Being Followed

By R.J. Tennyson

It has been seventeen days since Joshua first noticed him. It was the first day of summer and Joshua was at the beach. He’d left the turquoise coloured water and was towelling himself off on the hot soft white sand. Joshua turned around to place his damp towel into the tattered beach bag… and he was there. Joshua didn’t think much of it at first. Why would he?  But over the course of the next few days he noticed him there more and more. It became so frequent that Joshua started to become concerned; very concerned.

What does he want? I wish he’d stop following me, he thought.

On the rare occasions when Joshua looked, but couldn’t see him, he still sensed his presence nearby. Joshua knew that he was never far away, and it gave him the creeps.

Initially he thought that he was only being followed during the day, but an incident last night in an underground carpark changed that. Joshua was walking down the concrete steps, struggling to carry an oversize bag of groceries. Above, a single light globe flickered – on, off, on, off, in rapid succession. A car pulled into the carpark, headlights as bright as the midday sun shone directly on Joshua as he stepped down from the last step. Joshua caught a peripheral glimpse of the figure standing ten, perhaps fifteen, metres to his left. Joshua, blinded by the cars headlights, spun to get a better look at him, but he disappeared back into the darkness as the car turned again, its headlights sliding away.

Next time I see him I’m going to grab him and find out what he wants, thought Joshua. I’m tired of being followed.

***

Today is the day Joshua is going to finally confront him. He will once and for all find out why he is being followed. Joshua has made a simple plan – when he sees him following, he will pounce – grab him tight to stop an escape, and demand to know what it is that he wants!

Joshua steps outside his front door. Holding his breath he looks left, then right, then left again. Nothing. Joshua exhales. “I know he’s here somewhere,” he mutters to himself.

With his back against the house, Joshua creeps along, eyes darting in all directions. “He must be here somewhere.”

Rounding the corner, Joshua sees him. He is right there, as bold as brass, not even trying to hide anymore. Joshua lunges toward him, but he backs away. Joshua dives through the air, forcing him to the ground, crashing down on top of him.

“What are you doing?” Joshua’s mother laughs. “You are such an odd little boy sometimes.  Anyone would think you’d never seen your own shadow.”