I have a hobby of following random people. But wait, before you blame me being a creep - let me explain.
I don’t consider myself a stalker, a perv or anything like that. This is just my way of socializing, okay?
I’m not interested in certain people, no. I don’t even have a “type”. Even gender doesn’t matter.
I just walk outside, find somebody attractive - they may be just dressed interesting, or have a tattoo on visible parts of their skin, or even have an unnatural hair color. Once the person draws my attention - I start following them.
You see, I’m quite a lonely guy, who never understood this game of being “social”. I have no friends, I’m not really good with women. Or men. Or kids. I think even animals avoid me. I don’t complain - it’s just how the things are.
Tried looking for people to talk to on the Internet - but after numerous attempts my facebook page has only spam accounts enlisted in my friends section, nobody follows me on Twitter, not a single subscriber on other media. People just find me boring and not funny, I guess.
Anyways, once I find a person I would follow - I do so. I keep my distance, pretending I’m just a fellow pedestrian going with his own business, coincidentally heading the same path. This way I may observe the everyday life of human being in it’s natural habitat. It feels just as if I’m following my friend. We meet other people on the streets together, go to do groceries, grab some bites at nearby café.
Thus, my loneliness is quite bearable. I never try to make a direct eye contact or talk to them - that would definitely freak them out. Besides, if I would do that - it would unveil how pathetic my verbal skills are. I would just mumble something back, without looking at their faces and rush for escape. This happened before.
See? It’s not that bad. I don’t even remember a single name from my “adventures”. I never follow the same person twice. I am not a stalker, alright? That’s just what I do to make myself feel better.
Why am I posting this here - you may ask, if this would better suit a dating advice site or therapist couch? Well, first of all - I work at a really shitty job, for starters, so obviously I can’t afford a luxury of paying for a psychologist visit. And secondly I want your opinion on what happened to me next.
That day I finished the job earlier, so I had some extra time to wander the streets, doing what I do best - staying invisible. I crawled around the business district for about half an hour, trying to spot somebody extraordinary to lay my eyes on, but that came back as fiasco: just a sea of business suits and tweed jackets.
It was Friday’s night, so the city was about to go wild for the dusk’s drinking delirium. Unfortunately - all the cool kids were staying out of my sight.
Feeling desperate about my catch of the day - I’ve followed a young lady in black vinyl coat and huge sunglasses (despite it was getting dark already), but it was no luck, as she quickly retreated to the apartment complex.
Next came up the man with a screaming orange necktie and a couple of golden earrings, but that felt flat too, as he grabbed a cab and left me alone, standing in the crowd.
I’ll cut you some despair of that evening by saying that I’ve made dozen of other attempts and each one of them failed. I even tried to follow some shady looking fellow, whom, I believe was quite nervous about anybody tailing him. Up to a point where he disappeared between metallic doors of a garage, where more shady people were waiting for him.
The night was ruined. I didn’t get to know anybody better. Can you imagine my sorrow? It was as if I was promised a three-course meal, but ended up with the box of frozen pizza from the back of the fridge.
I was heading home slowly, bathing in my depressive thoughts of disappointment as suddenly I saw him. That was my lucky catch of the day! The stranger, an old man with marvelous silver beard, who was wearing a long leather coat and a hat with wide brims, crowned with metal chain around it, walked across the street. He had a vintage cane in his left hand, which he used actively, stepping with his metal studded boots. He also appeared bald like an egg under that huge hat of his.
This was exciting. Whom might this gentleman be? Where is he heading? What kind of lifestyle does he have? Dozens of questions bloomed in my mind as my feet stepped on the path of pursuing the mysterious stranger.
As he was crossing the road - the man checked the sides and I’ve noticed that he’s wearing some thick glasses, meaning that his sight had known some better days, which made following him extremely easy.
He wasn’t in a rush. 40 minutes later we walked through a number of streets and a park nearby without a single stop. He surely was up to something. I’ve suddenly felt a pinch of concern - what if he’s just returning home? I will never get to know him better. Don’t get me wrong - it was still exciting. I’ve learned that the old man is a tough cookie, as he never wind down to take a break and that cane of his seemed to be more like a complimentary thing to his image rather than an aid for walking.
While I was rolling some thoughts and questions in my mind - we went out of the park and made a couple of turns. People were less and less around, due to the night got into it’s rights. The moon protruded from the clouds, shining upon us with the eerie pale light, which I find somewhat romantic. Me and a strange old man - two adventurers who follow the darkness side by side. Well, not exactly, but you get the point.
And as I was painting different picturesque images about our quest - I came to realization that we popped out in the industrial zone of the city, where just the machinery and fences surrounded us in their rusting manner.
No cars, no people, no color lights - just a distant barking of the guard dogs somewhere in the distance and the chilling wind breaking through my coat. I was still behind the old man - around 30 feet back, hiding in the unlit spot near the wall.
There was a crossroad ahead and lots of construction signs in the distance.
“Wait, what does an old man like him doing here, especially at this time?” - the rational though overcame my excitement, making me wonder - “did he get here so that he can be alone? Not seen? But for what?”.
“Or maybe he’s just an old extravagant security officer coming for his night shift, did you think about that?” - my inner voice replied.
“Security officer with that mastodon of a glasses as he puts on his face? I really doubt it. What if he has dementia? What if he doesn’t realize where he is? Or, wait… What if he does realize where he is exactly and came here for a single purpose” - my mind kept spiraling into crazy ideas and theories.
