Disclaimer: The Loud House and associated characters belong to Nickelodeon and Chris Savino.

STALKED

By Lola Presents

Chapter 1

The sun was out and scorching Royal Woods. And, in a medium-sized suburban backyard, a young girl swings merrily as her golden hair flows in the wind. Birds chirped from the tops of the two tall trees on either side of the swings while her twin played in a nearby sandbox. All was right with the world, and everything was serene.

Then, something caught the attention of the girl in the swing. An ominous shadow came into view and shielded the child's view of her mother. The silhouette was of a man, backlit by the sun, and the little girl couldn't make out who it was. The only thing she knew was that it terrified her.

Then, as the darkness leaned toward her, two shadowy arms reached out for her, and she began screaming. However, every time the girl opened her mouth to call out for her mother, all that came out was an annoying loud buzzing noise. The girl paid no attention at first, but she realized she was dreaming by the third time.

Lola cracked her eyes and slapped the alarm into submission, then rolled onto her back, where she stretched and yawned deeply. Then, after dropping her arms to the bed long enough to sigh, she moved once more, this time in the other direction. She poked her husband, who was still soundly sleeping next to her.

"Winston, it's time to get up for work," she sweetly but authoritatively called.

Winston's brow raised, though his eyes remained closed, and he moaned tiredly. "Can I have another few minutes, please?"

"Maybe a few minutes won't hurt," Lola replied, raising her to a semi-seated position, held up by one elbow. "I had that dream again," she added a moment later, her brows furrowing as she recalled the event.

"Oh? Which one?" Winston asked. "You have a lot of them."

"The one where I get abducted as a child," Lola replied quietly. "It never fails to scare the crap out of me."

"You know that never happened, right?" Winston reminded her. "Listen, we all have bad dreams. It's probably a repressed fear of being abandoned or something, and I'm certainly not going to abandon you."

"I guess you're right," sighed the woman. "Now, come on. You don't want to be late."

Winston sighed and rubbed his race, then swung the cover back and sat upon the edge of the bed. "Fine," he murmured, craning his neck and shrugging his shoulders tightly, which caused several of his upper vertebra to pop.

"Geez," observed Lola as she too rose and tossed her bathrobe over her pajamas. "You sound like an old man when you do that."

"Heh," chuckled the twenty-year-old man, reaching for his insulated blue jumpsuit. "Maybe. But meat-packing isn't the easiest job, you know. I've only been doing it two years, and it's already taking its toll."

"Well, that was your choice, Winston," Lola reminded him as she brushed her hair. "You could've been a lawyer, you know."

"Lola, you know how I feel about my parents and their money," Winston replied, zipping up his jumpsuit then reaching for his steel-two boots. "I don't want anything to do with either one of them. All I want is to be self-sufficient."

"Yes, well, I made your breakfast and lunch last night. I left them in the fridge. Just pop it in the microwave," Lola told him, making for the door. "I have to get ready to go too."

"Go?" Winston asked. "Go where?"

"Don't you remember? I told you last night that Lindsey and I were going to hang out at Don's this morning."

"Uh..." muttered the young man with scruffy blonde hair. "No, I don't recall that. And, who's Don?"

"Don isn't a who. It's a what," Lola answered. "You know Don's Diner, I'm sure."

"Oh, yeah," responded Winston, frustrated that he'd forgotten about it. "Why would you eat in a dump like that, anyway?"

"Okay, first of all, it isn't a dump. It's small, but it's good homecooked food," the young woman informed him. "And, it's halfway between Lindsey's house and ours, so it made sense to meet there."

"Ah, right," sighed Winston. "Okay, I'll see in a few."

Lola made her way to the kitchen several minutes later, just as Winston was placing his lunch into his lunch bag, then zipped it shut. She still wore a bathrobe, but now, her hair was clean and laid out upon a towel that hugged her neck.

"Have a good day at work, honey!" she cooed, wrapping her arms around him from the back, hugging him tightly.

Turning around without breaking her embrace, he returned the hug, kissing her on the forehead. "Don't worry, hun," he said brightly. "I'm sure it'll be just like the last few hundred; tiresome."

"Oh, don't be like that," sighed Lola. "Always look on the bright side of things. It could be worse, after all."

"Oh, how so?" laughed Winston.

"You could've been a garbage man?" questioned Lola, unsure whether her suggestion was indeed worse.

"In any case, I love you," Lola announced before lightly kissing her husband on the lips. "Now, off you go!"

"Yes, ma'am!" he barked, grabbing his lunch bag and presenting her with a firm salute. Then, he headed for the smiling.

Lola folded her arms and sighed as Winston vanished from view. Shaking her head, all she could think of was how silly he was. "That man..." she mumbled, smiling to herself.

Thirty minutes later, Lola found herself leaving her home at 1441 Franklin avenue in her well-used Honda Accord, passing her childhood home at 1216. Lola considered pulling in and talking to her mother about the dream for the briefest of moments. Then, Lola remembered that her mother was probably getting ready for work and didn't want to bother her.

She had never told her parents about her nocturnal visions, and she'd had them since she was about eight. Perhaps Lola should have at some point. However, she was used to handling things on her own. It wasn't that she didn't trust others. It was due more to the fact that she valued her independence.

