Foxfire:

Simone’s Notes:

Stalking is a term commonly used to refer to unwanted, obsessive attention by individuals to others. Stalking behaviors are related to harassment and intimidation. The word "stalking" is used, with some differing meanings, in psychology and psychiatry and also in some legal jurisdictions as a term for a criminal offense. It may also be used to refer to criminal offences or civil wrongs that include conduct which some people consider to be stalking, such as those described in law as "harassment" or similar terms. The difficulties associated with precisely defining this term are well documented. It seems to have been first applied to the harassment of celebrities by strangers who were described as being obsessed. This use of the word appears to have been coined by the tabloid press in the United States. Stalking can be defined as the willful and repeated following, watching, and / or harassing of another person. Most of the time, the purpose of stalking is to attempt to force a relationship with someone who is unwilling or otherwise unavailable. Unlike other crimes, which usually involve one act, stalking is a series of actions that occur over a period of time. Although stalking is illegal, the actions that contribute to stalking are legal, such as gathering information, calling someone on the phone, sending gifts, emailing or instant messaging. Such actions by themselves are not usually abusive, but can become abusive when frequently repeated over time.

Phone calls. It all started with phone calls. They always occurred the same time every evening at six o’clock. Gracia always answered the phone at this time.

“Hello?” she would ask. No one spoke on the other line. Just a low death rattle like Kayako’s from the Ju-On movies. Gracia held the phone away from her ear.

“Who is this?” she asked. This sound would last for thirty seconds and go quiet. This had been happening for eight nights now. Hughes tried to check to see if something was wrong with their phone lines.

“It sounds okay to me,” he told his wife one day. The colonel looked up at her. “And this happens at the same time every night?” he asked.

“Yes,” Gracia said. “It’s creeping me out.” Hughes gently put his hands on her shoulders.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll talk to someone in the morning, okay?” His wife nodded. Hughes gently kissed her on the forehead.

“There, you see?” he whispered. “Everything will be fine. Just get some sleep.”

“Okay,” Gracia whispered. Hughes walked her back to her room.

Then came the letters. These had no words on them. Just blank sheets of paper. The couple couldn’t figure it out. Hughes looked at each letter front to back.

Is this some kind of joke?, he wondered. These letters didn’t stop coming. They didn’t even have a return address either. However one day, the pattern began to change. In the top right corner of one of the letter was a little flower and three letters.

“JLW?” he asked. “What does that mean?” He looked on the back. No address like the previous ones. He took it over to the lab for analyzation. Hughes stood over Mike as he did so.

“Well?” he asked.

“There are no fingerprints or DNA,” Mike Thomas said. “But there, is this little picture in the letters.” He cleaned up the pixels on the screen and magnified the picture. The younger man made a puzzled look on his face.

“What is that?” he asked. Hughes looked on with him. All of the color drained from his face as his jaw dropped. The gentlemen feasted their eyes upon an aborted fetus. Mike turned to the colonel.

“Does this mean anything to you?” he asked. He noticed Hughes’ face. “Is… something wrong?” he asked. The colonel didn’t answer. He turned and ran out of the room as fast as he could.

It got worse from there.

On early Friday morning, Gracia went to her front door and found small card box sitting on the step. Curious, she picked it up and opened it. The color drained from her face as well.

“Maes!” she screamed. “Maes! Get in here!” Her husband raced all the way over to her.

“What is it Gracia?” he asked. The woman showed him the box. Hughes looked inside and felt like fainting. Pictures and pictures of Elyisha at her school. These looked like they took a whole month to accumulate this much. Hughes ran straight to the phone.

“There might be a pedophile on the loose!” he complained to the police. “Somebody has been taking pictures of my daughter at her school!” The police did show some concern.

“Do you have any idea who could have done this?” they asked. Hughes shook his head.

“No!” he said. Then, he told them about the letters and phone calls.

“Oh dear,” the chief of police said. “This is serious.” He looked deep into Hughes’ eyes. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise,” he granteed. The colonel tried to force himself to relax.

“Thank you sir,” he said. Yet, he just couldn’t shake that uneasy feeling he had in his stomach. To him, this felt much bigger than it looked to the naked eye. The police might not even be able to help him. He even began to suspect that the Fallen Ones had something to do with this. But for what reason? Then suddenly, he remembered.

Gracia’s baby!, the man thought. They wanted her unborn child. Piece by piece, he began to get an idea of what was going on. That child must be a half-breed!, he thought. This just changed everything. The police or the military weren’t going to be any help at all.

I need help up this stalker!, Hughes thought in desperation.

Earshot - Get Away .mp3
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