As The Raven Dreams Podcast - 8 MORE Hours Of THE BEST Scary Stories of 2024 - Part 2 of 2

Episode Date: January 1, 2025

Today we have over 8 HOURS of true scary stories - this is a collection of some of my favorite stories from the second half of 2024 (This collection is the second part, and it goes through October) 2 ad spots - One at 25 min, one at 90 min I have a novel coming out soon! It's a psychological thriller, and I think you'll REALLY like it! It's titled "The Insomniac's Experiment" and it's available for digital preorder here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DLSK2XT8 Physical edition coming soon! Planned release date of January 10th, 2025. Want a Signed Poster? Check them out here! https://ko-fi.com/astheravendreams/shop Click Here To get early access to all my content: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCkW0ihdMHfBUjQrMKjRto6g/join The As The Raven Dreams Podcast is a community where we explore strange and scary parts of existence through spine-chilling tales from listeners. From bizarre glitch in the matrix experiences that defy explanation, to eerie paranormal encounters and horrifying scenarios with strangers and stalkers- I am here to tell you some of the scariest and strangest narratives ever typed. Submit your story for a change to be featured on the podcast ➤ https://www.AsTheRavenDreams.com Or Submit it to the subreddit ➤ https://reddit.com/r/TheRavensDream As The Raven Dreams Merch Store! ➤ https://teechip.com/stores/astheravendreams [TimeStamps] 0:00 ➤ Start of Ep 00:51:13 ➤ Story 5 01:51:24 ➤ Story 10 02:38:03 ➤ Story 15 03:27:08 ➤ Story 20 04:20:03 ➤ Story 25 05:01:38 ➤ Story 30 05:37:50 ➤ Story 35 06:14:44 ➤ Story 40 06:39:07 ➤ Story 45 07:19:27 ➤ Story 50 07:52:10 ➤ Story 56 (Last Story) ----- ➤ ALL Audio and visuals are copyright of AS THE RAVEN DREAMS / RAVEN ADAMS and may not be duplicated, in any format ➤ B L E S S T H I S M E S S #TrueScaryStories #AsTheRavenDreams #RedditStories Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Today's collection of stories is the second half of the best of 2024 stories collection. As such, this will be a bit of a mishmash of some of my favorite stories from the second half of 2024. They are in no particular order, as I mentioned in the last one. They just kind of are mixed up a bit. And yeah, it's just some of my favorite stories that I did in the second half of the year, and hopefully you all enjoy them. Hopefully some of your favorites made the cut. and yeah, just hopefully you enjoy them, like I said.

Hopefully you all had a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, and I hope everyone has a fantastic New Year as well. And of course, my friends, much love and sleep well. Hey, Raven, so this is actually an ongoing event, but I wanted to share it because, well, frankly, I feel like it should be out there. I'm doing what I can on my side legally, but so far there isn't much that can be done.

I do apologize if some details are vague, like locations, for reasons that will make sense after hearing the story, but here we go. I'm 22 years old and quite active on social media, particularly Instagram. I share photos almost daily, using it as a sort of a visual diary. I'm very vocal in the comments of friends, family, and others that I follow.

I'm not afraid to speak my mind or share my thoughts, and it's honestly just fun to me. I don't use it for political stuff or other nonsense like that, just genuine things in life that interest me. You could definitely say that I'm one of those typical users. Because of this, I have a lot of followers and friend requests that I usually just accept after a brief look over the profile. If I see them spouting off about something like politics or one of the other things that I tend to avoid, I won't add them.

But a few months ago, I received a friend request on Facebook and a follow notification on Insta for a guy that I will refer to as Aaron. His profile picture was of a dog looking over a cliff. When I scrolled through his page on both, I noticed that he posted a lot of the same pictures. landscapes, sceneries, and about half of them featured the same dog from his profile pictures. I thought it was pretty sweet. It looked like a guy who really loved his dog. And I'm a sucker for animals and photography. I didn't see any harm in it at the time, so I added him and accepted the follow and went about my life.

After adding him, he would like or react to all of my posts and sometimes comment on them. they were all simply responses such as things like nice picks, or saying that he liked the same song when I posted the lyrics or link to a song. We even had a brief conversation about sunset picks that I took, talking about the colors and how it all looked. He honestly just seemed like someone who had added me due to a mutual interest. From then on, Aaron seemed to comment on more and more of my posts. and around three to four weeks in, I noticed how his activity had started picking up.

What I mean by that is that when I would make any kind of post, I would get notified of his reaction or response within seconds of me posting it. It was almost like he was watching and waiting. I know you can turn on notifications for specific people, and that's likely what had happened. But with how quick he was always with it, it made it seem like he was waiting. Who has time to react immediately and every time to someone's posts like that? At first, I just thought maybe he had a lot of downtime, or maybe he was a big social media person, too. Besides, his comments were still all the same, all harmless and nothing striking me as alarming.

But of course, I was obviously naive to think that. When I would post a picture of myself, Aaron would compliment my appearance, and even once said, something about being the best-looking one in the picture of me and some friends. That was about the time that I started getting the private messages from him. He would ask how my day was, what I had planned, or even questions about my daily routine. I would give some pretty normal and even vague responses, because I still didn't know him. And who asks someone their daily routine? When he took his messages to DMs, that's when I started getting this nagging.

feelings, so I tried to keep my responses dull and professional, hoping to not mislead anyone. But his direct messages wouldn't stop. He would start messaging every day. Good morning, Annie. How's your day going? How are you doing? Good night and sweet dreams. No matter what I said, he would constantly message stuff like this. I should have taken a screenshot so you could see how timely they were, it was strange. But being me and not wanting to be rude, I would reply. After about the third day, it honestly got old. To ask someone day by day how they were doing was just annoying to me.

And it just seemed like he was looking for a reason to message me. So I decided that I was not obligated to message anyone, especially someone who barely was an acquaintance. so I ignored his messages. But that seemed to bring out the sign of Aaron that I wasn't aware of. When I didn't respond, he would resend the message several hours later. If I still didn't respond, he would try to tag me in the message and even had the audacity to ask why I was ignoring him. I finally responded to him by saying that I was busy,

and I didn't have time to talk. I wanted to be a lot meaner, but I finally responded to be a lot meaner, but I hoped I wouldn't have to, and that he would either be understanding or realize that he was being a little possessive. But instead, he just said that he forgave me and then continued on to his normal messages. I once again gave short answers

until he finally quit asking. But one of the more unsettling things I experienced since meeting Aaron was two weeks ago. I had gone to a coffee shop to meet up with a male co-worker. We were working on a large, project for work, and we wanted to collaborate on it a bit more, so we could get it right into the next day at work. Once we wrapped up there, I got in my car and noticed I had a new message from him.

I ignored it so I could get home first. Once I was home, I checked the message, and I had the chills. Aaron had sent me a string of messages saying that he saw me at name of local coffee shop. He said I looked gorgeous in the outfit that I was wearing, describing him. in detail what I had on. Then he also said that he wanted to sit with me and say hi, but he didn't want to interrupt my date. But there was definitely things wrong with this thought. The biggest one being that I never said anywhere online that I was going to or would be at said

coffee shop. So how did he know I was there? And he had to have been there because he described what I was wearing to a tea, even down to the earrings. and the way he worded and used quotes around date made me think his comment was sarcastic. And then he ended his string of messages with a next time, I'll just make sure to introduce myself properly,

no matter who you are with. I don't know, maybe it's just me, but this message did not sit right with me. The facts that he described what I was wearing made it seem like he was trying to prove a point. The way he seemed to mock the first. idea of me being on a date and mentioning a next time made it sound like a threat. These were all red flags for me, but I was somewhat honest with Aaron.

I told him that I was no longer comfortable talking to him, wished him a good day and unfriended him. I didn't even know this person. I had no obligation to be nice to him nor leave him on my friend's list, so I did what was best for me. I just hoped that he understood and maybe he would, again, see that that was far from okay, and we could just move on. I got a follow-up message from him, where he did a broken heart reaction to my message and just put, okay, and that was it. Until last week. I got a new message from Aaron that included a short video that still creeps me out.

It was of me, walking around a local grocery store that I frequented, wearing the same outfit I wore two days prior when I had gone to said grocery store. It showed me looking at a box of macaroni, and then it moved as it followed me to the next aisle. It was maybe 20 seconds long, and there was text on it that said something like, I wish I could snatch you up and make you mine. I know we have a connection, but I don't know how to prove it to you. And then it ended. There was no message sent with the video.

I just wanted to cry when I saw that. it's something that I never would have expected to happen to me. I'm a nobody. There's nothing special about me. I'm not popular and quite average-looking, but here I am now with a bona fide stalker. I don't even know what this guy looks like. He'd seen me in at least two places,

but how many other times has he followed me? Hell, what if he approached me and talked to me as I waited in line as I filled my tank at the gas station? What if it was someone I worked with? He could approach me and I could be none the wiser. Now, I've listened to enough of these stories to know what to do. I called the police. It was late at night and I was afraid to even leave,

and by the time they got there, I showed them the video and explained everything to them, and they said that they would make a report, but since he hadn't done anything and he hasn't actually threatened me, they couldn't really do much. They did suggest a restraining order, but of course I would need to provide at least this person's full name. All I knew is his possible first name, because that's all that was on his profile. I was angry, but I told them that I would see what I could find out.

Unfortunately, Aaron had deleted his account or blocked me. I'm not sure, but our messages were gone, just showing something about a quote-unquote user, and that's it. The video was gone, the message about the coffee shop was gone, so I had no more proof. I feel incredibly stupid for not taking those screenshots, and I'm still angry at myself for it, but I honestly didn't expect him to delete them. So, here I am today. No more cryptic or creepy videos from Aaron, but it's done its damage. I feel paranoid, always watching people around me, seeing if anyone else.

is watching me or has their phone pointed at me. No luck so far, which I think has only made it worse. I don't like going places alone, but I refuse to let him control me. I recently got myself some mace, and I did change up my routine a bit, hoping to throw him off some if he was still following me. I wanted to write this out, so I have it all anyways, but I also know that you do stories like this, and maybe some may find this in form. as well as entertaining.

I'll let you know if I find out any more information, but I'm hoping that it was just some jealous jerk that is too much of a coward to approach me, let alone snatch me up. Thanks for listening. My brother, Alfredo, and I, planned a road trip from Oklahoma to Mexico. Our father was actually born in Mexico and moved to the U.S. for a chance at a better life.

There he met our mother and they moved to Oklahoma together, where they had us and our little sister, Monica. My father was an avid hunter and camper and just an all-around outdoorsy type. We both have wonderful memories together of us all camping, and even our boys' trips of the three of us hunting. In the early 2000, my father passed away due to heart complications. We were all devastated as he wrote, really was the rock that held us all together, truly a family man. But after we all took

nearly a year to grieve and feel sorry for ourselves, our mom convinced us that it's not what our father would have wanted. We knew that we needed to move on for him, and that's precisely what we aimed to do. So, for the anniversary of his death, we decided to continue his tradition of our father's son trips and drive down to Mexico, in order to sprinkle some of his ashes in his hometown. Our planning was very meticulous. We knew what essentials to pack and what would just take up space. We took our camping gear, expecting to be sleeping under the stars, not in hotels, or at least in the back of the truck. We packed a cooler with simple foods to last us in between, as well as another cooler with water and our dad's favorite lemonade, our little splurge.

We set out, looking forward to a few days away, a chance for us to heal and move on. The trip started out great. We made a few stops in between to sight sea or to rest. We had even gotten into Mexico with little hiccups on the way. We actually found the exact house that our dad used to live in. The people that lived there at the time of our trip, even invited us in and told us about how they actually knew our grandfather, which was how they got the house. It was supposed to go to our father, but he agreed with his father to let the family

have it, as they were in more need of it than he was. Just another show of how selfless our father was. We sprinkled some of his ashes there, and then we planned to go to his favorite fishing spot that he went to with his father. We stayed in Mexico and ex-execkel. day just to experience it. We went a few times as kids, but it had been so long ago, and we hardly remembered everything and wanted to see it all as an adult. After our time in Mexico, we knew that we had to make our way back home. So we packed everything up and prepared to make the way back.

We refilled some of our food and water, but they didn't have a lot of options for bottled water where we were at, so we grabbed what we could and said that we would fill up the next chance we could get. We had tossed our used bottles, not thinking about refilling them, so we were kicking ourselves for that. Anyways, we still had a good amount of supplies, so we thought we would be okay. But what we did not account for were truck problems that would severely throw a wrench into our plans.

As we drove and talked, there was suddenly a loud popping sound and the check engine light kicked on. We could hear a weird gurgling sound, and we both looked at each other like, what the hell was that? We pulled over to the side of the road and opened the hood to see what happened. The only problem is, we weren't exactly mechanically inclined. Our dad tried to teach us some things, but of all the things he tried to get us to do, we just could not grasp the car thing. It just wasn't our thing, and I think he knew that so he didn't push it much.

We knew how to change oil, but that was about it. We looked under the hood and couldn't really see anything immediately wrong. Our initial thought was to drive it slowly with the hazards on to the next town and to call for a tow truck to the closest car shop. As mentioned, this was the early 2000s. neither of us had cell phones, so we had no way of calling anyone. But when Alfredo went to try to start the truck, it wouldn't turn over at all. All we got was a weak whirring sound and the lights kicking on.

That truck was not moving. We were still in Mexico, and the road we were on was pretty empty, previously only seeing two other cars on it. We both agreed that all we could do. do was wait for someone to pass and hopefully stop to help us. We just took it as a time to relax. We sat in the bed until we got too hot and then moved into the truck, thinking the shade would help some.

However, it soon became too hot in there as well. So we treated it as another night and set up our tent in the field next to the road. We thought we could at least rest and eat, and if anything, maybe a cop would come by to tell us we couldn't stay there, and we could get some help. But I guess that was just us being optimistic. There wasn't a single car that drove by that day or through the night, at least while we were awake. We ended up falling asleep without being disturbed once, and we woke up in the same situation

that we were in. We considered walking, but we couldn't remember how far away the last stop was. We'd been driving for quite some time, and by foot, it was going to take even longer. We once again decided to wait it out, hoping that it was a fresh day, and surely there would be at least one person. It had been hours, and still, nobody was around. By midday, the temps had to be in the triple digits, and we had to stay hydrated with how much we were sweating. However, we didn't have a lot of water left. We had four bottles between both of us, and even portioning out how much we drank, it wasn't going to last long.

We both had gone through a bottle each. We were using some of the ice and water from the food cooler to put on our face and skin to save the other one. I know that I was really feeling the effects already, but Alfredo seemed to really be affected. He told me that he was feeling sick, so I told him to lay down in the truck. keeping the wet shirt that he had on his head. And I hooked the small fan that was powered by the lighter port to blow on him. Truck wasn't moving anyways, so who really cared if we killed the battery? To my surprise and fear, there was one car that we saw coming from the distance.

I stood behind the truck and waved my hand, but they didn't even slow down. They were going fast enough that I couldn't even make out who was driving. I was frustrated. I could understand not wanting to pick someone up, but why not just stop to ask what was wrong? If they could just pass it along to someone, a cop, or anyone, it would help. But there we were. Another night with no help.

Alfredo was in and out of sleep, but he was breathing really fast. I was worried about him. By the next morning, he wasn't really responsive, and I started to fear that he was dehydrated and or having a heat stroke. I told him to drink his water, and my last bottle, just taking sips of the melted ice from our food cooler. I was the older brother and I felt responsible for him. If we didn't see anyone that day,

I knew that I was going to have to start walking to do something. In fact, I really didn't have much of a choice. I was going to have to start walking that day. Otherwise, we would be completely out of water, and then neither of us would be strong enough to go. But I was also worried about leaving Alfredo alone. I finally made the decision that I had to try to get help somehow. I filled up the empty bottles with the water from the food cooler,

put them in the cooler, and put it next to Alfredo. I told him I was going to get help, and he didn't really respond. I was worried that I was running out of time. I started walking the direction that we had come from, and I was only an hour in, according to my watch, and I was already starting to regret it. I was feeling weak and dizzy, and my water was almost gone.

I was scared and angry. We just wanted to have a good trip with our dad one last time, and we were still hindered. I stopped to sit on a boulder trying to calm down, when I heard the rolling sound of wheels on gravel. I looked up and saw an old rickety truck heading in my direction. I was elated, but tried not to get my hopes up. It was possible that they wouldn't stop either,

but as I weakly waved them over, they surprisingly did. It was an old man, wearing a cowboy hat and overalls with no shirt. He asked if I was all right, and I flatly told him no. I explained what happened, and he told me to hop in the back, and I didn't hesitate. He drove back to where Alfredo was, and I was just thankful for the man, and the breeze as he drove.

Once we were there, he told me to get my brother in the truck, and he looked at ours. He was hardly coherent to that point, and he was extremely hot to the touch. The man confirmed that he had a feeling that he knew what was wrong with it, but that it wasn't going to be a quick fix, so he agreed to take us into town. I quickly threw our camping gear into the back of the truck, not giving a damn about the stuff at that point. I just wanted my brother to be okay. The man drove us back to the town that we passed through, and with how long it took us, I don't think that I would have made that walk.

The man said that he was actually planning on picking some things up from his sister a few towns over, and he almost didn't because of how hot it was that day. I was just incredibly thankful that he decided to do. to go for whatever reason he did. Once there, I got Alfredo to a clinic who confirmed that he was severely dehydrated. We got fluids and electrolytes in him, and he was back to normal for the most part. Other than a migraine and being tired, he said. We stayed there a few more days until we could get our truck towed and fixed,

at least enough to just get us home. I couldn't think that man enough for being so generous to us, and I even offered to pay him, but he refused. Thankfully, we were able to get home after that, with little problems, and we made sure to have a full pack of water. Even if it was hot, it was better than no water. Looking back, the trip was still enjoyable. I was happy that we were able to get to Mexico with no issues

to give our dad a proper send-off, and I feel as though that since he was with us, he was looking out for us that day too, and I will be forever grateful for the man that stopped. All right, so I have a story about a crazy ex that did a lot to try and ruin my life and drive me insane. And I would say he damn near succeeded. There was a point during all this

where I thought that he was going to escalate to physically harming or worse possibly killing me because he was clearly crazy. The worst part of all this is that he didn't come back with a vengeance until nearly seven years after we broke up. I know that's a strong start, but it's important to not understate how messed up this man was. I guess I should start by mentioning the ex himself, Peter. Peter and I were together in our last two years of high school and a year after that. So between the ages of 17 and 19. After those three years, we grew apart, which happens in young relationships.

He had an idea for what he wanted to do, I had different ideas, and even though we both wanted the other to be in our future, it just wasn't going to work out. I don't remember who started the breakup process, but we ended up just splitting up, and that was that. Well, it wasn't the end of it all, obviously, but at the time I thought that it was. Fast forward seven years, so at the time of the story, I was 26, when out of nowhere I got a friend request from someone on Facebook. Lo and behold, it was Peter, the same Peter that I was madly in love with as a teenager. It was kind of nice to see his name, a bit nostalgic, but nothing more for me as at this time I was seeing someone.

I had accept and sent him a quick message. It was literally just, Hey, Peter, nice to see you. I hope you're doing well. We should catch up sometime. Nothing outside of an ordinary message that you would send to an old friend that you hadn't seen or heard from for a while. Then I went to work and forgot about it, because it really wasn't that important to me. Later that day, I checked Facebook again and saw that he had replied.

He said hi to me and then said that he would love to catch up and told me he would be at a coffee shop that evening at around five or so if I wanted to swing by and talk for a bit. It was a bit direct and sudden, like he was going to be there expecting me, so I was a bit hesitant, but I figured I would go and say hi. I had mentioned it to my boyfriend,

and I was very honest with him, telling him that it was my ex from high school and that he wanted to meet up. I actually asked him to come along, basically saying that I wanted to make sure there wasn't anything extra in this situation. I didn't think Peter would do anything odd, but I also wanted to be transparent with my current boyfriend.

So, we drove to the coffee shop together, and at first I looked around at the shop to see if Peter was there. But I didn't see him. Well, not until he went to order, and he came out from the back and walked up to the register. This made a bit more sense as to why he told me he would be there without asking to meet me there. He was a barista at the shop. When he saw me, he put on a huge smile, and then he saw the guy that I was with,

and it very quickly fell to a slight grin. There was some very small talk, and after putting our order in, he said that he would come out so we could chat in a couple of minutes. I said okay, and me and my current went and sat down at a table. A few moments later, he came out and sat down with us, and we did catch up. I introduced him to my boyfriend, told him how we met, and then we chatted a slight bit about the time that had passed, and it was nice. I thought that it was just a bit of catching up, and while he seemed a bit upset that I had

a current boyfriend, I think he took the hint that I just wanted. wanted him to be a friend. During this conversation, he ended up asking me where I was living, and I made a mistake telling him that I had a town home in a small community a few miles north. I didn't tell him which unit, but I did mention the property name, mostly because he asked me for it, because he said he was looking for a new place. We talked for 15 minutes or so, and then he had to get back to work, and again, that was that.

So, all of this context out of the way, here's where things went south. It was small at first. One day when I had gotten home from work, and when I pulled up, I noticed that my flower pots that had been sitting on my front step were missing. I was definitely confused about that because they were all approved by the property. I checked. I had made sure that it wasn't an issue, and my neighbors didn't mind me having.

them. The units didn't share front steps, and they were far enough to not be in the way of anyone on the walking path. I actually asked my next door neighbor if she had seen anything or knew what happened, and she was as clueless as I was. The office also didn't have anything to do with it, so it was definitely weird, but I had to chalk it up to just some jerk stealing my plants or some kids being idiots. There were a few more small things that happened. I guess they were pranks, but they were petty and just annoying more than anything.

One day when I got home, I found that my front doorknob had been spray painted. As in, someone took red spray paint and literally just blasted my doorknob and door really quick, enough to cover part of it, and a small paint spot on. the door. This sucked, because I had to report it to the office and they were not too happy about it. Then I found out that someone had smashed eggs on the back sliding door, which was a pain to clean up.

There was sugar poured all over my back step and around the back area, which led to a really ugly ant problem. It was just small BS like this, pranks that were annoyances and had me thinking that one of my neighbors had it out for me for whatever reason. But then it escalated. The first thing that happened that made me feel unsafe and uncomfortable was when I got home and went to my bedroom. I found my personal laptop sitting on my bed and open. I knew for a fact that I hadn't left it there

because I don't use my laptop in bed. It sits on my little corner desk that I have in the room. I was a bit panicky, but... I grabbed it and moved it back to the desk and woke it up. There were two windows open. The first was my Facebook. It was on my wall, and I could see that there were several posts on my account that I hadn't made, including a few posts with pictures of my two credit cards that I left at home,

and post with me, I guess, calling myself a few unsultry names. The other window was a note with a notepad that said, I'm not done yet. I was terrified. I called my boyfriend and asked him to come over and immediately called the office, informing them that someone had broken into my unit. I had to explain what I'd found, and they told me to contact the police as well, which I did.

Obviously, they couldn't do much, as they didn't see any signs of a break-in. They took the information that I gave them, explaining the laptop and other things that had been done to my unit. They agreed that it seemed like somebody was messing with me, told me to call them if anything happened, and suggested that I do the obvious, protect myself, get cameras, etc. I didn't really have time to heed their suggestions,

as the next event that happened was the worst. I had once again come home from work, horrified that I was going to find something else to show that someone was going to do something to me, and it got worse when I was correct. I walked into my home, and I immediately smelled something that was, simply put, absolutely disgusting,

near vomit-inducing levels of gross. Part of me just knew that it was coming from my bedroom. It was near instinctual, and when I walked into my room, I was mortified. There was a dark red, disgusting liquid that had been splashed all over my room. The walls, the carpet, my bed, the door, literally everywhere. I quickly learned what this substance was because there were containers sitting all over the room that were labeled beef blood.

I wanted to puke. I went through the same process of calling my boyfriend, the office, and the cops, and it was such a terrifying situation. I think the police took this one a bit more serious because it was escalating, and this person was clearly unhinged, and they figured he was likely going to get violent. Then, I hit an actual moment of luck. While the police were there and investigating things, and I was talking to the property manager, my neighbor had come home from her day at work. Obviously she asked what happened, and I told her, and when I mentioned it, she kind of lit up. She told me to hold on, and then told the police that she may be able to help. She ran inside and then came back out with the tablets, looking eager.

Apparently after the last incident, she had gotten a bit concerned with our security, and she went and bought a small camera to put up in the back, one that covered her back patio and was able to see my back door as well. She scrolled through the day and then found a time, about an hour after I went to work, where there was motion in the back. And right there, on the screen, was video evidence that my ex, Peter, had broken into my home. He walked up from her side. There weren't any fences or anything, it was just wide open.

And he was carrying a tote bag, which I assumed. assumed had the blood containers in it. I watched as he grabbed my sliding door, lifted slightly, and shoved it open, which is actually the exact moment that I learned that the lock on my sliding door didn't quite catch like it was supposed to. Apparently that unit had a faulty door,

which Peter figured out at some point in time. I'm assuming he was looking to escalate and trying to break in and stumbled upon the faulty lock. The image was clear. It was 100% obvious who it was and what he was doing. I told the officers who it was, and I told them that I knew where he worked, and about how we had caught up a few weeks prior. That video footage was enough to close this whole case.

It was clear who it was. It was clear what he had done, and he was subsequently arrested for it. He actually pleaded guilty to the whole thing, almost like he was proud of it. He wasn't charged with much, though, mostly the breaking and entering and vandalism and the destruction of property. Thankfully, for me, not him.

What he damaged had a high cost of replacement, so he was hit pretty heavily at the end. I don't remember exactly how much time he ended up getting, I think it was a year or two. And this was a few years back at this point, so he has since gotten out. But I don't think he stuck around because I haven't seen him, and I hope to God that I never do again.

I like to occasionally check out yard and estate sales for unique and unusual stuff. Having a weird brass animal wearing something silly sitting on my entertainment center has always been a good conversation piece when I have friends over. Sometimes I'll follow the side, I see along the side of the roads, or some I'll find that are posted on things like Facebook

or next door. This time, I had actually been going on a walk with my dog when I saw a sign for a local sale. I carry a small fanny pack at all times. It's my purse, and it holds my small wallet with my cards and cash. I keep cash on me because I spontaneously go to these sales as much as I do. as well as carrying my keys, my dog bags, and other various things. So I was prepared to stop at the sale, too. It was a nice day, and when I arrived, there were already several people walking around and browsing the items.

I saw a few things that looked interesting, but then I got to a box full of CDs and another full of vinyl records. I love vinyl. I love the way they sound, even if it's music that I wasn't interested in. I even collected ones that were damaged and beyond repair. Those I liked to hang on the walls in my living room. They looked much better than the ugly, rental beige colors of the walls. I looked through the CDs as there was a man looking through the vials. I ended up finding a few that I was interested in for 25 cents each,

so why not snatch them up? Once the man walked away, I then looked through the vinals myself. I pulled a few out and was looking at the sleeve for details and lists of songs when an older man approached me. He was the owner, and he started a conversation about the vials and asked me about my preferences. As we spoke, I noticed the man that was previously looking at them was pacing around us and was unfortunately distracting me. The owner noticed as well,

and he looked up at the man, and the three of us all talked about the vinyl sum. The man asked if I was looking at buying any, and I stepped back saying I was unsure of what I wanted yet, and motioned for him to go through it again if he wanted to. He began talking with us about what he had and why he was selling them. I actually found one by my favorite musician, so I was holding on to it

when the man started asking me what my favorite song was by them and he seemed surprised when I said that it was one that wasn't common or popular you know the type you wear the band shirt and you get questioned about your loyalty to said band anyways they talked for a few moments so I glanced back over at the CDs when the man said there truly was a great collection in there and that I should buy them up and then walked away,

holding on to a few of the vials. I went to look back through them, with the owner still standing nearby. I was finding myself grabbing several more of them when the owner said that I could just have the whole box for $5. I was ecstatic. Even if they didn't work or were bands that I didn't know or care for, I knew that I could make good use of them.

So, after asking if he was sure, I pulled out a $10 bill instead and thanked him. I'm not very good at bartering, as you can probably tell. But they all looked to be in great condition, and he was nice, so it was fair in my opinion. His wife even gave me a large beach tote to carry them all in, since I was walking home, so I didn't have to look around a big box. I paid, thanked them again, and headed off. But before I left, I started feeling like I was being watched. So I looked back, and I saw that the other man was now staring at me.

He seemed to be clenching his teeth, as I could see his jaw and temples bulging. He looked mad. But at the time, I didn't really think anything of it. Not like I had done anything to him, so... I continued walking. On my walk back, my dog would look back behind us and then keep walking. But his stops were becoming more and more frequent. Finally, I looked over my shoulder to see what had his attention,

but I was not expecting what I saw. It was the same guy from the yard sale, but he was empty-handed. Didn't he buy a few of the records? I had walked past a bus stop, and the man was now standing at it, so I honestly didn't think that he was following me. He just happened to be taking the bus, and that's where the stop was. My dog, Rocky, he was a rescue,

but he kept part of his old life in him, which was a guard dog. He was treated well, but he was very protective over me, which I think is why he was watching him so much. He's fine with people and actually quite friendly, but he always seemed more on edge when it was just me and someone else, especially men. It took him a while to get used to my boyfriend,

so I just assumed that he was in guard mode. I just took a moment to pet him, tell him that it was okay, and we kept moving. If he saw that I was comfortable and not scared, he typically loosened up as well. We walked a little further when Rocky again stopped, and this time his tail was down and he was starting to do a soft growl. I immediately turned around, and to my surprise, that same man was still behind us.

Now, I was starting to get curious. I had never seen this man before in my neighborhood, and now he was heading for it, after going to the same yard sale that I had been to. I'm pretty sure he was at the sale before I was, so I know that he didn't follow me there, but why was he going this way now? So, I decided to try and test him. I live on a cul-de-sac, so instead of going straight up that street, I cut through a small park, which would then lead not only to another set of homes, but also into part of my backyard.

My thought was, unless this guy lived in one of those homes behind the park, or he was going to that park, he had no reason to cut through there, which would confirm if he was following me. So I picked up my pace a bit and motioned to Rocky that we needed to hurry. If I give him two quick pats on the back and say, come on, he knows that means to speed up. I think this also told him that something was wrong because he would walk further ahead of me and watch behind me until I caught up. We got through the park, and I heard the crunch of gravel as he continued to walk through it. And once I made it past the first house, we ran.

I again told Rocky to come on and he began running with me. I tried to zigzag through the houses, hoping no one would come out and yell at me for being in their yard, until I reached my backyard. Instead of going through the front door, I went through the back, locked it, and then closed the blinds. After dropping the bag in the leash, I cracked open the blinds to see if I could see the guy,

and sure enough, I did. Thankfully, he did not see me. though. He was looking at one of the houses I had circled, but he was watching it intently. I'm pretty sure he was thinking that I went into it by the way he was looking at it. So now I was curious, and yeah, pretty alarmed that this guy was obviously following me. I would like to think I would have noticed, but, if not for Rocky, I'm not so sure than I would have. Anyway, I calmed myself down by calling my boyfriend and telling him what had happened, and he suggested that I call the cops.

I told him that if I continued to see him around, that I would, but since he seemed to walk away, or at least out of sight, I wanted to let it go. I know that that was probably stupid. Later that night, I was relaxing in the living room, doing not much of anything. My living room has one window that has a dark and heavy curtain on it, and I typically kept it closed because it faced the sun, and it would get really hot in the room when it was open. My front door also has a small window on it,

but it was frosted over so you couldn't see in or out. However, you could see light, and it grabbed my attention when I saw my porch light kick on. It was motion-censored. I was not expecting anyone, as my boyfriend. boyfriend wasn't coming over that day, so I had no idea who it could have been. But I also didn't have time to react, because immediately after, they started banging violently on my door. Between the banging and my yelping, Rocky was on all fours barking and snarling at the door.

Whoever it was started yelling at me to open the door. Like hell, I was going to do that. I grabbed my cell phone and yelled for Rocky as I ran to the back door and called the cops. They kept me on the phone until the police arrived, but it certainly didn't make me feel any safer, as I relayed everything that was happening to the operator. He would bang on the door, bang on the window, and he would even walk around and bang on the windows all around my house, making me panic more. Did I actually have all the windows locked? There was no way he could get in, right? After what felt like in eternity, the operator told me that the police were there,

and I could hear other people's voices shouting. After a while, someone came to my door and identified themselves as the police, so I opened it. The cop explained to me what the man had told him, and without seeing who it was, I knew who it was. It was the guy from the yard sale. He had told the cops that I stole the records from the sale and that I ran home with them, which is why he was there now. Once he mentioned the records, I figured it all out. I was so confused but also angry. He looked at those records twice,

and then he encouraged me to buy them before walking away. Now he's telling the police that I stole them? And what was I supposed to do? I got them from a yard sale. So it's not like I had a receipt or any proof of purchase. However, the cop was very kind. She explained that the burden of proof was on him, that he had to show proof that he owned them and, well, he couldn't.

I even told them the place that I got them from so I could go back the next day, even with them, to prove that I bought them. But they said that it wasn't necessary. They went back to talk to him, and after some time, they came back to me, since I said that I wouldn't press charges to update me on the situation.

The man was told that he needed to leave then, and that if he came back, he would be charged with trespassing. Part of me even considered for a moment just giving him the records, if it would diffuse the situation, if that would just make him go away, I was willing to do it.

But then I started thinking, this man was so angry about this, that he was willing to follow me home. Either leave and come back or then linger around for hours. Terrify me and my dog and then accuse me of stealing them? Why should I? If he even approached me during the sale about one-ing-one or something, I wouldn't have bought them.

In fact, I only did so because the owner offered me the whole collection. So, yeah, maybe some people would find it petty of me, but I decided against it. Once the police left, I called my boyfriend again and told him about what happened. He ended up coming over that night after all. I had no other events that evening or afterwards either, thankfully. I was still in a mix of emotions from that experience. Angry that he accused me of stealing,

terrified that he was willing to follow me home and do God knows what if he caught in, and confused that this was all over a few records. at a yard sale. Some people are just too much for me, and it gives me all the more reason to love living alone with my dog. This memory comes back to me every summer since it happened, especially when someone mentions going camping. I swear the thought of it still nearly induces anxiety in me.

