Her name was Julie Eliot. “Jules” was what her friends had called her, and that’s exactly what she was – piece of treasure. She had platinum blonde hair, the sort of colour that seemed to fade away in the light, but stand out in the dark. Her eyes were green, like emeralds, and looked out towards the world with passion and optimism that could not be altered, or taunted. Julie was not tall for a nineteen-year-old, but below average. She doesn’t stand out in a crowd. She had just begun her second year in psychology in university, and had a part-time job as a cashier, for a local gourmet super-market. Julie is a smart, lovely, pretty girl, but this evening, she is going to die.

The brakes of the bus screeched as it stopped by the curb, and Julie thanked the driver before getting out. The move to her most recent accommodation was just a bus trip away from university, but on the way back, when she didn’t have work, she preferred to walk part of the way. The neighbourhood was quiet, and she enjoyed the exercise. The weather had been slightly cloudy, which was not unusual for autumn. Julie often reflected her mood with the weather, but didn’t give into gloom, and so as she normally did, she quietly whistled a familiar tune to cheer herself up.
But it was not the weather, but sound that corrupted her emotions. It was the quiet, slow; almost sinister sound, of a fallen, dead leaf being crushed under a foot. She stopped whistling. Julie turned her head and saw a small child in a navy-blue raincoat, just three driveways away. An innocent little boy, she thought, but what she felt was far from it. Her mind, her rational thinking told her, just a small, harmless boy. But it was her heart – thump-thump-thump-thump – it was instinct, something made her fear him. For a reason, which she knew to be ludicrous: the way the child hid his face under the hood of his jacket; the posture he took; and the manner in which he took to step on the leaf – almost sadistically; all seemed to have a dark, demonic insistence beneath it.

She looked away, and kept her eyes ahead. ‘This is stupid,’ she decided and kept on walking. She studied psychology, and so she learned that the human mind was capable of malicious things, and so of course she would assume the worst of things from basic appearances. She took the course to help people, she reminded herself, to understand them. It was never her intention to be analytical of others, and make assumptions – least of all people she never met. She took a deep breath, and focused her thoughts to different things. parents, phone bill, school assignment, a pair of shoes…
Yet it was undeniable, there was something she was uneasy about. A cold wind gushed from behind her, which it felt like a dagger of ice piercing into her spine. Chills ran across her shoulders. Goosebumps unearthed across her skin as droplets of sweat bled out of her forehead. There had never been a time when she had felt so vulnerable. And where? This was a quiet, peaceful suburban neighbourhood where even petty-robberies were a rarity. It was the last place on earth something would happen.

Julie continued walking, but had increased her step. He was now four houses behind. It was a silly game, she thought, but didn’t yield. Then, she met a fork in the road. Julie turned left, as per normal. Her pace was quick, and she was sure she would out-run him. But then, she relaxed her pace. She decided to look, just to see if he was following her. She grounded to a halt and waited. Where was he? He was right behind just a minute ago. Julie waited. He was gone.
‘Was it all just imaginary?’ she wondered. Was she crazy? Had all this study of psychology turned her into a subject?
‘Think,’ she thought. ‘What did the boy look like? Was he really there?’ He was. When Julie looked again he was right behind her now, the boy in the navy-blue raincoat, and he was walking towards her. ‘Run!’ was her first instinct and she skipped like a rabbit across the bitumen. Was she that far ahead of him? Maybe he slowed down – why? Was he playing tricks on her? Or was it her mind doing all the tricks?
It’s pointless, she kept telling herself. She knew the other road only led to a dead-end – the chances he’d head the same way as her was much greater. Still, why had she never come across him before? He did have the characteristics of someone who is shy – no, stop being so psycho-analytical! She must not have seen him before, Julie decided. It was purely coincidental they never met on the same time.

