Fan or Stalker?

I’ve decided to lighten things up a bit from murders, serial killers, and the deepest recesses of the criminal mind to tell you about another disturbing tale a little closer to home.

I’ve had a “real life” stalker before, in fact, my experience helped to propel me to write my first novel Compulsion and the Emily Stone Thriller Series was born. It was quite inspirational and a little bit liberating to write about all of the scary thoughts I had about living next door to someone who behaved like this.

This person was a neighbor who threatened my life on a regular basis for more than two years, sometimes even on a daily basis. He bragged about how he wanted to kill me, rape me, and then cut off my head. One time, he showed me the knife he was going to use. He was violent, unpredictable, a nuisance in town, a menace to the neighborhood, and I believe he would fit the textbook example of a “psychopath”.

Nice huh? I did say that I wanted to lighten things up today, but it gives you some insight into my mind and my character persona of Emily Stone.

For the past two years, just outside my office windows, in the trees, on the fence, in my favorite potted plants, and around the large rural yard lurks the evil shenanigans of a squirrel. Yeah, I’ve always wanted to use the word “shenanigans” in a sentence.

This squirrel tasks me on every level! Friends and family think it’s funny and even a little cute, like I’m interacting with nature. Don’t get me wrong, I love animals whether they are domestic pets or native wildlife.

But… the incessant, raucous chatter, acorns wielded at my office window, and the apparent disdain at my very existence seem to be a priority of old Mr. Squirrel. And yeah, I think it’s a male, and no, I’m not going to name him. I refuse to give the squirrelly stalker a name because then I’ll have to like him.

Now it’s getting personal…

When I’m writing a harrowing scene where Emily Stone is hot on the trail of a serial killer, whack, another acorn pelts my window. And if that’s not enough, I hear the screeching holler of the reddish brown critter as he teeters on the tip of the tree limb, bobbing up and down, trying to seize my attention. Like I don’t know he’s there. Still, I refuse to look at him.

I thought that I’d have some peace now that winter is setting in, but no such luck here on the coast of California with relatively mild weather. He’s out there – working, plotting, and hiding in wait. Most of the time when I go outside, when I least expect it, clonk, something hits me on the head. His twitchy tail, screechy cackle, and those bulbus eyes stare down at me – just daring me.