Back as a young adult from the ages of 19 to 22, I volunteered to help with a local summer camp for the kids, The program was hosted by the school district, which had a lot of programs for kids in need. Kids that have a troubled background, kids whose parents can barely afford new clothes and school supplies, and kids whose parents don't have a babysitter or daycare. They hosted a lot of summer programs so that the kids had a safe place to go when the parents weren't home. I had a similar childhood, and I really thank them for it because I feel like it made a difference in my life. This is why when I was old enough, I volunteered there a lot to help, hoping to do the same thing for someone else.

Plus, my job gives a lot of paid time off for volunteer work, which win-win. The summer camp was always fun, both as a kid and an adult. There were tons of activities for the kids to do, and we rarely came across any issues more than a scraped knee or something. but the last time I volunteered was when I was 22. Something completely different happened that completely ruined it for me, and plenty of others, I'm sure. During breakfast one morning, I noticed one of the kids looking a bit dishevelled. They were new to the camp, so I went to talk to them to make sure he was okay.

He explained hearing strange noises at night, and it made it hard for him to sleep because it scared him. I asked him what it sounded, like, and he said it sounded like someone scraping and tapping on the window behind where he slept. He said he was too scared to look, so he just covered his head until it finally stopped and he fell asleep. Now, we were out in campgrounds near a lot of trees. There were also signs around about keeping trash bins closed or put up, because of raccoons, so this is what I assumed it was, too. I explained to him that it was probably a raccoon. I told him a few things,

about them and what they liked to do, which seemed to make him loosen up. I successfully calmed him down and thought the problem was solved. But then, as some of us adults talked later that night, some of them reported hearing the same noises. But they weren't in the same cabin as the boy. Other than the one guy he always tried to tease and have fun, the rest of us agreed that it was probably just the wildlife and shared stories of seeing deer or rabbit previously. But the next day, there were more accounts of weird events in the night, and they were more than just the scraping sounds. There were a few kids, not including the kid from the night prior, who said they heard a patterned thumping sound and what sounded like someone whispering outside the cabin.

I could tell that they were struggling to explain it, but I very specifically remember them saying, it sounded like it was coming from inside, but was loud enough to be in my head. Something about that did not sit right with me. I asked if they could make out what was being said, and three of them said no. One of them said he thought he knew, but he wasn't certain,

but when I asked what he heard, he just said, I don't know. The way he responded, his tone, and the fact that he wouldn't look at me made me feel like he didn't want to talk about it. What could he have possibly heard that made him so uncomfortable? I did my best to assure them, though, explaining what I told the boy the previous night,

and said that I would tell the other adults so that we could check out the sounds. They understood, and we left it at that. Later that day, while the kids were swimming, the adults got to talking again, and Riley explained how one of the girls, I'll just call her Emma, wouldn't leave her bunk. She said that she heard the same thing. same noises but that she actually looked out the window, as she previously heard other kids

talking about it. Emma was a real animal lover, and I believe that she probably would have tried to pet the damn thing if it was a raccoon. But she said that what she saw wasn't even close to a raccoon. She explained that there was a tall, dark figure staring into the window. She said at first the being looked like a human, but it had what appeared to be glowing yellow eyes on the side of its head, like a deer. She said she immediately dropped back down to her bed and covered her head, but could hear someone whispering her name. She wouldn't look up, and it scared her so bad.

She actually had an accident in the bed. From pure terror and embarrassment, she didn't want to leave the bed, but Riley managed to get her out and help her get cleaned up. Many adults said that she must have had a wild imagination, or maybe she should have been dreamt it. But Riley didn't feel the same. She said she couldn't say she experienced the exact same thing, but she did

say she heard the noises and the night prior. She saw a dark figure going into the woods. Some of the guys once again made fun of her for it, but she wasn't the type to back down or be offended by it. She stood her ground with what she saw with a basic, believe me

or not, I don't care what you think mentality. She didn't have any idea of what it was, because it was bipedal which threw her off. But I believed her. There are far too many things out there that we don't know about. Nothing could be done anyways, so we continued on with our day, and one of the leaders said that if it happened again,

they would do round the next night to see if anyone else could spot it. But things escalated quickly after that night. As the kids gathered for breakfast, I could see the girls looking over at the cabins and whispering. Then some of the adults gathered around it too. I didn't want to leave the kids, so I just waited for someone to tell me what was going on. Finally, they did, and it was one of my worst nightmares. One of the kids was missing, and it was Emma.

They asked me if I had seen her at all since quiet time, and I hadn't. They asked the kids if anyone saw her, and they all said no. Several of us took turns searching the restrooms and showers, We looked all over the cabins and at every crevice or spot that she could possibly hide, thinking maybe she got scared again. But again, nothing. It was like she just disappeared into thin air, but how? We had two adults in each cabin,

and a few more that slept in their own tents in the center of our campsite. We didn't normally have adults walking around, and there was a single bathroom stall in the cabin, so they didn't even have to wake up in adults, to go to the restroom outside. There was no reason for her to leave. After our search, we sent the kids back to the cabins, giving them some free time,

as long as they stayed in there, and one adult stayed in each. The rest of us reported it to the park ranger, and we all started a search around the woods. I was terrified. I know I wasn't the one in her cabin, because, being male, I was in the boy's cabin, but I still felt like a failure.

and if I felt that way, I could only imagine how Riley felt, who was in charge of that cabin. I remember fearing all the possibilities, the thought of having to tell her parents that we lost their little girl. The place she was supposed to go to be safe and supervised, and she was missing. It was probably two hours or so into the search when some of us heard yelling. We received the report through our walkies that they had. had found her. She was curled up in a ball and just her pajamas and no shoes, laying under a rocky overhang. She'd been crying and she was covered in dirt. But the bizarre part was that she was about three miles from the campground. She was practically on the other side of the park. When we got her

back to the camp, Riley got her cleaned up and calmed down and talked to her. Emma seemed like she really trusted Riley and she clung to her. She explained to Riley that she remembered hearing her name again, so she squeezed her eyes closed until she finally fell asleep. Then she said that she had a dream that something woke her up, took her by the hand, and led her out of the cabin. She said that she looked up at the creature once, and again all she could see was darkness and the yellow eyes. She did say they looked fuzzy and had what looked like leaves falling off of them. But then it told her not to look at it anymore, so she didn't. She said she walked for a long time until they told her to stay there and she did, until she

became really tired and fell back asleep. But she woke up when it was still dark, and when she realized she wasn't in her bed, she didn't know what to do, so she froze in place crying until she heard one of us calling out for her, which seemed to snap her back to reality. What the hell was that? What led Emma into the trees for nearly three miles? And why? No one had any answers.

And after speaking to Riley, she seemed just as distraught because she didn't know what to tell Emma either. After looking Emma over, she didn't seem injured and she said that she didn't feel ill or... in any pain either. In fact, after eating and getting to color with some friends, she seemed to be just fine again.

But none of the adults seemed to be back to normal. All of us realized how bad that situation could have become and realized the risk that we were facing. The following night, we all took turns doing walks around the grounds

at all times to make sure no one left, and to see if we could spot the culprit. But Thankfully, it never seemed to come back. And no one, not the adults nor the kids, not even Emma, experienced it. In fact, Emma slept great and all through the night. So what was that? What happened there and what did it mean?

It couldn't have just been a dream, right? We did tell her parents about what happened, and while they were suspicious, they didn't think much of it. again, some of these parents were far from parents of the year. I was too freaked out to volunteer for the following year, and I moved away the year after that for work, so I didn't get to do any more of them. But I do keep in touch with some that do, and they say they have never experienced that creature since. Hopefully this thing is long gone, and no one ever has to go through that again. I have a pretty bad fear of heights. I've always had some slight fear, but as a kid, it was pretty irrational.

I was never in a situation involving heights. Hell, the highest up I'd ever gone was on the playground climbing to go down the slide. The monkey bars, though, were out of the question. At least, my fear seemed pretty irrational. Until my family and I went to a local carnival one summer night back in. in the late 90s. I was about 11 at the time, and my family, which included myself, my older brother who was 14, my little sister who was 6, and my parents went to the carnival that came near our town every year.

I did love going, but I loved the games more than the rides. I remember the drive always took forever, according to my child's sense of time, but really, it was. was about a 45-minute drive. Anyways, I had a few of my favorite games and crafts that I liked to do, and there were a few rides that I would go on with my siblings as well. There weren't many my sister could go on yet, so one of my parents would always have to sit out to stay with her, but otherwise, one of our parents was always with us.

In fact, I was always willing to go on the rides my sister wanted because those were more of the so-called kitty rides. Ones that just slowly went in a circle or over slight bumps. Nothing that went too fast or up in the air or upside down. However, my brother was the opposite,

and he loved the thrill of the roller coasters. He rode them all and would go multiple times, if allowed. He always tried to get me to go on some of the rides with him, so he didn't have to go alone and sit by a stranger.

My mom wasn't huge on those rides either, and while my dad was, he was also a very tall guy, so some of the rides, he just couldn't get his knees in so he couldn't go. Throughout this night, my brother, Cody, was constantly asking me to take different rides with him, but I was always saying no. But then he asked me to go on the ferris wheel, a very large metal wheel that takes you straight up in the air, and there's nothing there to keep you in but the door? No thanks. But he begged and begged and talked about how it was the safest one. He said that all we had to do was sit in place and talk and we would be fine.

He even took me over to the wheel and was pointing out how they hardly moved. They didn't swing or anything of the sort, and watching them it did make me feel a bit better about it. So I gave in, and I decided it was time to try and face my fears and take on one of the simplest rides. So we walked up to the line, waited our turn as the operator slowly turned the wheels to fill the seats. There were bench seats on each end of the cars, which made sense to keep them balanced. And he allowed us to sit in the same cars and alone. So it was just going to be me and Cody in the way.

one car. I contemplated where to sit, wanting to both sit by my brother knowing I would feel safer, but also part of me thought it was best to sit on the other side and make it a little more balanced. I decided to go with the ladder. I sat down and tightly gripped the lap bar as I waited for it to start moving. It slowly moved and stopped as the other cars filled, each jolt making me jump. Finally, it started moving smoothly around and I tried to enjoy it. Once we got halfway to the top, I could no longer look down as it scared me too much. I looked straight up and did my best to enjoy the view of the skyline and the setting sun. Trying to distract me, Cody teased me about it not being so bad and talked about how cool the view was from the top.

I tried to let it pass and enjoy the moment, but once we got to the other side of the wheel, on the descent, there was a hard jerk in the seat, causing it to swing a little harder. I heard a few people in nearby car scream, but then they laughed. It startled me. I thought something happened to the ride, and it was enough for me to tell Cody that I wanted off. We were kids, so I don't blame him now, but he pressured. me to stay. He guilt-tripped me, saying that he would have to get off too, and he wasn't ready yet, so I felt bad. I decided to stick it out, telling myself that it's a one-time deal and that I would make it for another five minutes or so.

We went back around again, and there was another jolt as we neared the top. Cody saw my concern, and he told me that they were just letting more people on, so it was going to be a moment. Once again, I couldn't look down. It seemed to take longer than normal for them to start moving again, and I could tell because Cody was becoming impatient. Then, with another jolt, we started moving again. When we got to the descent, there was another hard cholt, and that time the car had a horrible swing to it.

My anxiety was rising and fast. I told myself that I would go around one, once more and if they don't stop, I would ask them to. Something wasn't right, and it was more than just my fear talking now. We went around again, and once more there was a bad lurch when we reached the top. I assumed more people were getting on and waited, but once again it seemed to take a while. Finally, it started moving again, but as we neared the top there was a loud screech, and the car lurched hard.

This time the screams that I heard below were not followed by laughter, and it immediately set me off. I asked Cody what had happened, and he leaned over the seat to check. He leaned over to check, and I pushed down on my lap bar in a nervous reflex, and that's when I heard the snap, and the bar no longer had any give. I looked down at the bar and saw that the bolt had come out. that lap bar was no longer holding me in place. One thing I have not mentioned yet is that the cars didn't have any doors.

They were open. That lap bar was the only thing keeping me in my seat and in the car. Now I was panicking. Cody heard the snap and looked back into the car and was trying to keep me calm. He told me to scoot to the center and to not move. He didn't have to tell me to. twice. I closed my eyes and tried focusing on breathing as I listened to Cody mumble something

about the ride. Then, the ride lurched forward several more times. It was like someone in a car was tapping the brakes repeatedly. The ride was no longer smooth and was just filled with jerking motions. We got across the top and back on the other side about to make our descent. But then it stopped again and with that jolt we heard a thud and more so. screaming. Cody scooted over to the side closest to the entrance and looked down. And by the look on his face, I could tell that something wasn't right. I asked him what was wrong and he refused to say. I wanted to know what was going on, so I decided to look myself.

I slowly moved towards the end. Unfortunately, it was the same side the bar broke and looked over the side. To my horror, I saw a car close to the bottom, now sitting here. at an angle. The bars holding it up must have broken or come undone on one's side, and the car was leaning. I could see an adult in the seat that was suspended in the air, and they were leaning over clearly trying to hold themselves up. I immediately started to panic. Why did their car break?

Where was the right operator to help them out? I couldn't keep watching, so I went back to the center of the car, and I cried. Our car didn't move for the longest time. I could tell Cody was scared too, but I couldn't help but ask him why we hadn't moved. Why were they not getting us off this thing? It felt like we were there forever, suspended in the air and nothing but a broken lap bar keeping me in place. Cody would look down and let me know that they were letting people off that were close to the ground, but for us, we were still high in the air.

I know I was a kid. I was a kid afraid of heights, but I thought that that was going to be my end. I was trapped in this car way up in the sky. There were no doors or anything keeping us there, and it seemed like it wasn't moving. How are they going to get us down? Somehow, even though I could tell he was just as scared,

Cody did his best to try to keep us calm. He tried to distract me by playing a word game or I spy, and it did help. He kept my mind occupied for the most part, but since it was late September, as the sun set entirely, it started getting colder and it was making it harder for me to focus.

Finally, we heard someone on one of those megaphones speaking to us. They told us that help was on the way and to remain calm. It wasn't a fast process, but finally, we saw them trying to get the fire truck into the car number, carnival grounds and a path to clear to us. I remember when they finally got to our car. The latter nudged the car and it set me into a panic again, knowing it wasn't secured very well. They had me come closer to them and they grabbed me and handed me to the fireman further down the ladder.

Then I climbed down the rest of the way. I was never happier to be in my parents' arms. Then we watched as they got Cody out. his lap bar was fully functional and wouldn't open while suspended, so they had to break it, and eventually have him wiggle out of the top. I remember the fear coursing through me again as I could see the top of his head. The thought of him having to almost stand in that car, scared the hell out of me. But shortly after, he climbed down the ladder on his own as well and ran over to us.

He was shaky, obviously just as statured. scared, but we were okay. We had been stuck on that ferris wheel for nearly two hours. It certainly felt a lot longer than that, but even those two hours were grueling. Turns out, the ferris wheel was pretty old, and was probably not maintained like it should have been. Several bolts were messed up, and the jolts we felt were from it getting stuck. The operator was just turning it on and off again. trying to force it to go instead of getting everyone off.

He continued the ride. Thus, what caused it to finally stop in its place and not move again. Several years later, after talking to Cody and my parents about it, Cody told me that he looked down and saw our parents below who looked terrified, and he saw a girl in a car closer to the ground that looked passed out in the car with a man holding her hand. At his age he thought she had died and seeing our parents so scared made him think that something terrible had happened

and that we may not get out of this. That is why he had gone silent. But yet he still tried to keep us calm and I will never forget that. The girl was okay though. She apparently was just scared and tried to get out, but in her panic she passed out.

Cody didn't understand that at the time and just saw an unconscious woman. All in all, we made it out semi-unscathed. It was a very terrifying moment for me, and I'm honestly still afraid of heights today. Probably even worse now. But I don't blame Cody for pressuring me on the ride. I've also not heard many stories about Ferris wheels breaking down,

so it's at least a relief that what I experienced is very rare. but I think I would rather not chance it, and just stay away from them. Those close to me have heard this story so many times. It took me a while to finally get to the point that I could talk about it openly, but it wasn't always like that. It took many years as well as support in therapy, but I'm doing a lot better nowadays. Back when I was 22 and still a young guy, I had met a girl through a mutual friend.

I'm going to refer to her as Anna. I went to a party that she was also at. We would talk here or there, not really knowing each other. Turned out she was the sister that tagged along who was a friend of the host. So basically, my friend's friend's sister, if that makes sense. I didn't really know the friend very well, but we had met at previous parties. Anyways, we got to talking that night,

and I think it was pretty obvious to a lot of people around us that there was definitely some chemistry between us. Too bad I didn't notice that it wasn't all good. We started dating shortly after and quickly became inseparable. I didn't really date much in high school, so with little to no experience, I fell pretty hard for her. It also didn't help that she seemed to be just as infatuated. We did everything together.

Went everywhere, together, and we rarely had a disagreement. It was no surprise to anyone when I proposed to her on our one-year anniversary. She dropped some not-so-subtle hints at it, too, so I knew it was what she wanted. We had a pretty nice ceremony. My parents owned their own accounting firms, so they paid for most of it. We had a great honeymoon afterwards, and life continued, with her moving into my apartment. She dropped some hints about getting a house, wanting kids in the future, and I was all aboard the idea, so we started looking soon after marriage, too. Thankfully, I already had decent credits, and with my parents' help, we were able to find a nice little three-bedroom house that was perfect for us.

everything was right I was happy couldn't be happier even and we were ready to even have our own family and all of this at the age of 25 nevertheless things started to shift but it started slowly until it just exploded

on the surface we still seemed like the perfect couple and both of us in successful careers I was working for my parents' accounting firm Anna was still working at a daycare and was one of the managers. She absolutely loved working there and being around kids, and we did well for ourselves. We shared hobbies and had a close circle of friends that we all knew and hung out with. But the more we were alone with each other, the cracks would form,

and they grew bigger and bigger. It would start with just little arguments, things that would set her off easily. If I made something for dinner that I made last week, or expecting her to make dinner when she was off and I got home late from work, then the arguments would grow and she would become so angry that she would lock me out of the bedroom, making me sleep in the living room, or she would leave for hours and not come home until late that night. Now, I understand having arguments and not wanting to be around the person, but one of the times she exploded and left for the night. night was literally because I was making stuffed peppers for dinner when I had used peppers for

fajitas two or three nights prior. I remember that argument to a tea because it will not leave. Anyways, she left and wouldn't return for several hours. Then, when we would go out with friends, she was the cheerful and loving Anna and it was always such a nice time. But then when we got home, she would get up. upset and accuse me of flirting too much with the server, or talking too much with one of our female friends, and eventually would even accuse me of having an affair. I was always faithful to Anna.

As mentioned, she was my first for a lot of things, so she was all I knew and could want. Eventually, the accusations ate at me, and her jealousy was out of control, to the point that I stopped talking, and especially hanging out with a lot of our friends. I never spent time with any female friends, and the few guys I hung out with only happened if she was around me. So even those friends stopped coming around as much because she stopped being very fun to be around.

I quickly became reclusive and didn't like to go anywhere, because I didn't want to listen to her and try to explain why I took 17 minutes at the store. So she started doing everything. Except she would be out for hours. She gone off work around four or five, but wouldn't even be home until much later. I didn't know what to do. Yeah, I know what you all are thinking to.

It's fine, but at the time, I was lost. I didn't know what any of this could mean. I didn't know this wasn't really normal. My parents always had a loving relationship, and they would go somewhere without. questioning the other. They rarely had arguments, but when they did, it always worked out. I had nothing to compare my own, too. But I was also too embarrassed to talk to anyone about it. My friends didn't want to hear it, I'm sure, and I was already feeling like a burden, so I

certainly wasn't going to talk to my mother or siblings about it either. So I just suffered alone. but I knew there was one thing that you could never spin to be acceptable and rarely could be worked out. One night, while I was watching TV in the living room, Anna got a notification on her phone making it light up. She grabbed it before I could even look at it, said she was going to bed and then left the room. If you're ever in those situations, I think you kind of get the idea that something is going on, but either have no way to prove it, or maybe you're too afraid to confront it. In my case, I was a coward and didn't ask any questions.

But later on, when I went to bed that night, she was already asleep. However, her phone was still going off. I looked down to see a message from one of my friends, Blake, and it just said nice with a winking face. It definitely caught my attention, so yes, I checked her phone. From the text and pictures,

it was obvious they were having an affair. I knew there was no coming back from this, so I took screenshots of the conversations, sent them to myself, and slept in the living room. Well, I tried to sleep. I still sat in this info for a few days before I finally confronted her about it,

and that conversation was messy. It started as being my fault. And then she mocked me and made fun of me, until I said I wanted a divorce. Then she scoffed and said that I would regret it, that she was the best I would ever have. Then it cycled to her becoming kind, and asking me to reconsider, claiming that we could work it out. She almost had me. She almost made me think about it, but I quickly came too. She completely made me change who I was, and I hated it.

So I was firm and told her nothing would change my mind in that that was that. The divorce was not clean and easy. She tried to get a lot from me because, yes, I was doing well financially because I worked for my parents. Unfortunately for her, since I had pictures of the affair, the only thing she had access to was the new car that I got for her and the house. But she didn't want the house because she couldn't afford it on her own. I got lucky, and that's not me bragging either. We ended up selling the house and just split the profit when it finally did sell.

I had lost not only my wife, but someone I considered a good friend. But I was ready to learn from this and move on with my life. However, Anna apparently was not. It started out as the usual post-breakup behavior that I would expect from a teenager, that is. I would get random calls from blocked numbers, or text messages calling me names. Sometimes I would even be at a restaurant or out with a friend somewhere, and Anna would conveniently show up. The restaurant I was at, she hated.

It was a tie place, and she hated ties, so she had no reason to be there other than to get to me. But I let it go. She was the reason we weren't together, so she could be bitter all she wanted. But then it escalated. One night after having some drinks with an old friend, I went back to my little duplex and there was a cop there talking to my neighbor. And that's when I spotted my broken window. Someone had broken in.

Apparently it was loud enough that my neighbor called the police, but she was also a little old lady, so she didn't go outside to check it out. So she also didn't see anybody. But when they asked me to be to see anybody, to walk around to see if anything was missing, I knew that it had to be Anna. The pictures that I had hanging up were all family, and any of the ones that I was in, were broken and on the floor.

My cabinet with all my model trains and stuff from my grandpa, he gave me the trains before he passed, and then after, I was given some of his other stuff, and it was all knocked over, crushing some of the trains. Nothing seemed to be missing of value, but just about everything that had sentimental value to me was damaged or destroyed in some way. I couldn't say for certain, but I had a very high suspicion that she had something to do with it. I made a report with the cop, but that was about all that could be done. But the break-in and semi-stalking was just a scratch compared to what she tried after that.

tormenting me wasn't seeming to work for her, so she targeted my friends. She tried convincing them that I was abusive, and that I had done these horrible things to her. The problem is, some people believed her. Her sister, of course, and our mutual friend from the party way back took her side immediately. They all started calling me and accusing me of things. And even worse, they started doing this on purpose. public forums, Facebook, Twitter, wherever they could post it, they did. This caused distant relatives to call, not only me, but my parents, to ask what was going

on. I had even more friends starting fights with me and accusing me of being a bad person, and then even complete strangers. It was mentally and emotionally draining. I was losing friends by the day. People didn't want to talk to me because they didn't want to get involved. So, I found myself right back to where I was when we were together. Locked in my home and not going anywhere,

thinking that I had no one left. People even started calling my work. The problem with that is my boss was technically my father, so when he heard all of this, he was pretty upset. Thankfully, he believed and trusted his own son, but the calls

weren't good. I started working from home a lot, hoping to avoid her calling the office, and my father suggested that I should talk to my lawyer about it. He had a good point. If these accusations were true, why didn't she bring them up in the divorce? Because they weren't true, and she didn't have proof. After speaking to them, we took legal actions, but the damage was already done. I had a few friends that stood by me, but I also lost a lot.

lot because of Anna. From the moment I found out about her affair, she had turned my life upside down. With the suit we filed in the restraining order, I finally stopped hearing from or about Anna. It seemed like she finally got the point. It took years to finally get there, but somehow, I made it out. The whole time, there was never any physical altercations between us while we were together, or afterwards.

But the mental and verbal abuse was astronomical. The worst part was that being a guy, I didn't share this with anyone, not wanting to look weak, and that was my own doing. I should have shared with someone what I was going through. No matter who you are, you are not immune to that kind of mental turmoil. When I finally confided in my sister, of all people, she helped me understand that and I went to therapy. It's taken some time, but I think I can finally say that I have healed and moved on.

I wanted to share this with all of you as proof that anyone can get out of these dark spots, even when it seems impossible. I wanted to share something that happened to me just last year. 2020 was a very difficult year for me my father had died from lung cancer and my mom and I had never really been close

so when I was distraught and looking for comfort she wasn't there they got divorced when I was a teenager and since then when it came to my father she was indifferent and dismissive I was in a pretty serious

relationship but right before my father passed my girlfriend left me, due to me, apparently, being too emotional and not caring enough about her. I had actually just financed an engagement ring and was planning on proposing. Shortly after she left, I learned that she was seeing my so-called friend, and the math didn't add up between us breaking up and her getting with him, which was pretty heartbreaking. So within six months, I lost my dad, my aunt. eight-year relationship with my girlfriend, my friend, and emotionally, my mom.

Needless to say, I was in a pretty dark place. One night, I was having trouble sleeping and contemplating the future of my life. I needed to get out of my little apartment and clear my head, so around midnight, I decided to just drive around. Sometimes a quiet drive on an empty road late at night. can be pretty therapeutic. At the time, I just drove where I wanted. I didn't really have a destination in mind.

I didn't use GPS. I just drove and turned where I was drawn to turn. I didn't even care if I was back the next day for work, or if I came home at all at that point. I'd been driving for a few hours at this point, but I wasn't quite ready to go home yet. However, I was going to need to refuel. I finally pulled off the highway when I saw the next exit for gas.

When I rolled into the gas station, it was honestly pretty unremarkable. It wasn't the big ones that I was used to, like Casey's or Quick Trip, I'm from the Midwest, so I don't remember the name of it. There were two pumps, and it looked pretty ancient. The screen was digital and digital. based on the looks of the place, I'm sure that was fairly new for them. Another thing that made it seem new was that it couldn't even take cards at the pump. You had to go inside.

So I made my way into the store to pay. Next to the store, there was a woman sitting on the concrete, in front of the ice box. She looked pretty normal, in the sense that she was wearing shorts, a tank top, and flip-flops. She had shoulder-length, dark curly hair, and appeared to be playing some game on her phone with a severely cracked screen. She looked up at me and smiled, and I just nodded back to her and went inside. I bought a candy bar and 20 bucks worth of gas, and the attendant bid me a good night. As I was walking back to my car, someone called out to me just saying, Excuse me, sir?

I was the only one around, so I assumed it was towards me. I turned around to see the same woman as earlier walking up to me. Seeing her walking closer to me, I could tell that she looked a little rough. Her legs and feet were really dirty. The shirt was pretty faded and looked almost too big on her, and she honestly just looked tired. And, to be honest, I sympathized with her. Maybe that was my fault.

She asked me if I had a cigarette she could have, and I declined. I didn't smoke, so I just apologized. I got to my car, took the cap off my tank, and she seemed to just be pacing in the parking lot, looking around. I felt bad, so I pulled out a few bills that I had and waved over to her. I asked if she might be able to buy a pack with it. She smiled and thanked me a dozen times before. running into the gas station. I began filling up when she came back outside drinking a soda.

I made eye contact with her, and she walked over to the pump I was at. She held up the bottle and said something about it being cheaper and better for her than cigarettes anyways. I laughed and agreed with her, and she again thanked me, holding out her hand and telling me her name. I had no reason to lie, so I did the same. We had a very short conversation while I was refueling. Where are you from? It's quite hot out right now. Shared some grievances about hating the heat.

But when I was finished was when things took a hard turn. I shut the door to my tank and nodded to her to signal that I was leaving when she stopped me. She put her hand on my chest, and she asked me if I would take her home with me. I stepped back. again, laughing. Sometimes I often do that in awkward situations. Her smile faltered a bit, and she said that she was being serious. I then politely declined, saying that I wasn't interested in that,

and her smile completely vanished. She threw her arms down to her side, and much like a child throwing a tantrum, she started screaming. She was calling me names. She said I was just like all the other. I was taken aback by this outburst and slowly backed away from her. I was walking to my door so I could just get out of there, but she seemed to notice that, too. This lady jumped on the hood of my car, crawling across it to the driver's door and stood in front of it screaming.

I was trying to calm her down and reason with her as stupid as that was. Why did I need to explain to a stranger why I didn't want them to come home with me? But no amount of reasoning seemed to be working, as she pulled out a knife. It looked like just a plain old kitchen steak knife. I couldn't even begin to figure out where she was concealing it. She held it up, ready to strike me, and I took off towards the building. I didn't even notice the attendant was standing outside watching us. We made eye contact, and before I could say anything other than, I just...

He motioned for me to step aside, and he made his way towards the woman who was now kicking and slicing my poor car with this knife. I watched as they yelled at each other, and she charged at him, but he smoothly dodged her, grabbed her hand that was wielding the knife, causing her to drop it. He then wrestled her to the ground, where he held her there. He hollered for me to grab something in the store, which turned out to be a package of zip ties, and he bound her wrist behind her. and brought her over to sit by the pump, where she continued to kick at it, with blood running down her leg. I'm guessing that that was from wherever she was keeping that knife.

He came over and asked if I was all right, and I told him that I was. He then explained to me that she was irregular around there, as in she regularly loitered, mooching off of people, but she rarely went berserk like that, joking that I must have done something. something to piss her off. I explained what happened while he waited for the police to show up. The man told me he was a retired police officer, so he knew how to handle the situation, not to mention her normal tactics. When the police arrived, they quickly got her up and started talking to her, calling her by name. So they were obviously familiar with her too. I had to give a statement, because I was still paying for my car, so I had to have to be a statement. I had

report this all to my insurance, unfortunately. Before she was put in the cop car, she looked over at me and smiled like I had just given her the money for the soda. The man apologized for the scene that she had caused, and afterwards, I was back on the road, ready to go home. The whole event from the time I pulled into that gas station to leaving, it only lasted a few hours, but by the time I got home, I was beyond ready to crash. I left my apartment in hopes to clear my head, and I guess in a way it kind of worked. I was going through a lot, and I thought that I was helping another person by giving her some cash, just trying to be friendly, but it all backfired. If I hadn't reacted fast enough, she could have stabbed me in my shoulder, or worse.

Hell, had I decided to take her home, what if I said something there that upset her? Or while we were in the car? Maybe that was her plan from the beginning, but who knows? I'd like to think that she was just having a really bad day, but the fact that she had that knife did not leave me with any good feelings about her.

Ultimately, I was just glad that everyone came out of this situation, mostly unscathed. I am in a better place now, for the most part, but more importantly, I hope that she is also in a better state of mind, too. I have a story about a secret that my family kept for a long time. And while I understand why it was kept from me, it's one of those things that, when I found out what happened, it hit me hard. My opinion on the people involved obviously changed by the end of it, and someone that I thought was a hero ended up being nothing more than a terrible person. For my entire childhood, I genuinely thought that my dad was a hero.

I thought that he was in the military and fighting for my country. I was proud of him, even though I could barely remember what he looked like. I guess I should step back a slight bit. When I was much younger, my dad was present. I have a couple photos of my dad with myself and my mom. I was the first and only kid that my mom and dad had. I can't even really give many memories of my father, because I was only around five when he disappeared from my life.

Obviously, I didn't understand why he was no longer at my life at first. I just know that he wasn't there. I do have one memory, though. I remember that it was at night. I was crying, and my dad gave me this tight hug saying something along the lines of... Sorry, buddy. I'll be back eventually. You'll be good, okay? The only problem is that I'm not even sure if this memory is real.

It's probably not. I think it's just one that I made up for some reason. One that I fabricated in my mind to make sense of my father's absence. To go along with this, my mother told me that my father was in the military. She told me that he had been shipped out and that he was fighting the bad guys to save the country. When I started to get older and more cognizant, it made sense that he wasn't home because he was a soldier. When he disappeared, it was 2001. I obviously didn't know what happened on 9-11 at the time, but again, as I got older and learned about it,

It made sense that he was overseas fighting a war. As I got older, I always made it a point to mention how much of a hero my dad was. I would tell my teachers, my friends, people that I barely spoke to. I would always say that my dad was in another country fighting people that were evil. My mother started the lie, but my family kept it going. They would always go with what she told me. I spent birthdays without my father, holidays without him, and it was hard as a little boy. I know I asked my mom numerous times why he wasn't able to come home for at least Christmas,

and she would just tell me that he would be home soon, that he couldn't abandon his post. I would ask why he never called or wrote us letters, but she would just say that the calls would get really expensive, and then said that he had written me letters. She would gaslight me into believing that he had sent letters from my birthday last year, or a few years ago. She had even told me that one of my presents from Christmas was from him. I believed every bit of it. I believed that the military wasn't letting him come home and that he had sent me the letters or presents.

She kept this up until I was in my preteens, around 12 years old. when I was 12, things started to not add up. It would have been 2008-ish, and I was old enough to watch the news, and I saw the world and events that were happening. It had hit a point where it didn't make sense for why he hadn't come home, and my pre-teen brain hit a point where I wanted to confront my mom and ask her for the truth. So I did. I confronted her at one point and asked her.

Hey, mom, you need to tell me the truth about dad. He's not overseas. He would have come home by now. Where is he? At this point, my mom had the chance to tell me the truth. But instead, she broke down crying and told me something else. She told me that while my dad was overseas, he had been killed in action. She looked me dead in the eyes and told me that my father had died in two.