She was almost running. All Julie could think about was the news report two weeks ago – a university student was gushed and killed on her way home. Could this boy be the culprit? Was she going to be the next victim? Her heart was beating so fast. Julie listened to her own footsteps – tap, tap – each of them sounding like a falling bomb, but the constant sound of the feet behind her were also speeding up, or at least she had thought. His steps were loud, she noted, it was as if he wanted them to be heard. The boy wanted his presence to be known. There was another turn coming up, this time it was a cross-road. Julie’s path was straight across. She decided to keep her eyes glued to the STOP sign right ahead. She’ll ignore what was behind her. She listened carefully – his footsteps had slowed. To make sure, she relaxed her own steps to hear more carefully.
The sound that came to her instead, was the sharp deafening tone of a car horn. A maroon sedan with tinted windows drove passed. She had almost crossed before looking both ways. Julie first watched the car. It had brought her back to reality. And suddenly, the pair of feet behind could no longer be heard. Maybe he disappeared, she thought, almost hopefully. An eerie thought crept up on her, like an arachnid with barbed, twisted claws, which had reached up and touched her on the shoulder. The feeling you’re being watched. The boy in the navy-blue raincoat was watching her, she was sure of it. His eyes cut into her back with murderous intent. She felt his stare, a drop of poison dripping against her bare skin. She dared not to look if he was still behind, and kept going. Soon after she crossed the road, the footsteps had returned. There were two other directions he could have headed. Did he always live around here? Why didn’t she notice him before?
But it wasn’t as though she could call the police. He took two turns the same way, she felt him stare at her, he kept his face hidden in a creepy way… there wasn’t a shred of evidence to say she was under threat. But Julie still reached for her phone. She might not dial the police, but only if there was someone who she could talk to, just to retrieve her sanity. Someone! Julie dug out her mobile and selected the first name on her list. It was Monica, who she shared the house with. It rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times, and she answered: ‘Hello?’ Then, feeling stupid, Julie realise she had nothing to say. ‘Hello?’
‘Hey Monica, it’s me!’ she desperately said.
‘Oh, hey Jules. Is everything alright? You sound nervous.’
‘No, it’s fine. I’m okay.’ Julie said, continuously keeping an eye behind her, wanting to see how far ahead she was.
‘So, did you want anything? Julie?’
‘Sorry. J – just letting you know I’m coming straight back, because I don’t have work…’ then, as Julie stuttered on these improvised remarks, a tone more frightening than the footsteps rang in her ears: beep-beep. Her battery was low.
‘Monica! My phone’s dying –’ was all else she could say, before she was cut off. Julie looked at the screen of her phone. It was blank, lifeless. Julie felt her heart sink. Now there was no one to call for help, even if she was in danger, and Julie looked behind her – and there he was, the boy in the navy-blue raincoat. Julie still couldn’t see his face, but could imagine it to be something so grotesque and vile, that she would not be surprised if he was to reveal himself to expose tarantula fangs.

Julie decided a few deep breaths will clear her mind again. Yet each time she breathed the image of the child behind her flashed in her mind. It was like a hunt in one of those stupid morning TV-shows about the African wildlife – she was being stalked. She was prey. Fear was instinct and she couldn’t help it.
Another fork came up, the right being the continuing road, and the left meant a narrow alleyway. She stopped. She normally went left through the footpath, but she felt too claustrophobic to go. The right meant a detour. Julie couldn’t make up her mind, and stopped dead in the tracks. She realised the boy behind her was gaining ground with every passing moment. What if she went right? If the boy followed her, he could just be on the way to his house. If she went left, her usual way the boy was following her for sure. She must have noticed him before. But then, if he did take the left path, would it mean he definitely was following her? There were plenty of houses to the left, after all. Julie couldn’t wait any longer, she went left. The pavement was skinny, and the fences either side of her felt like grey walls of a cave, encircling her, as she was going deeper, and deeper, and closer to darkness. Then, Julie turned around. He was gone. The boy was heading the other way. She sighed, and it felt like a ton of air was released from inside her. She stood and watched for another moment to see the boy walk further and disappear around the bend. It was all paranoia, and now Julie felt embarrassed about feeling that way. She turned around and walked on; glad at least she chose the closer route home. Julie imagined getting home, explaining to Monica that her phone ran out of batteries, taking a nap then putting on a movie while finishing a bowl of ice-cream, and her studies could wait until Sunday.

