The Stalker

I never heard of a "stalker" when I was growing up. Mom warned me that there were people who did "bad" things but I never felt that I knew anyone who was like that. That changed, however.

I had seen a very tall, very skinny boy who was a year or two ahead of me in school. I saw him at school but never anywhere else. I noticed him because he was so very tall. He dropped out of school, probably after 8th grade.

Mom was baby sitting across the street sometime after I began working at Rexall. It was evening. I was home alone so I pulled the shades in all the rooms of the house. (This is what families did at night - pulled the shades and closes the curtains.) I was reading in the living room when, suddenly, I heard someone scratch on the screen. It realy started me. I didn't know what to do.

I got up and walked into the front bedroom. I turned on the light and picked up a hairbrush from the dresser. I brushed my hair while I thought about what I should do. I was alone and afraid and we did not have a telephone. I finally decided I would go open the front door.

I turned on the porch light and yanked the door open! Then I heard these running footsteps beside the house. Can you imagine how it sounds when a very tall person runs? It is a sound I can still remember in my mind. I did catch a glimpse of the boy as he ran away. I did go across the street and stayed with Mom until she could come home.

Several weeks later I worked the Sunday evening shift at the Rexall. Mom came to pick me up. When we got to our kitchen door - it was open! Every burner on the gas range was turned on. We checked each room in the house. We found all the dresser drawers in the front bedroom were dumped on the floor! It was very scary.

I don't remember whether he bothered again. We did talk to the county attorney. He came over and we stood on the porch to talk - it was summertime. I really don't know what happened after that. The boy may have been sent away.

The rest of the story - as Paul Harvey always said - Many years later this boy was living with his aunt in my little hometown. For some reason, he got angry at his aunt and stabbed her to death. Then he did spend a number of years locked up.

I remembered my fear for many years. His obituary in the hometown paper freed me from my fear of him.