2003, that he was killed over in Iraq or Afghanistan or whatever, and that she wanted to tell me, but she couldn't ever bring herself to do so. So, once again, she told me that my father was a hero, that he was killed defending the country, that he had died with honor. It's almost sad that I could wish that this was actually the truth, but what really happened was not this. I found out the real truth when I turned 20, about eight years ago. It was the day of my 20th birthday. I had made it to my 20th birthday without my father. My mother had done her best to raise me, but I had to do a lot of growth myself. I had to watch the other boys be taught how to do things by their fathers

and wish that I could have that too. But I couldn't, right? because my father was, according to my mother, killed an action overseas. All of it was so emotionally confusing. I wanted my father to be in my life, but I was also proud of him for his sacrifice. But when I turned 20 and was having dinner with my mother and my grandma, something came up that involved my dad. My grandmother made a comment that confused me.

Well, it's sad what happened, but at least he wasn't. won't be able to get to you to ever again. She said this, and I stared at her in confusion. Then I saw my mom start to have that panicking face she had when she told me he was dead. It was then that it clicked that something was wrong. I wasn't being told something or someone was lying. I asked my grandma what she meant by that, not even hesitating or giving myself time to think about it. She looked at me with her mouth open

Like she'd been caught in something And then looked at my mom My mom started crying at this point And my grandmother apologized Telling her that she thought I knew about the whole thing And that my mother had told me My mom said that we would have a conversation after dinner But I wasn't really hungry at this point

I could feel the pit in my stomach growing Knowing that they were hiding something When we got home that night, my grandmother and mother sat me down. And at that point, I was, told the truth. A truth that I didn't want to hear. Back when I was four or five, when my father left my life, it wasn't because he was shipped overseas to fight terrorism. It was because he was an absolute monster.

That night that he went away, he went away because he attempted to murder my mother, and he likely would have killed me too. For whatever reason, my father snapped that night, and in a drunken rage had stabbed my mother three times and left her for dead. I was told that he attacked her because she tried to stop him from beating me, a five-year-old. He had hit me numerous times that night, apparently not. me unconscious and then tried to kill my mother. My grandmother had been there that night,

and she called the police when he was attacking me, and it's because of her that my father was stopped. My mother's life was saved, and possibly my life was saved. For the entirety of my childhood, I thought my father was this amazing person, a hero. I told people I was proud of him, that I missed him and loved him.

him, but the entire time he was actually an attempted murderer that would have likely killed my mother had the police not showed up. The comments that my grandmother made was actually because my father had died in prison recently. He had apparently gone into cardiac arrest and was unable to be revived, and my mother had been notified of it a couple days prior to them telling me about all of this. This was probably the hardest day of my life. To find out that the man I wished had been there every day growing up had almost ended my life. It's been a few years now, and I'd like to say that I've moved on from all this, but it's still something that tears at me from time to time. I don't blame my mother for keeping this all from me, but it's still so painful to know that she had lied.

I'm sharing this now in hopes of letting some of it go, putting some of it out into the way. world, hoping it'll make it a bit easier. To those who knew me growing up, I'm sorry for lying to you about my father, I believed all those lies myself, and I thought I was telling you all about this amazing man that was an honest hero. When, come to find out, he couldn't have been more of a villain. And to my younger self, I wish I could go back and give you a hug to prepare you for the pain you would feel, when you're told that your dad is dead, both the first and the second time.

Hey, Raven, I've been listening to your podcast for quite some time now, and I decided to share a story that revolved around me, but I didn't go through what happened in this story. Note that this story is going to be from the perspective of my mom, as she is the main person in the story, but will be told by me. This all happened when I was almost one, but my mom remembers it in full detail. This takes place back in 2008 when my mom was working at a tanning salon. I was very young and didn't have a babysitter at the time, so my mom just took me to work so she could watch over me.

My dad was working a different job and doing teacher internships at the time. I was a happy toddler for the most part, and I had blonde hair and blue eyes at this time. Apparently that was rare in 2008, but back to the story. I was always greeted with awes and compliments to me and my mom when she was working. I guess that she was used to it at this point, since I was there a good amount of time. One day when she was working, a lady came in and walked into the salon. My mom said that she had black hair, was a little petite, and that she looked Russian, almost, if that makes sense.

sense. Anyway, she goes over to the desk, asks questions and whatnot, and then she notices me. She compliments me, and my mom talks to her a little bit before heading out of the salon. Nothing weird at all, my mom thinks. That's when she shows up the next day and pays more attention to me than the day before. My mom thinks it's suspicious, but shrugs it off as she does ask questions about tanning and whatnot, and this is where it goes from maybe, to her. certain. For the next few days that my mom works, the same woman comes into the salon, pays all of her attention to me and just leaves. I know what you're probably wondering. Did she get multiple tans done? Did she set up multiple appointments? Did she even set up a single

appointment or even get a tan? Unfortunately, I don't have the answers to those questions, but I'll definitely see what my mom can remember in great detail. After a few days the same woman coming into the store, my mom had two things going on in her head. One, this woman is going to become irregular. And two, this woman is sketchy in paying all of her attention to my son. As you probably guessed, she walks into the salon and pays more attention to me. She then turns to my mom with a questionable look and asks, Can I take your son out to my car?

I want to show my husband how beautiful he is. This confirms my mom's suspicions, and she stood in front of her with a defensive glare. Hell no, you aren't taking him anywhere. You need to get out of here now. A few more comments are thrown back and forth, and the woman exits the salon furiously. By this point, my mom is shaken to her core and wonders what her intentions were to do with me. After a few days, and my parents, finally getting me a babysitter, she learns the true intentions of what the woman had planned. but not in the way she could have imagined. It's morning of the tanning salon she works at,

and she's set to open the store that morning. As she arrives, she notices a car pulling up in the parking lot of the tanning salon. My mom thinks that it's no big deal and that it's probably somebody who wants to get a tan done early. As she's unlocking the door to the store, the door of the unknown car opens and outwalks the woman who tried to kidnap me. Not only that, but she is pissed off out of her mind and glaring at my mom with sick intentions. My mom bolts in the door, locks it, and hides behind the front counter. She is beyond scared by this point, considering that she has not seen that woman in less than a week in the salon.

The woman approaches the door screaming at my mom and banging on the entrance. I know you're in there. I know you have him. Let me in. My mom couldn't breathe. This woman was actively trying to get to me and was only entering the salon just to see me. My mom, shaking and crying with fear, fumbles with her phone and calls 911. She explains the situation to the operator the best she can while holding back tears and her fear. All the while, the woman is intensely becoming more and more mad and violent. I know he's in there. I know you have him.

Let me in, were the phrases that. she continued to scream at my mom as she was banging on the door violently to enter. She finishes her call with the police and calls her boss to explain what's going on. Struck with fear and nervousness and pain, she lets out all of her emotion on her boss, telling her that she's afraid, that she called the cops and that her suspicions were correct. Her boss tells her to stay calm and wait for the police and to not do anything else. As she's on the phone with her boss, She and the woman both hear faint sirens in the distance.

The woman runs away to get in her car as the police turned down the street where the salon is located. She drives off and my mom can see police cars chasing after the woman. This is where it gets crazy. The woman led the police on a chase throughout the walking mall parking lot for five minutes. During this time, though, the police made sure my mom was safe and stayed with her in the store to protect her. in case the woman tried to harm her, and they also called my father to explain the situation. As the five minutes passed,

they finally stop her by popping her tires, and they stopped the car. The police arrest the woman right then, and the husband as well who was the driver of the car. A couple of minutes go by, they get arrested, and they give my mom the all clear. At this point, my mom is bulging tears from her eyes, not knowing what to think or what's to do in this situation.

The police ask her questions and she gives them statements to what had just happened. That's when she notices the car. She walks towards the car and notices three passenger seats in the back of the car. As she looks around, she sees two kids next to police officers asking them questions. One was a girl who looked to be five or six and had blonde hair and blue eyes. The second one was a boy who looked to be no older than. and three and also had blonde hair and blue eyes. She looks back in the car, and she sees three car seats, but only two children.

That's when she realizes the middle one was made for a young toddler. She's hit with a wave of realization and starts bawling her eyes out at the thought, sight, and emotion of what just happened. Her boss and my dad both arrive at the scene to comfort her. A couple minutes go by, and she asks, to the officers if she can talk to the woman. They say yes, but only for a few minutes. She walks up to her, tears streaming from her eyes,

and a rage of emotion going through her head. I don't know what questions were asked, but one question sticks out so much that my mom can still hear it to this day. What were you going to do with my son? My mom asked. No response. What did you plan on doing with him? She responds in agony, trying to say sorry in her words.

I... I was... I was going to sell him on the black market. My mom's heart dropped. She couldn't believe what she had done. She let someone who had intentions to sell me for God knows what, hold me, and give me compliments. She burst into tears and fell on her knees trying not to believe it. She couldn't believe it. All of her suspicions were true but times ten.

Minutes go by, and I guess that they took the car, took the woman and her husband to the sheriff's office, and closed the store for the entire day. My mom never heard anything about the two children, but she had her suspicions on if they were really the woman's children or not. I'm 17 now, and about to enter my senior year of high school. My mom always has a certain tone when describing this story to me, as this traumatized her tenfold.

I still wonder what would have happened if that woman actually got me. I don't like to think about it much, but I just say that I wouldn't live to tell the story. If I had to give any message to future parents out there, I would have three things to say. One, trust your gut feeling if you feel suspicious about something. Two, always be mindful of your children, no matter what the cost is. 3. Don't trust everyone you see, as some people could be nice at first, but have ill intentions to you, your family, or even worse, your kids.

Thank you for letting me tell this story as I did my best to recall what my mom told me. I know it may be on the long side, but I assure everyone reading that this is a story to read. about a decade ago, my college buddies and I decided to reunite for a weekend camping trip. So, four people total. We had all kind of gotten lost in the craziness of adult life, and as such we hadn't had time to really see each other or get together. And what better way to catch up after a few years than to spend some time in the wilderness, right? We live near some pretty decent lakes and determined that spending some time,

out there was the best idea. A couple nights spent around a campfire, under the stars, in the middle of pretty much nowhere, was going to be a good time. We arrived on the planned Friday afternoon. It was a decently warm day, and we found our spot, where we were going to set up, just off the main trail and a clearing in the open forest. A perfect spot for us to set up our tents. We did so, and after a few hours,

decided to get the fire going, even though it was still fairly warm out. The sun was mostly set. The sky was that nice, orange pink that it gets when the night comes, and we were just sitting there reminiscing about the good old days. As the night progressed, we were all sitting around and starting to grow tired, when one of the guys, Kevin, jumped up a bit and asked, hey, did you guys hear that? I turned to him and asked, I turned to him and asked, I turned to him, what he meant. He then said that there was a sound in the woods. I listened for a moment, but didn't hear anything out of the ordinary. Just the sounds of a night in the woods, crickets, owls, nothing too crazy. I mentioned that he may have just heard a deer or something,

but I could tell by his face that he didn't think it was a deer. We got back to the conversation, but I could tell that Kevin was a bit on edge. After about five or so more minutes, I heard the sound, and I turned to Kev and saw him with the same look on his face from earlier, which told me that I had heard what he heard. I turned around to see if I could see anything, and much to my surprise, I did. I saw some movements off to the side. Someone was walking toward us.

I mentioned that there was someone walking our way to the group, and everyone else turned towards where I was looking, all of us squinting to see who was approaching from the darkness of the woods. One of the guys even asked, Who's there? A man stepped into the light where we could finally see him, and he looked like a fairly normal guy. He was wearing jeans in a hoodie.

He looked clean-shaven, and like he was just an everyday dude. My initial thought was that he was another camper that maybe had heard us talking, and he was coming over to visit or something. He didn't seem threatening at first, just a bit out of place. Marcus stood up and asked, Hey man, can we help you? He sounded friendly but cautious, which told me that he was thinking the same thing I was. At first the guy didn't respond.

He just looked at all of us for a moment, kind of taking all of us in individually. Then he said, I'm just passing through. Mind if I warm up by the fire for a moment? Something about him put me on edge, but Marcus responded quickly with, Yeah, man, that's fine. The guy smirked and sat down by the fire, kind of away from the rest of us,

and he just stared at the flames. Like, intensely stared. The four of us tried to keep the conversation going, but it felt kind of awkward, like we were all talking over an uninvited. had guessed. After a couple of minutes of just staring at the fire, the man stood up and said, Thanks for letting me sit here.

You folks have a good night, without even a glance. He just started walking back the way he'd come. As he walked off, Kev kind of chuckled and said, well, that was weird, huh? We all sort of laughed and agreed, but thought it was just a thing that maybe happened, and that we were going to move on.

Just as we were starting to ease back into our relaxation, the sounds from earlier came back, but this time it was louder and more prominent. We all turned in the direction we thought it was coming from and were all taken aback when we saw three guys all walking our ways, all wearing masks, and all of them armed. One of them spoke up as they approached. All right, everyone, nice and easy.

We don't want trouble. Just give us your valuables and no one has to get hurt. We all stood up and kind of huddled together. Normally the four of us weren't cowardly, but these guys all had guns, and they clearly meant business. Marcus tried to tell them that we didn't have much on us, that we were just camping for a couple of days. But one of the guys raised his weapon and said, I didn't ask what you had. I told you to give us all of your belongings.

now empty your pockets and your bags. We all did as we were told. Our hands shaking and the thought that we may actually not make it out of this alive plaguing us. They took our wallets, our cell phones, and literally everything else they could find. They even grabbed the cooler and took all of our food. After a few moments of them rifling through what we had, one of them nodded at the others and said something about that being good enough. The third guy then said something that made me nearly piss myself.

Should we go ahead and just put him down? When he said this, I couldn't help but go into pleading mode. Whoa, guys, come on now. You got our stuff. We're in the middle of nowhere. We all have families that'll miss us. Can we just call it good? You got what you wanted, right? No need to turn this into a full-blown homicide. I wasn't really sure what I was saying. I was just... talking and trying to get them to move on without pulling the trigger. They all paused and turned to look at each other for a few moments, and then back at us.

The one that asked if they should put us down kind of shrugged at the other two, and then one of them said, all right, fine, but you all need to leave. If I ever see you around here again, you won't be so lucky. With that, they all started walking away with our stuff, and after a few seconds they had melted into the night and were completely gone, leaving us shaken, but mostly unharmed. We sat there for a moment in silence. The four of us just thinking about what to do when Kev finally said, uh, we should probably go. We all agreed. We put out the fire and packed up our tents, literally the only things we had left and made our way back to where the car was parked. thankfully Marcus had the car's key in his pocket

and since it was an older car it was just a plain metal key with no fob and was small enough that they didn't notice he had it on him because they likely would have taken that too we got to the car and when Marcus asked where we should go I mentioned that a police station was probably the best bet or at least somewhere close by with a phone so we could call 911 to report the incident To this day, we still talk about that night whenever we get together.

We've all pretty much refused to go camping since it happened, even though it's been over a decade at this point. None of our stuff was ever recovered, and I don't think the guys were ever found. I don't know if they were willing to go through with the plan of actually killing us, or if that was just a scare tactic. But if so, it definitely. worked. We were scared.

The whole thing felt like a wrong place, wrong time kind of situation, and my guess is that the first guy was the scout for the other three. Or I guess he could have been one of them and he was trying to see if we were worth the time. In the end, I'm just glad that we all made it out alive. Terrified, but alive, nonetheless. As a disclaimer, please do not try this. ever. Knowing what I know now, this is probably one of the most idiotic things I have ever done. I not only put myself in danger, but also my family and friends. Also, this happened about 15 years ago, so I will relay all that my memory serves me. I'm no longer in contact with the friend that the

story involves, so forgive me if I forget any details. I will be happy to answer any questions I can, and will try my best to write everything that I can remember, in the order in which it happened. That being said, when I was a teenager, I was obsessed with the paranormal. My high school buddies and I thought it would be a great idea to get stoned in my parents' garage and construct a Ouija board. It was after school one afternoon when we implemented our plan.

We arrived at my parents' house and got right to work finding supplies to make the board, and if I remember correctly, found an old shotglass to use as the planchette. We decided to ask the most provoking questions you could think of. Everything the internet told us never to ask whatever was on the other side. But we wanted a big response. We wanted something crazy to happen. We got a response almost instantly, and we each thought the others were moving the planchette to mess with us. But we were soon to find out that it was real. I believe I was the one asking most of the questions.

I remember asking, When did you die? The planchette moved to the numbers that we scrawled on the board. The exact year escapes me, but it was something in the late 1980s. I know I asked the spirit's name. I cannot remember the name, so we'll just call the spirit, or rather demon, as we would soon discover, Robert. Robert would not disclose how he died,

although he did say that his favorite band was Nirvana. This will be relevant later. We had a classic rock mix playing in the background, and he seemed to enjoy this. Unfortunately, I do not remember most of the conversation, but I do remember we didn't say goodbye when the session concluded. That night, my friends, left, except for one who stayed the night. We'll call her Jane. For this part, I'll need to

describe the layout at the house. It was an old house with a weird setup. When you would enter through the front door, there was a medium-sized living room with a huge bay window facing the street. Going further into the house, on the left was the kitchen. Beyond that was a glass door, behind which was a sort of a family room. And then the backyard, which led to the garage. Jane and I were chilling in the kitchen later that night, and we were seated at the kitchen table. Jane was sitting with her back towards the glass door that leads to the family room, and I was facing her and the door. We were chatting quietly, as my family was sleeping. She was talking, and as I was looking at her, something behind her caught my eye.

The glass door was cracked open, but it was slowly opening wider and wider. As soon as I pointed at the door and she turned to look, it slammed shut very forcefully. It was so damn loud that I was sure my parents would wake up and we would be in trouble. But no one woke up or yelled at us to be quiet. We got so freaked out. We quickly retreated to my room, past the front living room. We talked in my room for quite some time and nothing else weird happened until we went to sleep. I woke up in the middle of the night to a strange, slow scratching noise.

At first I couldn't figure out where it was coming from. I don't think Jane woke up, so I got up and tried to decipher where the sound was coming from. Finally, I realized it was coming from my closet. The door was closed, and I knew that there was nothing in there that should be making that noise. The only pet that we had in the house was an old border. Collie, and he slept in my parents' room at the end of the hall. I jumped back into bed and threw the covers over my head and tried to ignore the sounds coming from the closet.

I don't know how long it took for me to get back to sleep, or if I even did, but the next thing I knew, it was morning, and Jane had to go back home later that day. We decided to go to the garage to smoke, and the air felt so heavy as soon as we stepped inside. Like, we shouldn't be in there even though we chilled in that garage countless times before. We went back in the house and sat on the couch in the living room. We were either talking or watching TV, but I think at that point I went into some sort of trance. Jane later told me that I suddenly stopped responding to her and I wasn't moving, even though my eyes were open. The only thing I remember before, coming to, was the feeling of the best of the best of the

back of the couch sinking in. I felt as though I was being slowly sucked into the couch, and my back felt so hot. It was like there was fire getting closer and closer to my back. Then right before I snapped

out of it, I felt hands on me, like they were trying to grab and pull me even further into the couch. I know it sounds dumb, but I thought I was being pulled into hell. I'm aware that There's no demonic portal in my parents' couch that leads to hell, but I swear to you that this is what it felt like.

When I finally snapped out of it, Jane was looking at me with a look of concern on her face, and I felt like I was having a panic attack. I can't remember much after that, but her parents arrived to pick her up a short time later, and she left. That night, I was absolutely terrified to sleep in my room. So, being the dumb ass that I am, I decided I would crash on the hell couch with the TV on all night. I didn't think that I would sleep, but at some point, I must have fallen asleep. I don't know what time it was when I suddenly woke up with a jolt. The TV, I know for a fact, I left on, was now turned off.

In its reflection, I could see the bay window slightly illuminated by the streetlight outside. Then, I noticed it, a figure standing behind me so tall that it touched the ceiling. Its head and neck craned down to stare at me. It was so black that it was darker than everything else in the room, and it was motionless. I was too scared to move. I just feigned to still be asleep. I don't remember slipping back into slumber, but, just like the previous night, before I knew it, It was morning again.

I decided to take a shower. Upon undressing, I noticed that my side was sore and hurting pretty bad when I took off my shirt. I looked, and there were deep scratches, in the shape of the Nirvana logo. That wonky, looking, smiley face. At that point, I knew that this wasn't just a spirit that I was dealing with. I don't know why I never told my parents what was going on, but one day my dad, who didn't even believe in the paranormal, told me he was taking a shower,

when all of the sudden the faucet turned on on its own, and the water got hot so suddenly that it scald at him. Now I was pissed. I had allowed a demon to mess with my family. I promised myself I would never mess with a Ouija board or even be around one ever again. I begged a Catholic friend of mine to come over and bless the house and garage, And she agreed.

She brought a bunch of supplies for the blessing. Afterwards, we disposed to the board, and we prayed. Nothing happened in that house ever again. And we ended up moving a couple of years later. As an adult, I became a Christian. I've still had experiences with the paranormal after this story, but now I know that I'm protected and how to rid demonic energy from my life. I'm sorry if this ending is anticlassified.

and also for the length of the story, but thank you for listening. Every year, my family hosted a pretty big Independence Day barbecue. We always had a ton of relatives over from grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. I feel like it was bigger than our Christmas get-together, but I have no idea why. I was the youngest of five kids, and we had a pretty big house, including an in-ground pool. It'll be importance to the story. The Fourth of July, however, was not my favorite holiday. I was never really a fan of the fireworks, and in fact, I was kind of scared of them.

I didn't like any of the stuff that went high in the air, afraid that it would fall back down and hit me. I didn't like the ones that were loud for obvious reasons, and I refused to do anything that you held. I liked very few fireworks, and sometimes it was a sensory overload, and I would just go back to my room to calm down. For the most part, people understood and left me alone. And in fact, I would have a sibling or cousin come check on me and stay to keep me company. That was always nice. But one thing we could always count on was my uncle Pat.

He was the epitome of a patriotic American. I guess. He always had on some flag-colored swim trunks and a matching shirt and hat. He probably spent way too much on fireworks, but he always made sure all of us kids had enough to shoot off. He also always bought the big and loud stuff that I don't like. I would watch those from inside or under the porch awning, so I wouldn't get hit by anything. The thing about Uncle Pat was that he could never party without alcohol, and he drank a lot of it. Thankfully, I always saw my aunt Ruth driving, because I'm sure that he could never party without alcohol, and he drank a lot of it. Thankfully, I always saw my aunt Ruth driving, because I'm sure that

he would probably start at home. But the problem with this was that he didn't seem to know how to control his intake, and if anyone tried to get him to slow down on the drinking, or stop him from doing anything, he would get defensive. He was never physical with anyone, and I truly believe that from knowing him, but he would get loud. Yelling was not out of the realm of possibility when he got too drunk and upset, and I think my family just decided,

it was best to let him be unless it truly was something dangerous he was trying to do. Well, it was 2003, and I was nine years old. I remember it being one of the hottest days that summer, so I'd been spending a lot of time in our pool. I thought that if I was in the water, I probably wouldn't catch fire and could go underwater to escape the loud sounds. People were already shooting off the day stuff, like the parachutes, which were already, already putting me on edge, but I was managing. I would also shoot off the few things that I actually enjoyed, too. Shortly after, Uncle Pat, Aunt Ruth, and my two cousins showed up.

I was happy to see one of those cousins, Beth, because we were really close, but I also knew that that meant things were about to get hectic because of Pat. Pat immediately unloaded all of his fireworks as well as his drinks of choice for the night. He was already entertaining himself, shooting fireworks and trying to find different things that he could blow up. I just avoided him and his antics as much as possible. In the beginning, my parents and the other adults would just let him do what he wanted, as long as he wasn't hurting anyone or causing damage. As the night were on and his bottles emptied,

He started to get more daring. He loved to hold Roman candles as they went off, and my mom hated it. One of my brothers always wanted to do the same, and my mom always told him no, thankfully. So I heard my dad talking to Uncle Pat, his brother, to tell him to basically tone it down. But Pat didn't like being told what to do, even if it was by his parents or older brother. He would get mad and defensive of him. about it, but he was never physical towards anyone, just all bark. It seemed like everyone got tired of telling him to stop, so they just gave up, which I hated,

but I digress. When it got darker out, I sat on the covered patio and ate while I watched everyone else light fireworks. Uncle Pat was firing off the large mortars without warning, which was about to make me lock myself in my room, but I decided to hold off since Beth wanted to. to light a specific fountain. As hers was going off, I was pretty entertained by it. It didn't make any loud noises, but it was really pretty.

The lights weren't blinding and they changed colors. Unfortunately, I was distracted by this and didn't realize Uncle Pat was setting up his grand finale stunt, until everyone else made a commotion. I heard my mom used my dad's name in her angry tone and looked to where she was pointing. It was Pat, holding a Roman candle in each hand and a sparkler behind each ear. His son, my cousin, was lighting the sparkler, and then Pat lit the Roman candles with those.

A small argument ensued between my parents because it was too late to stop him, said my dad, and Mom was mad that he didn't in the first place. All we could do was watch and wait for this to be over. Then, everything seemed to happen. in slow motion. One of the sparks hit Pat in the face, and he instinctually went to reach for his face. However, being as intoxicated as he was,

he was still holding the Roman candle. Right as he went to touch his face, the candle went off, and all we could see was a bright light in the silhouette of his head. And then the screaming started. I couldn't look away at first, as I heard Pat's screaming.

He dropped everything. and now it was on the ground and shooting everywhere. Pat now had a streak of fire down his shirt, and his screams turned into something nightmarish. I looked away, shielding my eyes, as I heard the adult shuffling to his aid and my cousin crying out for her father. Then the last thing I heard was a loud splash.

I finally looked up and saw my uncle floating face down in the pool. I was terrified. I was young. Was he dead? Did I just witness someone dying? My dad got in the pool and helped him out, along with my other uncle who was there. My mom was already on the phone calling for help, and I stayed in my chair, fearing the worst for my uncle. The paramedics arrived, and immediately helped him on a stretcher.

I heard him groaning, telling me that he was at least alive. Something told me to go see him and see what happened. I guess it was the curious child in me, but I still regret. credit to this day. When I got closer, he was holding something to his face, and he pulled it away for one of the paramedics to look at the damage. All I could see was a black hole where his eye should have been, red welts all over his face, and his scorched shirt down his chest.

The sight still gives me nightmares. I remember hiding in my room after that. I heard people talking, but I didn't want to join them. I assumed the party was over after that, which I was actually thankful for. I didn't even want to think about fireworks after that. A bit of good news, I guess, for this story. Uncle Pat obviously lived. He came over a few weeks later wearing an eye patch.

He did lose vision in his right eye, and he has a pretty big burn scar across the side of his face and chest. Apparently he spilled some of his drink on his shirt, which is why he spilled some of his drink on his shirt, which is why he caught fire as well. He also seemed to learn his lesson pretty well. Pat really controlled his intake at parties after that, and I never saw him drink more than two beers. I guess losing your eyesight will do that to you. In the end, my uncle learned his lesson,

and I never got over my fear of fireworks, especially after that night. I love my uncle, but seeing him like that, it looked like something out of a scary monster movie, and it absolutely scarred me, no pun intended. Just keep the fireworks far away from your face, friends. So to give you a little bit of background information on this story, which is 100% true, I would like to start with the fact that I am European.

I posted another story a couple of months back about something that happened to me in Tuscan, Italy. As for me and my friends in this story, we are from Thurban, Spain. And when this happened, the end of September 2023, we were fairly new to the USA. I moved here a while back for law school, and so did my friends. We'd been living here for a few months and decided to explore the nature of this beautiful continent, as we all live in NYC. So, long story short, we decided to go on a road trip to Canada,

drive around Lake Ontario, and then drive back to NYU. sea through upstate New York. I'm a male and my friends were three females. For the sake of anonymity, let's call them Lisa, Anna, and Charlotte. Everything went super smooth until the last night. So, for our last night, we had rented an off-grid cabin in a remote area in the woods in upstate New York. To give some locals an idea, we were like half an hour dry from Harrisburg, I think.

Me and Lisa had decided to spend one night in this cabin because it was one with nature. The cabin was super old, made from log wood, and there was no running water or electricity. Both me and Lisa had experience with survival in the wild in Europe. I, for myself, had been a Boy Scout my whole life, and even was a scout leader for a while. Our other two friends were, as much as I love them, Purebred City Girls. They had pretty much zero experience with camping, or to just be in a place where there is no service for the phones, as was the case in this cabin. We had been driving all day to get there, and when we reached the beginning of the forest, it was already past 10 p.m. And it was really dark that night.

While driving to this place, we lost internet connection with the GPS, and so I had to drive to the cabin on intuition, paired with a good old, fashioned map, hoping for the best while trying to drive safe on these muddy trails. It was also rainy the whole day. On the way there, Anna and Charlotte were in the back of the car, and the moment they lost phone service, they got pretty uneasy for the rest of the ride. All of a sudden, in the pitch black darkness of the forest, we all saw a campfire, but there were no houses around, nor people, just a campfire. a well-organized one since the fire was not spreading,

and it was not as big as a bonfire. It kind of startled all of us, as this was a little bit weird since there was no one around, and we were really deep in the forest already. Plus, it was getting very late. When this happened, we also reached the end of the trail, and we figured we had taken the wrong trail at the crossroads before. So I turned around, and we were on,

our way again. Half an hour later and a couple of wrong trails later, we finally had arrived at our destination, as we could finally see the first glimpse of this godforsaken cabin in the middle of nowhere. To give you an idea of how old it was, the bathroom was made out of wood and was outside the cabin. When we arrived, it was still raining, and both Anna and Lisa were definitely not in the mood for getting out of the car, and to get into the cabin with zero lights. So, me and Lisa left the lights at the car on and went inside the cabin, while also using our phone flashlights to check the cabin out, and see if we could find any old flashlights, which we did, and to see if we could turn on the fireplace, which we didn't, because all the wood was still

wet from the rain and it seemed as if no one had prepared dry wood anywhere. So, with a couple of old flashlights and a small improvised fire I managed to make in the stove, we all four got in the cabin and I started to make some pasta for us. Meanwhile, the girls were preparing the beds and closing the windows since it was already cold in this part of the state. The cabin had a small ladder which led to an elevated room slash space, with a bit of bed where all three of the girls could fit in, and I would sleep downstairs in a bunk bed that seemed older than the First World War.

While making pasta, Anna, one of the city girls, came up to me and, knowing that both Lisa and Charlotte did not like to hear anything scary at night, told me that she had seen an old cemetery in the middle of the forest on the way to our cabin, and that she had seen a figure walking around there. I first laughed it off as nothing. As I mentioned in my previous story, I do not consider myself a big believer of scary stuff. Being from Spain, we take promises very serious. To swear on God is very serious for us, and she swore to God that she was not lying.

I told her then that I believed her, but that there was no need to panic, as I would lock all the doors when we would go to sleep. We had some pasta, managed to make a couple of smores, which our love. by the way, and drink a couple of beers, or at least I did. They all had just one. I can assure you that I am not drunk after a couple of beers, and that I would never start to hallucinate, just saying in case anyone thinks that I saw stuff because of the beer. They all three went to sleep pretty early after finishing the smores and their beer, and I considered that I really love the outdoors and that I don't really mind a little bit of rain.

Then I decided to take my last beer and flashlight outside to the front porch, which was also very old and made of wood, and I sat myself down with my beer while enjoying the sound of rain and the lovely sight of not seeing a single light in the distance. I could greatly appreciate this, coming from NYC, and I just scanned the area around with my flashlight. There was nothing much really to see, besides a lot of trees and a small creek a little further away. All I could hear was the wind, the rain and the running water down in the creek. That was until I suddenly heard what I would describe as a weird roar. The first thing that came to mind was a bear.

But I had researched well before our trip, and I knew bears were not common at all in this part of the state. I also know what a bear roar would sound like, and it did not resemble a lot, except for the fact that it was a really deep roar, if you get what I mean. startled but not really scared. I continued to scan the rest of the forest for as far as I could see from the porch. It was then when my eye caught the glimpse of a figure, well hidden deep into the tree line. I would describe the figure as tall. As a reference, I'm six foot four, and I thought this thing was at least a foot or two higher than me.

It was well hidden because with its brown fur, that's what I think it was at the least, or the skin, in any case, blended in well with the trees in autumn. It was definitely aware of our presence, as I saw two eyes glimpsing into my flashlight. I could not tell you what it was, but I swear to God that it was not a bear. It was bipedal, and had rather long arms, I would say. We looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity, but in reality it was more like five seconds before it vanished behind a tree, and I heard another roar. It was then when I felt all of my hair stand up,

and I was definitely very much scared. I went inside as quick as I could, and locked all the doors and closed all the curtains. I quickly went to bed and tried to wave it off as just my exhaustion of driving all day, playing tricks on my mind. But I promise you that this was very real. After an hour or so, I had calmed down and finally fell asleep.

The rest of the night was uneventful, and the next morning when I went to relieve myself after having drank the beer the night before, the weather had cleared and it was rather sunny. And as far as I could see, the forest was calm and beautiful. No sight of any animals or anything abnormal. We had a nice breakfast that morning, and left for our way back to the city that never sleeps. And so ends also my story of that night. I never talked about what I saw that night because I know that all three girls did not like to hear scary stories. And I figured, after these months, that this was the best place to share it. If anyone has an idea of what it could have been, feel free to enlighten me,

especially if it's backed up with rational reasoning. I've been a trucker for a good 24 years now, and I've seen, heard, and, hell, even, smelled some crazy things on my time on the road. From bad road rage cases, to damn near being the cause to the end of a high-speed chase, and finding some pretty weird things on the side of the road, I feel like I've seen it all. But this one thing I experienced back in 2008 still has me shrugging my shoulders with no explanation in sight. It was about mid-December. I was on a pretty desolate stretch of highway in northern, northern Montana, heading to my second pickup in North Dakota.

The weather was getting pretty bad due to a halacious snowstorm that was on the way, and kind of in the midst of. The roads were already pretty well covered, and with the wind and the snowfall you had to be very careful in a big rig. One wrong move, or one jerk not giving you enough room, could make for a pretty bad day. I was fairly used to driving in this stuff at that point, so... I knew the steps to take to control and stay in control the situation. I was a stickler for rules and following all the safety protocols,

and because of that, I was cool and calm, knowing that I would be okay. I was listening to music until around 2 a.m. when I started getting some chatter on my radio. Sometimes truckers will share road conditions or just shoot the breeze to keep each other awake. It's always on a random channel, separate from our normal dispatch channels, but I like to tune in at times and join in on the antics. But this time it caught my attention for a couple of reasons.