Her legs felt tired from the shock of it all. But her spirits were higher and she even tried whistling again. Then, ringing down the suburban street, like a howling echo in a cave, was the sound of a crushing leaf. Julie’s heart froze, and slowly, she turned her head. It was all too familiar – de-ja-vu. He was back. Him! The boy in the navy-blue raincoat was walking right behind her, again. Julie kept her eyes on him and stepped up her pace. How could this be? He went the other way! Had he took a different route to get here? If so, then why? Maybe he didn’t know about the short-cut through the alleyway. Or, had he retraced his steps and followed the same way as Julie? Was he stalking her? Maybe he realised he made the wrong turn and then went back. Or, was the act of turning right on the fork a diversion?
Julie’s heart was pumping, worse than ever now. She felt deathly chill in the air. Her arms were cold, yet it was his stare – she could feel him looking at her – that caused her to shiver. She could imagine his eyes, dark and devious, with a twisted and sadistic instinct behind them, piercing her like a target, a prey. It felt like a dagger of ice touching her spine, a swarm of frost rising to her neck, and all around invisible bugs were dispersing like a plague over her body.

She was almost home. Though she refused to look back, He was there. She could feel him, his presence in her mind’s eye was stronger, more definite to her than if she was to physically turn her head and see him. He was gaining closer. Julie stepped up her pace, her feet were barely touching the ground before taking the next step, as she counted the letterboxes she passed. Only a few more houses. But it seemed no matter how fast she walked, He was getting closer. He was like a demonic, surreal figure from a nightmare that she could not flee from, no matter how fast she ran. Hurry Almost…
Julie was so close to the door. She could feel her arm wanting reach out to the handle. Just a small turn would get her inside. She touched it – the feeling of cold brass never felt as soothing on her hand, as it did then. Julies quickly turned the door, swept into the foyer and closed, almost slamming the door behind her. She looked at the face of the wooden door, almost as though observing the murky tone of the paint, but actually wondering if her follower was standing right behind it.
‘Jules!’ Monica walked in.
‘Hey… I’m back,’ Julie said, gasping, almost with tears of relief in her eyes.
‘You okay? What happened? You look scared,’ Monica said, sounding more sceptical than sympathetic.
‘Nothing. My phone died.’
‘Was there something wrong? I mean, you’re shaking, and you’ve got sweat on your forehead.’
Julie sighed and collapsed on the couch. She had no idea how she was going to explain it. ‘Do you know that feeling you get, like you’re being watched?’
‘No. but I heard about it. Why? Was someone following you?’
Julie stopped again. but she couldn’t keep this secret any longer, ‘it was a boy.’
‘A boy? How old was he?’
‘I don’t know, twelve, or, fourteen,’ Julie added on the end, not to sound too hysterical. Yet it didn’t work, Monica still couldn’t believe it.
‘Twelve? You’re joking!’ she said, smiling, unable to conceal her amusement.
‘Monica, it’s not funny! He scared me!’ she shouted.
‘Gee Jules,’ Monica pleaded. ‘Look, I’m sorry. But, I mean – a little boy was stalking you? Not that I don’t believe you, but aren’t you being a bit paranoid?’ She was right. Julie had nothing else except her “feeling,” to back up her statement. Even how the boy followed her on the same paths; or the “mistake” he made, was enough – and it wouldn’t have helped the argument that she was sane.
‘You’re right,’ Julie said. ‘I was being paranoid. It must be from studying all that creepy stuff about psychology.’ This managed to convince both of them, and now the drama was over, Julie thought she’s start indulging guiltily to her ice-cream. She reached for the freezer door, and suddenly felt calm by the familiar surroundings of the kitchen. But her deep-green eyes, that had a habit of wandering without her knowledge, drifted over to the window. Helplessly curious, Julie decided against the better judgements to peer outside – and there, she saw a flash of navy-blue pass by the road. It was there only for a second but he was there! She wasn’t paranoid!
‘Monica, I’m going out!’ Julie called, and, forgetting to grab her bag, or without waiting for a response, she hastily ran out the door, which only a minute ago acted as her saviour.

