Stalking Stories Novels & Stories

Imak says gravely. My fingers fly across the page as I read the report and I can feel the blood drain from my face and my stomach turn. I’ve been around for tens of thousands of years, and I’ve witnessed all levels of depravity this world has to offer, and yet it never gets any easier. The poor young woman this man was accused of stalking was found mutilated beyond recognition in his flat. Her body parts covering his bedroom wall like some grotesque Ed Gein-inspired wallpaper. Police officials in England are still at a loss for words on how he managed to do it, but there’s no denying his guilt. They’ll never know magic was the cause but finding a woman’s body parts covering every surface of

If that night hadn’t occurred, I would’ve kept saying no to their plans. Fate sure knows how to play tricks. Maybe it was destiny’s way of bringing me closer to my yummy Godfather. When I got to my room, I immediately opened my laptop to look up Godfather Everett on social media. I searched his full name, and it didn’t take long to find him. Everett Tani. I started stalking his profile right away. First, I looked at his display pictures. My body tingled at the sight of his topless photos. He looked better than a model with that body of his. He really knew how to pose—like a pro. I couldn’t believe this godfather of mine was the one who took my virginity that night. As I kept scrolling throug

Bri had replied. Bri: I’d love to say I’ve never stalked anyone, but there’s one name that comes to mind... A girl who thinks ill of me despite my sunny vibes. Zara snorted, grabbing a towel and drying off. She quickly typed back, her fingers flying across the screen. Zara: Sunny vibes? Mam, our first interaction was slapping and spanking. Isn’t that what creepy stalkers do? Bri: What, are you kink-shaming? Besides, I thought it was trendy right now to be a bit possessive and stalkerish. It shows devotion…

A record of obsession. The final picture was a freeze frame from her wedding day. A red circle around her face. A black X over Kc Page. 10:11 AM – Page Mansion, Library The air had frozen to glass. Kc stared at the flat-screen TV. Valeria sat motionless on the sofa beside him. Her lips were parted slightly, breath shallow. “We’re now learning,” the reporter said, “that the stalker—identified as Adrian St. Marc—had amassed over four terabytes of footage, photos, audio recordings, and handwritten journals detailing his delusions about a romantic relationship with Ms. Jayne.”

She cursed the tears that had made her miss her way so… cursed the entire town and the day she ever set foot in it. Natalie had always thought Clarksville was bad— and to be honest, it was, but at least she could deal with the things that happened to her over there, Being bullied and being the town outcast seemed to be nothing when placed in comparison to having a stalker watch your every mood while claiming you as his! Oh Natalie, but what makes you think it’s a man? Her subconscious mocked darkly, drawing a shiver out of the young, scantily-clad woman. She didn’t even have time to contemplate if her shivering had to do with her thoughts or with the chilly nature of her surroundings, for sh

Stalking the newspaper for every article about him, reading an embarrassing amount of fan fictions about him or well, just like right now, not having the most holy thoughts about him. Even though it had been ten years since my first and only interaction with him, I can’t help but wonder what my first interaction with him as a grown woman would be like. Obviously, in non-murderous and relatively less fear-ridden situations. The hopes of running into him or even just catching a glimpse of him made me do kinda crazy things which included doing anything to be even remotely related to the Lancaster enterprises. That explains why I work in one of the sub-offices of the Lancaster Enterprises as an

I'm only dedicated to following her mostly because we live where Kane can pounce at any moment, and he is not taking Mad from me. The technology answers, "Stalking is an intrusive and damaging crime, with varied psychological torture, traumatic effects, and physical and practical impacts on victims from repeated and unwanted contact by perpetrators that cause victims to experience fear for their safety. It is most dangerous when it occurs as part of an abusive relationship. An attempt to end an abusive relationship can cause an abuser to become more possessive, which may lead to stalking. Three out of ten college women suffer emotional or psychological injury from being stalked."

It felt like he was reading an adventure story except that, here, he was not a reader, but one of the characters-the suffering protagonist probably. His stalker was the villain here. "You fucking undermined me, but I'm sure you have come to your senses now." The stalker said again, "If you make any more funny moves, I am going to catch you, and torture you severely. I have got all your life under watch, right here before me. All your life in a computer."

“All of which I could forgive if you didn’t set me up with an anorexic Mexican who believes he is a fictional character; ruining one of my favorite romance novels with the experience! Now you won’t have to worry about the big city swallowing my midget body whole, since the proper schizophrenic you gave my personal information is stalking me!” I stamp my foot with a sharp intake of breath. “He’s a stalker, Nicky! You know how I feel about stalkers! They are up there with being late, daisies and Hitler! ” I heave in a shaky breath, battling down the panic.

“They don’t water their drinks here. Have you ordered dinner? Let’s get some food.” Over dinner I told her about my internet stalkers and what Ethan had done to them. She laughed so hard gin and tonic came out of her nose. That had to have hurt, but it was good to see her smile again. The smile quickly dropped off her face when I told her about the new batch of stalkers and their not-quite buzz cuts. “Those sound like serious types,” she said. “Be careful.” “I thought that was all over!” I set my empty glass down on the table a bit too hard. “I’m not doing anything! Why are people following me?”