The first one was that I don't remember changing my channel. I still had it on my dispatch, or so I thought, so it was odd to not hear Ronda's voice. And, leading into the second reason, it was a man's voice, and instead of things that I would normally hear from Rhonda, or the other guys messing around, this guy's voice was low and gravelly, and all I heard was,

Is anyone there? At first, I didn't reply, waiting to see what was going on, but there was no reply after his third hello, so I answered. Hey, this is Chief. What's up, boss? What I didn't expect was his response. Help, please, anyone?

I was immediately concerned. Was this another trucker that was maybe in an accident? Or maybe there was a medical emergency, so I asked if he was okay, and again, all I got was... Please, it's so cold. Truck won't start. Now I was worried for him. If his truck wouldn't start, maybe he was in an accident, or maybe it just broke down. But the fact that he was complaining about being cold made me think he was exposed.

to the elements. This was a pretty large and empty strip of highway, so who knows if anyone else has even been through there since this accident. I knew that I had to stop. I knew that I had to find this guy and help. What's your 20, boss? I asked him. After a pause, he finally responded.

Mile marker 247? Please don't leave me. I knew where that was. I told him I was about 12 miles out and to hang tight, and he responded with, Don't forget about me. I switched back to my dispatch and told them about the trucker and the accident, and said I was stopping for them, and they confirmed that they heard me. When I approached 247, I slowed down and started looking a lot closer to the roads and shoulder.

I was expecting to see a rig somewhere, but I didn't see one. I thought, maybe he was toward the end. end of 247, so I slowed and pulled over to the shoulder. I tried to radio the guy again, remembering what channel I was on, but there was nothing there but static. I waited a few minutes and then started to put it back into drive to go further down the road when I finally got a response. Please, I'm cold. I told him that I couldn't see anyone or anything from where I was. I had been keeping an eye out and slowed down when I hit two-fourty. but there was nothing around.

I knew that I hadn't passed anyone or anything. Even in a snowstorm, it's kind of hard to miss a big rig. I again radioed to him saying I was here and asked for a better idea of where he was. I see you, Chief. Don't you see me? I was confused. I definitely did not see anyone around, so I got out of my truck and looked around again. I don't know why I thought I would. be able to see any better out there, but I certainly couldn't. It was dark. The wind was painfully

cold, but the silence was deafening. There wasn't a single soul in sight, so where the hell was this guy? As I walked back to my truck, I started to get a little annoyed. What if someone was just pulling a prank? Now they've interrupted my route and got me out in the cold for no reason. so I called out to the guy one more time, but I was probably a little more angry with my tone. I told him that I hadn't seen anything and that I didn't appreciate being messed with. I then tried to ask for their name or who they were contracting with, but I didn't get anything back. This only irritated me more. I felt that they were messing with me and that's why they weren't answering.

I ended up calling it into my dispatch mentioning a distress call I heard, but that I had. couldn't see anybody. Just as a precaution to see if they could either send an emergency vehicle to check it out, or something like that, but that was it. I tried looking. I was starting to feel like a dumbass for actually stopping, but at least if it was real, I sent someone who could probably do more than what I could. I started my truck back up and slowly pulled off the shoulder.

Now, at this point, I was back on with my dispatch channel. I had no reason to turn back, but yet there his voice was again. Thanks anyways, Chief. And that was it. I tried to ask him what he meant. Was he messing with me? Just give me some kind of answer, but there was nothing. Not until I heard Rhonda's voice asking me to repeat what I had said.

Apparently Rhonda had heard what I was saying to the other guy, but she also heard the guy thank me. He seemed to be on the same channel now as us. She asked me if that was the guy that I was talking about and tried to get him to respond, but it was back to nothing. He never spoke to us again. Rhonda said that she would pass along the information, being even more willing to, I guess, after hearing the guy for herself. Rhonda listens to all of us frequently. She knows our voices.

She told me that she did not recognize his voice either. As for me, I just kept on going. thinking back to that whole situation over and over. Fast forward past the long, boring part of the route, and I'm now heading back home to Idaho, and I made a stop in Montana again for some breakfast. While there, I was reading a newspaper that nearly made me lose my mind. There was a story about a truck that had run off the road

and flipped down into an embankment. The driver was dead by the time anyone arrived. No one knows why it happened or what caused the accident, and it said the investigation was still ongoing as to his cause of death, as they were still unsure if it was what may have caused the accident, or if he died because of it. The problem I had with this was that the newspaper was older, about a week or two. I don't remember the exact date.

But the story mentioned the truck and the man was found at Mile Marker 247. A man died in that same location that I was in about a week before I was there. I definitely didn't see any trucks on the road, on the shoulder, or in the embankment. Was this a new accident? Was this someone who knew the story and was trying to play a really sick joke? Or was it the man that died? Was he still out there trying to come to terms with his own demise? I brought the newspaper back with me to show some folks.

folks, and they all seem to think it was a prank, but I believe in spirits. There are things out there that we don't understand, because we can't and probably never will, and quite honestly, shouldn't. Some things just need to be left alone, and part of me wonders if maybe he was trying to call for help one last time. Maybe he was unable to the first time, and maybe he was trying to replay the event, I don't know for sure, and I know that I never will know, but I hope the sincerity in his voice when he thanked me was real. I hope if that really was the case that I was able to give him some relief in knowing that maybe he wasn't alone in his last moments,

and that someone was really there, or trying, to be there for him. I would like to share a story from when I was younger, to hopefully not only teach others to be careful, but to let them know that things will get better. I'm an adult now, well into my 40s and quite happy where I'm at. But my life wasn't always that way. My childhood was filled with plenty of stressful and hurtful days. I barely knew my dad and he seemed to have no interest in getting to know me,

And my mom just about put everyone and everything over me. It was normal for me to only eat at school. Thankfully, I got free meals, but I would often have to fend for myself at home. As I got older and had a voice for myself, my mother and I often got into fights. It's not like she tried to do right. She didn't work. She made money in other ways. But I rarely saw it regardless of how she earned it.

The men that she was with rarely lasted long, but there was one guy that she liked to frequently bring home, and he gave me the creeps with how he would watch me. So when we got into a fight about him being in my room one day when I came home, I wasn't really surprised when she kicked me out, taking his side over me. I tried calling my dad, but he made up every excuse to not let me stay with him. So, there I was. at the age of 17, kicked out, and homeless. Now, of course, hindsight is 20-20,

and I'm sure some people might have taken me in if I talked about it, but, unfortunately, in my already fragile mind, I didn't talk much to the few friends I had about my situation. I didn't want to burden someone else or have them pity me. I enjoyed my time with my friends because it wasn't escape. It made me feel like my life was normal, and I didn't have to focus on it. So, instead, I went to school as normal.

I stayed at various friends' houses on the weekends and would shower there, but at night, I floated around a lot and found myself couch-surfing at almost complete stranger's houses. I wasn't always lucky enough to find a home to stay at. Sometimes I even stayed in abandoned or closed-up buildings. but I could at least find the silver lining in this. I grew to quite enjoy Urbex, and with my free time,

I would often try to find new places to explore. At least it sounded cooler to say that I was exploring, rather than trying to find a place to sleep for the night. Mostly I found old houses that were boarded up, and clearly not being lived in. There was one place that I quite enjoyed because they left a lot behind, including an old journal or diary. I kept going there until I finished it because it was so well written.

It was almost like a book, and I didn't want to put it down. But once I was finished, I left it there where it belonged, in its home. After all, I knew what it felt like to be ripped out of your home. When it started getting cooler at night, I tried to find better covered places to keep warm, as I was located near the coast of Florida. This is what led me to that position. I had walked past this building several times that I believed was an old clinic.

Not sure if it was for people or a veterinarian clinic. There was a large sign out front showing it was for sale, and from what I could tell from the outside, it was definitely vacant. I wanted to try and get in to not only have a place to stay, but to also look around. Old clinics and hospitals were always a lot of fun to explore. Between the random tools or supplies that may have been left behind, and just exploring the rooms and imagining what may have occurred in them, it was always amusing to me.

I waited until it was darker and then walked around the building, looking for the best way in. It wasn't going to be as easy as a back door to an old house, but at the same time it kind of was. I prayed that there wasn't an alarm. set on in the building, picked up a nearby decorative rock, and broke out one of the office windows. I carefully climbed in and noticed immediately that the heat was still on. It was nice, but also put me on edge, thinking there probably was an alarm, and I needed to be ready to run.

I looked around the room that I was in, and it still had a desk pushed to the corner, with a cheap metal chair stacked on top of it. There was a shelf on the same wall with random papers and wires being held. I was surprised to see two thick cables on it which appeared to be some kind of power cord. While cell phones were a thing, smartphones certainly were not. But the plug-in told me this wasn't for a phone. I quickly wrapped them up and tossed them in my bag, hoping that whatever it was for, maybe I could make some cash off of it.

That was about all that was in that room. So I opened the door and headed out to the room. It was clear walking down the hall that this place was pretty well gutted. The light covers had even been removed, leaving the bare halogen tubes, all the signs and photos that once hung on the wall were gone, leaving slightly discolored paint. There were a few small pieces of paper that were taped to random doors and walls with painter's tape that I can only describe as being some kind of worker's instructions.

I walked over to what would have been the front desk and saw that there was still a nice chair behind it. I sat in the chair as I checked all the drawers, once again not finding much. There were a few stickers and coasters in the bottom drawer, a pen, a small note pad, and just some kind of lanyard. All in all, it wasn't too exciting at that point, but it was also a decent place to stay for the night. I ended up in another room, most likely an exam room,

but it was filled with a lot of random stuff, including one of those exam beds you would sit on waiting for the doctor. The cushion was split open and the bottom looked damaged, which was probably why it was left behind. After putting some weight on it, and it's not collapsing under me, I decided to call that my bed the night. I tried getting settled in and, with the wind-up flashlight that I had with me, tried reading some of the book that I had. But as I lay there, I started hearing a faint sound,

a voice. It was very muffled, but I could definitely tell that it was someone talking. I was worried at first, thinking that it was probably the police, possibly being alerted to some kind of silent alarm. But going by my past experiences, they weren't very quiet about it. They always made their presence known and very loudly at that. This person was clearly talking quietly like they didn't want to be heard. Maybe it was someone like myself, someone just looking for a place to stay, and normally I would just leave them be if so, but part of me said that I should go check it out, for both of our safety. So I left the room that I was in taking my backpack with me just in case, and I tried to make my way towards the voice.

I could tell I was at the right room because I could clearly hear the voice now. They were still mumbling, so I couldn't make out what they were saying, but what I could understand was the loud crash. It made me jump in place, but then I peered into the room as the door wasn't closed all the way. there was a man standing in the room alone. He would say something and then would swing the pole in his hand, smacking at whatever was in front of him. It looked like he had one of those IV stands. He was swinging it furiously at anything in the room,

breaking it and watching it fly across the room. The only thing I was ever able to make sense of when he was screaming was, it's all your fault. I stood there frozen in place and continued to watch. He lifted the pole over his head, took a deep breath, and then paused. I held my breath in that moment, worried that he knew I was there. Then in a soft, almost inaudible voice, he says, Don't worry, I don't want to hurt you.

But it's best you get out of here before midnight, before he comes back. and with that he took another deep breath, screamed, and the pole came crashing down on whatever was in front of him. I wasn't going to wait around to see what happened at midnight or who he was. I slowly stepped backwards and then ran to the lobby. I thought that I would try the front entrance this time, hoping maybe I could unlock it so that I didn't have to go through the window. But to my surprise, the door was actually,

cracked open slightly. I know it wasn't like that when I got there because I remember looking at it and thinking it was definitely going to be locked. Was it opened by the man I just saw? Or was there another person there with us? The thought of being alone with that guy was scary enough for me, but possibly two of them, that made it worse. Why did he seem so angry?

What did he mean by its your fault? And why was it so important that I be gone? To be honest, none of those questions were very important to me at the time. I slipped through the door and ran until my legs were about to give in. While nothing did happen to me that night, I still feel incredibly lucky. That man gave me a warning, but I had no idea why. I still wonder at times who he was referring to. The importance of the time.

and how he even knew I was there, between the breaking and the screaming. I ended up going to a friend's place the next day, swallowing my pride, and finally telling them the truth about my life. From then on, I wasn't on the streets, and things did get better. They weren't perfect, and still weren't easy, but I at least didn't have to explore to find a place to sleep. Now as an adult I can do it for fun and be assured that I have real life skills that keep me safe when I go through with it. Just keep in mind if you are an explorer that sometimes people aren't there for a hobby. And some may defend what little they have. So I have a story about when my girlfriend and I broke up back in the late 90s.

I'm happily married now with a kid, so it doesn't bother me as much to talk about it, but there was a point in time where this story really bothered me. Not because it was super creepy, but because this person I was in love with was so quick to turn, well, crazy. A small bit of context. This was the late 90s. I was about 23 at the time of this happening. I was dating this girl named Maddie, and I was genuinely. genuinely in love with her. We'd been dating for two years at the time of all this.

We didn't live together, but we did stay at each other's place a few times. She still lived with her parents, which made that a bit awkward. But there was nothing beyond that. We hadn't spoken about our future together or anything like that. We didn't mention marriage or kids. And at no point was there any indication, at least for me, that she was unhappy with things.

As far as I could tell, we were a decently happy couple. We were still young, still had a lot going on in life, and we saw each other pretty frequently. I was happy with how it was, and sure, I wanted to consider moving forward with her,

maybe moving her into my place to see how that went, but I wasn't in any rush, and I thought that would be a future issue. And the story starts in the, dumbest way, with a scratch-off ticket. I had stopped at a gas station to fill up my tank one night, and for some dumb reason, I had bought a few scratch-off tickets. Much to my surprise, I had actually stopped in exactly when fate wanted me to, and I won

something like 200 bucks. It wasn't much, but it was more than I'd ever won in a lottery, so I was over the moon. My immediate thought was, I should take Maddie on a date night, thinking I should go ahead and blow this $200 on a nice dinner and a movie or something. Just something to show that I appreciated her. So the next day I called her and we were talking about things, and I mentioned that we should go out that Friday. I made a comment about how the universe wanted us to splurge a little,

mentioning that I had won the money on the scratcher, and she laughed and said something about it being fate. Nothing that was said was a red flag. I thought we were both joking when we were saying these things. Come to find out, Maddie was pretty well dead set on the idea of it being fate. Something I would come to find out that Friday night. So I got dressed up in my nicest clothes, which weren't nice to be honest. Again, I was a dumb kid still at that point.

I called Maddie, told her I was on my way, and then went to pick her up. She looked great. She was dressed up way beyond what I was, and I was elated that we were going to spend this time together. We decided on dinner first, that we would go eat and then check out what was playing at the theater, which sounded like a solid plan to me. She wanted to go to a decently expensive place. I agreed, told her that it was a great idea. and we headed out to eat.

We got to the restaurant, I played the gentlemanly role and opened her door for her, and we walked to the front with our arms linked. Basically, we were pretending to be a wealthy couple that was madly in love, which is exactly what I wanted to do that night. We sat down, we ordered,

and we talked about whatever it was that we talked about. She even ordered a glass of wine to, quote, celebrate the occasion, which was a weird thing for her to say at the time, but I didn't think much of it. We ate our food, and around the end of the meal, the waiter came with the check. I remember making a joking comment about, oh, allow me to get that, my dear, just being silly. I put the money in the check thing, handed it back to the waiter, and told them to keep the change. And then made a comment about how we should get going so we could check out what movies were playing.

I started to stand up and she reached out and grabbed my hand, letting out a slight chuckle while staring at me with this look of expectation. I sat back down and stared at her for a moment, just awkwardly sitting in silence, until a few moments later when her smile faded. I asked her what was wrong, if everything was okay, and she looked back to me and asked, aren't you forgetting something? I looked around at the table and then around the rest of her,

trying to figure out what she meant. I even checked my pocket to make sure that I had my wallet, then looked at her and said, no, I have everything. She just stared at me like I had kicked her dog. Like me saying no was the equivalent of me telling her that I hated her and wished she was dead. And to her, maybe it was, but to me, I was just confused about what it was I was forgetting.

We sat there just staring at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time before I asked her what she actually meant. Her face became angry and she stood up and basically stomped off like a child out of the restaurant. I followed her because I was so confused about what I had done wrong. She got to my car and immediately yelled at me to take her home. I asked her what about the movie and she threw out several expletives about how she didn't want to go to the movie. that she just wanted to go home. I said okay, and just got in the car.

The second I got the car on the road, she started in on me, yelling about how I was a manipulative a-hole, how I was a jerk, how she hated me. Just so many things that made zero sense to me. I asked her what the hell I had done and why she was so mad, and she screamed something at me that I never could have expected. You didn't propose to me like you were supposed to. I stared out at the road, my jaw clenching.

She then mentioned that I had said that it was fate, that we were supposed to be together, that she expected me to propose because of my comment about the universe wanting us to go out on this date, and that by not proposing, I had manipulated her. I want to reiterate that we had been dating for two years, and she had never acted like. this. We'd had small arguments, but she was always very reserved and they never turned into

shouting. I told her that I never said anything about proposing to her, that my universe comment was a joke because I had randomly won a little bit of money, so we could afford an expensive date. Not that I wanted to get married. She started yelling about how I was supposed to propose, that we were supposed to be getting married, and then asked me if I even wanted to get married to her. Apparently, I hesitated to answer too much, because it was less than a second or two later when I felt the stinging blast of pepper spray in my face. Yes, in her infinite wisdom and anger, because I didn't immediately say I wanted to marry her,

Maddie grabbed her pepper spray off of her bag and blasted me, the person driving the car at 40-ish miles per hour in the face. Of course, we were in the car together with the windows up, so she got hit by it too. I don't really know what her end goal was other than to just kill us both in a fiery car crash. I panicked because I couldn't see or breathe, and I tried to break and swerve out of the road as quickly as I could, just to stop myself from smashing into another car. I ended up hitting a light pole, thankfully not at full speed. Neither of us were hurt.

My airbags didn't even deploy, but my car had a good amount of damage to the front end. I jumped out of the car, gasping for air and trying to figure out what to do with my eyes. Maddie did the same, but even though she was dealing with the blowback from shooting pepper spray in a closed area, she was still screaming about how this was all my fault, how I had ruined her life. While I was standing there and trying to compose myself, I looked over and saw the red and blue lights flash as a cop pulled up. That was fun, trying to explain the whole thing to the officer. I tried to tell him that we were dating, that we'd had an argument,

and that she blasted me with pepper spray. She was screaming incoherently in between coughing fits about how I had ruined her life, that she hated me and so forth. Thankfully, my calm demeanor won out over my. anger because the officer didn't take any action against me they helped me to get a tow truck out to the scene and were able to get us back to my place when he left I asked Maddie if she wanted to come inside to talk about it but she actually slapped me and told me that she had wished I had died when we crashed then started walking I

know the right thing to do would have been to stop her and tell her not to walk home it was a pretty good distance, several miles, but I didn't care anymore. I told her to have a nice life, and I went inside my apartment. Then I took a shower and went to bed. Then I woke up the next morning to someone banging on my front door. When I answered it, it was Maddie's dad, and Maddie was standing there behind him crying her eyes out. I asked what he wanted, and he started yelling at me about how I had almost killed his daughter with my irresponsible driving, that I should have driven her home, blah, blah, blah.

When he was finished, I simply asked him if she had told him that she pepper sprayed me while we were driving and that that was why we had crashed. And that when the tow truck got us here, she slapped me and walked away when I invited her in so that she didn't have to walk home. He paused, looked back at her and asked, Why did you pepper spray him?

Since she wasn't answering, I did. I told him about how she was mad because I didn't propose to her at dinner, so she maced me. He looked shocked at the whole thing, which told me that she hadn't told him about any of it. He asked her if that was true, and she just nodded slightly. He looked back at me, then her again, and let out a heavy sigh before mumbling an apology and leaving. I'm not sure what she expected out of that situation, but it definitely did not go her way. Thankfully, that was the end of our relationship. She tried to call me to apologize, but I just told her that she could have killed us both with what she did,

and that I couldn't be with someone that was so willing to do something so stupid over such a small disagreement. And that was that. Thankfully, I wasn't hurt, and she wasn't hurt. but we both now have knowledge of what it's like to be pepper sprayed. I ended up shelling out a good amount of money on my car to get all that fixed. The damage wasn't too extensive, so it was what it was. I moved on, found someone else, and now I'm married and very happy with my family. I hope that Maddie found her soulmate, and that they believe in fate like she does,

and that she never decided to mace another boyfriend. for not asking her to marry him at the exact time that she expected it. I finally got the chance to write out something that happened to me when I was a young adult. This was back in the late 90s when I was working as a tow truck driver. I worked on call on the overnight shift, and after finishing a job, I stopped at a gas station to fill up so I wouldn't have to worry about it if I did get a call in the middle of the night. better to do it around midnight rather than three in the morning when you just want to get back home and back in bed. I remember it was autumn because it was a lot cooler, so I could have my windows down comfortably all night.

I pulled into the gas station, one that I had stopped at plenty of times before. The parking lot was pretty empty, and there was a car parked on the side of the gas station building that was off. My first thought was that it was either someone that worked there or maybe someone else that stopped for something other than gas. I didn't pay any more attention than that. But as I started fueling up, I heard a very loud pop coming from the store. It made me jump and I looked over to see if I could figure out what it was.

But all I saw was a man in a mask jumping over the counter and running out the door. I remember being frozen in place. I didn't know if I should go in and check on those in there, or if I should hide, or hell if I should just leave and save myself. But before I could even make a choice, the man in the mask noticed me and we made eye contact.

He quickly approached me, raising the gun, and asked me, What did you see? I kept my hands up in my head to the ground and said, nothing. I didn't see anything, didn't hear anything. We stayed like this for a few seconds, until he shoved me and said, get back in your truck and leave, now. As I walked back to my truck, he shouted at me to hurry up, so I started the truck and left before I even caught my seatbelt on. I watched from the mirrors. He stood in the parking lot watching me until I was completely out of view. I know I got out of their unscathed, but it kept.

I kept eating at me. What if he had shot someone at the station? What if they were dead or dying and no one was there to help? Would anyone show up there to help? So I made a pretty crazy decision and headed back. I didn't have a cell phone at the time, but I did have my radio in the truck. I immediately called it in and told them that I think I witnessed a robbery and told them to get the police there as soon as possible. then I turned around to head back. When I got back, the car on the side was gone, assuming it was the robbers, so I pulled in and waited before getting out to make sure no one ran up to my truck. When no one came up, I quickly jumped out and ran into the station. I saw just what I was worried about. The old man that owned the place was lying on the floor in a pool of blood, with a bullet wound in his stomach.

and then there was a younger girl laying next to him, her face bruised and cut. Both of them were unconscious. I knew it probably wasn't that long, but the police hadn't arrived yet, so I grabbed the wall phone behind the counter and called 911. While on the phone, the lady said they already had someone on the way, but asked for the status of the victims. She asked me to apply pressure to the wounds on the man to prevent further bleeding. Thankfully, it wasn't long before an ambulance showed up, followed by the police. They got the man in the ambulance and left pretty quickly, while another group worked on the girl. While I was talking to the police outside, they wheeled the girl out, who was now awake, but still looked rough.

I explained to the cops what all I had witnessed, and one of them thanked me for radioing it in. They explained that the man had lost a lot of blood, and since the girl hadn't woken up, he could have died if I hadn't. That's when I knew that I did the right thing, even if it could have cost me my life. After giving them my contact information, I was told that I could leave. I went home to my wife and kids still a bit shaken up

and explained to my wife what had happened. She was usually asleep when I left, but she said that she woke up to a bad feeling when I hadn't returned within the normal amount of time. She called the office to ask about me, and they had said they hadn't heard from me yet. I would actually end up radioing into them right after she called. After talking through it, she said that she was proud of me for going back and calling it in, even if it was risky, knowing that she would want someone to do the same for her if she was the victim.

We were both up for another hour or so before we finally fell back to sleep. The next day, I got a call from the cop who wanted to go through the details again. They said they also had the footage and wanted to confirm the identity of the man. I met them at the same gas station, and I watched the grainy footage of what happened in the store. I watched the man reach for the gun, causing him to shoot. The girl started to panic, and he had actually pistol-whipped her a couple of times. Then he jumped over the counter and out the door. We then watched the footage of me in the parking lot as the guy held the gun to my chest,

and then I drove away. After I confirmed it all, he also asked if he could give my contact details to the victim. Apparently the girl was his daughter, and they had both been working there that night, and they wanted to thank me for coming back to help them. So, I agreed. I actually went to see them in the hospital, and the girl was looking better. She still had two black eyes and some stifference. and scrapes on the side of her face, but she still had a sense of humor with the whole

you should see the other guy. They did catch the guy as they were able to see his car and license plate, which belonged to the guy's mother who worked for USPS. But anyway, they both thanked me for what I did, but I would like to think that I would do it again in a heartbeat, if it meant I could help just one person. For the remaining time I worked at the tow company, I would go to the same station for gas, even if it was out of the way. They actually gave me free coffee and day-old donuts anyways. Now, in 2024, I'm grateful for the technology we have.

Better cameras and a cell phone on us pretty much at all times. It makes me a lot quicker to help, but thankfully, I haven't had to do something. something like that since. Once upon a time, I rolled my eyes at UFO stories, saying that it would take aliens thousands of years to get here and they couldn't survive in our atmosphere. Well, I was in for one hell of a reality check. I don't like to tell this story to people in real life. I've tried many times before, but it always had undesirable results.

Even if people say they believe it, it's not very satisfying because they don't have actually know, so it feels like a waste of time. If I tell the story anonymously, maybe it can give someone else some added peace of mind that there are other people who know about these things. At least in my case, I wasn't the only one who witnessed these things. It started around August 17th of 1996. There were two elderly gentlemen on the local CTV news who said that they'd seen a solid bright ball of light in the sky that was too fast to be a jet, and too slow to be a meteor, and it didn't move like either of those things. The news dismissed it as a likely meteor, since there were meteor showers and many bright

meteors during that time. Don't let that fact mislead you to the wrong conclusions, though, because there was a lot more going on than just some bright lights streaking across the sky. A little while later, my sister said that she had seen a huge glowing thing that looked like like a flying fire over the field to the west. She tried to get her cousin, Dawn, to come look at what she'd seen, but she was afraid and ducked away into my grandmother's house. Learning of this coincidence alerted me for two reasons. I didn't tell her what I had seen on the news while she was outside, and while she said it looked like fire, it sounded like something my grandpa said he had seen back in 1975, and some people thought he was crazy after that.

On August 19th of 1996, me and my cousin Dennis went out for a late-night walk. I didn't mention anything about the coincidental sighting my sister mentioned, but it was a bit in the back of my mind, so I was keeping an eye on stars and the horizon. It occurred to me that it was a bit silly because the chances of me actually seeing something as well was slim to none. As we came around the trees along the curving road back into the forest, farm yard, I noticed a bright white orb with a slight blue tint around it. It was about a quarter of the size of the moon, and it didn't move at first. I was stunned, trying to identify what it might actually be.

It started smoothly moving away towards a nearby town, and as it did this, I suddenly knew that I was not looking at something normal. Not normal at all. I pointed and shouted multiple times. Look at that! Look at that! My cousin was looking into the dark trees, acting spooked. I don't know if he thought that I was just fooling around or what he thought, so I yelled,

No, that way. Up there! What is that? Oh, crap, it's gone. It didn't flicker. It was a solid, stable color, and it changed directions quite suddenly as it passed over the nearby town of Waldek. and so I thought that that would be the peak of any excitement that I would see that summer. But I was wrong.

Well, wrong again. On August 20th, I went out looking to see if there was anything in the sky. During the day, nothing. During the night, nothing but a couple meteors and a few common satellites. On August 21st of 1996, around 11.30 p.m., my brother, my cousin Dennis, and his other friend decided to take a trip up to an old party site. It was an interesting place with a couple of abandoned spooky old houses, and lots of weird trees and fireflies and such.

I was hanging out with my cousin Brian and suggested that we go for a walk to where the others were and prank them for fun. My other motive, though, was that I wanted someone with me in case we did see something again. The chances of us actually seeing something yet again seemed incredibly slim. During the walk, I did mention it to him and mentioned how ironic and impossible it would be that we'd just happen to see one after talking about it. Well, as I was fixated on the eastern horizon where I saw the first one with the white, blue glow, my cousin started tugging hard on my jacket. I swung my head towards him, as he said in an uneasy voice,

what in the hell is that? And in the corner of my eye, I saw what looked like a fire. But as I turned my head to face it, I realized I was looking at something the size of a football stadium, with which was bright yellow in the middle and surrounded by an orange plasma, with red on the outer edge of it.

It looked like the orange haze was sticking to it magnetically, and it moved with it as it grated. gracefully slowly moved across the ground, staying at exactly the same height from the ground, even as it moved over the small hills. It looked like a completely stereotypical UFO. It was oval-shaped from the side, a bit like a football, and was totally silent. After a bit, it moved into an angled position, maybe about 45 degrees to the ground. It couldn't have been more than 50 feet from the ground.

I said, Let's get closer to it. He said, what if they have guns or something? To which I said, I don't think they would fly thousands of light years to waste their time shooting at us. I'm not sure if that's exactly what I said,

but it was something like that. Anyhow, I convinced him that we should run closer to it, and maybe we could even get a close encounter. So we dashed through the wheat field. However, as we were running, he reminded me that he has asthma. So I slowed down and began to flash the blue light on my watch at it. My cousin said, did you see that? Apparently it shined a blue-green light back at us.

But I didn't notice it because I was busy trying to take it off so I could hold it in my hand. As we tried to get closer, it just kept moving away from us, preventing us from actually getting any closer. It finally took off. It was so quick that I barely realized what had happened until it was gone. There was no sonic boom or anything, which, I reason, this really doesn't seem like something humankind could ever make. If it was human-made, well, that's still pretty crazy.

And trying to explain away one craft, still doesn't explain the other different looking ones that we had seen before that. But truly, I don't honestly believe it's possible that it was humans who made those things. So, I don't know exactly how to start this, but it has been an event that has stuck with me since I was a child. I'm 20 years old now. I don't remember exactly how old I was at the time, around 10, 12 years. old at the oldest. Anyways, I was having a sleepover with two of my friends at the time. Let's call them S and T. We were staying the night at S's house since they had a house unlike T and I who lived

in the same apartment complex. For some reason, our barely preteen brains thought it would be a great idea to go down to our elementary school and around 11 p.m. I really don't know why S's mom let us kids go down there without an adult, but it wasn't even a mile away, and I was a kid and thought that she was cool for letting us go. It was a typical Washington night, barely any stars to see from the light pollution, mushy grass from the rain never being soaked up all the way, and the dark hilled forest reminding at least me that anyone could be in the woods watching us. We made our way up to the school from the back parking lot, and through the field, and through the field next to the forest since it was a straight shot from the house.

In all honesty, when we first arrived and were messing around on the play set, I didn't sense anything wrong. When we started playing on the slide, I got a cold feeling in my gut. I looked around us, and I couldn't see anyone in the school windows, in the field, or approaching us. A couple of minutes go by and T and I get bored with the slide, but S stays. So T and I go to try and practice our tricks on the bars. Not like the monkey bars. We always called them gymnastic bars, but they were a long line of bars that peaked at about eight to ten feet at the tallest.

T wasn't as tall or as practiced as me, so she wanted to use the lowest bar to the far right at the edge of the playground. I helped her for a couple of minutes with her flips before I started spacing out, and staring at the edge of the playground. I call it an edge since it was about one and a half foot wooden border that kept all the cedar chips from spilling onto the basketball court. As I was staring, my entire body went cold before I could fully resolve what my eyes were seeing. I couldn't really see it, but my brain was trying to see it as a person that was hunched, sitting on the border, faced away from us. It was almost like a darker than black mask that resembled a person with a hoodie on.

There was a head shape, but not really a neck. As I stared, I kept getting more frightened because I was sure this was not a person. I couldn't see any texture to the clothes. I just couldn't truly see them. I don't even know how to explain it right, but it was like a void. It wasn't that dark out. yes, it was nighttime, but it wasn't like the total darkness of a closed closet. But this thing was just the absence of everything.

Like it was swallowing the light that would illuminate it. I finally snapped out of it and tried to get T's attention. I lightly smacked her arm a couple of times. T, stop, please. She was confused as she was facing me and couldn't see what had me paler than I already was. I didn't know what to say. and rapidly pointed over her shoulder. When she looked, I saw her stiffen.

I was almost relieved that she was wearing the look that I was. I guess I gathered a couple of brain cells at this point and told T to turn on the flashlight on their phone. Thankfully, she listened, but when she shined it on this thing, it didn't make a damn difference. It still looked like the same empty mass. I was already starting to panic when I realized

it really wasn't a trick of the light. But then, to my terror, this thing turned to look at me. It freaking looked at me, with no eyes, no face, just an impression. I could feel it looking at me. I didn't know what it was going to do, but I really didn't want to find out,

so I yanked T so hard away from this thing. If I was thinking, I would have apologized, but I just wanted to get away, from this thing and for us to be back home. T eventually got the message, so we started sprinting towards the slide, and I started yelling at S. We need to go. Get down. I'm not joking. Get off the freaking slide. We need to get home now. As I'm yelling at S, they didn't seem to hear the panic in my voice and pulled the little kid, but I don't want to go. I've had it at this point, and I start to reconsider my friend in the back of my mind.

But being the responsible one, but not the adult of the group, I grab S's ankle and start pulling them down the slide. It didn't take much since it was a losing battle for them. I don't know if they really understood what was happening at this point, since T started explaining that there was a man over there, probably a, quote, tweaker. I knew in my heart that it was not a person. I've dealt with the paranormal before, and I wasn't about to let this thing follow us. Eventually, I got a hold of T and S and started booking it out of there.

It wasn't the easiest with S having a death wish and wanted to go back to see it, and T having a medical condition in their legs that made it a lot harder to run fast with the limited mobility, with a sprinkle of asthma and no inhaler to top it off. I was going to drag them back by their collars if I had to. I was determined to let that thing just go back where it came from and leave us be. We made it back safe, maybe a little uneasy for the night, but we told S's mom. It really didn't spook her per se since she was a self-proclaimed witch and ex-goth that liked all things weird and supernatural.

