I would talk about it more, but, I don't want to now. But as it is Friday, I have decided to do Fiesta Friday. Yes, a fiesta. I only call it that so it doesn't sound lame, but all it really is, is a story that I have written this past week, because I write at least one a week. This one is about a stalker girl. Enjoy.
The wind brushed ever so gently against his baby bottom face, it tussled his hair as if it wanted to tease me in every way possible. His body was what God had in mind when he said, “Let there be light.” It was perfect, and he was perfect. I sat watching Jake from across the street. He was in his street, and I sat outside, lonely, in my car, watching him with my binoculars.
Jake was the sort of boy that had it all, and I wanted all of him. I worked so hard just to get anything from him, and it obviously didn’t work, so I had to do it the only way that I saw left, stalking.
I had each and every one of his moves mapped out, memorized you could even say. He left his house every day at the same time, and I was quick to follow behind. I had all his classes memorized, and even where he sat and what brand of pen he wrote with, Papermate. Sometimes I would sit outside his house awake all night, documenting every single move he made. He usually got up at around 3 to get a drink, and I was there, to capture every move.
Some of my loneliest days came while watching Jake have a blissful day. I would sit and watch his family have dinner or simply be together, and i would think to myself, I wish I had a family. I would then pull out a picture of my “family”, they were all dead, so sly red ex.’s slashed their faces, with me, the perfect strong daughter left in the middle. So stalking his family was as close as I got to family.
On rare occasions when everyone in the family was gone and I could see their locations on my GPS tracker that I had on them, I would sneak into the house with the special key I had made, and go into Jake’s room. Once in, the world was mine. I would lie in his bed and just soak in the feeling that his body had been in it only a few hours ago. After that excursion, I would go through his clothes; the smell of them was entrancing. Every now and then I would steal an article of clothing that I had documented that he didn’t wear very often, and steal it for myself; it would slowly coax me to sleep while I dreamt about him.
He was the perfect guy. He had the most perfect washboard abs, and I longed to just caress them with my hand. His hair looked like a field with wild wheat growing in the glowing summer sun. He was so hot. I often wondered why he didn’t notice me. Was it my lack of hygiene? No, I smell pretty alright. Was it my lack of looks? Let’s not joke, I am gorgeous. Maybe he knew I stalked him, after all I was outside his house every day. I didn’t have a house, the car I sat in was my house, but, as long as I looked at him through my binoculars, I felt right at home.
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