My Shed Experience


With regards to my last post, The Weekend Off, I’m sure some of my family members are going to call me and say, “Sis what are you talking about.  You were never kidnapped and locked in a shed.”

Oh, but I was — locked away.  From 1976 to 1981, I was locked in a tiny room with newspaper taped over the windows as a means of keeping The Stalkers from spying on me.  And I stayed in that room, alone, not talking to anyone or going out and living my life.  The Stalkers kept me in that room through financial loss, fear, and loathing.

They were everywhere I went, (work, out on a date, and Church) screaming and yelling and spreading their filth.  So much, that I couldn’t get a job.  And if, through some miracle I managed to get a job, I was promptly fired.  No employer wanted me around and neither did their employees.  They were concerned for their lives, afraid either I or The Stalkers would ‘go postal’ on them.

It got so bad, that I gave up trying to make a living for myself in Illinois and borrowed enough money to buy a bus ticket to New Orleans, Louisiana, where I lived for ten years, not knowing that The Stalkers had followed me.

Not until I fell in love.  In the world of stalkers, love is forbidden.  Love is  life.  Love is friends.  Love is somebody to be with.  Love is being out of the shed.  Love is forbidden.

So, they ramped up their screaming machine, pulled out their bag of tricks, and got me fired from my job at Exxon Company U.S.A.  Needless to say, they scared the crap out of the guy.  So that was over, as well.

And when I came back to Illinois late in 1991, they tried, and succeeded, for a while, through joblessness, to put me back in that room.

But after being in that shed, doing nothing but watching TV and raising my niece, I decided to, once again, try and seek help with the Maywood Police.  That, of course, went nowhere.  Stalking was still a relatively new crime and they had more important things to do.

And then, I made up my mind not to stay in the shed. I got up, got a job, and went to work.  And every hour of every day, I and my co-workers listened to The Stalkers spewing their filth.  And I still do to this very day.  Listen to The Stalkers.

Now, if you live in Maywood, Illinois, you may have noticed that the screaming has lessen in the last couple of months.  Believe, me when I tell you that it was NOT DONE ON MY BEHALF.  The cops stopped most of the screaming because it was getting dangerous for them.  Dissatisfied and disgruntled people are shooting cops these days.  And nothing makes a person more dissatisfied and disgruntled than knowing that their home is being devalued because of someone else’s permitted bad behavior.  The cops finally did something about the screaming as a means of saving their own asses, not mine.

But that is not all that surprising.  I have found that people, so called good people, who think they are doing  good thing – because they want to find out why The Stalkers are so upset with me and screaming  – will go out of their way to put you back in the shed if this will make things go back to normal.

My advice is, don’t let anyone, no matter how well-meaning, put you back in the shed, physically or mentally.


A Tiny Kitten With A Big Mouth
Eliza D. Ankum
Author of
Flight 404
Ruby Sanders
Jared Anderson
OneThreeThirteen – Master Of The Day Of Judgment
Dancing With The Fat Woman
Thou Shalt Eat Dust
STALKED! By Voices








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