She believed it, but was miffed that her own kid wasn't being safe, especially with her kid living in a haunted house herself. I know that sounds crazy, but at least three of their relatives died. in the house, and we had plenty of paranormal encounters in that house to at least respect the idea that we were not alone. In the end, we didn't experience that thing again, thank God. I've seen some things, but I really didn't want to deal with something that struck so much cardinal fear in me so quickly.

Everything about it just seemed wrong, like it didn't fit where it was. As I've gotten older, I've stopped. trying to rationalize it, more of just understood that not everything in this world is understood. And you just kind of got to roll with the punches. I awoke that morning expecting an uneventful day. My older brother was driving into town from college to spend a bit of quality time with me. No big plans. When he arrived, we grabbed a snack, caught up on family news, and generally,

decided that we would take advantage of a beautiful early October day and take a ride with no specific destination in mind. Little did we know what was to come. Kev drove recklessly fast, a common trait among 19-year-old college dudes. At 16, I was just happy to exhibit a bit of my wild side. I had always been your basic, good girl. Without much prompting, I usually towed the line. when it came to rules.

We were careening down Boston Road in the general direction of the Mass Pike, and who knows from there? Ah, the joys and ignorance of being young felt like a vitamin elixir. Windows open, my long

hair whipping in my face, laughing over corny jokes, and singing in brother-sister duets to whatever the radio spit out at us. Without explanation, Kev slowed down and gave me a grave look. I think we're meant to take the next right-hand turn, he said. This might be a great time to tell you that my brother had demonstrated multiple times in his life, that he had some indefinable ability to pick up on the paranormal.

Not one to be dissuaded. I knew that it would be fruitless to quiz him. So I shrugged and muttered. All righty then. As it turns out, the next right was a barely discernible narrow road, partially hidden by shrub overgrowth on both sides. It didn't look promising to me, and I offered as much. We'll know when we get there, Kev said enigmatically as he turned on to Silver Street.

We both grew quiet as we bumped our way on what seemed to be a once, long ago, paved and very narrow street, now worn down to puddles, potholes and patches of dirt. Where were we heading? Why had I never noticed this dumb little road in the hundreds of times I'd been on Boston Road? It all felt surreal, somehow. Conversations slipped to silence, and the air around us seemed to cool and grow still. I felt frightened in that vague way one does when the house creaks at night.

I swallowed the urge to say, let's just turn around, lest, my brother looked down on me. About two miles down Silver Street, the houses began to thin, and the trees framing the road rustled warnings that I knew I could not decipher. I hoped it was my imagination

playing games with me. Too many Twilight Zone episodes when I was young, I thought. Seemingly, out of nowhere, an approximately three high moss-covered stone wall appeared, and Kev instinctively slowed down. We're getting close, he said.

Close to what? I managed. Before he could respond, we reached a portion of the stone wall which formed an arch, about 10 feet high and 5 feet wide, tapering down again to another length of stone wall broken only by a driveway that led to a dilapidated, run down and clearly vacant house. I knew we were going to enter the driveway before Kev even began to turn the steering wheel. This house was calling to us in every way but words. I have no sixth sense, yet the hair on the back of my neck was tingling. Kev turned off the car and we both got out, silently approaching but was clearly a cement walkway to his side door of the house.

There was a single step landing there. On the landing, etched in the cement was this message. rest here a while for me in memory of my three children who died. Beneath the message were three sets of varying-sized children's footprints. Grief overcame me, a sense of indescribable loss. If they died, how did she manage to get the imprints? he murmured. She. Yes, we both felt it was the mother who left the message. How, and why?

Kev walked in front of me and turned the doorknob. He seemed as surprised as me that the door was unlocked. As if someone had called, come on in. We both entered as if we belonged there. Slowly we toured the kitchen and an adjoining summer kitchen, popular in older homes in the New England area. There were a few pots on the counter and some dusty cracked dishes in the sink. Dishes and pots and an empty old house.

It didn't make sense. We continued into the living room. Wallpaper was peeling back like bark off a decrepit tree. Magazines and old newspapers were scattered on the floor. The room was bare except for a single cherry wood three-shelf bookcase that stood like a roadblock at the base of the stairway leading to the second floor. That single piece of furniture was immaculate. No scratches or...

dust. Kev slid away with ease, and I began to run up the stairs. Careful, he shouted. I don't think it's safe. I was already standing in the middle of the first upstairs bedroom as I heard him slowly making his way up a much shakier sounding set of stairs, and then I'd imagined or allowed myself to notice. More torn wallpaper, dirty windows that cast a speckled bit of sunlight on worn wooden floors, nothing else. In the second bedroom there was a large chest of drawers.

It seemed incongruous that any furniture, the bookshelf downstairs and this dresser, were in the shell of a house at all. I turned to Kev to offer that thought, only to see him pushing at the side of the dresser,

struggling, trying to move it. Help me get it away from the wall, he insisted. together we pushed and tilted until finally we had moved it about two feet from the wall. We stood side by side transfixed by what we saw. Fully hidden behind the dresser was a... How to describe it. Not a closet nor a cubby.

It was a three by four foot area, clearly built into the house and then hidden by this chest of drawers. Kev leaned in and quickly stepped aside. to let me look. There were scratches on the floor. Faintly legible was the shaky printing of the word help. There were handprints on the wall. Children's handprints. What secrets to this household?

Children had been hidden in that space. No question about that, we agreed. We're out of here. My brother had whispered as he half slid down the stairs. I was right behind him as we raced. for the car. Kev was speeding in reverse while backing into the street. I felt my fingers claw for the dashboard.

If it took us ten minutes to get from my parents' house to there, it took less than five to get home. We were spooked. Nothing felt normal and nothing felt real. We were overwhelmed. My 14-year-old brother James was home, and Kevin and I tripped over our syllables spilling our experience. finishing one another sentences.

What the hell did we just see? he asked, uncharacteristically shaken. James, with the bravado of a 14-year-old, was typically unfazed by all of this, and got his kicks ragging on us for being afraid of our own shadows, chickens, and scared of ghosts. Come on, you morons, take me back there so I can see this freak fest. Any other day, I think Kev or I would have refused. Somehow, without discussing it, we both felt a need to face the Silver Street house again to verify our experience. If James wet his pants, then so much the better. More confident in our destination this time, we doubled back and turned onto Silver Street,

postulating about the dresser, the bookshelf, the eerie message and the footprints in cement. Almost there, Kev said to James, get ready to eat crow. Here we are, Kev said, as the stone wall came into view. The stone archway, the driveway, Kev turned in. There was no house. There was no sign of a house. There was the driveway, the walkway, the landing with the same ominous message. Rest here a while for me in memory of my three children who died.

No house meant no door. Whatever door Kev and I had entered, was slammed shut. Nothing to see but a slight mound with overgrown grass. No way, James Gaffod. You two numskulls got me again. I wish, Kev said, a tremor in his voice. I was beyond words, beyond belief,

stunned and faced with the unexplainable. Everything I've stated is true. We entered a house that didn't exist. We climbed stairs that were not there. We could not explain it. Then, and decades later, we still have no answers. Eventually, Kevin I did a deep dive into researching the property. We spoke with the neighbors on the street over the next three weekends,

but nobody recalled a house being present in their time. Though each volunteered, they assumed there must have been one sometime, given the driveway and such. We, unfortunately, shared with friends, each of whom were all too eager to dabble in the mystery. We held a makeshift seance, convinced a medium to come read the sight, summoned spirits to come forward. It is foolish and dangerous to open doors when we don't know what's on the other side. We got nothing but tossed from the property at midnight by police. Shivers of fright and more haunted by our experience.

Over the next year, I admit that we visited the site more often than we should have. I was obsessed. I was compelled to seek worldly answers to an otherworldly experience. My parents began to worry about my brother and me. We knew what they could not know. We had experienced it together. This had been no group psychosis or dual delusion. Knowing what it was not is not the same as understanding what it was.

An elderly man who was our town historian suggested that we go to the neighboring town and search the property records for Silver Street. Oh, how I wish I could wrap this up with a bow. We did research. Town records showed there had been a house on that property. Hence the stone wall, the archway, the driveway. The same town records indicated that the house had burned down

in a tragic fire in 1921. The woman of the house had perished, and was found charred on the floor of an upstairs bedroom. Documents indicated that it took several days to locate her three dead children. They were found huddled together in death, in the hole in the wall, behind the chest of drawers. This is just a scary thing that happened during the summer. I don't know exactly what this was, because I can't figure out. what happened. It was Labor Day weekend.

Almost time to head back to school, but my family and I were in the mood for one last hurrah. So my mom invited my aunt, uncle, and cousin down for the weekend, and my other cousin was also having an end-of-summer cookout, too, which meant everyone would have something to do while they were here. Everyone arrived Saturday, but the mood was slightly somber. My stepdad asked why, and my uncle told us that Princess Diana had just passed away. The adults talked about it for a little while. My family, although very patriotic and American, are huge fans of the royal family.

You'll see why this is relevant later. Meanwhile, my cousin headed outside with our favorite Barbie dolls and some other toys, and we started playing and laughing. It wasn't long before they called us in for dinner, then, after a few more minutes outside, in for the night. We grabbed everything and headed in, only to hear my uncle talking about the weird nightmare he'd had a few days ago. He said that he'd went to sleep and woke up to everyone telling him

that something bad was going to happen. Get out. Something bad was going to happen. He needed to get out. Then, everyone's faces started melting. At the same time, some ladies came in and took his daughter away, way and then he woke up. My aunt told him to cool it with those kind of stories in front of us kids, and my parents said, no, she'll be fine. After all, it was just a dream.

I was, but for some reason I kept thinking about it, and I still do now, especially after that night. It was now bedtime, and my parents gave us strict instructions that we were not to leave the bedroom unless we needed the bathroom, or if one of us was sick. She said the grown-ups were turning off all the lights and everybody was tired. None of your usual tricks, my mom had warned, mostly to my cousin. She could be pretty mischievous, and of course I would follow. You guessed it, we got up in the middle of the night. We had a few cookies and a juice box.

Next, we ventured out to the swing set for about an hour, and then I shut the party down, because I knew everyone would get mad if we'd. got caught. We quietly crept inside and by my orders back to bed. Here's where it gets scary. At breakfast the next morning, my cousin starts ratting us both out. She couldn't help bragging about our little adventure last night, but she starts adding things that didn't happen. Like after the swing set, we walked down to my best friend's house, to the gas station, up the road from us. Then two women in a black car come up to us and shout my name.

She said we tried to run, but they kept following, all while calling out to me. We finally stop, and they ask us what the hell we're doing out this late without any adults. She told them I was sleepwalking, and she was trying to find me, and they told her, my name is Bridgett, and the other lady with me is Alicia, and we've got to take you home. She said the car was a black suburban, and my uncle chokes out. out, that's the car I saw in my dreams. The room gets silent, because that was a detail he didn't tell a soul about, until my mom asks me if this is true.

I fess up to the cookies, the juice box, and the swing set, but I swore to her we never left the yard and went straight to bed as soon as we came in. My cousin cries out, no, remember? You wanted to show me that playground at that girl's house. I can prove it too, because you left your glow in the dark. dark star thingy outside. No, I didn't. It's still on the coffee table, I yell.

No, it's not, my aunt says. I'm looking right now and your starlight toy is nowhere to be found. It's too big to miss. I'm scared and angry by this point, but I'm not letting up. Because I know we did not leave the yard. And I would never leave my starglass outside. It was more of a decoration than a toy. My uncle and stepdad walked to the backyard, and sure enough, there's my star, lying on the concrete.

But that wasn't all. My pink jump rope is beside it, which I hadn't been able to find for months. I can't speak, and my cousin is blabbering on and on with more crap. And you know what else, Bridget said? She played us a Spice Girls song and told us there from England, and she asked us who else is from England. And, of course, we said the royal family, and then, you know what else is. she asked us about the beautiful princess that went to go be with Jesus, and we said that her name was Diana.

My jaw just drops, because it's almost like she believes this happened, but I know that it didn't. My mom suddenly grabs my arm, and I just know that I'm in serious trouble. I'm almost in tears, but she whispers in my ear, Baby, I believe you. I checked around the house about four this morning, because I had this bad feeling, and I saw your star on the coffee table. I also saw the boxes in the trash can, so I think someone's playing a big joke. Plus, I don't know a Bridget or Alicia, who drive a black suburban, so calm down.

You're not in trouble, just please don't ever go outside late at night again without one of us. I nod and walk back inside. Sadly, this doesn't end here. Because that afternoon, we see a black suburban drive up and down our block and stop by our mailbox. and twice my cousin points out Bridgett, a middle-aged white woman with jet black hair, and Alicia, a 20-something with curly brown hair and a nose ring.

They wave at us, and then toss a spice girl CD out the window and into our driveway. Then, after that day, we never see them again. To this day, my cousin still sticks to her story. She even remembers the song Bridget played, which was say you'll be there, and that the car smelled like cigarettes. But now, I believe her.

I believe something happened that night. I believe my cousin went somewhere with somebody or several somebodies, but who? Was something or someone that looked like me able to lure her away from the house? And who were Bridget and Alicia? Were the angels watching out for her or something much darker.

Did a bunch of us jump timelines and everything just got jumbled together in one big mega-glitch? And what about my uncle? Was this a warning of this weird mix-up? Too many questions and no answers. But at least we enjoyed the rest of the weekend. Especially that cookout. Before I met and moved in with my now girlfriend, I had quite the experience and bad luck with some previous homes.

The story in particular is from an apartment I lived in. Each building on the property had three floors with four apartments on each floor, as well as a laundry room on each floor. We had shared washers and dryers. My apartment was on the second floor and was at the end of the hallway. The complex itself wasn't bad. Unfortunately, it seemed my place was below the couple that seemed to only scream at each other to communicate, but it never seemed to escalate. Someone else liked to cook a lot, as it usually smelled heavenly coming home, but sometimes they used way too much onion.

But the real problem I had with this place, the problem that also caused me to move, was one of the people that lived on the same floor as me. but at the front of the building. I'll refer to him as Todd. When I moved in, I had my brother and a few friends help me with the big items. I'm a very small woman, so there was no way that I could carry in my couch, bed, and dresser by myself. There were a few times while we were moving back and forth

that Todd had stepped out of his door and would nod at us, or step out of the way when they carried something heavy. But otherwise, he didn't talk to any of us, at least not at those times. But on one of the last days of moving, it was just me, getting those last odds and ends that I could easily toss into my car. As I carried an open box of cleaner under my arm and a trash bag of random items with the other hand, Todd came out of his room and immediately went to grab the box from me, offering to help. I'm pretty bad with meeting new people or small talk, so I just smiled and said thanks. As we walked down the hall, I was silent, and he introduced himself.

After I unlocked my door, I set the bag down again and took the box from him. With the box in my hands again, I told him my name and thanked him, and he again tried to talk to me. Just moving in, huh? He said, obviously trying to come up with. something. He seemed about as bad as myself at starting conversations. I kind of chuckled and said yes, and he pointed out to his apartment and said if I needed help with moving anything else, or putting something together, to just let him know. I thanked him, and I shut the door as he walked away. The rest of that first week was uneventful, really. I unpacked and settled in,

and really just kept him myself as I organized my new place. The only other common factor in those days was seeing Todd when I left or came home. He would just be leaving or coming home too, sometimes taking out his garbage. He would always greet me and try to make small talk, but that was about it. But as time went on, seeing him like that became more and more frequent, and patterned even. and to be honest it was kind of disruptive. Between my job and trying to complete my degree, I didn't have a lot of free time.

Sometimes I had half an hour to get home from work, change, and then get to class. But even on those days that I appeared to be in a rush, Todd wanted to have these long conversations. I know I just sound like a jerk, but I really don't care. when someone is obviously rushing to their door and you see them leave just as fast, and it's always on the same day every week. Maybe you can put things together that they're busy, maybe. But not Todd. Todd would follow me to my door telling me about something that happened to him that day,

and I would wait for him to finish the story before I went into my apartment. What else was I supposed to do? Shut the door in his face? There was one time where he wanted to show me something in his apartment, and I told him that I didn't have time on Wednesdays. And he understood, so I guess being straightforward with him worked there. Todd stopped trying to have such long conversations on Wednesdays, and instead, resorted to always opening the door to the complex when I came home from work. He would always be by the door, for whatever reason, and would hold him. it opened for me. Then he would wish me a good evening. To be there every week was a bit odd,

in my opinion. Think about it. Your neighbor you barely knew would meet you every week at the entrance of the building. But at the time, I just maybe thought that was Todd and who he was. Maybe he was like the neighborhood watch, or, I guess, complex watch. Who knows? But then I began to notice how every time I had had free time, Todd was around. When I went out for my walks, he would be leaving too. When I went to the grocery store, he would be at his door asking if I wanted this or that, and claiming he bought too many bananas or loaves of bread and didn't want it to go to waste. I couldn't even sit at the Starbucks I liked to go to every Friday in peace,

because he would always end up there and would always act surprised to see me and try to talk to me. Like I said, I know that I sound like an a-hole here and admit that. I was okay with just having a conversation here and there. I could even understand that maybe he was just lonely and wanted some company. We were probably the closest in age compared to everyone else I had seen in our complex, so I did feel bad, but Todd was starting to become a normal part of my daily life. And to me, that felt... weird. I still barely knew him, and he sat by me as we drank coffee like we were long-time

friends. But once I started talking about it out loud to a good friend of mine, she brought up a good point. How was he able to do all this? How did he know almost the exact time I got home or would be leaving? I certainly didn't share my schedule with him. I did tell him that I was in school and working, not expecting it to be a big deal. I'm an executive assistant and secretary, so even if he tried to call and get my schedule, he would have either talked to me or a woman that I work alongside with, and she would have told me if someone called asking about me. My friend told me that I should keep tabs on him, too, to make sure he wasn't stalking me.

But at the time, I thought that that was pretty dramatic. Following me for company, I could see. Stalking me? There's no reason to stalk me. I wasn't a remarkable girl, but the thought stayed in the back of my mind nonetheless. But one Saturday night, my opinion shifted hard. I went out with some friends for dinner and a movie. Afterwards, we went for some drinks before I finally went home.

My friend offered to let me stay at her place and save her. myself the Uber, but I had homework to finish before Monday, so I declined, and I told her that I would call her the next day. I wish I would have just stayed. It was probably around 1 a.m. when I finally walked into the complex. As I passed Todd's apartment, I heard his door open. Tired and slightly intoxicated, I continued into my apartment ignoring his calls for me. Once in my apartment, I locked up and kicked off my shoes when Todd started knocking on the door.

I reluctantly answered, hoping he wouldn't stay long. He smiled and said, Hey, late night, huh? I nodded, hoping I was portraying that I was not in the mood to talk. I was just worried when I didn't hear you come home at your usual time.

My usual time? How does he know my usual time? I asked him about, it, and he mentioned how I usually got home from class on Saturdays in the afternoon, and typically didn't leave unless I went for a walk. What the hell? Had he been following me? My head was now spinning in my heart racing, but I still asked him,

How do you know what time I get home, Todd? Are you stalking me? He looked offended by my comment and immediately became defensive. He said he's not stalking me, but just a lot. looking out for me, since I was so young and small and lived alone. I told him I didn't need him to look out for me because I did just fine for myself. He threw his hands up and said, Well, I thought you would appreciate the gesture.

I again explained to him how he seems to be always around and it makes me uncomfortable. I told him that he's keeping more tabs on me than my own father. He again didn't seem to like that response. I could see his temple's flare as he clenched his jaw. Knowing nothing good was to come from this, I told him that it would be best to leave me alone and went to try and close the door when he stopped it. He smacked it with his hands and then started shouting

about how I should be thanking him for what he does. He went on and on about how stalking is when someone follows somebody around, but all he did was watch where I went. after berating me with this nonsensical speech he pointed his finger at me and said In fact, I think you owe me for all that I do for you And tried to walk into my apartment I screamed at him to leave me alone and get out

But he continued trying to fight me at the door Then the alcohol, stress and fear Swirled in my head and stomach And I threw up right on Todd. I guess it was a solution because he jumped backwards, called me nasty, and walked off. I immediately locked my door and ran to my phone to call the cops. While on the phone, I heard someone knocking at my door.

I looked through the viewer and saw that it was the middle-aged woman that lived in the apartment across from me. I cracked the door open and she said that she heard him shouting and had called the cops, which made sense. because they were already walking in when she knocked too. I explained what happened to the cops, and they went to his apartment, but he didn't answer. They knocked, they banged on the door, but he never answered it. Ultimately, I did press charges, and the next day I spoke to the office management to ask about changing buildings. I was upset. I had just moved into this place. I couldn't afford to go through more app fees and deposits, so...

That was my only option. Thankfully, they took it very seriously, and they were able to move me pretty quickly. I stayed at my friend's house until I got to the new apartment, and always had someone with me when I was moving. Surprisingly, I didn't see Todd once in the process. Not that I'm complaining, though. I'm just thankful that nothing worse happened that night. No matter how embarrassing it might have been, I think it certainly helped. Oh, and I'm very grateful for that good neighbor that did call the cops and checked on me.

I'm not even upset that she didn't come over sooner. She was older than me, but she was also just as small and had two kids there, so I get it. And as for Todd, I just hope that we never meet again. One of my favorite things to do as a kid was go to the carnival or the local festivals in our area. The only thing I didn't like about them was when we had to leave. I loved the rides, the games, even if I rarely won. I loved the mazes and the fun houses they had, all of it. I have a lot of great memories from them, but this one that I'd like to tell you about, it was one of my less favorable memories. I believe I was around eight or nine at the time.

I felt that I was very independent for my age, even if my parents didn't allow it. They wouldn't let me just wander off, but that didn't mean that I never tried. I wasn't an only child, so I would often try to get their permission for a certain rider game, and then just run off to wait in line. So the trip this year was no different to me. I would ask for money for what I wanted to do and take off. my parents following close behind me and telling me to come back and wait with them

every year I would try my hand at the bottle game I would fail because it's not like I was very strong but I still enjoyed it it was like a goal for me every year to try and beat that game and win one of those giant stuffed animals we'd probably been there for a good hour or so when we found ourselves in the Halloween part of the grounds They had some games, a few spooky rides, as well as a children's haunted house.

I didn't scare easily, so I wanted to check it out too. Once again, I ran to the line to wait, and my mother slowly caught up with me. It was just going to be the two of us going in, and we got in immediately, and it was pitch dark in there. They had some eerie background music playing, and from ahead, I could hear. people screaming. One part had these flaps you had to walk through that was also a corn maze. It was hard enough with it being dark, but the flaps kind of made you disoriented, and you could easily get turned around, which is what seemed to happen.

I was walking alongside my mother until I hit a dead end and backed into her. She then grabbed my hand and we continued on walking through the maze. Once through, I let go of her hand again and continued towards the exit, where she once again grabbed my hand. I obliged, as we were leaving the haunted house anyways. But as we exited, I looked up and realized that the hand I was holding was not my mom's, but was actually a different woman's. I let go and she laughed saying that my mom had asked her to keep an eye on me. I'm sure I had a skeptical look on my face, but she knelt down and assured me that she was a very good friend with Rhonda, my mom's name.

To me, the fact that she knew my mom's name immediately assured me that this was legit. There was no way that it could have been a lie knowing that. I asked her for her name, and she said it was Charlotte and that she used to go to school with my mom. Again, everything seemed to check out in my little mind, so I went with it. I asked where she was now, and Charlotte said that she may still be in the house, but that we could catch up with her after we were finished. Then, she asked me if I wanted to play some more games. It was seeming like I was going to have exclusivity to Charlotte,

and that I would get to play all the games I wanted to without the delays. That was something that I was very quickly on board for. She grabbed my hand and we walked off to our next destination. She actually let me play a lot of games, but some of the rides she wouldn't let me go on. After we explored for a while, she then asked me if I wanted something to eat, and we headed to all the various food booths.

We always had dinner before we went to the carnivals, so I wasn't very hungry. but I didn't dare say no to the funnel cake that she offered. As we sat and ate, she pulled out her phone and said that it was my mom calling. She started talking and told her about all we had done so far, and then it appeared that she was asked a question. She looked at me and asked, Your mom wants to know if you just want to stay with me for the night,

and she can come pick you up in the morning? I remember asking if I can, and she laughed saying yes. and then told my mom that she would be seeing us tomorrow. After she was off the phone, she explained how she had a daughter just like me, but that she was much older now. She said she still had her room set up with all of the toys and kids' clothes, though, so I was welcome to stay in her room. I was so excited at this point.

I got to play games, go on rides, and have desserts all night. Then I was going to be able to stay at Charlottes, and have even more fun. We tossed our trash, and she asked if I was ready to go. I was able to do a lot of what I wanted and being more than satisfied. I agreed. She gently grabbed my hand like she had been, and we started walking towards the back of the carnival.

There was a parking lot in the back, too, but my family had parked in the front. As we got closer to the exit, I saw a man sitting on a nearby bench, hunched over, looking at his hands. He must have heard us approaching because he looked up at us and he looked angry. As soon as he made eye contact, Charlotte let go of my hand. We got close to the exit and she started rifling around with her purse.

The man got up and walked over to us, said something to Charlotte about taking too long. At that point she no longer appeared to be the same woman. Her voice dropped and wasn't the higher-pitched sweet, voice that she used with me. It was sharp and deep. She said something like, back off to him, and I watched as she pulled out cigarettes and lit one, with her hands now shaking.

This guy put his hand on my shoulder to push me forward, but I didn't budge, now becoming a bit scared. I asked who the guy was, and he said, none of your business, let's go. I did my best to stand in place, when Charlotte approached me and tried to grab my hand and pull me along too. She wasn't the soft and kind woman that first approached me and it confused and scared me.

She said that we needed to go and I just thought back to those lessons we learned in school about strangers and how you should have a password with the loud people. The problem with this was that my family never used the password or code method. I thought it sounded really cool, but we never did it. or seemed interested in it. So I did the next best thing that I could think of. Charlotte had been calling me Katie, which was my nickname that only friends and family used.

So I asked her what my name was. She tried to blow it off by saying, We don't have time for this, Katie. It's getting late. But I kept yelling at her to tell me my name. The man started to say something, but she told him to go get in the car. As he walked away, she knelt down and said that

She was sorry, but she was just tired, and said matter-of-factly that my name was Catherine. But it was the wrong answer. My name was actually Katrina, and a lot of people assume it's Catherine based on my nickname. I knew at this point that this person was lying. I started screaming that I wanted to go back, and she kept arguing that I already agreed to go with her. Like it was some kind of binding contract. She grabbed my arm and started pulling me as a car pulled up. beside her. I managed to step on her foot. She was wearing open-toed sandals and she screamed at me.

She let go of my arm and I backed up ready to run, but I stopped. To this day, I don't know why I stopped. Part of me was scared that I just heard an adult and that I was going to be in trouble, but I knew I needed to get away from her. I started walking backwards, back towards the carnival, when I saw a couple entering with two kids. It was like they knew the minute that we made eye contact. The woman approached me and I immediately grabbed her hand and started crying. I could tell that she was taken aback, but then she asked me if I was okay. I looked back at the woman called Charlotte and she was already getting in the car.

The woman stood by me as we watched them take off, tires squealing on the way out. The woman asked me if I knew who that person was, and I said that I didn't know. I thought she was my mom's friend, but I couldn't remember ever meeting her before. She asked me if my parents were here, and I told her that I thought so, or that I hoped they hadn't left without me. I was still young. I feared that maybe Charlotte was just telling the truth, and she was a friend, but maybe she was just mean. luckily the woman asked to pick me up and for some reason I accepted

she at least seemed more trusting than Charlotte and I guess since she was here with another kid it felt right as we walked in she assured me that she would help me find my parents and she told her husband that she would meet up with them afterwards she took me to the booth where you could buy game and ride tickets in advance instead of at each one and she told them that she found a loss kid and that they needed to call the police. She then bought me a bottle of water and we waited on a nearby bench.

She talked to me like Charlotte did, which sometimes upset me, thinking I was just going to go through it all a second time, but at the same time she seemed different. She talked about her son, too, said that he was close to my age. As we talked, a few people approached us and asked questions about my parents. and then finally after some time I heard someone yell my name. I looked over and saw my parents approaching with my two siblings. I ran over to my mom and I didn't want to let her go. She held on to me but scolded me at the same time for running off after the haunted house.

I had to explain to her how someone grabbed my hand in there and how I thought it was her. Then I explained Charlotte to her and she confirmed that she didn't know anyone named Charlotte. They talked to the woman that stayed with me and thanked her, and then we had to give the police a statement, since it was an attempted kidnapping. By the time it was all said and done, the woman had left, and my siblings and I were falling asleep on the bench while the adults finished up. The next morning, my parents hadn't even longer talk with me about strangers, and finally

we agreed on a password. This way, if it ever happened again, I could use it, and I would know. Thankfully, I never had to use it. But I learned a very, very valuable lesson. Charlotte, or whoever she was, did a great job at making it all seem real. She even made sure she knew my nickname so she could talk to me. So, if something seems off, no matter your age or how much someone's someone's story checks out, go with your gut.

It's trying to tell you something for a reason. Hi, Raven. I hope that you share my story. Everyone thinks it was just a dream, but I was awake at the time. My parents were renting an old house from the 50s. I had my first room upstairs next to my parents. Unfortunately, I moved later to the basement, which was also an active place, of course. I'm 19 years old in my room, on my airbed reading R. L. Steinbook, called The Room.

I even remember the cover's picture. It was about a ghost trapped in an upstairs attic room, which was sealed shut tight. The spirit wanted out of the room and would act friendly to the main character, in the hopes of coaxing them to open the sealed door. Eventually, the ghost in the story got her way and was released. The ghost ended up evil and tried to kill the main character in the book. I finished the book that night. I looked at the clock, and it was three in the morning.

Yikes, I'd best get to sleep. My parents hated it when I would stay up super late and would hassle me, so I put my head down instantly. I was still awake and feeling like I was going to fall asleep soon, but my skin tingled, and the hair on the back of my neck went straight up. and I shot up right from my airbed. Something wasn't right. My vision was fuzzy from it being dark in my room,

but I saw distinctively a swirling black smoke enter my room from the ajar door. It was seconds of seeing it, and I put my head down again on my pillow trying to pretend I was asleep. I did that a lot during my childhood years. I have many stories, but this one was the worst yet. This was different, and I knew it instantly.

I never felt such a presence of pure evil before, and it's the most terrifying thing I ever felt. It was ancient. I can't describe it with words. The swirling smoke was the darkest and blackest thing I have ever seen. It reminded me of something as black and dark from the black sky, at night, but blacker still. The smoke was something.

truly evil. When people speak about evil, it's superficial. However, this thing was a real source of evil. The fear was pure, and the ice cold feeling went up and down my spine.

I never felt such powerful evil and terror. This thing I knew was here because I allowed it somehow. Maybe it was the book that I had finished reading. I opened a portal of something that shouldn't exist in this world, This thing swirled around me entirely while I laid on my airbed.

Instantly, I couldn't breathe. My breath was no more. I could not breathe, but I dared not move. I'm not kidding when I said I felt pure evil and terror. This thing was evil. It exists. So I wouldn't move. I was terrified beyond comprehension.

However, it was trying to be. to kill me. I felt the airbed shift from my weight, and I felt myself slowly raising from my airbed. I was levitating longitude-slash-horisontal. I remember feeling frozen in place. I only had my thoughts. I couldn't fight back with movement. I could not speak or make any sound to alarm my parents. I called in my thoughts to my mother. Mom, but nothing. Couldn't breathe. couldn't move, an evil surrounded me as thick as oil. Then I knew who to call next. It's a power that is purely good, true light and pure light. I put all my love and trust into the universe and screamed in my head, God. I felt a protective shield wash over me, and I felt myself being

slowly lowered back onto my airbed. It squeaked and shifted from my weight, and I could breathe again. It was gone. The evil had left. I used to work at a gas station in the middle of my town, and it's not relevance to the story, but I hated that job so much. It didn't pay worth a damn. The hours sucked. Management was awful, and people were beyond disrespectful to you when they were there. But hey, that's retail, right? It was even worse two years ago. Because, around August, we were under a really bad heatwave and getting pulted with 100-plus degree weather. On top of that, the AC at the station was struggling and would just sometimes not work. The hotter the day, the more likely it would stop working, and the station would get swelteringly hot.

Thankfully, on those days, people wouldn't really come in, so I could just sit there behind the counter with a fan blowing on me, or stand in one of the soda coolers. I would have to keep an eye out for customers when I did that, but I really didn't care. It made it at least somewhat bearable. During this one afternoon, I was behind the counter, and I think I was pulling some product from a box to stock it when I saw someone come in. I looked up to see an old man walk around.

He had a full beard, was bald, and just kind of reminded me of a stereotypical old man. I was a bit confused, though, since he was wearing a windbreaker jacket, and with how hot it was he had to be dying in that thing. One point of note, I saw him out of the corner of my eyes, so I didn't technically see him walk in the store, but I saw him inside the store, which was a bit weird because I didn't recall the door chime going off. I said, Hey, let me know if you need any help with anything. just trying to be nice and then got back to my work. I looked up every once in a while to see if this guy needed help or if he was ready to check out. Every time I looked up, he was in a different spot in the store, but each time he would be looking over at me.

Of course, this puts me in an awkward headspace. Either he's just a nice dude that wants to talk to me, or he's going to be a creepy old man. I was hoping he was just lonely and wanted to talk, some old people tend to be, because dealing with creepy old men was always a pain in the backside. Then I heard him shout out. It's a hot day out today, huh?

I didn't look up. I could tell he wasn't at the counter, and I just said, yeah, it makes it even worse when the AC doesn't work. And he responds, yeah, I can imagine. He goes back to silence, just looking around the station,

and I continue pulling stuff out of a box. Then I hear him speak to me again. Out of nowhere, I hear this guy say, I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me, Alice. I immediately stopped and looked up when I heard him say this, mostly because I didn't know how he knew my name. My name is, Alice, but I didn't wear a name tag, and I never told customers my name.

