Stalker of Tomorrow

There it is again, that ebb of injustice. That shock in the back of my neck. It doesn’t hurt, only tingles, but that’s how I know someone’s there, watching me. I look back like I’ve done so many other times and see no one but a clear street. I walk more briskly, the bite of the afternoon cold hurrying my pace. All the while, I feel their eyes on me, ravaging me, critiquing me, drinking me in. I turn the corner and do a little jog.

Enough is enough, this has been going on for weeks, but I’ve yet to call the police because they’d think I’m crazy when I haven’t even spotted an individual following me. I clutch my purse tighter, making sure that inside is pepper spray, my pocket knife, and a gun my dad insisted that I carry. Well, I’m glad I have it now, especially in these times when so many have gone missing. Human trafficking is on the rise, and these past couple of weeks I have felt like a real target.

I rush inside a corner store once I make it the end of the block. The door dings letting the clerk know a customer has arrived. A hobbit-sized man bumbles out of the back, stepping up on what I assume is a stool to study me over his glasses as I head to the back of the store, near the drinks.

“How are you today, young lady? Cold out, yes?”

I nod. “Yes. Very.”

“Need help with anything?” he asks, his voice breaking as he goes into a fit of coughing.

I tell him, no, opening the cooler door to retrieve a bottle of water. My throat is so scratchy, I must be getting sick. The bell chimes as someone else steps through the door. Immediately, my instincts tell me it’s the stalker. I feel that awful presence. They can’t see me back here, but for some reason, it’s like I can tell their probing for me, watching me even now as I try to make myself smaller and head opposite of wherever this creep is heading.

The store clerk speaks with the person briefly. It’s a woman. I crouch down, trying to get a good view of the person. Her back is turned, and she’s wearing a long, black coat and furry brimmed, dark hat. She looks like a witch. I can’t see her body or face. Why is she following me? Maybe I’m paranoid. No, this feeling… it’s her. It has to be. I pull out my phone. Maybe I should call the police? Or my dad? The witch lady turns, and I slowly move out of aisles as she glides in. When she gets to the back of the store, I’m at the front paying for my water.

“That’s all?” the clerk cocks his head to the side. The tingling sensation in my neck reverberates down my spine and plummets to my ankles. It’s so strong I almost lose my balance. The woman steps up behind me. Oddly close.

I smile tightly at the clerk, handing him a five. “Keep the change,” and slide away from the woman. I see her turn her head, her eyes pushing into my soul as I step back out into the cold.

What the hell does she want? What a creepy lady!

I text my best friend: Someone’s following me. Track my location. I’m scared.

She texts back: OMG! Use the gun. Your dad gave it to for a reason.

I begin to tremble, partially because of the cold, but more so because the witch isn’t even hiding the fact that she’s following me now. I text my friend again: Seriously. This lady is following me. I’ll call you in a minute. Act like you’re the police!

She sends me a heart and a smiley face. I’m walking fast. The wind is pushing against me. I peek back and find the lady even closer to me, the wind not affecting her at all. My heart races and adrenaline begins to scream through me. I glance around. Where is everyone? I know my town is small and I know it’s cold, but I can’t be the only person out. I get this horrible gut feeling. My stomach seems to be twisting on the inside with something foul. It’s so painful I have to stop, all the while my body is being stabbed by the witch’s presence, by her hunger.

What does she want with me? I dig in my purse. She stops before me as I get into a coughing fit. Sudden thunder booms overhead, and my abrupt cough becomes worse. One hand shakily pulls out my gun, while the other catches the blood coming from my mouth.

What’s happening to me?

I manage to raise the gun. “Stop following me!”

The witch looks up, and I see her face. She…looks like my mother. My mom died years ago! This is a cruel joke.

“Who are you?”

I watch the lips of the witch curl into a smile. Rain pelts us, drenching me, doing nothing to her. She steps closer, and I push the gun forward, threatening her, but she saunters closer and closer, smiling, her brown, alluring eyes so similar to mine freezing me. She steps right up, her smile reaching into me, strangling me, slithering around anything cohesive and coherent that can save me from the pain I’m enduring.

She speaks, a whisper in the rain and wind. “I am you, darling. I came here from another timeline to erase you.”

I can barely speak. The wind takes off her hat, and I vomit onto my own feet. It’s me. Older, but definitely me. I can’t comprehend this!

“What?” Is all I can manage.

Future me places her cold pointer finger on my lips. “Shhhh. You’re so innocent. This breaks my heart.”

I try to back away, but my feet feel like they’re stuck in mud. I’m sinking. No! No! No! No! No! Future me places both her hands on each side of my face. She looks into me so calmly. She tells me, “Don’t think. Don’t fight.”

I begin to cry. “Please! What is this?”

“Don’t cry. This has to happen. This always happens.”

Pressure on both sides of my face. I can’t even squirm away. “Don’t struggle, young one. This is going to happen. I am sorry.”

My last thought is of how obliterated my dad’s going to be when he finds out I’m dead. Then I hear a brutal crack, and my limbs become jelly, static. I feel nothing. I can see behind me now. She’s broke my neck! I fall forward, the rain drowning me as I watch the future me watch me fall into eternal darkness.

Dead.

Rushing out of the darkness, I open my eyes, gasping in air as if I hadn’t had it in years. I look around my room, the shadows laughing at me. It’s three in the morning.

I wrap my arms around myself and shiver uncontrollably. It was only a dream. I keep telling myself this.

It was only a dream.