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The familiar sound of an in-coming e-mail drew John’s attention to his PC. He stopped ironing his shirts to see who the message was from. For the past few days his ‘inbox’ had been filled with spurious messages from an unknown admirer called ‘Mary X.’ At first John was flattered with the attention and responded politely to each message. But as the weeks passed each message became stranger and spoke of intimate details, threats and stalking. Mary X was obsessed with John and was ready to share herself with him but he remained reticent. John opened the final e-mail and read its content. ‘John. Why did you leave the supermarket so quickly? I was going to talk with you. I have so much to say but you don’t seem to have the time to listen. I am sending this e-mail to let you know that I am going to get rid of your girl friend. She stands in the way of what is truly mine. I will dispatch her quickly on Thursday. Mary.’ "That’s what you think!" John muttered to himself as he resumed the ironing of his last shirt. He placed immaculate ironed creases into its sleeves and collar as he considered the possible threat posed by the unsolicited e-mail. He had to take action for the sake of Jane, his girlfriend. John unplugged the iron and put the shirts and ironing board away into the cupboard. He poured himself a fresh drink and picked up the phone dialling a familiar number. "Hi babes, it’s me!" "Oh, hello John, are you ok?" "Yes fine! Jane, what are you doing next Thursday?" "Nothing, why?" "Would you like to go out for supper? We could try that Indian restaurant in the High Street again. What do you say?" "Ok with me. Can you pick me up at 7.30? "Sure!" "I’ll see you at my flat then. Goodnight, big boy!" "Night, Jane!" John replaced the receiver and sipped his drink. The phone call had restored his life back to normality. He was content and got ready for bed at peace with the world. Monday morning was always a busy time at the office. John, as usual was hassled by his boss as soon as he arrived for work but he calmly recorded his job schedules and started to process them once the early Monday morning briefing meeting was over. He opened his e-mails and was stunned to see his screen fill with messages from Mary X. John was angry that she had found his work e-mail address but started to read them anyway as a displacement activity. Their content varied from flattering to threatening but one particular message caught his eye. ‘As you read this I will be inside your house helping my self to anything I fancy. Mary X.’ "The bitch!" he thought. This was time for action. After making his excuses John was on the A3 heading from home. The late morning traffic was light and his journey was mercifully quick. He was going to try and catch her in the act. As he pulled into his driveway nothing seemed out of place. He parked the car, without locking it and ran to the front door. As he entered he punched in the alarm number to silence the siren. John looked at the internal computerised alarm log and saw that it had been deactivated at 8.30am and reactivated at 9.30am. It was now 10.45am he had missed his intruder by over an hour. John started a search of his house to check his belongings, the product of this violation. It soon became apparent that various CDs, videos, undergarments and his entire photo collection had been taken. His anger grew as he considered what to do next. How the hell did this woman gain entry to his house? How did she get the alarm code? How could he have been so careless? Thoughts swamped his mind as John tried to make sense of the recent events. John had no choice but to call the police to report the crime. When the officer arrived and surveyed the lack of damage he informed John that the police could not deal with the bogus crime, as the house had not been broken into. The officer left leaving John feeling angry and abused. It was time for action and John was going to retrieve his belongings, his masculine honour and pride. He locked the house and climbed back into his car. There was a message stuck to the steering wheel. It was handwritten and to the point. ‘You’ll never catch me! Mary X.’ To read the rest of this story send me an email... © 2002 Steven Longman-Marshall – all rights reserved.
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