I had never seen this guy before, so him saying he was sorry that he wasn't there. when I needed him was beyond confusing. So I looked up to ask him what he meant and who the hell he was, but much to my surprise, he wasn't there. He wasn't just not at the counter, he was completely gone from the store. The door hadn't opened, the chime didn't go off. There was no way he could have hidden behind a shelf,

and he couldn't have gone into the back without me seeing him, and there was nowhere else for him to really go. I just stared out into the end of the end. empty station waiting for him to jump out of somewhere and say, Gotcha! Or something like that. But that never happened. Eventually my trance was broken by the door chime going off,

and my co-worker coming in for his shift, complaining loudly about how hot it was in there. I asked if he saw an old man in the parking lot, and he said no, that it was dead out there. I just kind of nodded and said, Okay, and decided that I had just encountered some kind of weird spirit that knew who I was, and moved on with my afternoon. It was truly bizarre, and I have no idea what that whole event was, what he wanted, why he said what he said,

but it was what it was. I don't work there anymore, and I never had another experience like that, and by the time I quit, the AC still wasn't working right. I had worked in a very large downtown hospital in the lab as a phlebotomist for seven years. While still there, I had a patient who was in the psychiatric unit. I was always very good with them and would be successful, because I was good at keeping them calm, obtaining my specimens, and doing it quickly. The staff up there really liked this, so they sometimes requested me.

Two memorable times in particular still grabbed me. The one day I went to draw blood from a guy of about 35. He had a vibe going on that was different than any of the other patients. And in a minute's time, I had to win his confidence, and the other minutes to obtain the specimen, label, date time, and initial it. We had loads of work, and that unit was so time-consuming because you first waited for someone to unlock the glass doors,

and then you would have to wait longer to be let out again, and communicate through an intercom. They brought the patient to me, and he sat down, and then said to me, I have the devil in me. I looked into his face, looking up from my tray that we had to be so careful that they wouldn't take anything from,

and his eyes were, well, like looking into the pits of hell. I said, I'm sure you do. Suddenly, three voices came out of this, man at once as he beamed and smiled saying, Thank you. Now, no one had been successful with him, likely because they must have said he didn't. But when I saw those eyes and heard those three voices,

I came to a conclusion. At church Bible readings, I would hear of Jesus healing people under the oppression of the demons. I figured it was their mental illnesses, actually. But no, there is mental illness all right. And then there is a person in the grip of the devil or demons. Definitely. Years later, I experienced a similar incident with someone else at another time.

The other incident that was so scary actually ended my career as a phlebotomist. I was called to the adult unit to a young lady, maybe 20 years old, who was a very pretty girl with a smooth, black, flawless complexion. She was about 300 pounds. and she was very tall. You have to palpate or feel for a vein, and if someone is overweight in the bend of the arm, the anti-cubital space,

then you must look to see any visible surface veins. I couldn't feel anything as she laid on the floor with both arms and huge legs wildly flailing hard against a thin carpet on concrete. Three strong male orderlies were on each arm, and two females were in the center of her body, while two other men held her legs. It was not nearly enough, as I warned.

I need to tell you, she bites and she has AIDS. This was at the height of the epidemic in the 90s. One wrong move could have been infection. I felt what a Matador must feel. I faced the dread as I saw those orderlies failing to hold her, her arms and legs moving unrestricted up and down easily as her head thrashed left and right, quickly attempting to bite anyone that her teeth could sink into,

and the room to boot had to be nearly dark because this calms the psychiatric patients. You may wonder, why couldn't they sedate her? And it was because of her large size. The amount of medicine was doing nothing, and so they needed to get a level of medicine in her bloodstream, so they had to get a blood sample. I prayed at that moment that I could get it for her. me and the team, safely in my mind.

I asked God if I could, and I never wanted to do that work again. I got the needle in, and the blood filled the vacuum tube, and I slipped the tourniquet off, and super carefully removed the needle, and then bandaged her arm. I stood up off the floor and got circulation again and backed away. I was thankful that it was over safely. The very next day they announced the hospital was going to participate. participate in a new trial theory, where the nurses would do everything for their own patients. They have precious little training in this area.

I was given the option of taking severance pay, or taking a lower paid heavy work job. I was in college part-time, but I worked full-time, so I took the opportunity to just go to school full-time, and then work only part-time. I would get a year of severance pay and chose that option. I never had to draw blood again after that particular traumatic patient. It was an immediate and unusual answer to my prayers. After listening to some older stories, I convinced myself that you might be interested in my story from a past vacation that I took. My best friend and I had a project that we had to do about Southeast Asia, and after looking at it so closely,

we saw some very beautiful and intriguing places that we wanted to experience firsthand. We worked very hard on an extra assignment where we could win a grant that basically paid for a trip there, and luckily we won. It was supposed to be as a student experience, so we would be documenting what we did, what we learned there, and even had a few specific places we were required to go to. However, there were also places that we wanted to visit as well, so we saved up money and our parents helped us pay the difference. We've traveled to Canada and Ireland before, but this was going to be completely new to us. We were planning on being there for two weeks, and it was going to be the most memorable trip we've ever taken.

That part was still true, but for a completely different reason. We started our trip in Thailand, and it was incredible. We went to a temple that was beautiful inside and out, and we learned about the Thai royal family. We then visited a temple and took a ferry ride, which was relaxing. That enticed us to later on take a riverboat tour too. One of the last things we did in Thailand was visit a large market. There seemed to be some kind of festival going on.

I don't remember what it was, but there were a lot of items being sold promoting it. As we browsed, we tried some different foods that were all fantastic, but we wanted to take this opportunity to bring back some keepsakes and souvenirs. We found some of your normal little knick-knacks, but there was one stall in particular that I really liked. There was a little old woman and a very young girl, maybe a granddaughter, sitting behind the booth.

The older lady was making something out of what looked like beads and some kind of string. I assumed jewelry because they already had a beautiful display laid out. There were placards and pieces of paper strewn about written in tie, explaining what some of the pieces were, but I also knew very, very little tie. I greeted them, and the young girl spoke English and would translate for the older woman. At first, the woman didn't pay us any attention until she saw me picking up her pieces. She stood up and took my hand in hers and said something to the girl. The girl said, she says you're beautiful, and you both look full of life.

I smiled and told her that she looked just as spry and beautiful, which seemed to really perk up the older lady. She told the girl that the pieces were marked down for me and was suggesting different. pieces for both of us, saying they complimented our complexion and eye colors. After I picked out a few pieces, I paid full price, feeling it was deserving, especially since these pieces were obviously handmade. After paying, I thanked them once more, and the woman shouted something to the young girl, and she nodded to me, and pointed further down the path. She said not to buy any figurines that claim to be ceramic, they're just fake and bring nothing but bad luck.

I smiled and thanked her for the warning and walked away with my gifts. I knew about scams enough. No matter where you went, if you stood out as a tourist, you could typically find at least one person that may try to scam you out of something. I assumed that's what she was referring to. We continued down into the market browsing as we went. I got stopped at one stall while my friend was at another nearby, always remaining within view.

Once I finished up, I met up with my friend who had just bought a small figurine. It was of an elephant that looked like its trunk was holding up a small tray, maybe to use like a holder of some sort. But what I noticed was that it looked to be ceramic. I asked her about it, and she shrugged saying she didn't know what it was made of,

but she was obsessed with elephants, so she wanted it. I saw the two people at the stall talking to each other, and they would look back at us and smile. I asked her how much she paid for it, and that's when I knew. In my opinion, at least, she had been majorly ripped off. She paid close to $50 for it, but she wasn't bothered by it. I just told her that it was her money and told her what the old lady had told me previously. Once we were finished and worn out from the walking, we left and headed back to our hostel for the evening.

The plan was to move on to Cambodia the following day, so we wanted to make sure everything was packed up and that we were well rested. But then, that night, I had trouble sleeping. I kept getting this feeling like we were being watched. I would roll over or sit up and look around the room, but there was clearly no one else around. I peeked behind the curtains, no one there.

The door was locked and not open and no one was in the bathroom, closet, or under the beds. I just chalked it up to me just being anxious. The next day we headed out with no issues and were looking forward to more fun and adventure. But then, things seemed to just go downhill. First, the place that we planned on staying had no record. of our reservation. It made no sense. We had been charged for part of it, but I had no proof.

I had a cell phone, but this was way before smartphones, so I didn't have any way of confirming the reservation. And no, I didn't print off proof, unfortunately. It didn't even cross my mind to need to do it. I did after this trip, that's for sure. Now, it wouldn't be so bad if we could just move on and pay for a room, but they said they had no vacancy either. So then we had to leave

and try to find a new place. We went to a few places before we finally did find a place. It was just about our last resort. It was far from the place we had reserved. The door locked from the inside only and just had a sign on the door to say it was vacant or occupied.

Relying on the honor system, I guess, that no one would go in the room they didn't pay for. We did our best keep our valuables hidden just in case, and took with us some things that we could. You don't want to carry a lot of stuff with you when you're walking or hiking because you never know what you might get into. Regardless, we did our best to be optimistic. We didn't want this to ruin our time, so after putting our items away, we headed out to explore.

Big mistake. While out at the temple, I tripped over a tree root and severely hurt my ankle. By the time we got back to the room, my ankle was swollen, so we ended up spending the rest of the day in there. We did have a great dinner at the hostel we stayed at, though, which was nice. After a day of keeping my ankle up and iced, it seemed to go back to normal, so it didn't seem like I broke anything. But the next day, as we explored the area, a seemingly clear day was then hit with a hellacious

storm. We had not brought an umbrella or rain coat of any sort as we weren't expecting any rain. We were soaked, and there was damn near flooding in some areas, so a lot of places were closing to keep the water out. So once again, we had to turn back to our room. But when we got to our room, we immediately saw something was wrong. The door was slightly open, and when we entered some of the drawers and our bags were opened. My heart sank.

We started looking through everything to assess the damage. The little backup cash we had had been stolen, along with my friend's passport. It was risky taking our passports with us, too, but I at least felt a little safer with it on me rather than leaving it in the room. I guess in that case I was right. We still had some cash on our persons and had the ability to pull out more cash if needed, but that was supposed to be as a backup in case. something happened.

Unfortunately, as we explained to the owner of the hostel as much as we could, they had no proof and no cameras to review. We were just stuck there, with less cash than when we started with, and my friend without her passport. That was not something we could easily just go and get a replacement for. We had to go to the local police to report the theft, and they provided us with information on how to contact the embassy. Thankfully, they were able to help us out with getting a temporary travel document

because she at least had her driver's license and a student ID on her. However, it was going to take a few days for them to complete it. So, in the meantime, we tried to make the most of our time. We found another place to stay that at least had a locking room, so we felt a bit safer there. But the bad luck seemed to keep piling on. We went on another boat tour, but we were being watched by these three men the entire time. We were used to being stared at and could deal with it.

However, seeing others avoid us when they spotted the men really put me on edge. I told my friend that we needed to leave, and she agreed. We ended up leaving the boat tour when it made a stop and got a ride back to a familiar and safe area. We tried to enjoy a meal and try some local favorites. that were suggested to us, but after eating, we tried to do some shopping. And then my friends started feeling ill. She got bad enough that I had to help her walk back to our room where she became really sick. She was vomiting and fevering and I was terrified.

Was it just a bug or could it be something worse? I gave her something to settle her stomach and kept her hydrated until she slept. I just sat inside and read, taking care of her. of her. Thankfully, she was fine the next day, so maybe it was something she ate. We weren't really sure. But that next morning, while she was feeling better, she was on the verge of crying. She was talking about how everything just seemed to go downhill and she didn't feel safe. I tried calming her and explained that it was just a bout of bad luck and bad timing is all, and encouraged her that, once we got her pass, we had to be.

could leap and hopefully start anew in the next country that we visited. Thankfully, we got her past the next day and headed to our next location. Our reservation was still there and we got our room that was quite nice and much needed. We spent the day at their spa, really feeling optimistic when I started breaking out in hives. That time, I did have to go to a hospital because it was starting to become painful. Turns out, I was having an allergic reaction to a soap that they used. I won't continue with all of our woes, but I'll just let you know that they did not stop there. We had multiple other things that happened to us, including being pickpocketed, and by then we were both feeling homesick.

That's when it finally clicked for us. My friend once again mentioned bad luck, and I joked about her buying that stupid elephant, and reminded her of what the lady had said. We looked at each other with that, you think of what I'm thinking, type of look, and we silently agreed on what needed to happen. We were skeptical, but being in a completely unfamiliar country and culture,

we took her elephant to the small park-like area behind our hotel, sat it down on a pillar, thanked it for its company, and we left it there. We felt silly, as we walked back to the hotel, but at the same time I felt relieved. Even if it was just our mindset, I was feeling better about it. I'm not kidding when I say this, but from then on, things went back to normal.

Better than normal. No more health scares for either of us. We went somewhere to eat and someone invited us to a festival where we won some sort of contest they had. The prize was about $40. The days were clear and we had a lot of fun. fun. And get this. As we were leaving our hotel, we had to get a ride to the airport and then walked part of the way. As we walked, my friend spotted a small pink bag partially covered by dirt. When she went to inspect it, it was her makeup bag that had her cash and passport in it.

Well, the cash was still gone, but her passport was still tucked into its pouch. How was it possible that we would find that bag that had been stolen in a completely different country. We got on the flight, feeling rejuvenated, and like everything was backed as it was. And we had no idea why. The only thing we kept coming up with was that it had to have had something to do with that little elephant. Because nothing else makes sense. But if anyone has any suggestions or has heard of anything similar, I would love to hear about it. This way, I know what to avoid when we go back there on our planned trip in 26.

When I was a lot younger, my family decided to take a vacation to North Carolina. They always tried to plan some kind of vacation out of state once a year during the summer, and this year it was to the beach and a national park. The theme was apparently nature, and to be more educational. My parents were always big on learning outside of school too, but they always made it fun, which I appreciated. Anyways, there were five of us total. My mom and dad, my younger sister, myself, the middle child, and my older brother. With five of us, they found it easier to get a hotel rather than camping, so that's where we stayed.

It was a nice hotel, though. It had free breakfast where, sometimes. my older brother and I were allowed to walk down there together while they finished getting ready. Where other days, we just waited with them, depending on how long my brother wanted to sleep. The hotel also offered a few free snack vouchers a day, which was great. We were allowed to go and exchange them for something of our choice once daily. Being a young adult now, I can tell the hotel was very family-friendly. It had an indoor pool with a small,

small one to the side for kids. The vouchers and free breakfast, of course, helped reduce the cost of meals and food you may have to pack too, so I can see why my parents chose it. What I didn't understand was why people went there and would get upset about seeing kids running around. I don't expect everyone to be patient or accepting of kids. I had siblings and now a couple nieces and nephews, but I don't want any kids myself. However, I can't imagine being angry at just seeing a kid around me, especially in public. However, there seemed to be one guy probably about middle-aged, at the hotel where, no matter where he was or what he was doing, he seemed to have a permanent scowl on his face.

I remembered him because he almost looked scary. I saw him in the pool, in the breakfast area, and even at the ice machine. He would look around, especially at me and just look annoyed. I just did my best to avoid him. My first personal interaction that I'd had with him was in the pool. On this day, we got hit with a hellacious thunderstorm, so we stayed indoors. But we still wanted to have some fun, so the pool it was. He was in the hot tub alone when my family walked in.

There were already a lot of people, adults and kids, in the swimming pool. and they were all playing, laughing, and screaming. My brother asked about going to the hot tub, which is when I looked over at it and noticed him there. My parents told my brother no, most likely because they saw the man in it and told him maybe he could later. So, we all got in the pool and enjoyed ourselves.

The hot tub was closer to the entrance of the pool, so the guy was pretty close. After some time, I approached my mom who was sitting near the entrance, playing with my little sister, and I was telling her about something. I don't remember what happened, but something caused me to laugh. As I was laughing, the man in the hot tub got up, said something that I couldn't make out, and then left. But he looked angry.

I remember asking my mom if he was okay, and she looked over at him and just shrugged, saying something about just being in a bad mood or something. The rest of the time in the pool went fine. But the worst of it was the next morning when we went to have breakfast. My brother wanted to sleep in some, so I had to wait for my parents to get ready so we could all walk down together. Once we got down there, I once again noticed the man from the pool sitting at the table in the back, reading a newspaper and drinking coffee. He didn't even have a plate in front of him.

There were two other families sitting down there at the time. One of them had four kids with them, all close to our ages, and the other couple had a kid probably close to my age, and then an infant. The baby was starting to cry, as they comforted them, and one of the kids from the other families was starting to whine about something else. We picked out a table, and my mom sat with my little sister, while my dad took me and my brother up to the buffet to get our breakfast, When we returned, my mom went to get her and my sister's plate.

I looked around the room as I do while I eat, and I noticed the man again. He was still sitting at the table with no food, but he had laid his newspaper down and was just staring at the family's table in anger. I looked away and tried not to think about it because he was pretty scary looking to my young self. As my family talked about our plans for the day, the man was a forgotten memory for the time being, and I asked to get seconds. My parents said that I could as they could see the buffet line from where we sat, so I got up to get more. As I walked up, I noticed the angry man was also approaching,

so I slowed my pace some to let him go ahead. However, he went past me, so I assumed he wasn't going to the food, so I went forward. But then right as I walked toward the first container, The man shoved past me, nearly knocking into me, slammed open the container lid, used his hands to crab a biscuit, and then slammed it closed. I was a kid, and I at least knew better than to use my hands for the food. You were supposed to use the tongs to get the food. I was also standing in front of the same container.

It was pretty obvious that I was trying to use it, so he could have left it open, but he was rude and he shuddered on me. But, again, I was a kid. And I certainly wasn't going to say anything, so I slowly opened the lid again and got my food. The man was now towards the other end getting more coffee. I finished making my plate when I heard my brother call my name. He asked me to grab him a biscuit too,

so I went back to grab another one. As I turned around to head back to the table, the man once again cut me off, but this time he was too close, causing us to collide, and spilling my biscuits and gravy all over both of us. A majority of it got on his shirt and pants, but some of it got on my hand and arm and burned me a little. The entrance wasn't that big.

I was in the center, sure, but I was also trying to be very careful while carrying my plate. The man was not close enough to the entrance. He was still making his coffee and getting whatever, else he had, so he should have waited for me to pass. However, much like the lid thing with him cutting me off, it seemed like he was just trying to be an ass and cut some little kid off, taking advantage of his authority.

However, that did not work in his favor as he was now wearing my food. I immediately gasped and my eyes started to water. This man scared me as is, but when I looked up and saw that he was red in the face, I tried to hold back and apologize to him, but he immediately started yelling at me and pushed me back. He made a comment about me being stupid and not paying attention, which, of course, got my parents to take action. My dad immediately went into protector mode and got up to come over to me. He asked me if I was okay or hurt, and I said that I wasn't, so he told me to go back to the table, and I did, now full on bawling.

The whole time this man was yelling at my dad, saying some pretty hurtful things about us being stupid, about being not well-behaved and that I even needed an ass-whipping for smelling my food. My dad put his hand out trying to reason with the guy and apologize, but the guy wasn't having it. He continued to get louder until my dad eventually said something to him about needing to calm down. Apparently the guy didn't want to hear this because as my dad turned around to just leave the same. situation, the guy punched my dad, knocking him to the ground. I screamed and called for him, and I watched as my dad tried to get up, but this guy was nearly on top of him wailing on him. The other family's kids were screaming, we were screaming and crying, and I didn't know what to do. I was still very young. I was terrified that he was going to kill my dad, and that it was going to be all my fault.

Thankfully, there are good people out there, and two men interjected to pull the angry guy off of my dad. They held him down and yelled for someone to get help, but the hotel staff had already come over after hearing the commotions. They called the cops. The guy was arrested and kicked out, and they almost kicked us out, but the other families were great witnesses and explained to the staff what had happened, convincing them that we did not provoke this guy, and that my dad didn't even lay up. a finger on him. After everything calmed down, we went back to our room with the day and mood practically ruined. Not to mention me, a young child, thinking that it was my fault, too.

I felt like if I was just a little more careful, I could have avoided all of this. But over time, especially, replaying it all in my head and comparing it to what my brother saw as he witnessed it, it wasn't my father. fault. The guy had been off to the side, looking at the containers of sauces and jelly. My brother said that he watched him look up at me, drop the jelly he had in his hand, and then walk towards me. We both saw him turn sideways, making a conscious effort to squeeze past me, but the space that he had was not big enough for him. He turned too quickly, and he caught my plate, causing the whole thing to spill. This was a grown, man. This was a grown,

doing this, and then he tried to blame it on a child? Who does that? What grown man enjoys going off on a child like that? Not to mention he was violent with a complete stranger. I kind of understand being annoyed, maybe about kids screaming and crying, but my family wasn't even doing any of that. We were taught to have very good manners, especially in public, inside voices and so forth. so I get mad at a random uninvolved family. I feel like he was just fishing for a reason to go off. Sorry, I'm rambling a bit at this point, but the bottom line, this man gave me nightmares,

and everywhere we went for that trip and the rest of that summer, I was traumatized. I didn't want to go anywhere without my dad, and I didn't want him to go anywhere alone, feeling like I needed to protect him. I still have a slight phobia of being alone with strangers, but I have gotten better. Just a few words to that man. I hope that you got some help, because that reaction was not normal.

Oh, and I hope that we never meet again. So, I have a bit of a creepy, or I guess more so really strange story, that happened a good while ago. I say that, but it was still in the present time. It happened on Facebook of all places. I don't and didn't have much of a Facebook presence. I have like 50 friends, and they're all my family or people that I graduated high school with. I had just turned 40 when this happened, and much like a few people my age, I'm not much of a social media butterfly. I don't care for the tech world, but I can navigate most things.

It was a pretty normal day, nothing too crazy. I logged into Facebook because my sister said that she had sent me something on there, and she is the social media type, unfortunately. So I went to the page and then went to my messages. I was a bit surprised to see a message from someone I hadn't spoken to in a few years. Okay, maybe more than a few years, nearly a decade and a half. This guy that I went to high school with that I used to be good friends with back then, and we're just going to call him Chad.

Like I mentioned, Chad and I were good friends way back, but we just hadn't spoken in a long time. The message was pretty simple, just a... Hey, T, how have you been? I responded to him, just thinking that he was reaching out to me to catch up. I told him that I was doing well, but life was going all right, and then asked how he was doing. He responded with, Honestly, not great. I asked what had happened, what was wrong, and he told me.

Well, T, I lost my job a few weeks ago, and I've been struggling with a lot of things. I haven't been able to pay my rent or for my car, and it's just really difficult to keep going. It was an unfortunate story, and I felt terrible for him, but my mind immediately went to, he's going to ask me for money, isn't he? I was actually surprised that he didn't. I had told him that I was sorry that things were rough and mentioned that I could sympathize and that I wasn't immune to the stresses of life.

I expected the message that he sent back to say, can I borrow 20 bucks, but instead, he said, It's rough out there. I just wanted to reach out to you to say that I always appreciated you, T. You've always been a great friend, and I wanted to say that if anything ever happened, happens to me. You were an awesome friend. I'm so sorry that we grew apart. I was a bit taken aback by this. Definitely not what I had expected. I told him that he was a great friend too, and that I appreciated

him and that we could always catch up. I tried to basically say that we could make up for lost time in the near future, and he just responded with... Yeah. It was concerning. It sounded like he may have had bad. It sounded like he may have had plans to do something to himself, but there wasn't much that I could do about it. He said that he had to go, but that he looked forward to catching up, and I told him the same, and that was that. Again, I was worried, but what more could I do for him? I decided I would wait a couple of days and check in on him again on Facebook and see if he

was doing any better. Maybe set up a time to get lunch. You know, the things you do with old friends. if that makes sense. As it turned out, I didn't have to reach back out to him. Three days later, I got another message from him, and once again it just said, Hey. I responded with the hi and then said,

I was just thinking about you, man. I hope you're doing all right. I expected the conversation to continue from there, but his response was just a URL, a seemingly random link to a page that I can't remember. I know now that clicking random links is a stupid thing to do, but at the time I was concerned for my friend and didn't think anything of it. Thankfully, it wasn't malware, but what it was? Well, I kind of wish that it was malware. I clicked the link, and it loaded a video page like YouTube, but it definitely was not YouTube.

I don't recall the site, but it was a video repository like YouTube. or daily motion. I had play on the video thinking maybe this was just going to be a funny video or something, but it was... Weird. It was a video of a dimly lit room at first. Nothing happened for a few seconds.

But then a man walked into the frame. Not just any man, but a man wearing a ski mask and literally nothing else. Literally, nothing else. This was weird and kind of creepy in and of itself, but then I watched this man in all the glory of the day he was born, grab a half gallon of chocolate milk off a table and chug it. It was more like he poured it all over his face and got some of it into his mouth,

making a really gross chocolate milk mess. And that was the whole video. It just ended after that. I just sat there for a moment, trying to figure out what it was that I had just watched. I closed it, went back to Facebook, and sent chat a message saying, Hey, so what the hell was that? He just replied with a smiley face, and then he went offline and didn't say anything more in that conversation. I was confused.

I was very, very confused. What was that video? and why did Chad send it to me? Worse yet, the next day when I checked my messages again, I was thinking that I was going to ask Chad about it. I found that his account had been completely changed. The name was no longer Chad. It was another name.

The profile picture had been changed, the bio had been changed, and everything about him was something completely different. So with this, I have to assume that his account was hacked or compromised. But I have questions. My first question. What the hell was that video about? And did Chad send it to me? Or was it sent by the person that had compromised his account?

And then, if it was Chad, why? And if it was the hacker? Also, why? I never got any. answers as the account disappeared not long after that. And I have never found another account for Chad, so I have no idea what happened to him, nor do I have any closure on that video. I've never found it again, never heard anything about it from anyone else, and I have looked,

because I wanted to make sure that I wasn't crazy. If anyone has any thoughts or ideas on this, I would love to hear them. Hello. My name is Amber. I will not be using my last name or some other people's last names in this story for privacy reasons. In 1966, when I was only 20 years old, I worked as a hostess for a Florida nightclub. The Florida nightclub, which shall remain nameless, was beautiful.

But it was notorious as well because it was owned by a Florida mob boss, Santo Traficanti Jr. who was Florida's mob boss from 1954 to 1987. Trafficante Jr. was a powerful mob boss. He not only controlled Florida with an iron hand, but controlled organized crime in Cuba as well. Santo Traficanti Jr. had ties with the Banana Crime family in New York, but closer ties with the mob boss Carlos Marcello of New Orleans.

and Sam Giancana of Chicago. Santo was allies with corrupt Cuban leader Batista, and was anti-Castra when Fidel Castro took over Cuba and threw the mobsters out in 1959. Santo Traficanti Jr., Sam Giancano, and Carlos Marcello were all alleged to plotting the death of President's John Kennedy. Because the president had his brother, Bobby,

go after the mob very hard through all his minds, mob hearings that sent many mobsters to prison. The Florida nightclub I was working had many mob people along with regular customers coming in and out. The nightclub had strippers, along with comedy and ventriloquist acts. I was good friends with one particular stripper named Bunny. Bunny was a total knockout, a drop-dead gorgeous lady with a big mane of long golden blonde hair. She had a large chest and a curvaceous figure. and was nicknamed Boom Boom because of her chest going boom boom whenever she walked.

Many of the male customers at this Florida nightclub loved Bunny, but dared not touch because she was Frankie's girl. I even marveled at Bunny's physique along with some of the other ladies as well, not just men. Bunny always dressed nicely in body-hugging miniskirts and sandal high-heeled shoes on her feet and that showed off her fantastic body even more. She looked smashing. Bunny's boyfriend, Frankie, was nicknamed Diesel because he loved motorcycles and cars, and liked to work on them.

He also loved to lift weights. Diesel was dangerous looking, but good looking at the same time. Diesel was a muscular young man with neatly cut brown hair, and like Bunny, he liked to dress nicely. He wore suits, or could be more casual in a short-sleeved top with blue jeans. Diesel was a mob associate of Santo Traficante Jr., and made a lot of money through many of Traficante Jr's illegal activities.

He often joined his boss, Santo and Cuba as well. Bunny and Diesel made a very attractive-looking couple, but they did argue over money a lot. Diesel also beat up Bunny from time to time and cheated on her as well with other lovely ladies around town. I personally never really liked Diesel that much. Diesel may have been good-looking, but he was a beast. In Santa Traficonte's nightclub, there were many secret passageways.

I've seen a few myself. One led to his office in the back, and one led to a huge and opulent-looking basement where big parties took place. I was at some of these parties. In one big party, I personally saw my friend Bunny pop totally nude out of a huge birthday cake, smiling for Santo's birthday party. Plus, once on Halloween, I saw one person dressed in a full white rabbit costume from Alice in Wonderland with a big red heart in front of his chest, wearing a black top hat that had a circular watch in the middle. I saw this man in the white rabbit costume talking with the party guests, and later on in another secret room I saw him injecting drugs with the big needle he had in his hand to several guests.

Bunny later told me that the white rabbit was none other than her boyfriend, Diesel. These big basement secret parties were fueled with alcohol, pills, drugs, and some nudity. This was not really my cup of tea. I was just a young working girl only there to make some money for myself and nothing more. Diesel seemed to be a happy man. His job was secure in the mob, and he was a good earner for them, but his relationship with his beautiful girlfriend, Bunny, did not seem to get any better. Diesel accused Bunny of cheating with a good-looking fellow mobster who we will call Joey,

to protect his privacy. Even though Diesel was cheating on Bunny, he wanted to, whack Joey for being with her. But Diesel was not a made man and did not have the clout or say to do so. Diesel was still an associate for the mob and not in high standing. So Santo made the piece between the two men and told Joey to cool it with Diesel's girl. The two men shook hands, but things were still simmering under the surface between the two young mobsters. One day, I was shocked to hear that Diesel was accusing him.

him of stealing money from his own Florida mob, and Santo had him whacked. Soon, Diesel was found dead by the FBI in the trunk of his own Red Ford Mustang car, with one bullet shot through his baby blue eyes. Diesel was very dead. I wondered where my friend Bunny was. A full four years later, a secret photo and a letter came into my mailbox. The photo had Joey and Bunny. Bonnie's photo lying on the beach together in their bathing suits, enjoying cocktails they

tipped their drinks to me, giving me a nice toast. Bunny told me in her letter that it was her and her lover Joey who were stealing millions of mob money, not diesel. They were smart enough to protect their money in Swiss bank accounts that the FBI did not even know about. As they also protected themselves in the newly formed witness protection program, which had been formed in 1970. Bunny also told me that Joey and she had also changed their names and fingerprints, and were

now married living in an undisclosed tropical paradise. The Florida mob was not even looking for them, really, because they had always thought it was diesel stealing all the mob millions, not Bunny and her new husband, Joey. But Bunny and Joey wanted to make sure they had a clean getaway from the mob to start a new romantic life together with all their millions of dollars. They fooled everybody, and I was happy for them, and wished them the best. As I looked at their lovely photo together, lying on the beach in the bathing suits, smiling at me with their cocktail glasses raised to me, honestly, Bunny never looked happier.

I've always loved writing, fiction primarily, but I also really enjoyed the research side of things and writing the papers for it. I'm pretty amateur, and can admit that, but I'm always looking for ways to improve. While picking my elective classes in my junior year of high school, one of the choices we had included a creative writing class. I immediately knew that I would be choosing that class, and even my previously favorite elective, which was French, was going to be overshadowed by all its glory. but I was excited.

I wanted to improve my writing and even learn more techniques. But while I enjoy using my words to create a place people could get lost in, others use theirs to cause harm, fear even, and not the kind that we enjoy. Not the kind that we're all here for. Our class had more people in it than I expected, and definitely some people were there that I was surprised by. The bigger question was, Were they there because they truly wanted to take the class,

or because they thought it was going to be an easy one to pass? Either way, I wasn't going to let them distract me from what I wanted out of the curriculum. The teacher was the senior English literature teacher, Ms. Clark, so while I hadn't had her as a teacher yet, I was at least familiar with her, which was nice. I would get to experience her style of teaching a year earlier. I quickly learned that Miss Clark was definitely the teacher for this class, and for anything English and writing. She was very much a Miss Frizzle, but for literature type.

She was eccentric, colorful, and very kind. It seemed that she would do anything in class to get the kids motivated and in the right mood, even if it meant making a full of herself. She stood on a desk before, tapping a rhythm to a poem as she recited. it from memory. She was a lot of fun. The class was for the whole year, not just a semester, which was nice too. The goal for the end of the year was to write a short story with the minimum of so many words. Of course, once I learned that, I thought surely this must truly be a group of people that were passionate about writing, because that would be no easy feat, right?

Throughout the year, we looked at different topics on how to write a story. I promised this is all related. Some of the sections we talked about were our main plot, ideas, characters, settings, how to show more than tell, and so forth. In the second quarter, one of the topics we worked on were character qualities, strengths and weaknesses, fears, accomplishments, etc. She wanted us to focus on building a dynamic character that was different from our average daily Joe that we might see.

and her way of doing that was to hone in on our fears. Of course, we didn't quite know the full take on this at the time. It started as her explaining how we were going to use a single page and write down all of those qualities. We could be as descriptive as we wanted, and we could write it however we wanted. In lines, number them with pictures, it didn't matter, as long as we thoroughly explained them.

The only stipulation, really, was that we had to be able to separate each thought, in the form of being able to cut each of them out. Simple enough. I made my list and thought it was pretty extensive, expecting that we would use these for character development, too. We had to do a similar assignment where we wrote down secrets, dreams, and goals. I thought that I saw where this was all going, and I was liking the idea. So, after us writing all of our ideas and cutting them out, Miss Clark came by with a wide and dark colored basket and told us that we would be putting all of our ideas in the container.

Now, of course, this seemed kind of terrifying at first, given what was written on those papers. But we were all instructed to use pencils, and no names were to be written on them anywhere. It was supposed to be completely anonymous. I thought the names weren't provided because we would just be keeping the list to ourselves. I was not expecting that. She explained how our fears and vulnerabilities can be used to make more convincing characters.