That’s when I realized the man just stood still for quite some time now. There he was - in the middle of the crossroad, between construction site and some factories, just standing motionless. What was it all about? Some mind-losing gramps who decided to exchange his soul for blues talent, expecting to make a deal with Satan? It just got more and more interesting.
Though soon I’ve felt uncomfortable - 15 minutes passed and he didn’t move an inch. Did he realize I was following him? Is this his statement that I should show myself? Why is he standing there?
He wasn’t checking his clock or anything, as the person might do if they expect to meet somebody at the spot. He wasn’t even enjoying the starry sky, as he didn’t raise his head. Standing still, with no signs of life. Just like a statue.
Another 15 passed and I started to freak out. Have you ever heard of death cases when the person won’t collapse and simply stands as if paralyzed? Well, I didn’t, but there was no better theory at that time.
And then the buzzing started. I don’t know if it was one of the machines brought to action by the nightshift worker at the factory, or if it was just in my mind - the muffled buzzing sound spread around the area, rising in volume each couple of minutes.
Just at the point where it became really loud, and I would say even unbearable- it suddenly stopped completely, leaving me and the old man in awkward silence of the night. I’ve never left him out of my sight. At least an hour passed. The dawn should be breaking in no time and it was getting really chilly. The geezer didn’t make a single step or break his pose.
At this point you might question my sanity, as if in “who would be as crazy as I am to enjoy spending time like this?”, right? Yeah, it was a bit too much even for me but the intrigue of this whole happening made me watch. I was tired and sleepy, spending all the night on my two, and I couldn’t even imagine how the old geezer copes with this too.
Then the next thing happened: as I was gazing at the figure before me, trying to catch and predict a slightest move in his posture - a single lingering kissing sound ripped the silence just above my right ear. Should I say that in a second my heart dropped down to my heels and jumped up to my lower jaw in attempt to escape?
In a flash motion I’ve turned my head, raising my arms to protect it from the unexpected threat.
But there was nothing behind me - just the dark industrial street with no signs of movement. And I mean it - that was not wind or anything - the weather was still, not a single object that may fall from above laying on the ground.
“I guess my restless mind just playing tricks on me, for staring into one point for so long” - I’ve explained my freak out to my jumping heart.
But what kicked my guts even harder came after I switched my attention back to old man, turning back to where he was standing. He was gone. I didn’t look for a second or two, but he vanished. Just his cane lying at the spot where he used to be.
This couldn’t be happening. This was illogical.
“There’s no way he could run and hide somewhere with this timing. Not at his age” - I’ve started the inner dialogue.
“But you don’t know what he is really capable of, right? Maybe he’s an ex-Olympic champion, or something” - my inner voice replied.
“Yeah, but have you seen the space? Not even an acting champion would run away that quickly. Especially, considering that I would hear him running. Jeez, think logically - the cane is on the ground. It would make sound, falling” - I didn’t give up.
“Go get some sleep. You might be dreaming all of this already” - was the final argument.
I took couple of more moments to make sure that I’m not seeing things, that the cane is still physical and lying before me and decided to call it a night. Boy, that was an adventure, indeed.
That’s how the things spiraled downwards. Next morning I woke up as usual, brushed my teeth as usual and went out to work (yes, I work Saturdays. My job is shitty for a reason) as usual. But at the same time - I had this strange feeling tingling at the back of my skull. You definitely know it - that breeze of ephemeral touch you get, when you realize somewhere deep, that a pair of eyes is watching you.
Maybe the events of the previous night and a way too short rest did their job, maybe I was just paranoid after such vivid emotions experienced, but I could almost physically feel the gaze. So I brewed myself some chamomile tea as I got to my working place and started solving some Sudoku puzzles to calm down.
Next thing - I drop the pencil and drop the chair to the ground, while I’m still sitting in it. As out of the blue a screeching voice right above my ear comments “Not here” on my puzzle solving attempt. I’ve quickly glanced behind my shoulder, expecting co-workers playing jokes on me. But the door was still closed, nobody was there. Just me stretched on the ground in my chair.
It got worse from here: I’m seeing things - like this girl with pink hair I tried to follow the other day. We walked down couple of streets. Then she stopped and decided to put her hair into a ponytail. As she was doing so - a pair of bloodied eyes gazed in return at me from the back of her head. I squealed and ran to retreat, as this sinister voice above my ear laughed at me.
Each night I am trying to get some sleep - it becomes most active: tells me not to sleep, screams at me, reminds me of my life failures , turns the light on, drops my stuff to the floor. Earbuds won’t help, moving places didn’t help. I’m currently moving towns with little to no result. It finds me.
I even got to church and made a confession and prayed for the first time in my life - that didn’t help.
Took all my poor savings and went to finally see the doctor - he said, that’s probably due to autumn depression everybody takes too seriously these days. I wanted to give a better explanation so he could understand me, but as I’ve mentioned - I’m a so-so speaker in the first place.
Each day I am getting just a mere amount of sleep. It spoils the food I am about to eat - each time I take a spoon of cornflakes to my mouth - they are stale already, each time I try to sip some fresh milk - it comes sour.
What did I do to deserve this? What can I do to make it stop? I can’t bear this anymore. This is not life, this is torture.
As I type down my confession - the same yet already familiar rustling voice whispers to my ear: “Futile. These days no one would believe”.