Encounter with Disturbed Individual: A True Story

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Last night I wrote a post about adoption, but after consideration, I removed it. I’m not sure why. No blogger should censor themselves no matter the unpopularity of an opinion, though I must state, mine was based on experience. I will more than likely revisit the topic, but for now, let’s just say that after I hit the delete button, I got up from my bed to take a stroll into the cool evening.

Taking these strolls is part of my routine, an alleviation from the claustrophobia I get from having to live in this hell hole. The neighborhood is not exactly a prize; a shooting occurred next door a few months back and the entire street out front was crawling with gun-toting cops.

At any rate, last night the atmosphere was nothing like this; all seemed quiet on the horizon, the fog in the sky telling of the wintry nights that will soon come. From my door I walked past the building, made my turn — looking out and around as I did so — only to encounter the likes of a thin woman, poised with attention, and STARING DIRECTLY AT ME.

She was standing in front of the black fence pictured here, the one across the street:

Across the Street

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I was overcome by alarm. The woman’s eyes were perceptible even from far away, as though she were lit up on some powerful drug. I did my best to mind my own business, but the power of her gaping stare seemed to pull her, straight towards me: she marched across the street and confronted me directly. She wore a beanie, was packed in a comfy looking thick jacket, her cheek was pierced, and she had an open Bible in her hands. But her eyes were her most striking feature. Wide, dilated, they were pools of icy black fire.

I tried to move away from her but she persisted, clinging to me like some patient at a mental hospital. I stopped, then she stopped; I moved, and she moved. Such behavior was a terror to the point that I thought, with dread, of the possibility that she night be harboring a weapon, that she might try to hurt me.

I stopped again to face her, and we stood face-to-face. Here I tried to see if she would talk. I asked if she needed help, but she replied only something incoherent. At this point, she was looking past me, as if she were looking at things that were invisible. And then she let out a shrill yell that was positively disturbing.

I moved quickly to my abode where I scrambled for my cell phone, and having slammed the door behind me, I felt the hair on my head stand when a loud knocking came: Knock Knock Knock Knock Knock Knock!

A crazed woman was at my door, pounding, trying to get in!

I looked up the number for the police, but suddenly, I felt something overcome my psyche, something that told me I wouldn’t need to call 911. With a call placed to the department, an automated voice played in my ear as I opened the door, where the woman stood, her eyes blazing into me, her Bible wide open.

Having a degree in psychology, I opted for a different approach. In truth, this was no haggard woman, but a woman who was young, with vibrant cheekbones and smooth skin, the kind of lady who had beauty without the need for makeup. Having made an assessment I stood, looking at this woman at my door, and I decided I would initiate a series of questions.

Because she was unwilling to move, I was forced to put my arm around her shoulder, as though we were a couple, and in this manner I led her away. Success here. Yet we were still in front of my shack, and so I began to ask her if she was high, or if she was feeling okay; and in the process, I checked her pockets to make sure she had no weapons. She simply stared ahead, looking at invisible things. She had no items of danger, and at this point, she began to behave a little more calmly; yet it was here that I noticed some people across the street.

And thus I brought the young woman to the sidewalk, and then I crossed the street alone; and I began to speak with a young man and woman. Apparently, a book had been thrown with hostility, and they had called the police (I ended up never placing my own call). As I conversed with them about the whole of the situation, the lone woman saw what we were up to and simply did nothing. In time, a police officer arrived and the scary woman, having joined us, she became vocal suddenly, declaring that she did not like the officer.

With no one pressing charges, the officer ordered that the woman stay away from my area, to stop throwing books at people, and then he vanished into the night. Having no desire to remain a part of the situation, I crossed the street and went home, hoping that I hadn’t been followed.

After a few moments, I reemerged to see if she was still around. And she was. The couple was in a car, and the woman, she was trying to get into the back seat. I don’t know why the couple did not drive off instantly; they stayed and had a few more words for some reason. So I watched to make sure no one got hurt. In time, the couple put the car in gear and began to drive off, but to my horror, I saw that the woman began chasing the car. I kept my eyes fixed on the situation and soon, I observed the woman as she proceeded to stand in the middle of the road, watching the car drive off with increasing speed. Other vehicles had to swerve to miss her as she stood, but in time, she finally got off the road, only to end up sitting down so that she could read her Bible.

And so I went back to my shack, to lay down, hoping that I wouldn’t hear the sound of knocking again.

 

 

 

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