Instinct for Evil

  Before I tell you this story, you need to know a little about the way I once led my life. Among my friends, I was always the rational one. My decisions were based on the facts presented to me. In contrast, most of them were guided by hunches and feelings. I never understood that, and if their choices turned out to be good ones, I attributed it to blind luck. Let me tell you the incident that changed my way of thinking.
  Back then, every year, I would journey down to Southern California with my little dog Odie to visit my mother. It was a long, but familiar drive and I took the same route every time. When I reached LA County, it was my custom to stop for lunch. I would normally park in front of a fast food restaurant, eating my burger while Odie ate his beef patty. To relieve the stiffness in my legs, I'd also sit sideways on the driver seat with my feet on the pavement.    This particular time, a car pulled into one of the spaces near me, and a small, wiry man emerged. I didn’t think anything of it, then I noticed him staring at me. Instead of entering the restaurant, he headed my way, calling out as if he knew me. I thought for a moment that he wanted directions, but underneath his friendly mask, I detected a look of feral cunning and an unnatural excitement in his eyes. Something primeval took over me. In my bones, I knew he was a predator. Because of his proximity and the way I was seated in the car, I realized that I wouldn't be able to escape him.
  Like a crazy woman, I began yelling--Keep away! The smile still on his face, he didn’t stop. My dog came to my defense and began to bark, and luckily for me Odie's bark was bigger than he was. We made such a ruckus, that the man hesitated, and he took a second to glance through the restaurant's front window. The people inside were staring straight at him. His friendliness vanished and was replaced with an ugly look of disappointment. He muttered something about not knowing what my problem was, and then he did an about face and hurried to his car and drove away. I stayed at the restaurant for another half hour to make sure he wasn't lurking nearby. When I finally hit the road again, I checked the other cars, but he was gone.
  I was so certain that he would target someone else that I wanted to call the police, but I could just imagine how they’d respond.

--Did the man threaten or try to touch you?
--No, but I had a feeling he would.
--Feeling, huh? You may need help, but it isn't the kind we we can give you.

  No, calling the cops wouldn’t have been a good idea. The logical part of me wondered if I had overreacted or misread the situation. But deep inside, I knew that I did the right thing. I had never reacted that way to anyone before (or since), and I’m still absolutely certain that if I hadn’t done what I did, that man would have harmed me.
  That experience woke me to the fact that using just my rational mind limited me, and by ignoring my instincts, I could place myself in peril. After that, I made some changes in how I conducted my life. Though, I still base most of my decisions on logic, before I make that final call, I check my gut, which allows me to see the truth that lies beyond the rosy picture presented.
  As far as that wiry, little man is concerned, whenever I read about a serial killer being captured, I study their picture carefully. None have looked like him, and that makes me wonder--Is he still out there?