The Silent Stalker

By Jim Hagarty

You leer in their general direction with a come hither look, but they avoid eye contact. They know what you want. They know exactly what you want. So they pretend not to see you. They’ve been down this road before and have regretted the times they gave in.

Another one walks by. Looks straight ahead. You move closer, thinking you can’t be avoided but you’re wrong. You begin to question yourself.

“What is wrong with me?” you wonder. “Do I pose just too big a challenge? Has my reputation spread?”

Occasionally one goes by who glances your way, but this time, you look down, pretending not to see them. Those ones charge money for services rendered and it hasn’t come to that yet. In desperation only would you turn to one of them. But, you are almost at that point. You’ll soon have to do something.

Before all the neighbours put their snowblowers away for the day and you are forced to shovel out your driveway!

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 65-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.

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