He was there, walking alone, down the quiet road. Julie watched, hiding behind trees and scrubs, keeping both eyes locked on the blue raincoat. Suddenly, the situation changed. She was following Him now, and the balance of power completely reversed. It looked as if the boy was not are of her, and Julie was certain, at first, that she was now in control, but as she pursued him through the neighbourhood, she noticed he had never looked back. His head kept completely still, and Julie thought, did he know someone was following him? She kept following him, nonetheless, and old fears returned to her. But this time, she wasn’t going to run, she was facing them. With determination that came with any task she put her mind to, Julie kept on walking.
The boy took one turn then another, and returned to the intersection they had crossed earlier, and then took a left. So it wasn’t paranoia! The boy had taken a detour to reach her house, and now he was almost retracing his steps. It can’t be coincidental now, Julie thought, and kept close on pursuit, walking closer and closer to him.
The sun was beginning to set, she could tell, even though the sky was already dark. Julie didn’t know how long they walked for, but her feet began to feel the strains. Then, he was there. He was home. The house was the last on a ‘no through road,’ and beyond it was a nature park Julie sometimes went on morning strolls for. He dug out a spare key from a pot plant, unlocked the door and placed the key back before going inside. The driveway was empty and no one else seemed to be home. Julie was hiding in a bush two houses away, and observed the front of the house. It was ordinary, no different to the houses around it. Even Julie had to admit, this looked normal, which calmed her senses. But after all, it was characteristic of serial killers to blend into society, but the whole thing felt too undramatic. She decided to herself, that this was too unsatisfying – everything was fine! Her pursuit and all her primal instincts added up to nothing. Then a noise came from back of the house. The side gate opened, and the boy came out with a mountain bike. He walked it up to the street, and Julie dropped beneath the shrub. But he didn’t take a glance towards her. The boy rode off in the other direction. Julie sighed in relief and knew following him now was pointless. The bike was too fast for her to keep up. Wait, she suddenly thought. There isn’t anyone home! She could just sneak in and search the house.
What could she possibly find? But Julie ignored that question, and without any more precautions, she jogged up to the front door. She put her ear saints it, and glanced inside between the closed blinds, just to make sure nobody was home. The place looked clear, so Julie, found the key in the plant pot and unlocked it. She suddenly found herself inside. There was a lounge room to the right and to the left was the dining room, and a hallway was straight ahead. The house was a little untidy, but otherwise nothing out of the ordinary. She went down the hall, and found a bedroom that looked like it could be the boy’s. Normal. A half-made bed, a study desk full of school papers, a closet full of clothes. Was she paranoid?
‘It can’t be,’ Julies said to herself. She searched through his neatly folded shirts, dirty socks and drawers in the study desk, but there was nothing. It was going nowhere, she had to think, where would he hide something? Under the mattress! That was where all children hid their diaries, Julie had when she was fourteen. But do boys keep journals?

