That gait. The most unique thing about him has stuck in my mind ever since. On several occasions, I have tried to imitate him but with no luck. His left foot lagged behind a second or two longer. Only a keen person would pick this up and I did. His feet were big, maybe a size 11. However, it is that gait that still haunts me to date about my stalker.

STALKING THE STALKER.

It is a cold Saturday evening and a cold breeze dominates the driveway to my apartment. A friend of mine had requested that we meet and work on a school project and so I hesitantly leave the warmth and cosiness of my house to meet them. To be honest, the thought of hot coffee and croissants is what convinces me to leave the house and go work on this project. School projects, are always spared for the last minute, aren’t they?

Our met up lasts for slightly over an hour and we part soon thereafter, two croissants later and our school project closer to completion. I decide to grab bread for breakfast at the local supermarket. The service inside is quite fast for a Saturday evening and it only takes a minute.
I hurriedly make my way home scared that the cold will slowly start creeping inside my jacket. I plug my headphones into my ears and start the short walk back to my apartment. The cold gets worse and I am tempted to check the temperature on the phone but the thought of removing my now warm hands from my pockets isn’t appealing enough and so I decided to check that later.

“Hello?”
A deep rusty voice says rudely interrupting the music flowing to my ears. I reduce the volume and turn to the source of the voice. At eye level, I can only see a black jacket with a halfway done zipper. I lift my eyes for almost an extra foot to meet a black mask on a hooded head.
Beside is a tall man, about 6’2ft. He is in a hooded jacket and his face is barely visible from the black mask that covers half of it.
“Hello?” He says again his hand outstretched for a handshake. I ignore his hand and say hi back. He retracts his hand and puts its back in his pockets. I can barely decipher his facial expressions but it must have a fallen rejected face.

He goes on to tell me that we have met before maybe four or five times. I admit I have a problem recognizing faces but I am certain I would remember him for his height; he was tall.

I point out that I don’t remember our encounter but he continues to insist. He doesn’t take my laxness kindly and continues to insist that we have met before.
At this point, I conclude that he is just a psychotic person who is confusing me for someone else.
I tell him he must be mistaking me for someone else and put my earphones back on and walk away.
However, he catches up with me and proceeds to tell me of all the hairstyles I have done in the last six months. He even says he loved it when I had my hair in a high bun for like a week or two. I think I hear a chuckle behind his mask but he quickly covers it up with more vivid descriptions of different outfits that I have worn over this period.
I ask for his name and again he fumbles something behind his mask. I barely heard what he says but I don’t bother to beg his pardon. His voice is heavily laden in an accent that I can only place as either Ugandan or Nigerian. Most of his words are incomprehensible and thus my hesitance to ask him to repeat his name.
He proceeds to describe my favourite orange sweater, my blue wedged shoes, my school bag and even the colour of my frequently used water bottle. Which stranger notices such details?

To say I am creeped out is an understatement. I do not know this man yet he knows half of my closet and accessories.

“How do you recognize me?” I can’t help but wonder out aloud.

“I know you by your walking style,” he says trying to imitate how I walk. “And also your bright forehead.”

Wait, what! THE AUDACITY!!!!

I am now mad at this man who dares to point out that my forehead is so unique and sits on my face. I am now certain that this man has been stalking me around long enough to gather all that information. What else does he know?
Nevertheless, I can’t help but ask why he chose to talk to me today and not any of the other days that he has seen me.
“Today is that day that I want you to…” he mumbles something at the end that I can barely understand. I suspect it’s something in a local dialect or heavily accented English. However, seeking clarification is not top on my list.
I am now fully certain this man has no good intentions with me and he most probably is a serial killer with dead bodies in his closet.
I try to think of an escape plan because this man walking next to me is the definition of scary and creepy.
I settle on a plan that I hope works or else I would be screwed.

I fake a phone call to an apparent friend who I am supposed to. meet round the corner. I describe to them that I am walking with this weird guy and go on to give his description. I also add that my friend should ask their friends to wait for me so that we can go hang out at their place. All along I am praying silently that he bites the bait and hopefully leave me alone, at least for the evening.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t. He keeps on walking trying to make simple conversation which I don’t buy. The is slowly approaching and I don’t know what to do because I know no one is waiting for me on the other side.

Faith, think fast!

The moment, we turn the bend, I make a run for it. I run into a crowd of people waiting to board the bus and hope that I camouflage with them. But then, this guy knows my walking style, my walking style and God knows what else. I look back and see him trying to catch up but his slow left foot slows him down.
I run in between the crowd and head into a friends house that is nearby. I run up the fleet of stairs at an unimaginable speed thanks to the adrenaline rushing in my veins. I knock on their door and the moment they open, I push myself inside and sans an explanation, I push the seat towards the door and add the table as well. I check through the window and all I see is calm, at least for that moment.

At that time, we both say almost in unison.

“What the heck?”

*******
Hello my lovely friends😅🤣
Weeeeeeh, lemme first breath because I am running short of breath on this end.
Running away from a stalker is something I never thought I would in this lifetime or even the next but who is life😅🤣😂
Stalking the stalker💥
What do you do when you suspect you are being stalked, like on a serious note, report to the police or what? (Please comment down below)
Did you enjoy this story🤔

In other news, the GUEST COLUMN starts 29th JUNE 🥳🥳🥳
Better get ready my friends.
If you want to be featured on the guest column, dm me on Ig @faithdaktari or tag that friend who you think can tell a really good story. I will always get back to you 😊

That’s it for Today
Till next week
Adios❤
^Faith