She was going to read them out loud in front of the class and then pinning them to the sideboard so we could go back to them. The purpose was to give us more conflict options about our characters. We weren't expecting this to bleed into our actual lives. some that she read were tame, like stresses of passing classes, sadness about a relative passing too soon, or losing weight. But then there were some heavier ones that definitely made the classroom feel different. Someone confessed an eating disorder that they feared would eventually killed them. Someone mentioned drug use, possibly being pregnant, and the mood of the class slowly shifted. We all started looking around to see if we could catch someone's

reaction to the confessions. Everyone except Ms. Clark. She would continue with a poker face reading off the slips. Occasionally she would look over her glasses at the class, but still gave no reaction. She paused when one of them made us chuckle a bit, and she basically scolded us. She reminded us that these were very real. These were very important topics for us, and we were to take them seriously. She wasn't one to get too serious, so when she did, we all present.

much straightened up. But then she trailed off reading one. We knew something was wrong. As mentioned, she collected these from us the day that she read them, so she didn't get a chance to go through them before. I fear that one day I will not be able to handle it anymore, and I'll steal my dad's handgun, bring it to school, and... Miss Clark stopped reading it, clearly, but it was already out there. enough for us to fill in the rest. She quickly looked up and scanned over the room, her face completely pale.

She held it up and asked, Who wrote this? No one responded. We all looked around hoping someone would confess. I hoped they would stand up and say it was a lie or they were just messing around, but no one did. Miss Clark stood up and gave a small speech. Her voice was almost shaky.

She explained how she understood this. was a very personal assignment, but that this was more than that. She explained how she appreciated the honesty and true emotions that we chose to share in these, but said this one needed more attention, to be more than a topic for a fictional story. She continued to look us all over slowly, studying our faces, asking one of us to come forward. She even pleaded. If we didn't feel comfortable now, she asked us to approach her after class so they could talk about it more. We sat in silence as she waited for a few minutes, but, God, it felt like hours.

The room was tense. Some of us were holding back tears. It was insane. I remember sitting there really trying to figure out how much we knew each other. I had a few friends taking the class. Two of them were in the same hour as myself. My other friends had her in a different hour. However, my class was the first creative writing class that she taught for the day, so I would have to be the one.

to tell or rather warn my friends that this was going to happen. So I had a few friends in this class. I was acquainted with others, and there were some others sprinkled in that I hardly knew or rarely talked to. I remember looking them all over thinking, if that were true, that confession, who would be capable of something like that? Or who's been having enough issues at school that they would do that?

And their plans were obviously more than just self-harm. right, since they wanted to bring it to school. I had to keep myself calm to not cause anxiety, but that was a hard day. It only seemed to get harder from there. I remember people forming their normal cliques in the halls. Anyone they saw, such as myself, that weren't a part of it, they watched you intently. There was whispering or gossiping, rather. People either kept to themselves or those they knew more while some tried to make friends

enforce that connection harder. The rumors spread really fast. It was like they were all trying to figure out who wrote it, or maybe just be on everyone's good side. I don't know which one was better. But then there were other fears and confessions that were shared that day that caused panic and isolation from others. Some people accused others

of being the owners, the rumors spread about a few girls in that class being pregnant. I was even made fun of because they thought that I had an eating disorder. It was harsh and difficult to see us all crumbling because of one assignment. There were letters sent out to parents about a possible threat, and everyone in my class was required to speak to a counselor. The talks with my parents were just as painful.

Overall, the weeks following that class were pretty draining, but the even bigger concern was that no one ever figured out who wrote it. Or at least if anyone did, they were keeping it very quiet. I would like to think that maybe they could have looked at the handwriting and compared it to other work done in the class, but a lot of our work was typed. But maybe they were able to, and they were able to just resolve it.

I know that no one was suspended, and no one seemed to be absent from the class, but the effect definitely lingered in the class. Even Ms. Clark seemed different. She did her best to elevate the mood and try to stay in a positive light, but the damage was already done. Ms. Clark wasn't there for my senior year either, and there was no announcement of her leaving, so I wonder if she was actually fired after that year. The class still remained as an elective, but I heard it wasn't nearly as exciting as it once was.

All I know is that I learned a lot more in that class than just writing styles, and it left a lasting effect on me. And to my fellow classmates, if those feelings were true, I hope that you got the help that you needed. I have a bit of a crazy story from back when I was 19 years old, fresh out of high school. I thought I was going to be a badass, and I planned on going camping all by myself out in the Ozarks. As a teenager, I was always an I can do everything on my own and down with authority type, so. I decided that the most hardcore thing I could do at 19 was to go out to the Ozarks by myself

and survive on the land for a few days. I had packed food, so it wasn't like I was actually going to be surviving off of the land. You know what? I don't really know what my plan was, other than to sleep outside and feel like I was awesome. I found a secluded spot by a creek, miles from anyone else,

and I set up my tent. I got my little square organized and comfortable and thought that I was going to have the best days of my life. I spent the first day fishing, catch and release, and eating horribly burnt hot dogs that I cooked over a tiny fire that I somehow managed to get going. Basically, I had fully convinced myself that I was amazing, and that nothing could get to me

because I was eating crispy hot dogs under the store. stars in the middle of nowhere. Then it came time for me to sleep. I went from on top of the world to having a mild panic attack every time I heard an owl hoot. For whatever reason, I felt like something was going to pound on my tent and attack me for pretty much the entire time I was lying there trying to sleep. I finally dozed off, but it had to have been for no more than a couple of minutes, because I woke up gasping and jumping up quickly. Something felt off. The air outside felt like it wasn't moving, and as much as I wanted to ignore it, I was seriously freaking out. Then I heard what sounded like a clicking sound, and I don't like to describe it like that,

because it wasn't like that big mushroom thing from The Last of Us or anything, but it was, I guess, like a clicking sound. It was faint, but it was definitely there. I sat up and slowly unzipped my tent to look out into the woods, trying to see what was certainly about to kill me. But it was too dark to actually see anything. I grabbed my flashlight and shined it out into the woods trying to see literally anything,

but the area was completely dead. It was just me, the moon, the tree, and a gentle breeze. Yet I was panicking at an instinctual level. I didn't exit my tent. I stayed in it and just looked around aimlessly. After a few moments, I decided that I was just losing my mind and zipped the door back up and turned to lie back down.

Now, the next part, I know sounds like it's a bunch of BS, but I swear to you it is exactly how it happened. when I turned and looked back into my tent, my flashlight still on, I watched as a small part of my tent floor pressed down into the mud, like it was being stepped on by something. It happened there and then in another spot. Like there was something stepping on the tent in two spots, or like something was pressing down on the fabric and it indented into the mud.

like with pressure. I watched it sink slightly and then just stayed like that, like whatever it was hadn't moved from its new perch. And for a moment, I wanted to reach over to see if I could feel something there. But then I realized that this was insane and stupid and I was probably going to die.

I just slowly backed into the opposite corner of the tent and sat there with my knees curled up, watching that spot, waiting for anything else to happen. I kept my flashlight on and thankfully it had good batteries because it lasted through the rest of the night, though that was only a couple of hours or so. As soon as I saw the sun coming up, I grabbed my sleeping bag and pillow, wrapped them up and broke down the tent in record time. I then noped the hell out of there, threw everything haphazardly into my car,

and drove like a bat out of hell until I got into a nearby town. I then drove to a hotel and slept in their parking lot until around 10 in the morning. That was the only and last time that I ever went camping, and I most certainly have not been back to those woods since. I told a few people about this, but they thought I was just making it up. I even tried to convince myself that it was just a dream, but I was very awake when it happened. I have no idea what I witnessed that night.

What invisible demon was in my tent with me, but it was definitely something. Whatever was in those woods did one hell of a job scaring the hell out of me. To this day, I still get chills whenever I think about it, and I'm haunted by the unknown. Has anyone else ever had a freaky experience in the Ozarks? I've heard a few stories, but I'm curious if anyone else has had something like this, or even freakier.

Hey, Raven. I heard the recent co-worker stories, and one of them reminded me of a guy that I worked with a long time ago, and his unfortunate and tragic fate. Up front trigger warning, and there's no easy way to say it, and I understand if you don't use it because of this, but it involves the tragic deaths of two children. So, to my listeners, this is your trigger warning for this story. This does contain some very deep subject matter. As I said in my comment, the story is way worse than it already sounded. So, in the TARDIS, we go back to 2008 to lay out some background. In 2008, I was working in a call center here in my city.

It wasn't super big back then, but we ran three campaigns out of there when I first started. I worked on the frontier campaign during phone and internet predominantly on the East Coast. We also did a Wells Fargo campaign, well, until the big Wells Fargo scandal broke. But the Wells Fargo was run by the manager that Will called Dale. He was an older fellow, very prim and professional, but approachable. When Wells Fargo stopped running with us, their whole team was absorbed by the frontier campaign, and Dale got to promote to the front office. I worked there about a year and I left for what seemed a better opportunity,

that didn't pan out, and I got a different job for a while when one day, out of the blue, Dale calls me, and convinces me to come back. After that, he and I were pretty tight for the next year until I left for good. My cousin had also worked at the same place for quite a while after I left, and one day about two years after I had left, he and I were hanging out, smoking and playing video games, went out of the nowhere he was like,

so did you hear about Dale? I told him no and asked what he was talking about. He pulls out his laptop and shows me a news story that left me pretty stunned. So Dale and his wife had split up, and it was a messy divorce slash custody situation, situation, with her threatening to keep his kids from him altogether. Well, one weekend during a court-sanctioned visitation, where his two sons got to spend a weekend with him, things really spiraled when his soon-to-be ex came to pick up the boys.

The prospect of losing his whole family had made him snap, and it turned into a hostage situation that went on for several hours. The police forced entry when they had to be. heard a single gunshot, and what they found was tragic. Both boys had been dead long before the mom showed up, single gunshot each as they slept. The single gunshot they had responded to was Dale turning the weapon on himself. I would have never had pegged him as that type of guy, but when you get into those intimate family matters, I guess anyone can be pushed past their limits to do unspeakable and unforgivable things like this. D-T-A and C-Y-O-A.

Don't trust anyone, and cover your own ass. Much love, Raven. This happened to me last year, and is something that still gives me the hebi-jeebies whenever I think about it. I had just moved into a cute little studio apartment downtown. It was pretty typical of a studio apartment, not huge or a house. anything, but well-built and I was able to organize it comfortably for myself since I live alone. I was on the top floor of the building, which was a pain when I moved in, but I was pretty

excited about having my own place for the first time. I had just turned 22, and my roommates and I decided to part ways after two years of disagreements. One night I was home and sitting in my dimly lit work area, just working away on my laptop. It must have been around 1 a.m. My windows were open because it was a lovely night, and all I could hear were the crickets and the occasional car that passed by the building. I was getting into the flow of my work when I thought I heard something. I had my earphones in, but I had them in pass-through so I could hear the noise.

I paused my music and looked around trying to figure out what it was I was hearing. After a few seconds, it kind of clicked that it was a scratchy, sound, like something was scratching on wood. Initially, I tried to ignore it, thinking it was coming from downstairs, or maybe it was the building settling or something, though I'm not sure why settling would sound like scratching, but it kept going. It was soft, but it was definitely there. After a few moments, my brain had honed in on it, and I couldn't ignore it.

It was bothering the hell out of me. so I leaned back and just glanced around like where the hell is that coming from? When I stood up, I realized that the scratching was definitely coming from near the front of the apartment, like near the front door. I walked over to the front door thinking that maybe I should just yank it open and confront or scare whatever it was. Maybe it was a rat or squirrel or something. But I paused and decided to just look through the viewport first to see if there was someone there. thinking that was the smarter move.

I leaned forward to see if I could see anyone, but I couldn't. There wasn't anyone there. I thought that I saw a shadow off to the side, but I figured it was just the wall or something. So I stepped away and went back to my desk. Of course, that's not the end of it, because within minutes the scratching started up again. This time it sounded like whatever it was was doing it more hastily. like they had sped up, trying to finish up whatever they were doing. I angrily stood up and walked over to the door and looked out the viewport again.

This time there was somebody there. I could see a man that I had never seen before on the other side of my door, holding a large bowie knife and pressing it against my door. He had this creepy grin on his face like he was practicing to be the Joker. His eyes had a thousand-yard stare like he was looking through my door while he was running his knife across it. Obviously, I freaked the F out.

I grabbed my phone and called 911 telling them there was a crazy man standing outside my door with the knife. They told me that they would send out an officer as quickly as possible. I just sat there waiting in the dark room listening to this man scratch at my door with the knife. After a few more minutes the scratching stopped

And I heard this weird guttural laugh And then nothing I stood there in silence holding my phone in my hand Until I finally heard a knock on the door and someone yell Police I looked out again And sure enough there were two officers standing out in the hallway Looking at my door and pointing and talking to each other

I slowly opened it and greeted them And the officer asked me if I had called in someone with a knife standing outside my door. I explained how I had heard the scratching noise, and when I looked out, I saw the man standing there with the knife. I described the man as best I could, and the officer asked me a strange question. He looked at me and said,

Uh, by chance is your name, Tina? Now, my name is not Tina. It's not even close to Tina at all. I told him no. I told him my name. and asked why. He motioned for me to step out and look at the outside of my door, and that's when I saw what the weirdo had been carving.

There, in the blue paint, was a crudely carved heart with the name Tina in it. I had no idea who Tina could have been. It certainly wasn't me, and I didn't know the guy that did this. The officer said they would give me an incident report and that they would circle the area to see if they could find the guy, but they were as confused and weirded out as I was. After they left, I struggled to fall asleep,

thinking I was going to start hearing the scratching again, but thankfully it seemed like this guy had moved on. The conversation with the rental office was fun the next day. I gave them the incident number, and I even asked if Tina was a former resident to my unit. And the answer was no. They didn't even have a Tina on any leases, as far back as the office team could remember.

They had never had anyone named Tina living on the property. So that's my creepy story. They replaced my door, and thankfully nothing else has happened since then. I'm a bit jumpy any time I hear late-night noises in the hallways, though, and I've been on the lookout for Tina. If, for no other reason, then to let her know that some weird guy is carving her name

into random fourth-story apartment building doors at like one in the morning. I don't mean to start this story dramatically, but there is something universally unsettling about realizing a person you work with every day may have a darker side. My story centers around a man that I used to work with, whom I'm going to refer to as Marcus. That's not his name. In fact, I'm not using any real names in the,

his story for several reasons. Marcus was my boss. He was a diligent man, albeit slightly eccentric. He worked as a head librarian above myself and a few other people in my hometown. And the whole time that I knew him, I honestly respected him and thought that he was a decent guy. I'm not a good judge of character, apparently.

This whole thing started in my third month of working at the library. I was still getting used to their stack system and how the library was formatted. The whole thing was kind of confusing, but I was getting there. My favorite part of working at the library was working with the kids that used it to do schoolwork and research. I guess I should add that this was the early 2000s, so before everyone and their brother had a smartphone and unfettered internet access. So when kids would come in to look for information, on fossils or history projects,

I loved helping them. At the time, I was considering becoming a teacher, but it just hadn't yet gone through the schooling, so this was a good experience. On that morning, Marcus was having me help him reorganize the archive section of the library, which was the small room in the very back of the library. It was its own separate room with a door near the rear exit.

This was where old newspapers and newspapers, and periodicals were kept, if there are people out there that don't know the purpose of the archives. As we worked, Marcus and I were just chatting it up, and we somehow got on the topic of children. I think it's because I had mentioned wanting to be a teacher and said that I loved working with kids. While I was talking about it, Marcus seemed kind of uncomfortable about the whole conversation.

I could see his face, and without a better description. and he looked like he had to go to the bathroom but was holding it in. I asked him if he was okay, and he laughed and said that he was. I said that he was looking a bit pale, and he mentioned that his stomach was hurting, and he excused himself. I told him that I wouldn't go anywhere and just figured something was physically wrong with him. Now, there may be some red flags going up here, but at the time it was just weird behavior by someone I had worked with for three months,

Odd, but nothing more than that. It wasn't until a couple of weeks later where things really happened. I had completely forgotten about that day. It was practically a non-event. It was a pretty normal day, really. Nothing was going on, and there were only a few kids in the library. Once again, Marcus and I were doing a bit more of the reorganization of the archives, which was a small project that we had been working on here and there.

It wasn't really a critical project for us. While we were fixing things up, a girl walked into the room with a notebook in her arms. She looked to be around 11 years old or so. I had seen her in the library before a few times, so I wasn't surprised to see her, minus the strangeness of a kid being in the archive section. When she walked in, Marcus stopped doing what he was doing and walked over to her, asking if she needed help with something. The way they talked, it seemed like he knew her and she knew him.

She was comfortable enough to talk to him about a project that she was working on for school. I actually remember the project, too. She was supposed to look up newspaper articles for her birthday from 20 years before she was born and write up anything that happened that day in that year. It seemed like a pretty neat project. Just to get kids associated with researching historic, events and whatnot. She told Marcus what she needed to do, and I mentioned that I could help her while he did

the reorg, if he wanted, but when I said that, I saw his face drop, almost like he was disappointed that I had said that. He then mentioned that he would help her, and walked over to one of the cabinets. After a few moments of them looking and me doing what I was doing, Marcus hollered over to me and asked me if I could go to the front to see if the front desk needed help with putting stuff away. It was a bit of an odd ask. They were well-staffed, and I didn't see any reason for me to do it, but he was my boss. And I just said, all right, and that I would be right back in a few moments.

Again, at the time, it seemed like no big deal, but looking back, it was a strange thing for him to ask me to do at that exact moment. I went up to the front and talked to the clerk, asking if they had anything they needed help with. The two people up there kind of glanced around like they were seeing if there was any extra work, but they said that they had things under control. I said okay and decided to stop at the restroom really quick before going back, figuring I would take the moment to myself since he had sent me to the front. After I finished up there, I went back to the room.

the archive room to let Marcus know that they were all good up front, but when I got to the archive room, it was empty. No Marcus, no girl. The table in the center of the room still had her notebooks on it, with one of the older newspaper scans sitting on the table as well. For literally no reason, I immediately had a really bad feeling about this. I had no reason to suspect Marcus of doing anything, but my gut was telling me that he had. I stepped out of the archive room, and immediately, it got worse. The back door to the library has a bit of an issue with sticking. If you didn't push or pull it all the way shut, it wouldn't close.

And I saw that the back door was cracked open, like it had been used and not shut properly. I pushed it open and looked out into the parking lot, just in time to see Marcus back out of his spots and pull out of the box. and pull out of the parking lot. Worse yet, I could see the girl he was talking to sitting in his back seat, looking scared and confused.

I immediately ran back into the library and to the front desk, yelling that they needed to call 911 and that Marcus had just kidnapped a child. They both looked at me like I was insane, but I told them that there was a girl in the archives room before he sent me to the front earlier, and that I had just seen him pull away with her in his back seat.

The older of the two librarians said that there was probably some sort of logical explanation, but the other one, a girl about my age, understood the gravity of the situation. She grabbed the phone and called 911, handing it to me and then saying that she was going to go check the security camera to see if she could see it happening. I explained to the dispatcher what had happened, telling her that my boss, Marcus, had potentially just kidnapped a young girl from the library, and that I saw him drive away with her in his car,

and that she looked scared. I described his car, color, make, and model, and told them what I recalled of his license plate, which was just the first three numbers. They said that they would send the police there immediately and to lock the library down if possible. I'm sure that was just standard procedure just in case, but they asked us to not let anyone else in, and to ask others to stay in the building.

The cop showed up and asked me to talk with them about the situation, and mentioned that they had several officers on the lookout for his car in town, and that they would find him. I explained the whole thing to them as I knew it, and the other librarian showed them the footage, which was when I first saw it too. There, on grainy early 2000, security footage, was Marcus holding this girl's hand and leading her out of the room,

and out the back door, only a couple of moments before I returned. This was obvious confirmation that he had kidnapped this girl, and that was likely why he had sent me away. He needed the opportunity. To wrap this story up, because I know it's gone on for a while, the Bolo was successful, and they found his car. He was driving on the outskirts of town towards a highway, and they were able to get him stopped in a somewhat forceful manner. The girl was unharmed but was obviously very scared

and very confused as to what was happening. He said that he was taking her home, but she told the officers that he said he was going to help her with her school project. She said that he had told her that what she was looking for was in a box in his car, and then that he had shoved her at her, in the back seat and took off as I walked out and saw it happen. He was arrested, and her parents were called to the library, which was another unfortunate part

of the story. Her parents had dropped her off and said they would be back later, so she was there alone. This wasn't an uncommon thing, though. A lot of parents used to drop their kids off while they went to work, basically using the library as a free babysitter because it was, quote-unquote, safe enough. That stopped pretty much immediately, and the library implemented a rule that all children under 16 had to have an adult with them because of this event.

I don't have any proof of this, but I did hear rumors that the police went through Marcus's apartment, and they found some rather disgusting things on his computer hard drive. Things I won't explain here, which tells me that he had very ill intent with that girl. In the end, I'm glad that she was unharmed because God only knows what could have happened to her had he not been stopped. Hi, Raven. I just discovered your channel and this experience I had at work was one of a kind, to me.

I've struggled being able to find a platform and the stories you share are incredible. Thank you. Some background, I'm a caregiver. The title is specifically direct care provider for individuals with developmental disabilities. And I look after these people in homes, not called group homes, but ISLs. The most least restrictive environment possible.

The extent of my care depends on the person from complete care to simply looking out for them like they were a child. treating them with as much dignity and respect as anyone else. I love my job. I've made so many great memories with all of those that I have looked after. I get to work in a regular house instead of your standard work environment. The work is, for the most part, easy. It almost becomes a home away from home and you get familiar with the layout of the home quickly.

My eight months working there, I swore than I had sensed or seen something. always from the corner of my eye, but I never thought it could have really been a spirit, until this night. The story happens in the first ISL I ever worked at back at 2016. I was quite new to the field, but got the hang of it easily. It was a five-bedroom house with two levels. Three bedrooms were upstairs and two down the hall just across from the staircase. It was an open-concept floor plan.

we had four individuals under our care and the ratio is two to one, so I always worked with someone. I was in my eighth month working this field in this house and was quite familiar with all of whom lived here and who my co-workers were. As this was a while ago, some circumstantial details are fuzzy now, but not much. This particular night, I accepted a night shift last minute as relief staff couldn't come in.

These ISLs require two staff to be present 24-7, day and night. I'm happy to help. It's a pretty house, and I'm good at keeping myself busy with so much downtime. The only thing this company demanded is, do not fall asleep. To make sure of this, they warn us in training that house managers, sometimes directors, we'll enter the homes in the middle of the night to inspect, and be sure that we are not sleeping. Did I mention we aren't allowed to lock the doors? Sometimes when management did this and found staff asleep,

they go into the medicine room and take medications and promptly leave. I guess this was to teach us that someone can come in and break in and steal drugs at any moment, so be on our guard? Looking back at this now, this was a major red flag. The work environment was definitely borderline toxic, and I was dealing with a few moral dilemmas about whether I wanted to keep working there. I had witnessed a co-worker screaming at an individual under our care. This is relevant.

They were screaming at this person to eat their food. When the individual got up feeling anxious, getting screamed at to eat, my co-worker ended up cornering them and they accidentally knocked something over and broke it. It was then marked off as a behavioral incident in documentation. Absolute broccoli salad. It was 100% staff-induced. These people are vulnerable as they cannot defend themselves. They don't have the freedoms we do as they cannot drive.

We handle their medication. We help them get dressed. We bathe them. We cook them meals. I remember stepping away to go to the bathroom and crying, feeling terrible for what I had just stumbled across. Our job is to protect these people, not scream at them.

I reported my co-worker, and instead of getting fired like they were supposed to, they were moved to a different ISL. Great. But just my luck, this co-worker was with me the night of my story. We had staffing shortages, and they figured it was safe since it was night.

I was job hunting at this point because I could not work for a company that was so shady. abuse charges can blacklist you and get you into serious legal trouble and I was scared of getting thrown under a bus framed just something it was 10 p.m. all the individuals of the home were fast to sleep and my co-worker was in the living room feeling ill they were complaining of chest tightness great I was in the visiting room directly across from the stairs I was lounging on the couch after a long day in my phone watching YouTube. Night shift involved plenty of downtime, which was great.

With this said, I was of sound body in mind. I had nothing in my system and it wasn't too late. I wasn't drowsy. My face was on a screen watching a top 10 video. From just the peripheral of my vision in the dimly lit house, there was a thin young man, no older than 19. that came down the stairs. His dark hair was clean and parted to one side. As I remembered the rules, doors unlocked, managers, even from other ISLs can stop by at any time, especially at night, I thought nothing of it, as they did sometimes hire people fresh out of high school as house managers.

I simply assumed he was one of these managers doing an inspection. This man had come down the stairs, turned without looking, and, and he was, and he was a man. said, hello, quite formally, like he just wanted to let me know he was there, then immediately turned down the hall like he was going to check on a sleeping individual. At this point, I was thinking, oh crap, my shoes are off and I was caught looking at my phone at work, which was silly, honestly, because nobody cared if you were on your phone at work with everyone else sleeping. Still, I scrambled to put my sore feet back into my shoes and got up to follow. in case they had any questions.

To my surprise, he hadn't come back from turning into the hallway. There is no back door on that side of the home, just two bedrooms and a bathroom. I thought to myself, maybe I missed him. Maybe he already moved to the living room and then the medicine room to inspect that. So I go and ask my co-worker on the couch where the young man went, and she was confused. The back door was in the kitchen, which was very,

visible where we were standing. The living room and kitchen were only divided by a long kitchen island counter, so if anyone had walked in, they would have definitely heard them coming in. She asked me if I was sure I saw someone and I said yes. Both of us looked for this phantom house manager, in all the bedrooms, and even outside. Nobody was there. That was also when I realized that this man had walked. his steps had been silent.

My co-worker started laughing at that point, teasing me about seeing a ghost. I don't think she believed me. I could tell by how dismissive she was, but to this day, I swear that's what I saw. I've spoken to a few other people about my experience, and they suggested that perhaps, this young man knew I was planning on leaving soon and wanted to make his presence known before I left. I think he knew something I didn't yet, but knew that I could see him if he wanted me to. I've now since changed companies, and the environment here is so much better. No toxic micromanaging, no spontaneous visits in the middle of the night or possible medication theft,

no abuse, or at least none that I've witnessed. This wasn't my first encounter seeing or sensing a ghost, but it was the most visual experience I ever had. Fast forward to present day, I work every Saturday overnight at this new company and at the same ISL, and have been there since 2017. Every now and then I've caught something or someone moving in the corner of my eye.

Sometimes I hear footsteps when everyone is asleep. This is a house, not an apartment, so it can't be a neighbor. Another ISL that I visited, I swear the basement is haunted. The presence wasn't as friendly, so I didn't stay there long. You get this sense. This feeling, you know? Also, one thing I want to mention is that I'm a school bus driver. In 2022, the morning after my father died,

I briefly saw a shadow the shape of a man in my passenger mirror. It was sitting in a seat but then vanished in the blamished in the blanket. of an eye. I hadn't checked my phone yet to hear the voicemail message from my stepmother telling me he'd passed. He was 58 and died of Alzheimer's, way, way too young. I had lost my mom back in 2014, so I was officially parentless at 30. My dad loved watching ghost story shows on TV, so of course he had to mess with me one last time. I don't know why these little encounters happen. I'm not exactly a medium. I get the occasional flash image in my head, or sometimes I feel or hear a message that nearly feels telepathic. My dad wasn't pleased when I told my husband how I felt how he was such a man-child in life. He was.

I was woken from a dead sleep from someone giving me some choice words, but that could have been a dream. It just hits me without notice and sometimes, at random, while awake. And I know it's not coming from me, but from somewhere or someone else. I apologize. This is becoming a rambling session, but I'm just trying to make sense of it all. Maybe this man I legit saw knew that I could see, and just wanted to open my eyes. For whatever reason why, I'm thankful. I've endured a lot of loss, and I'm going to see more of it in days to come.

It makes me feel more connected to those I've lost, knowing that they aren't far away. Hi, guys. So before I start this post, I will say that I was very young, but my mother recalls the experience quite clearly. I'm not really into cryptozoology at all, but I'm curious that this is a common sighting. Or what exactly my mother, father, and I experienced. This was along Route 66, going from Texas into New Mexico. We were heading to my great-grandfather's funeral back in 2005, in the middle of the summer, and I was 10 at the time.

The sun was starting to set, and I remember us talking. I'm eating a happy meal they bought me at the time, and we're just swapping stories and having a good time. They made this little cubby-like area in the trunk for me to lay down in, color, etc. But most of the trip was spent just looking out the window, watching things pass by. While my parents were talking and the radio was on, I was just watching the world pass.

But I remember very clearly seeing a man standing and staring at cars. He wore a black trench coat, bowler, or perhaps a top hat, Had a black beard, but the part that I remember the most vividly was bright, glowing, red eyes. I pointed it out to my mom who was distracted at the time, having not seen it. Well, a couple of hours go by, and I'm still looking out my window. I made a little game for myself to see if I could count how many birds I could spot along the way, and the sun was starting to set. Next thing I know, I see the same dude just to have.

ahead of us. But because of the dark, the eyes were a lot more intense. My mom got a little concerned about it and told my dad to speed up. Eventually, fatigue set in and we found a rest stop. It was pitch black there, like the kind of dark you can't even see your own feet in without light. And we were all trying to sleep. I had to go to the bathroom, and my dad walked out with me, as I was rather freaked out from the sightings earlier, worried the guy would come to grab me. As we got out of the car, I remember my father staring off into the distance,

and he told me to hurry up, though keeping his usual calm demeanor. When I finished and got back into the car, he started it, and we took off again, driving to stay at a motel instead. I asked him and my mother about it recently as we were reminiscing together about the trips we've taken. When I asked my dad why he had us go to a motel,

he claimed it was because he saw the same pair of eyes staring at us from a hill near where we were, above a rocky outcrop. Does anyone have any ideas or stories as to what exactly this could have been? I remember the eyes so vividly. It's burned into my mind, as well as him being out in the desert heat

with a heavy trench coat, and I'm just not sure. My dad swears it was the devil. My mom thinks it was a chupacabra of some sort. I myself am not sure. Any thoughts would be appreciated. As I said, this was over 19 years ago, and I haven't seen anything since,

as I live far away from Route 66 now. This happened over 10 years ago, so unfortunately I guess, can't remember all the details or what exactly was said, but I do remember how terrifying the experience was. To explain why I acted, or more accurately, didn't act, I'm autistic and suffer from situational mutism. It was a bonfire night, and I was at a fireworks display with my family. I went outside ahead of everyone else and sat in my mom's wheelchair, waiting for the fireworks to start. A little while later, a woman I had never met before left the pub and made

her way over to me, carrying two drinks, and speaking as though she knew me. So, me being me, I just assumed that she must have been a friend of my mom's. I smiled as she handed me one of the drinks, but I didn't start drinking it. It was beer, which I don't drink. So I continued my habit of assuming and guessed it was for a family member. Then things got weird. Instead of telling me who she was and that my family were on their way to join us, she began saying and doing some really unsettling things.

Like I said at the beginning, I can't remember exactly what she said, but I remember her commenting on how shy I was, and then she began hugging me and kissing the top of my head. Even if I was someone who was okay with physical contact, which I'm not, I would have still found her behavior disturbing. After a while, she noticed that I hadn't touched the drink,

that I now realized was mine and she told me to drink it. By now I was certain that she wasn't a friend of my mom's, and there was no way I was drinking something handed to me by a stranger. I began pretending to drink and considered my options. Looking back, I could have gotten out of the wheelchair and run back inside, but at the time, I was frozen where I was. It was crowded, and the woman was acting so strangely. All I could think to do was call my mom's, so I began fumbling for my phone whenever the woman wasn't watching, and leaving missed calls to my mom, hoping that it would get her to come outside.

Unfortunately, it didn't. By this point, a man joined the woman, and I felt completely closed in by both of them. The entire time, the woman's actions and mannerisms made me think that she might have taken something stronger than alcohol. But the man seemed completely sober. All I could think was there was something in this beer. I was still pretending to drink it, and thank God this wheelchair is an electric one, and they wouldn't be able to try to push it away with them. I left my mom constant missed calls and tried to look around for someone to grab the attention of

when finally my family came out of the pub to join me. At that exact moment, both of the creepy strangers vanished into the crowd. If their behavior hadn't been enough of a red flag, this definitely convinced me that they were up to something shady. I never saw either of them again, but as we were leaving and I explained why had left so many missed calls, on my mom's phone. One of my brothers said that a woman matching the description of the creep had made some creepy comments to him too, earlier on when she was still inside.

I don't know it for sure, but I genuinely wonder whether those people were looking for a vulnerable girl to kidnap or even traffic. They never saw me stand up from the wheelchair, so I doubt they knew it wasn't mine. And my appearance and mannerisms, unfortunately, saw me. sometimes make me look like an easy target. I like to think that I've learned how to handle myself a bit better since then, but fortunately, I have not had another experience quite so terrifying since. This happened to me back in the 80s when I was working at the bank in Richmond. My friend Marty and I would eat lunch together most days.

We worked at a data center, where there wasn't much around us except a sub-shop across the street, We would get our food and walk back and eat in our lunchroom. Most of the time, we would get a 12-inch sub and split it between us. On this particular day, we decided to go and get our normal 12-inch tuna sub and split it. We purchased the sub like we did all the other times and brought it back. We both took half of the sub. I was the first to take a bite. After I bit into the sub, it started crunching, and it wasn't lettuce.

Marty was looking at me so funny. I spit it out and ran my fingers through it, and all throughout the sub were tiny pieces of glass. That freaked us out. I'm so glad that I didn't swallow it. We got both halves of our subs to take back over to the sub shop. We walked in, and she looked surprised to see us back. We told her what we found in our food, and she thought it was funny.

That pissed us off. She asked if we wanted another sub, and we said, no, we want our money back. She went back and got the manager, and he acted nonchalant about the whole thing. Well, that put Marty and me into a revenge kind of mood. I could have really been injured. We got our money back and went back to the office. We looked up the number for the health department, and Marty called them.

She explained what we had just been through, and they told us they would check it out. A couple of days go by, and the health department calls us back. They went to the shop and they were using a cracked crock pot to store the tuna in. Well, they gave them 24 hours to get a new crock pot and they needed to discard that tuna immediately. When they went back to check if they had complied, they were still using the same crock pot. I guess they thought it was all still a joke. They ended up getting closed down and it turned into a car lot. but it is so scary what could have happened if I swallowed that glass. Well, this is my scary sub-story.