Julie lifted the mattress off the bed. It was heavy. But there it was, a small, hard-cover diary, lying, waiting to be found. Julie grabbed it, but before opening it up, took a moment to examine the front. It was black canvas, good quality, no doubt expensive. Did she dare to open the book? What would she find? What if it was just a diary? What if there was something else? But there was no use procrastinating, she came this far, she can’t turn back. Julie took a deep breath and lifted the cover.
Her heart stopped. There, on the middle of the first page of this expensive journal, which the boy kept secretly under his mattress, in black ink was written: Julie Eliot. Julie almost dropped the book, as she choked on air, wanting to scream as loud as she can run out the door and not turn back. But she stayed, she had come this far – she couldn’t stop now. She turned the next page and kept reading: She had platinum blonde hair, the sort of colour that seemed to fade away in the light, but stand out in the dark. Her eyes were green, like emeralds, and looked out towards the world with passion and optimism that could not be altered, or taunted… and it kept going, describing her in every way, describing her better than she could describe herself. She wasn’t paranoid! This is it. Here is hard evidence; proof that The Boy was stalking her.
On the third page was a sketch of her, accurately portrayed every unique spot and abnormality of her face, except it was drawn in red ink save her eyes that were coloured green. The book was almost filled up, he had written in it every day, as if a journal, but it only ever talked about her.
Julie Eliot… Julie Eliot… Julie Eliot…
Then she read the final entry he had written: Julie is a smart, lovely, pretty girl, but this evening, she is going to die. Suddenly, a rattling noise came from the front. The key unlocked and the unoiled hinges squeaked open. Julie’s heart raced, her eyes widened and her knees trembled. Quick! Hide! Julie snuck around the bed, to shield herself from view. But it wasn’t who she thought it was.
‘Louis? Louis, are you home?’ It was a woman’s voice. Was it his mother?
‘He must have taken his bike out,’ a man answered her. His father! They must be his parents. But what were they doing home? It was still early to come back from work, she thought. And if they’re looking for their son, they couldn’t have been out school. And so what if they were back, could they save her from their homicidal son? Did they even know? And besides, she was just an intruder – a home invader! What could I do?
Noises came from the kitchen, sounds of dropping bags and handling keys. A shadow walked passed the room she was in, probably just to check the boy, Louis, wasn’t home.
‘Are you okay?’ asked the woman. The man didn’t answer at first. ‘The doctor said – ’
‘I heard him!’ the man answered, raising his voice.
‘Please, don’t get upset. I know I’m not his mother, but I want him to feel safe with me, and talk to me. I love him too, but he’s lost.’
‘Honey, you’re doing a great job as his mum,’ the man said, sounding apologetic. ‘The doc’s probably right, he misses his mum,’ he sighed. ‘I know it was hard for me, but I can’t imagine what he’s been through. He was there! Inside the car with her!’ Julie took in each word that was said, and with every phrase, edged closer, as if being pulled uncontrollably in to the conversation in the kitchen. ‘He must have been so traumatised. I just which he didn’t have to see all the blood and…’
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ the woman said.
‘But I should have been there!’
‘You’re with him now.’ Julie could tell the woman drew closer to the man. ‘You’re his father, just go talk to him.’
‘I know, but how about the book!’
Julie felt her heart stopped. She didn’t know why she felt so nervous, but the muscles of her shoulders tightened; the ends of her fingers weakened.
‘It’s a book. The psychiatrist said it’s not unusual for teenagers to have imaginations like that.’
‘But what if it is real? What do we do then? We don’t know if they’re just stories. You read it as well, all the little details – how do boys come up with that?’
This was Julie’s chance. She could come forward. Just two small steps and she’ll be in clear view of them. Show them it wasn’t all imagined, that she was real! And say what? ‘Hi, I’m Julie Eliot, the girl your son has been stalking the past few months, I just thought I’d break-in and scour his room.’ No. She wouldn’t do it. She couldn’t help herself, but she felt sorry for the parents, and even the boy – Louis, his name was. She decided to just sneak back into the boy’s bedroom, put the notebook where she found it, walk away and forget everything.
‘You’re scared,’ the woman said as Julie made her way to the back door. ‘But we’ll get through this…’