Soon, she arrived at Don's Diner, which seemed to be serving a light clientele today, if the parking lot was any indication. Lola pulled into the lot closest to the door and parked, grabbing her purse as she exited the car and headed for the large double glass door.

Don's diner wasn't a terrible establishment at all, and the locals had used it for years without complaint. It always got a grade of "A" on its health certifications and had never once served a bad meal. Though it looked dingy and old, its outside belied its interior, pristine and sanitary.

After the doors closed behind her, Lola gazed around the linear diner. She could see Don in the kitchen, through the large window separating it from the counter, which Clair, the host, stood behind. "Good morning, Clair," she chirped. "What's the morning special today?"

"Oh, hi, toots!" the lady replied, looking up from her magazine. "We've got pigs in a blanket with toast or biscuit, your choice."

"I think I'll have that, please. With toast and coffee, if you don't mind," Lola announced with a smile.

Clair had been working at Don's as long as Lola could recall. Though she'd only been patronizing the establishment for a few years now, she'd visited often as a child. She missed the middle-aged woman a lot. Clair was always warm and welcoming, ready to chat at a moment's notice.

"Coming right up," she declared, attaching a slip of paper to the carousel that hung in the window between the counter and the kitchen. Then, turning back to Lola, she continued. "Are you dining alone today?"

"No, ma'am," Lola responded, looking around the diner. "I'm meeting my friend, Lindsey. Though she doesn't seem to have arrived yet."

"Alrighty, toots," Clair smiled. "You pretty much have the place to yourself, so sit anywhere you like."

"Of course," replied Lola. "Thank you very much."

Lola took another look around, finding the place nearly empty. The only two other patrons were a couple of older men. One was Carl, and the other was only known as Boomer. Both were regulars there, arriving for several cups of coffee every morning as they discussed fly fishing and reminisced about the "good old days."

"Good morning," Lola greeted them as she passed on her way to the booth at the far end of the line.

"It'll be if the carp are bittin' later," Carl said in his gravelly voice. "Damn things ain't taking to mah bait."

"Ne'er mind him," Boomer interjected, smiling up at Lola. "He's just sour 'cause he can't make bait worth a spit."

Lola chuckled and remembered something Lana told her a few years ago. "Try corn pops and vanilla extract. My sister says carp like sweet, crunchy bait. What you do is, put the cereal into a bowl and drench them in the extract. After they've sat for a while, bake them on a sheet for ten minutes at two-hundred and fifty degrees. Then, put them back in the bowl and put a lid on it."

"Hah!" cried Boomer, laughing at Carl. "I told ya! But ya wouldn't listen, saying fish ain't gonna like human food!"

"Well, it looks like you two have things handled here," Lola said, politely excusing herself before taking her seat.

Soon, Lindsey came through the door and stood there, as Lola had done. "Over here, Lindsey!" the seated girl called, waving her arm.

Lindsey glanced over and smiled when she saw her friend. They'd known each other since they were around the age of five. However, neither particularly liked each other much at the time, as they were competitors in the pageant circuit.

It wasn't until they aged out of the miss pre-teen bracket at thirteen that they became better acquainted. Nearing the end of their careers, they noticed that changes in fashion trends and social expectations began costing them wins.

Neither wished to adapt that much, so they decided to resign together, and they've been good friends ever since. However, since becoming adults and subsequently getting married, they'd had little time to gather. Instead, Lola and Lindsey met once a week at Don's to catch up with each other.

"Hey there," sighed Lindsey as she sat opposite Lola. "Man, I'm cold. I hate winter weather."

"Yeah, me too," Lola replied, regardless of having made the same statements last year. "So, what's been going on?"

"Not much," Lindsey cordially said. "You know that little strip mall a little further down?"

"You mean the one that still has an abandoned Blockbuster?" asked Lola.

"Heh, yeah," chuckled Lindsey. "Well, there are a few vacant units there, and I've been considering leasing one to turn into a beauty salon. Only, I have to get James on board, and he seems hesitant to invest."

"Well, honestly, I can understand," Lindsey's friend told her. "That mall doesn't get much traffic these days. Besides, beauty salons are going out of style with all the home kits available. Perhaps a beauty supply store would be a better option?"

"Hm," Lindsey murmured, wrangling her mouth from side to side. "You may be right about that. I'll do some more research. So, what about you? How are you and Winston getting on?"

"We're doing well. Thanks for asking," Lola informed Lindsey. "Though, I'm still wondering what to do. I mean, I still haven't found me calling, and I'm beginning to get a little bored staying at home all day."

"I know what you mean," agreed Lindsey. "Ever thought about getting back into pageantry?"

"Hah!" laughed Lola. "Like, every day. But, you know as well as I do that it isn't easy to get back into it once you leave. Besides, I might have a teensy problem..." she added, smiling coyly.

Lindsey studied her friend for a moment, leaning her head from side to side. Then, finally, something occurred to her, and her eye popped. "Lola! You aren't, are you?"

Lola grinned even more broadly and shrugged her shoulders. "I think so," she admitted. "I mean, the home test was positive, but I still have to see a doctor to be sure."

