” I questioned.

“To you? He did that stuff to me and like 3 or 4 other girls. Wait, he did it to you too?” she asked too.

“Yeah, how long has he been doing this stuff, do you know?” I asked again.

“Hmm, I think since he was in 8th grade. He always does this stuff to the new girls in town; that’s what he did to me. After awhile, I told my parents and they told the cops, and I told them the whole story about like how he did this to a lot of new girls around here. Since, he was a minor back then, they really couldn’t hold him in jail, they just kept him in Juvy for a couple of days. He then knew that my parents and I were no joke and he stopped this whole ‘stalking thing’ to not only me, but to other girls too. But, from this short notice from you, I’m guessing he started up again.

“Wow, thanks for the info. I have a couple more questions to ask though. How does he found out all this stuff about us? How did he know I was even moving here?” I asked, kind of embarrassed of all the questions, I was asking her.

“Did you post that you were moving, and to where, and to what school on any social websites? “ she then questioned.

“Yeah, but only my friends can see my account.”

“Wrong! He has this special hacking thing, that he can use for anything, he wants to hack,” she stated.

“Alright, you have the question answered; now just one final question, how did he even know my name?”

“Now that, I do not know, but I know that he is very good at being sneaky. Hold on, or he probably snuck into the school to see if there were any new students arriving soon, and he saw your name, so he looked you up and hacked your account and everything; I guess that’s reasonable.”

Before I could say anything else, the homeroom bell rang to go into first period. I rolled my eyes and said to Camille “let’s meet up at lunch.”

In every single period after homeroom, the anticipation was killing me. I really wanted to know more info about this creeper, yes creeper. I kept tapping my foot and pencil, just staring at the wall clock in science for 4th period to be over, so I can go to lunch and meet up with Camille. It seemed like hours until the bell rang. I hurried to my locker to put my stuff in and then rushed to the cafeteria. I was one of the first people there, considering I practically ran to it. I waited by the door for Camille, hopefully this didn’t seem creepish, even though it probably did. After about a minute, Camille walked right past me and didn’t see me. I grabbed her arm and pulled her back towards me.

“Are we still going to talk?” I asked.

“Sure, you can come and sit at my table, if you want,” she offered.

I smiled and nodded. She then led me to her table. I would buy my lunch, but I wasn’t all that hungry.

“So what else you wanna know?” Camille asked.

“I have a lot of questions, haha. Do you know his name? Can you help me solve this? How old is he? Is he even homeschooled? Does he live close to my neighborhood, oh by the way; my neighborhood is the one like 5 blocks away from the school,” I asked almost out of breath.

“His name is Andy, sure I can help you, he’s too old to be homeschooled, he is 19, and no, I don’t think he lives close to you,” Camille answered, all in one sentence.

“Thanks, do you want to like help me follow him or something?”

“I’m free afterschool, if you want to do it then.”

“The sooner, the merrier,” I responded with a smile.

For the rest of the lunch period, we just had normal conversations and laughs. The long school day was soon over and I went out in the front entrance of the school to wait for Camille. Suddenly, she came out of nowhere and snuck up behind me. I jumped and we both laughed. We both looked in front of ourselves and we saw the guy turning around the corner. We both ran towards they way he was going, so we can at least catch up to him, a little bit. After we were a good distance away from him, we stopped running and we started walking really slow. We made sure we were near some sort of object, so incase he looked back, we could hide.

I think we’ve been following him, for about 15 minutes, and neither one of us doesn’t have a clue of where he is going. About five minutes later, we found ourselves a little corner store. Camille and I hid in a nearby alley, while he went into the store to get whatever he was planning to get. Two minutes pass, then three, and then four. Finally, after 5 minutes, he comes back out of the store and starts coming the way we came from. Camille and I panicked, and then I told her to just put her hood up, zipper her jacket, put her hands in her pockets, and just look like one of those guys that were always in alleys. Luckily, we had black sweatshirts and not pink jackets are something. I peeked my head around Camille to see if he was gone. He was. I grabbed her arm and I led her to the end of the alley.

