What Having a Stalker Is Really Like: A Personal Story

A horror movie that‘s about to begin

Photo by on

I learned some dark things about myself on those chilling nights, in the dark hallway with my back pressed against a cold wall and my face burning.

It must have been around 3 AM. The walnut tree in front of the house was silent, the street light dim.

Nothing moved. I eventually went to sleep with my head on a fluffy pillow that was hiding a massive carving knife I snatched from the kitchen in a moment of quiet panic.

I had a stalker — and no idea what to do about it

He was a French guy obsessed with my art, and as it would later turn out, with me.

Nicolas (this is his real name) had contacted me a year before, wondering if he could see my paintings live. I was living off at the time, selling my abstract paintings on various platforms. One of them was Facebook, where Nicolas had found me, with location and everything, and since he was traveling in the area, he wanted to see my paintings with his own eyes.

I said yes. I saw no problem with it. I had my paintings in this house that I had rented, plastered all over the walls. It was like meeting him in a gallery. He could come see the paintings, maybe buy…