Julie was in the backyard before they finished. She closed the fly-screen door softly, and walked quietly to the fence. Then, as if out of nowhere, without ever making a sound the boy in the navy-blue raincoat was back, standing, staring at her. His face was still masked in the shadow of the hood, but his stare aimed right for her. And suddenly, Julie remembered the last entry of his journal. She turned around and tried the back door but it didn’t bulge. She pulled on it again, but there was no use, it was fixed with a dead-lock. The only other exit was the gate, but the boy stood in the way. He slowly approached her, and reached in the pocket of his jacket for a… Swiss-Army knife!
Julie saw through the darkness of the shadow, The Boy licked his lips, as he released a shining, silver blade. Her jaw was locked in, and her throat felt like something was stuck in it – she couldn’t have screamed even if she tried. Then her drifty eyes peered over to the fence to her right. It was too high for her to jump it, but in the corner was a hole that was ripped open, which she could squeeze through. Julie looked at the boy, and it seemed he was waiting for her to make a move, or anticipating his next step. She looked at him. The boy took a step. Julie had no other choice – she ran for the hole and dived through, crawling and escaped into the nature park. Julie rushed to her feet and ran down a slope almost slipping on dead, grimy leaves, towards the open path. If she could just reach where all the people with dogs took their afternoon walks, she’ll be safe. But that was almost a mile away, and she barely ran twenty metres before she tripped. Her foot snagged something – fishing line!
She felt, herself all in slow motion, she was falling, gravity pulling her towards the earth, and crashing. The landing would hurt, but Julie knew, by watching the boy in the navy-blue raincoat chasing her, that she had already fallen – right into his trap.

Julie lay on an empty space by the lake. She looked at the murky water, which she figured by now would be her grave. She looked back and the boy was already by her feet. She tried to look at his face, but it was already dark and couldn’t make anything out of it. She parted her lips, opened her mouth as if to try and speak. ‘Please…’ but he lunged at her. The Boy covered her mouth with a handkerchief with his left hand, and with his right, he aimed the knife at her. Julie tried to hi him, but he placed his knee on her solar-plexus, placing his full weight on top of her. It was hard to breath, and with her mouth covered as well, she thought she was going to faint.
She wished she had fainted, but her eyes refused to close. They watched as the knife slowly approached her forehead. She felt its sting as the blade dug into a spot above her eyebrow, and with a surgeon’s precision, the Boy patiently sliced across her face, drawing a line to the edge of her left eyebrow. Julie tried to scream, but the lack of oxygen, only a silent whimper came out, and no one hear her call for help. She could only produce tears, tears that would not be seen by anyone else except the boy, her tormenter. Blood trickled across her face, and the torture would continue – he was only started – and He would create another incision right below the eyes.

The end of the blade touched her sensitive skin. Julie submitted herself, realising that struggle caused only more anguish. She closed her teary eyes and prayed. Then a voice came.
‘Louis?’ It was his father. The boy l got up, releasing his knee and the handkerchief from her mouth. He placed his pocket knife into his jacket and walked towards his father as if Julie never existed. ‘Louis, mate, what are you doing outside?’
‘Nothing,’ Louis answered vaguely. His father sighed. It seemed that he couldn’t see her. Julie watched as the blood on her face dried and she recovered her breath. She wanted to call out, but instead laid back and waited. She watched and listened to them talking. Why hadn’t his father notice her?
‘Listen, I wanted to talk to you. We had a talk with Doctor Frank today; we talked about that notebook you keep in your room.’ Damien stood, uncomfortable.
‘They’re just stories, Dad,’ he said. His father stood silent.
‘Why don’t you quit hiding your face, just this once,’ his father said and pulled back the hood, slowly and Julie could see the back of his head. ‘Now, those stories that you write, they can scare people, you know that?’ Father asked. Louis nodded. ‘So, why don’t you just come inside and have supper, okay? We’ll talk more later.’
Louis nodded again. As they walked away and ascended the slope, the boy took one look back. An innocent boy. ‘Was this the face of a killer?’ Julie dared to wander. This child, with smooth, pale skin, round eyes and sad lips… could this be the face of evil? Julie watched him, as his dad led him away.
Their eyes met, just for a second, and all the fear and hatred disappeared between them. The boy saw her, Julie Eliot, a nineteen-year-old with platinum gold hair, green eyes, a smart, pretty girl…
His father guided him along, and he too looked back, but only saw an empty space.

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