We peeked our heads around the corner. He was about a good distance away from us, so we started ‘following’ him. The wind was blowing really hard, so at some points it was kind of hard to keep quiet, but we managed. After about 18 minutes we started entering my neighborhood.

I whispered into Camille’s ear. “No surprise” I had said. “Do you think we should call the cops, so they can catch them themselves?” I asked.

She didn’t answer but she did take out her phone and dialed 911. They answered.

“Can you come to the neighborhood of….” She covered up the talking speaker with the palm of her hand. “Wait, what’s your address and neighborhood?”

“My address is 379 West Oak Road,” I answered.

“Alright, so can I get some help over here at 379 West Oak Road, we’re having a little trouble with Andy Freeman, perhaps you guys are familiar with him?,” Camille said into the phone.

Camille soon hung up the phone. “They’ll be here in about 5 minutes.”

We then started walking behind Andy again, which was way ahead of us now. It doesn’t really matter because we already knew where he was going. About three minutes pass and we arrive at my house. Andy is already there, so we just hid behind my neighbor’s car. The cops should be coming anytime soon now. While we were waiting for the cops, we kept a eye on Andy. Wait, what is he doing anyways? He had silly string, little popper things, that make a little cracking noise when you step or throw them, and what? Syrup? Just when he was about to spray the silly string all over my house, I heard police sirens. All the sudden, 3 police cars come flying through the streets. They all jump out of their cars, with their hands on their guns, just in case.

“Oh, you! You’re still doing this pathetic stuff? You know, you’re over 18 now, so you can go to jail this time,” one of the police officers said.

The police officer than went over to Andy, with the silly string still in his hands. The police officer took the can away from Andy and put his hands behind his back and handcuffed him.

The police officer led Andy to the backseat of the police officer. He was giving us a evil eye the whole time, but if he thought that effected me, he sadly mistaken.

“Do you know how long you are going to keep him? I asked the police officer.

“I’m not sure, we might not keep him long, but you can get a restraining order,” he answered.

I nodded and he went to his car to get the papers about it. I signed everything I needed too. Now, that is officially the end of Andy Freeman and me.


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214 Reviews


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Fri May 29, 2015 1:34 pm
artybirdy wrote a review...



The story fell flat as there wasn’t enough mystery/suspense. I should have been at the edge of my seat halfway through, eager for more. However, I was left disappointed. Your story felt more like a typical high school love story than a thriller (as you most likely intended). I see *a lot* of potential in it, so I’d suggest you to revise your plot and add horrific events, which might freak out Destenee. For example, she could receive a gift on her windowsill and a note written with blood. Though this idea’s cliché, it can attract and intrigue more mystery lovers!

Regardless, you have a simple yet engaging writing style. You’re able to make the story flow, and create a smooth transition from one scene to another. I found no mechanical (spellings, grammar, and punctuation) errors.

Overall, you have a natural talent in storytelling, but your plot needs improving.

Well done, and keep writing!




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Thu Feb 02, 2012 1:15 am
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My passion is writing. Writing is more than a mere interest to me because I've been writing since I was little and I dont plan on stopping anytime soon! Writing will always be part of everyone's life, which I think people need to start reconizing. In order to understand why I love writing and enjoy it, you would have to have experience and enjoy writing yourself. Everytime I write, I dont know, that's just the time i let everything out and sometimes even put my own feelings into my stories. You can write about anything, about a life experience, a fantasy you always had, a nightmare you ever had, a thing you thought about, or just something thats pops into your head. You can find idea's for stories anywhere. You can get idea's for your stories, from books you read, from celebrity scandals, from movies, from TV shows, or even something you once saw. In order to write a good story, some people need to plan out, think of how your characters are going to be, the plot, the setting, and etc... Writing affects me as a person because sometimes i write down my feelings or how my day went, or anything else. The point if, that I love writing, and probably couldnt live without it!(:




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Thu Feb 02, 2012 1:14 am
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Stellabeam says...






Stellabeam says...


Great story! Some grammatical mistakes but otherwise good.


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Thank You, and thanks for the tip(:




I will call them my people, which were not my people; and her beloved, which was not beloved.
— Romans 9:25