"Oh, my, god, Lola! That's wonderful!" Lindsey exclaimed, just as Clair brought Lola her food.

"Thank you so much!" Lola responded, taking her coffee in hand.

"You know, you might have wanted to double that order now that your eating for two," Lindsey joked.

"Oh, Lola, honey, that's wonderful news!" gasped Clair. "You should've said something! I'll bring out a second helping on the house!" she added before turning to her second guest. "Now, what'll you have?"

"I'll take a short stack, please, with coffee and two pieces of toast on the side," Lindsey said, ordering from memory.

"Coming right up!" declared the host. "Now, you two have a lovely chat, alright? Call me if you need anything."

"We will," replied Lindsey as she watched the waitress scuttle off. She then turned her attention back toward Lola. "Wow! So, does Wiston know yet?"

"Oh, gosh, no," Lola spat, almost dropping her bite of pancakes and sausage. "I haven't told him yet."

"Whyever not?" asked Lindsey. "James and I have been trying for a while now. He'd want to know the moment I did."

"Well, he's been a bit moody lately," Lola explained. "Besides, I don't even know for sure yet."

"Really?" asked Lindsey. "What's up?"

"Nothing really," responded Lola. "He's just starting to feel a bit stifled, I think. His job is rough on him, and he's too proud to go to his parents."

"I see," sighed Lola's friend as Clair returned with her meal. "Thanks!"

"No problem, toots," replied Clair. "Enjoy!"

"Say, who's that?" Lindsey asked Lola, nodding toward the window.

Lola turned and gazed to where Lindsey indicated, noticing a man dressed in a long coat and hat standing on the corner opposite them. His pants bore tatters, and only God knew what stained his shirt. The man didn't seem that old, yet he sported a full, scruffy beard and mustache.

"I don't know. Why?" asked Lola paying little attention to the oddity, turning back toward her meal.

"Because he's been standing there for several minutes, just staring this way," Lindsey told her.

"That's weird," Lola observed.

"Yeah, especially since it's started sleeting," added Lindsey.

Lola turned to take another look, only to have her view blocked by a transit bus as it passed by. When it left her sight, the man was no longer present.

"Creepy," Lola mumbled, shuddering in her seat despite being perfectly warm.

"Tell me about it," Lindsey agreed, diving into her meal. "Now, don't go getting all freaked out or anything, but for some reason, he looks familiar. Only, I can't place him."

"Really?" gasped Lola. "I got the same impression. How odd."

"Well, anyway," sighed Lola, shoving the last bit of sausage into her mouth. "Let me know if you recall something. For now, it's not worth worrying over. He's probably some homeless guy, wanting food."

"You're probably right, Lola," responded Lindsey. "Besides, there are better things to do."

"Like finding jobs while keeping our husbands sane?" Lola asked.

Lindsey laughed despite her mouth being full of food, and Lola joined in shortly after. It seemed that fun was a common goal for the pair of women, and laughter drew them from whatever bothered them currently. Such was their weekly endeavor; to meet at Don's and chuckle about life's problems.

The two chatted while Lindsey finished her meal, then they said their farewells and parted for the week. Lindsey headed home to do more research on possible business ventures, while Lola went home to clean and do the laundry.

Lola never considered herself a chore person, but being married changed her after a while. Winston wasn't going to it, nor should Lola expect him to. He provided for them, and that was enough. Well, that and the occasional bout of romance and love-making.

Lola pulled into her driveway, secured her car, then made her way to the porch. She mindlessly fidgeted in her pockets for the keys before noticing something beside her. Finally locating her keys, she pulled them out and gave the object her attention.

Beside the front door sat a vase with a dozen red roses in it. Attached was a card, though she couldn't read it at this distance. Smiling, she kneeled and picked the vase up with one hand, then opened the door with the other.

Once inside, she closed the door and locked it, made her way to the kitchen, where she sat the flowers and her purse down, and investigated the card. She had a slightly more than vague notion who sent them. Still, it was a sweet gesture.

"Thank you for being in my life. You mean everything to me. W." it read.

Lola held her hands in front of her, leaned in, and smelled the blooms. Despite roses mostly having lost their smell due to being bred out a long time ago, Lola enjoyed sniffing them, and she smiled. It was the thought that counted, after all.

Winston may occasionally get rather testy, but he loved her and was always a sweetheart. Everything he did was for her, whether letting her pick where they ate, running errands for her, or caring for her when sick. He rarely took time for himself, and while Lola appreciated his attention, she also knew that some self-care would benefit him.

Releasing her train of thought, Lola headed downstairs to begin the laundry. There were several heaps of used work clothing and only one of hers. She decided hers could wait, as she had a closet full of things to wear. Winston, on the other hand, would need his done.

She started sorting through the first pile, tossing things into the washer or a secondary pile due to color differences. That is until she came across the pair of Winston's jeans he used for gardening purposes. It was old and had several bare patches. In two places, in particular, they had gotten so tattered they bore large holes.

For a fleeting moment, Lola's mind drifted back to the strange man she and Lindsey had seen earlier that day, and she shuddered once more.