There was a knocking at my door, annoyed I ignored it. But they are determined to reach to me. When I eventually answered, I haven’t a foggiest clue about them. Told them I’m not buying what they trying to sell, but before I was able to close the door they stop me and the next word was seared into my mind. “You don’t know who I am, but I know you... I know how your story will end, I-I just want to change it.” -- Anon Guest
What would you do? What would you do if someone came by and insisted that they knew your story? What would be the logical course of action when a total stranger told you that they could change your fate?
The stranger on my doorstep was desperate and afraid. I could read that much in their body language, expression, and tearful eyes. They loved me without knowing me. Creepy. I ticked off the red flags in my head. Eagerness to please, claims of knowing 'my story', a desperate appeal to add themselves into my life. A complete absence of clues about who they were and what their life had been before they attempted to get into mine.
Their clothing was generic and new. So was their haircut. No visible accessories beyond the most common and cheap footwear available. That, and they had begged me not to call the police four times in their rapid-fire and urgent explanation of why they were there. They could have been stalking me for months. I certainly couldn't remember seeing them as I went about my life.
There's apps for this. Things set off by a discrete motion with the phone or an alert button in your pocket. Mine is press and hold until you feel safe, with a keycode to enter once I do so. A literal dead man's switch. I have been acting casual about doing this for years, so it was no extra deal for me to stick one hand in a pocket and make use of my little friend.
A security force was alerted, and a recording of the incident was going live to the response crew. They would be creeping up on my location and be ready to pounce from concealment if my visitor turned towards violence. All I had to do was keep them talking.
My visitor glanced at that hand like they knew what it meant. They had been stalking me. They backed away and showed their hands and said, "I know it sounds crazy. I know I sound like a stalker. I promise I don't want to hurt you and I know that isn't enough. I'm gonna stand six feet away and enunciate and stay as still as I can so you can know. Okay?" They were very careful. Very concerned. This worried me more. "Common ground, here. We know how Pablo Picasso said that everything that can be imagined can be real? That's... true. It's a real thing. It just... happens in other dimensions."
I glanced at all my fiction, and all the people who had been through horrible things just to make their world a better place. I thought of all the bizarre realities that were created for children's television. Somewhere, somewhen, Wile E. Coyote was despairing about his place in the universe.
"Wile E. Coyote's going to be okay. He always gets better. It's how things work in his reality," said the stranger. They had stalked me enough to get into my head. Terrifying. "It's you that... that got to my soul. And I know how creepy that sounds, but I've read your entire series cover-to-cover for years and you... you need a chance, and you can have it."
"Just listen to you, do everything you say, and leave this pitiful existence behind?" I guessed. "Trust you, love you, fear you, do as you say and I can have your world?" It hadn't worked for Jareth. It wasn't going to work on me. I had seen far too many of those kinds of people to fall for their lies any more.
They had a teeny tiny notebook. "No. I know you wouldn't want that. You've already fought so hard for your freedom. I've made some notes based on your path in the narrative. Some might be out of date, by now, but..." They placed it down. "The ones that become relevant can help you."
I knew. I just knew that one entry in there would contain this creep's home address and where to find the wedding outfit of my alleged dreams. "Put it down and go away," I said.
"That's the plan, yes." They put the book down. Backed further away. "I guess you can ask a question or two before your security people pounce? Ask me anything."
What would you do? I certainly wasn't going to make them prove how hard they'd been stalking me. "In this... story... I'm in. Do you... show up? Are you in my story?" Call it foot-in-mouth disease[1]. Call it terminal curiosity. Call it my fatal flaw. Sometimes... I have to know.
Everyone has a story. Everyone has something wrong with their head. This person was already obsessed. Maybe they were 'kinning' with someone that I already knew. Maybe they had a self-insert fantasy persona. Maybe they had decided to write themselves into my life. I had to know.
I never expected to watch their face and their confidence fall. I didn't prepare to see their fear bloom in their expression. I knew their answer before it tripped off of their lips in a whisper of, "...no." They rallied, all the same. "You have to read the book. You have to read the book! It'll change your fate! It'll change everything!"
Security pounced as the stranger lunged. I froze. Just... stayed very still and watched. Well. Sort-of watched. The time that I felt was passing was different to the real time so I was definitely dissociating for some of it.
I fell into my therapist's arms, and the next thing I knew, I was in my safe pod and sipping from half a cup of nutritious broth.
"Welcome back. We haven't touched that book yet. Do you want to talk about it?"
"I want you to burn it," I said. That was my instinct. Destroy that which wanted to control me. "Get rid of it. I don't want to see it, I don't want to touch it. I certainly don't want to pick it up and I never want to see a single page of it."
"We can make certain you never see it again," soothed Lee. "It is evidence, so we have to keep it for court, but we will make sure you never see it. Does that help you feel safe?"
"Safer," I said. "Thank you."
"Do you want to go through your litany?"
I took a breath. Two. "I am in control of my life. I make my decisions. I choose my consequences. I am in control of my own fate. It is mine, and it belongs only to me." The hot broth was good. The result of numerous experiments to discover how I liked it. Soothing. Comforting. Mine. Just like this life that I've built for myself away from them. "There will come a day when I will be able to take on the world in my own terms, until then, I will heal and grow strong."
One step is part of a thousand mile journey. It can be the beginning, it can be anywhere in the middle. It can be the end. It cannot be known until it is taken. Therefore, the task is to keep moving towards the goal. Therefore, the task is to forgive any stumble or slide back towards the beginning. The journey is the important part.
You would have chosen differently. That's because you are you. This is my journey. Nobody decides for me.
[1] Completely different to foot and mouth disease. This is the one where a person speaks and instantly says the wrong thing, thus putting their foot in their mouth.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / gabes1976]
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