It may not be the scariest, but it sure as hell freaked me out. I don't know if I wasn't supposed to see what I did. Every post I see about it or YouTube video is taken down. About six months ago, I went into the forest with my friend. We walked through the pitch-black darkness until we reached. some steps to take us down to this clearing. At the bottom of the steps there's a stream that cuts through two big rocks. On the right is brush surrounding a five to ten foot deep tiny lake, maybe 30 foot big in each direction. As we approached to the

edge of the stairs that we walked down, when we reached almost 60% of the way, we both saw a blue light obscured by the brush. My first thought was that it might have been a headlight of a fisherman with one of those pulsing blue headlamp lights. That was until we saw it pulse and literally go through a tree, like literally phase through it as if it wasn't there. I told my friend to turn off his flashlight, so whatever it was couldn't see us. My brain was trying to process what I was seeing due to the fact that nobody should be, or can, get into the forest at night. It slowly kept moving from the right side behind the brush to the left.

As it got closer to the edge of the tiny lake where the rocks were, my body's fight or flight kicked in, anticipating that it was a person who wanted trouble. Then it happened. I saw it disappear and reappear on a path on top of the water, clear from the brush. I wiped my eyes, and my friend, stunned, looks at me and says, What? I shook my head and tried to refocus my eyes. Whatever this was was only ten feet away from me.

It was a blue orb about the size of a softball. The color was the most beautiful blue, almost baby blue. It looked seethrew, and as a full ball of light at the same time. as it kept on its path it would slowly pulse one bright pulse and then it would vanish slowly we both stood there watching it for at least a full minute when i decided to leave i didn't want whatever it was to get close to us i didn't and couldn't believe what i was seeing and i didn't know what kind of consequences would come from getting close a side note i forgot to mention that there was this background sound that seemed to be connected to whatever it was.

It sounded like a loud, all-around gust of wind, mixed with that sound you get before a tornado touches down. Finally, we got halfway up the stairs and turned around to watch it from a safe distance, maybe 20 feet away. My friend gets the bright idea to whistle at the orb without consulting me. Almost immediately, the orb starts pulsing as it will. was, but changing its trajectory toward us on the stairs. We let it get maybe ten feet away from us, when I grabbed my friend and pulled him away to leave

with me. I told him it's better off not finding out what it is or what it can do. We made our way up and out of the forest and left. About a week later, I told my stepbrother about it, and he didn't believe me, so we went back. We did the same trip through and saw nothing. Right at the end, before we exited the forest, there it was. Another just like it.

This one was weird, though. I don't know why, but it almost seemed lost. There was no purpose to its movements. It was just going anywhere, but in a straight line. If anyone has any questions, I'll answer them. And, if you have ever seen or know about these, I'm dying to find out more about them, especially because I can't find any information about them. This thing is not like one of those dust particles from a camera.

My phone flashlight was off, and my phone was in my pocket. And we both saw it clear as day, lighting up the things around it. I plan to go back soon and try and film these things. Thanks. In the early 1990s, I was known as the weird kid at school. I often wore X-Files shirts and embraced all sorts of quirky interests that set me apart from my peers. During a science class, we were studying rats, and our teacher announced that they would need a new home for one of them since the term was ending.

Everyone turned to look at me, knowing I would be the one to volunteer. True to form, I eagerly raised my hand. I didn't realize at the time that Luna, the rat, was pregnant. When I brought her home, I set up a cozy corner in her cage with plenty of bedding and toys. Over the weekend, Luna adjusted to her new environment, and I eagerly watched as she gave birth to a litter of tiny squeaking babies. They were so small and delicate, like little pink jelly beans. On each day, I marveled at their growth, and among them was a particularly special baby.

an albino rat with pure white fur and striking red eyes. I named him Snow. Snow was the only albino in the litter, and his unique appearance made him stand out even more. I was captivated by him and spent hours just watching him and the others. A few days later, my excitement turned to panic. I noticed that snow had somehow escaped from the cage. My heart raced as I searched everywhere,

under furniture, behind curtains, and through every nook and cranny of the house. I was a whirlwind of anxiety, flipping over cushions into dark corners, and even checking behind the appliances. My search turned into a frantic and desperate quest. I even moved the entire furniture in my room, hoping snow might have found a hiding spot, as the thought of losing snow was unbearable. In my desperation, I decided to do that. to involve Luna.

I gently held her looking into her small, beady eyes. With tears streaming down my face, I focused all of my energy on asking her for help. Despite my odd reputation and my willingness to try anything, no matter how strange it seemed, I was ready to give anything a shot, even telepathic communication. To my astonishment, a voice echoed in my mind,

clear and calm. The voice instructed, Go to your parents' room and look under a box at the bottom of their wardrobe cupboard. You'll find my baby. I followed the instructions immediately. My heart pounding with hope and fear. I dashed my parents' room and threw open the wardrobe cupboard. I spotted the box exactly as described and opened it with trembling hands.

When I looked inside, I couldn't believe my eyes. There was snow, the tiny, albino rat with red eyes, nestled safely inside. I was overwhelmed with relief and joy. Tears flowed freely as I gently picked up snow and cradled him in my hands. To this day, I am still amazed by how I was able to hear Luna's voice in my mind. It was a one-time experience that I've never been able to replicate, despite my efforts to communicate with animals.

This extraordinary moment remains a cherished memory. a mysterious and heartwarming reminder of special connections that we can have with the animals that we love. I'm one of those annoying people that are all about the spring and summer months. I like to get out and go for walks, work on the yard, and just spend all the time I can outside in nature. So the minute that it starts to get warmer outside, I break out my walking shoes and workout clothes.

And I set time aside every single. single night for a walk. Most of the time I just like to walk around my neighborhood, but I also get those nights where I just need to get out and walk around in a place that isn't quite so familiar. That said, I have a story about something that happened last year that I felt I should share, because it scared the hell out of me. Some people say there wasn't much that happened, but to me it was horrifying, and I think others that read this, that have been in similar situations, would agree to how terrifying it was.

So, to start out this whole thing, the night that this happened, I decided I wanted to go walking around a nearby pond slash park. It's a park that was built around a decent-sized pond. It has a good-sized walking path, and it's incredibly calming. I like to walk it a couple of times to get two or three miles out of it. Most of the time when I go in the evenings, it's not heavily occupied, and it was pretty much the same on this night. Though, there were a few cars in the parking lot. I guess another important point is that the parking lot is near the start of the loop, and there are some lights around it, so it's not like it's too creepy to be in at night.

At this point, I was almost done with my first lap of the loop, which meant I was coming up on the parking lot. As I was about to pass it, I noticed an older beat-up pickup truck pull in and park in a spot near the entrance of the lot. Nothing too out of the ordinary, but I noted it because it was pretty rough. It stood out more than anything because of how battered it was. I walked past the parking lot as I normally would when I saw the doors open to the truck as I passed it. At the time, I didn't think it was too far-fetched. They were getting out, and the timing was just perfect for me to pass as they exited. The door squeaking open did catch my attention, and I glanced over to see the two guys getting out of the truck,

both wearing fairly practical street clothing, dark shirts and jeans. When they looked at me and I accidentally made eye contact, one of them lifted a hand in a friendly wave. I reciprocated because, why not, and that was that. after a few moments of me walking past the lot I heard them talking and getting on the path and while I couldn't quite make out what they were saying I did hear one part of it specifically that made me stiffen a bit one of the men said I don't know dude I bet she could take you

now again this could have been nothing at the time just two guys ogling and fantasizing to each other about a passing woman which is creepy yes but also not uncommon. I tried to ignore it and just picked up my pace a slight bit, thinking I could put the distance between us and that would be enough. This is where things got scary for me. As I sped up, I had managed to step on something on the trail.

I don't know if it was a rock or a walnut or something like that, but it was hard and it made me stumble. I didn't fall or anything, but I stumbled and had to catch myself. As soon as this happened, I heard the same guy from earlier say, Yo, now's your chance, I bet you could grab her. Followed by the sound of someone starting to jog on the trail. Obviously, I looked back to see one of the men starting to run in my direction, which made me realize that the comment wasn't a joke.

This guy's intent was to grab me, as in take me. I immediately took off into a full sprint. I had one thing going in my favor in this case. I was wearing clothes made for running, and he was wearing blue jeans, which definitely made him slower. I kept up my fastest pace possible, glancing back to see if he was still chasing, which he had been. After running on the trail, I got to a part of the park where it veers off in two directions. One way was the rest of the running path, and the other was a children's playground area. I was thankfully far enough away that I was able to turn around toward the playground and try to throw them off.

I don't know why that was my decision, but it was what my brain told me to do. I ran towards the playground, climbed up the steps to the higher part where one of those tube slides are, and I crouched down waiting for them to pass. I stayed there for several moments just steadying my breath and pushing away the adrenaline so that I could hear what was going on. Eventually I heard the thumping steps on the path, followed by a man breathing heavily, and then a second set of steps followed by the other man laughing. He joked about how I was fast, and then made another comment that freaked me out. Man, if you want to bag one, you got to choose one that's slower than you. You can't go for the fitness chicks.

They always get away. That sentence was horrifying in and of itself. they always get away? How many times had this other guy, quote unquote, tried to bag one, in his words? Worse yet, how many times had he been successful? I stayed there for a while and peered out after a few moments had passed, making sure that they had walked away.

They had walked back towards the parking lot, so I pulled out my phone and called the police. I told them that I had just been chased in the park by, two men, described them and the truck, and mentioned that they had made comments about potentially kidnapping me. I know I probably sounded crazy, but the dispatcher took me seriously, for which I was very grateful. I stayed on the phone with her until the officers arrived. They walked up the trail toward me and told me that I could come out and that it was them. They talked to me about the whole thing. I described the men, the truck, told them what they'd said, and the officer definitely

looked disturbed by it. They walked me back to the parking lot towards my car so I could leave without issue, and they told me they would keep an eye out for the truck. That was pretty much it. I'm guessing they never found the guys because they never called or anything, but I also haven't seen the truck or those guys again, thankfully. And I hope that I never. I never. I never called or anything, but I also haven't seen the truck or those guys again, thankfully. and I hope that I never do meet them again. This was back in the early 90s. My parents had gone to Reno for the weekend. This left me home alone for the entire weekend.

Now, I was a boring kid. I was 13 years old and was just excited that I could stay home and play video games all weekend. On Friday night, I cooked up some pizzas from a delivery service called Schwanz. I had put a couple of sodas and... the fridge to chill, and then I hooked up my Nintendo, that my dad hardly ever let me play. I would maybe get a half hour a day at best. That was when he fell asleep on the couch. Even then, most of the time when I went to play, he would wake up enough to say, I'm watching that. No joke. This man would be snoring on the couch, but if you touched the remote,

he would wake up and say, hey, I'm watching that. It's hard to describe it. It's hard to describe how frustrating it was, that between snores he would hold conversations. I now know that he was suffering from an advanced case of sleep apnea. Sorry, I'm just trying to explain how excited I was to be able to play for a few hours straight.

So there I am sitting in front of the TV, the first night, and I get this weird, oppressive feeling. I had mowed through one of the little pizzas and one of the sodas. Now, I was trying to take my time on the next set. I just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. To my right was a large bank of windows. It was an 80s double-wide that had a bank of windows facing the driveway.

Looking out there, I couldn't see anything, nor was our inside dog barking, or the outside dog. They are both very protective of the place and good guard dogs. so I let it go as much as I could and went back to playing. That was all it really was the first night, just an oppressive feeling. The second night, Saturday, I had the same thing planned, but this was the last night, so I had wanted to stay up as late as I could. I had cooked up a bunch of the pizzas and chilled the whole half rack of the soda. I kept playing and drinking soda, occasionally getting one of the pizzas.

As the night were on, that oppressive feeling came back with a vengeance. Like Harry and Mars from home alone were skulking somewhere, but again neither dog seemed to be bothered. So I turned to face the window a little more, still keeping my eyes on the TV. After another little while, I thought I saw something outside. A black little shape ran by the window, just like our inside dog. I thought she had gotten out, so I got up and went to let her in. When I opened the door, she came running from the back bedroom ready to bark at the person at the door.

No one was there. I chalked up to a cat or something going by the window. I sat back down and picked up where I left off. As I was getting back into the game, out of the corner of my eye I saw another shape move in the front yard. This one was larger, about. man-sized, but I didn't get a good look. This freaked me out. It was like someone was dressed in all black running in my yard.

The problem was that they were not alerting my dogs. Holly, the inside one, didn't even look up from her perch on the couch. Cindy, the outside one, was silent. This scared me. I was afraid that whoever it was may have hurt her. So I went to my room and grabbed ex-counselm. Yes, I named my bat that. It was just a solid wooden bat.

However, I had jammed rocks and bits of metal into it because it was splitting. I don't know why I did this other than I was 13 and liked exploring the desert. So I got up to go outside and check on Cindy. I turn on all the outside lights and walk around the house to check to see if she was at her house. There she was, wagging her tail and happy to see me. There seemed to be nothing wrong, so I pet her and tell her she's a good girl. I just had to guess that I was being paranoid at being home alone for the first time. My older sister had just moved out, so I was the last kid at home.

I go back in, determined to get some more gaming in. I ignored the black shadow at the edge of my vision. The volume was up on the TV, so I couldn't hear anything from outside. I just kept playing. But then, the shadows started to gain color. It was like whatever it was was moving closer to the window. I looked over and it was a horde of barbarians. Like straight out of my video game.

They looked like they were coming from my blood. Thank God my rational mind kicked in and I knew what I was seeing couldn't be real. That was actually how I found out that certain fake sugars caused, me to see things. The soda I had been drinking was a diet one. So, to this day, I still remember seeing the salivating horde of weapon-wielding barbarians at my window. I can look back on it and laugh now, but that night, I had both Holly and Cindy in my room

with me when I went to bed. And thanks for taking the time to read this. A few summers ago, my girlfriend and I took a couple of my girlfriend and I took a little bit of her. a road trip along the coast. We wanted to see the Atlantic Ocean, and I wanted to take her to see the lighthouses as she was obsessed with them. She lived in mass as a kid and remembered going to one with her dad, but they moved to the Midwest when she was young, and had never been back.

I had never been to the East Coast, so I thought it would be fun for both of us. We made a whole road trip out of it, driving all the way up. Nothing but the trip itself was planned. Once we got there, we found a good hotel and booked it for a few nights. We went sightseeing around town that day. We explored some local stores and diners. We went to a museum and just had a leisurely day. The next day, we went to the beach and looked around for lighthouses.

With some online maps and a site dedicated to lighthouses you can enter, or explore, we narrowed down a few that we wanted to check out, hoping to find the one that she would remember from her childhood as well. We actually did get to see the lighthouses, and one of them was the correct one, too. The beach was wonderful. The lighthouses were better than I expected. The view from them was outstanding, and I could understand her obsession with them now. The trip was going smoothly, and we both were having a wonderful time. We checked out of the hotel and before heading to. home, we circled around a little further north wanting to stop at another place on our list.

As we headed in that direction, we spotted another lighthouse, but this one looked old and possibly abandoned. We also enjoyed a little bit of urban explorations, so we agreed that we should check it out, too. We stopped in the parking lot at a nearby beach, and we walked to it. We walked through the sand, seeing it was clearly not as popular as the others we were. had seen. There was some trash scattered around, some items like beach toys left behind, and some other random detritus. It certainly piqued my interest. What could cause a whole beach to be abandoned or go unused? But pushing that thought aside, we finally reached the lighthouse and we could really tell that it was not in use. The entrance merely had a piece

of plywood, barely covering it, but it wasn't bolted or screwed down. You could easily pick it up and place it right back down. After not seeing any trespassing signs, we went in and checked it out. It was definitely neglected. The walls seemed to be peeling in some places, crumbling or cracked in others. The stairs to the top even looked kind of rickety, but stable enough to climb. At least stable enough for us to try. We got to the top and it was just as worn down as we saw from below.

The sight was still nice, however. We could see the ocean and the reflection of the sun on the water. There was even a slight chill that afternoon, which just made the day perfect. But then I noticed something that caught my attention. In the back behind the staircase, there was a sleeping bag and a large backpack. We didn't notice it when we first came up because the staircase spiraled and the items were behind us. So it was obvious that someone had been sleeping there, and that wouldn't normally bother me.

But what did cause worry was seeing that there was a plastic cup and a bottle of alcohol sitting next to it, and the cup still had liquid in it. Someone was there recently. Whether it's a house or just someone finding shelter wherever they could, it was natural for someone to become defensive over their stuff. I didn't want to risk running into whomever this belonged to and causing problems. So I told my girlfriend, Maria, that we needed to go, and she agreed.

We quickly and cautiously walked down the stairs, but were startled by a man standing right outside the lighthouse. Maria gasped, and he gave us a toothless smile and said in a gravelly voice, It's a nice view up there, ain't it? We both gave nervous smiles and agreed with him, and I apologized for going in without asking. He started shaking his head in a dismissive way. the way you do when you're telling someone it's not a problem. But then he stopped and he looked us up and down. Tell you what, he said to us.

I'll let you all go if you do something for me. He pulled out a wad of cash and held it up to me. I'll give you this money if you let me have some alone time with your pretty little friend there. He looked right at Maria with a creepy grin. I was horrified by what he had just suggested and said. he would let us go, as if he was keeping us there. I stepped further in front of her and told him, No effing way, dude, holding my hand out to keep him back.

But before I could turn back to Maria and tell her to start walking back, the man pulled out a knife and said, well, I wasn't really asking, and started walking towards us. I wasn't much of a fighter, but I have learned some things over the years. I went in motioning like I was going to put. punch him, and since he was focused on my arm, I was able to kick him in the shin, knocking him off guard, but not before he brought the knife down and cut my arm open. I then pushed him backwards, causing him to fall on his back, and of all things to do in that situation, the guy started laughing.

But not even his laugh sounded normal. It was almost like a sinister or evil laugh. Maria tugged at my arm, so we left him there and took off back to our car. When we got to the car, we started cleaning up my arm and realized that it wasn't that deep at all. I kept a first aid kit in the trunk for emergencies such as this, you know, being stabbed by a homeless guy. We pulled it out and just put some gauze on it, which was fine. I mentioned reporting it to the police because not only was he violent, but who knows what he's he would have tried to do to me, or worse, Maria, if I hadn't fought back. However, Maria said that we should just let it go, mentioning we may have been trespassing, too.

I wanted to respect her wishes, though, so we never reported it. We left there thankful to be in one piece, but still made some great memories and took some wonderful pictures as well. I just won't be going to any more abandoned lighthouses, if we have ever. go back. Long-time listener. First time submitter. I know that one of the biggest questions is, if they do exist, are they from here, government-owned, or does life actually exist beyond our planet and visit? Well, I can answer this question matter-of-factly. All three are correct. I believe some have made our planet their home. Some UAPs are of government experimental

technology and some truly are from beyond our planet. Here is my UAP-UFO experience. It's a good one due to the rarity of aspects experienced, and this experienced happened in Macedonia, Illinois. I was 25 years old, and we lived on a 10-acre piece of land surrounded by absolutely nothing as far as the eye could see. Now, on both sides, and pretty far away, either direction, we did have neighbors.

You could not see their homes from our homes, so they were located a ways down either side of the road and were both backed by acreage plus tree lines. It was 10.30 p.m., and we did not smoke in the house. Also, this was actually my parents' home. I had moved in after a breakup until I could gather myself back up. Now, when you stepped out the front door, you were closed in by a side of the side of the same. small wooden deck. The only exit was an opening and three short steps located to your left as you stepped out the

front door. It was around 10.30, and the three of us were up watching a movie, and I decided I was going to smoke a cigarette real quick, and stepped out onto the deck. I opened the door, stepped out, walked forward and leaned on the rail, looking out across the field across the street. I smoked half of my cigarette, and then turned and walked down the three steps, which led out into the driveway. Although I can't remember the exact reason I walked down and off the deck, I do know that we had baby ducks, kittens, and guineas at the time, and I would say one of the animals were the reason behind my action.

Once off the deck, I turned toward the back of the house, looking into the backyard. This is when I saw it. I could have thrown a baseball and hit this thing. That is how close it was to me, and probably had been the entire time I was outside. It was a light, like looking into an oncoming train or a stadium light. A bright, round, single light, and a big one.

It was hovering feet ahead of me and just above the roof of the house. I instantly froze. At first my mind tried to rationalize what I was seeing. My first thought was just simply to wonder what I was looking at. And then things started to hit me. Like how close it was, but making no noise. Complete silence. And it was so still.

Like an object frozen in time. Then, how bright it was, yet it casted no light. It was completely dark outside. I hadn't even turned the porch light on due to bugs. If someone shines a flashlight at you in the dark, the light being cast illuminates you. No light was being cast from this thing, yet it was such a bright light. It casts no light on the house, the ground, nor me. It definitely should have.

And then the worst realization came to me, there was nothing and no one around. It was dark outside, and I was in the middle of nowhere. It occurred to me as I stood there staring at it so close to me that this thing was also staring back at me, that I had to be its object of observation. There was nothing and no one else to be observing. I was totally frozen in fear.

I felt how I would expect a hunter to feel if they were in the woods alone, and Bigfoot stepped out and started a staring contest with them. Do I run? Will it give chase? If I scream, what will it do? There's a huge difference spotting a UFO in the sky over your town or in a group of people around you. It's completely different than spotting one staring at you just feet away.

At night, all alone, in the middle of nowhere, knowing you are its object of observation. I was totally frozen. and I never took my eyes off of it. I didn't even move to smoke my cigarette. I remember only spreading my fingers to allow it to fall to the ground once I felt the heat on my fingers from it burning up. I stared at this thing in the face for what felt like three to five minutes, just frozen.

And then it moved. It silently and slowly floated to the left, which would have been my right as I stared at it, a ways, then this thing moved silently straight up about ten feet, and then slowly to the left, and then it just shot into the sky like a comet, even leaving a tail of light. This thing just shot out of our atmosphere, period.

I remember telling myself to watch where it was going. It shot out right towards the center of three stars that made a triangle. I don't know my constellations, but if I was taking, taken back there, I could still point this spot out. There was no governmental aircraft, and it was not from here. I watched it leave. I had nightmares of being abducted for a week after this. I dreamed I was taken out of my window.

I would dream of a light under my door and shining through the windows. I mean, this experience traumatized me for a minute or two. I know it had to be watching me the entire time I was outside. As silent as it was, and behind me has always made me wonder how many times it may have been there throughout my life, and I wouldn't have noticed. Think about it. How many times a day do you actually stop and look up at the sky? I can spend all day outside and never look up. Maybe see the sky as I look out, but never up.

Anyway, that's my story. Well, one of my many stories, but... This is my only UAP story. Thanks, Raven. Whether you read it on the podcast or not, because I've never told it before. This may be a little different than normal stories you hear, but it was still a terrifying moment for me,

and, well, everyone involved, actually. I have been enjoying Spelunking and exploring caves for quite some time. Throughout my childhood, my family lived close to some caves that were often explored by those of us that live here, as well as plenty of tourists. I was not immune to it either. I loved going to the caves with my parents. That love only grew as I got older, and it became a pretty normal activity for my friends and I.

We liked to go out to the caves on the weekends, or depending on how much time we have, for a week. We can go to the same cave multiple times and find. new paths or veins that we would have to wiggle through, but it was always worth it. No challenge was too much for my squad. There were typically four to five of us total. Myself, Stephen, Drew, Drew's girlfriend Angie, and sometimes Angie's friend Liz. All of us were big cave people, and we all knew what to do in difficult and dangerous situations, but sometimes you just don't know what you would do until you're in that first.

very situation. We went into this cave that was less ventured in. It wasn't very big, and for those that don't do this as a hobby, they probably wouldn't find the beauty in it. It didn't have any minerals in it, or plants growing, and neat crevices. In fact, there was quite a large boulder that nearly blocked the entrance, but once you got past it, the back of the little cave was dark and serene. There was a small stream of water that was coming from.

the cracks in one of the walls, but otherwise, it was silent. It was peaceful, and it was one of our favorite places to go. Once past the boulder and down the small drop, there was a small rounded area that we liked

to sit in and just BS and chill. We would bring some snacks and just sit around and enjoy our time. We never drank or smoked when we were in the caves. You needed to be at your best in these situations because you never knew, what could happen. This time was no different.

We had a few things to eat and plans to be there for a few hours. The first step was getting past the boulder-like door stopping us. The boulder was easily 15 to 20 feet tall and wide enough to nearly block the path. There was a slight gap underneath it that I'm sure you could probably squeeze under, but no one was brave enough to do that, not knowing when or what could cause the boulder to finally fall. It seemed to be remaining in place by the slightly narrower ceiling of the cave. So, as for getting past it, there were two paths you could take to get by it.

The first option was on the right, which was a very narrow path where you had to be standing with your back to the cave wall, nose to the boulder, and step left and right, shimmying your way through. However, I had a little pudge on me and I wasn't comfortable sucking in and holding my breath to get by it. So I preferred the alternative route. This meant jumping up, grabbing onto the boulder, and kind of propelling yourself off the other side. It was pretty simple. You just needed the upper body strength to do it. We've all taken both paths before, but we also all had our preferences. I liked the top left jump as well as Stephen and Liz. Angie was a very

small girl, so she was comfortable with the shimmy path. Drew didn't seem to much. mind either way, but typically went with Angie. Liz would also typically follow Angie, but once she took the high grounds, she preferred it. We got past it and settled into our spot for the next few hours. We ate, we talked about life, and Drew even seemed to doze off for a bit. This was what I liked about this place. It was always so peaceful and a great place to get away. Then we started hearing the familiar sounds of strong winds whistling past the large boulder.

The strong winds told us that there may have been a storm coming, and no matter how much you may know a cave, it's not best to be in there during a storm. Who knew how much it could flood? We packed up and headed back to the boulder ready to leave. Liz went over first, then Stephen, while Drew and Angie took the lower right path. I typically went last. Once Stephen was out of view, I jumped up on the boulder, and that's when everything went horribly wrong. As I pushed myself on top of the boulder, I could feel of vibrating in the boulder, and my heart dropped, as well as the boulder.

Everything was in slow motion at that moment. I quickly jumped off the side and heard the piercing scream from Angie, followed by a loud thud from the boulder and then silence. that boulder had come loose on our side and slid down the only way it could into the open gap on the right Drew began yelling for Angie and we all hesitantly looked for her all we could see were her fingers sticking out from the boulder she wasn't responding

Stephen and I had to try to stop Drew from trying to do something careless if he tried pushing or climbing over the boulder he could wedge it tighter He was too emotional to try and climb under it, nor would we let him. It had already slipped. It was entirely possible it would do it again. While he was under it, I told Liz to get out and call for help, as we didn't get a signal in the cave, so we left our phones in the truck. Once we got Drew calmed down, we had to figure out what to do about Angie.

We couldn't see anything else but her fingers being crushed between the wall and the boulder, and it wasn't looking good. But then, right as we were talking about options, there was a groan. It was Angie. We listened as Drew tried to talk to her and get her to respond, but she started crying. She said that she couldn't feel her right arm and leg, and that her hair was stuck. She had slightly longer hair, and it was pulled up into a ponytail that day, so I assumed she probably turned her head to flinch and her hair got caught.

as well as her limbs. She was alive, but there was no way we were going to be able to get her out on our own. Liz came back and said she had called for help, but it was going to take them some time to get to us. The only thing we could be thankful for was that the boulder was probably stopping her from bleeding out somewhere. It took rescuers about 15 minutes to get there, and they inspected the situation. Angie was responsive but seemed to be fed. fading. She said that she felt cold and tired. We had to wait even longer for people to bring the equipment to get her out. They drilled through part of the boulder near the bottom so they could

crawl through. Once on the other side, and able to see Angie, they could better determine a course of action. Once there, they mentioned trying to drill out part of the boulder to pull her leg out since it was lower. However, based on where her arm was against the wall in Boulder, and by the looks of her fingertips, her arm was practically dead, and the best thing they could do would be to amputate it. It was awful.

Drew and Angie were both hesitant. They didn't want to. We're begging for any other option, but finally Angie calmed down and accepted it. She understood that in order to get her, get out, this was her only option. There was a very small chance that her arm could be saved if she got out without it anyways. So they gave her some anesthetic and went about it.

I could still hear Angie crying and the grinding as the saw or whatever they used went to the bone. I felt sick. This was my fault. I should have made sure that they were through before I climbed over the boulder. All I needed to do was call out. And I didn't. And because of that, I almost killed my friend. Now she was losing her arm and possibly her leg because of me.

I was a mess. Stephen having to help me out of the cave and into my truck when they finally got her out. I don't even remember the ride to the hospital. I just remember being helped in to the back of my truck. I don't even remember them taking Angie away or Liz talking to Stephen on the way there. I sat in the waiting room with everyone else, waiting for an update. Angie was going to survive, but obviously not unscathed. Once they were able to get her arm out, they confirmed that it had been dead before they even got the equipment there.

The bone was crushed, and the boulder cut the circulation off. Her femur was partially crushed and her thigh torn open to the muscle, too, but she was able to keep her leg. She also had a few broken ribs. The boulder did catch her hair too, which had to be cut off, but that was a lot less serious, as you could imagine. She had to go through physical therapy due to her femur being replaced, but she was a trooper. She never gave up and worked so hard to get back to being independent. She even got fitted with the prosthetic arm since it was her right, and also her dominant arm in hand. I never got over my guilt, but I have gotten better.

about it. We had a long talk, and she demanded that I not ever feel bad. She said that she also should have checked, and that there were no reasons that I should ever take the blame for it. She also explained her moment as it happened. She said that she felt the bolder move, and instead of trying to scoot back into the cave since she was closer to that side, she just froze and said that she blamed herself for that. We both agreed that it was a crazy series of events. We grieved, and then we told each other it was time to move forward, and that's what we did. We all still go caving, Angie included, but we're all a lot more aware of our surroundings and options. We became obsessive about safety, triple-checking everything and making sure paths were clear before we did anything.

It's been a real eye-opener to even us, people that do this on a regular basis. and I wanted to share this as a reminder. No matter how confident you are in doing something, no matter how much of a pro you are, you are never good enough to not have to make sure you are doing it in the safest way possible. You are never good enough to outsmart nature. Stay safe.

I've had multiple internet stalkers in my life. Nine, to be precise. Three of them were genuinely scary. One might say that I should learn my lesson and shut social media down, but I'm a self-published author and artist, and the only way to promote my work is via the internet. Also, why should I run and hide and not display my talents because of a few delusional lunatics?

This must be part and parcel of being a creator. This was 2013, and I ran two blogs, a Facebook page and a Twitter. I'll keep it vague so as to not identify myself, but something happened that year that was historically significant. History nerds worldwide were excited. I had drawn a caricature of a crazy historian involved in the event that went viral online. Because of this, I gained numerous followers and attention,

including from a famous author who happened to be my celebrity crush. Some attention was pretty negative, and even vicious, but I made real friends out of it. Life was good. I also had a Tumblr where I blogged about this history topic. The blog sort of evolved into a classic rock thing after the history community on there became toxic, with other stalkers.

That's a story for another day, but you'd be surprised how nasty and tribal history nerds can be. Eventually, I deleted the entire Tumblr and started afresh. It was such a relief. About a year after the history community drama, someone who I will call Autumn Girl, followed me on my new Tumblr and I followed them back without thinking too much of it. I followed people all the time. Then, over on Twitter, I received a message from a woman who I will call Benny,

thanking me for following her on Tumblr. I was shook because I didn't post anything on my new Tumblr that connected me to my Twitter. I didn't post any art that could link me to the viral drawing, no history nerd stuff. It was just about old rock bands and memes and music. I looked through her Twitter likes and noticed that she had liked my comments to a prominent historian way back in 2013. So, somehow, a history community person had found my new Tumblr despite no art nor history on there. I must have done something to identify myself, but I couldn't think of what. I didn't put photos of my real face on Tumblr, but I did put photos on my Twitter.

It might have been a post about the band, Queen. Perhaps she recognized the way I wrote about the band from my old Tumblr. When I scrolled through her posts, I saw that back in 2013 she had posted a photo of my face that hadn't come from Twitter at all. It was my art website profile photo So she was subscribed on there too I'm able to see subscribers email addresses So I could see her email was Autumn Girl Like her Tumblr username

The viral drawing was for sale on there So I guess I was easily findable But posting my photo That's just creepy behavior It showed that she had been watching me for a year Before contacting me and had somehow tracked my new Tumblr down without me sharing links. Shortly after, I received a Facebook message from Benny,

so she knew my full name. I was furious. I only revealed my first name on Twitter. My art website had a different name. I write novellas under a separate pen name, and I had never put any part of my name on Tumblr. I went to check my other serious blog that was strictly from my books, and surprise, Benny was on there too.

It was linked to my art website because I'd draw my own covers and directed people to buy my art from there. At a guess, I think she had stalked all the pages related to the history community and found my face in there. But she must have been operating under a fake profile. She wasn't in any of my Facebook groups. Groups I had left because of the crazy fighting in the history community. I simply assumed that she was one of those stalker trolls.

I blocked Benny on Facebook, as I don't allow strangers, but stupidly decided to communicate with her on Twitter just to see what she wanted and who she really was. She acted like a massive superfan, tweeting me all day, every day. My phone was vibrating constantly in my pocket at work. Mostly she was bragging, showing me all the stuff. that she received for free at events, which, I suspect, were actually the spoils from a serious shoplifting habit. She also claimed to have a range of rare diseases and kept sending me photos of piles of pills that she was supposedly prescribed. One morning I woke up at 7 a.m., and my phone

buzzed 36 times, all tweets from her in the early hours of the morning. That was the final straw. I blocked her on every platform. The following part is my fault. In the past, I had a lot of problems with my family who are highly dysfunctional. Back in my angry young student days, I vented about my family problems on Twitter. Benny also had an abusive mother and found my years-old tweets and commiserated with their own very wild stories of parental mistreatment. I really regret not deleting these tweets.

The moment I blocked her, she went through the electoral register, which we shouldn't have been on in the first place, and doxed my mother on Twitter. She sent my tweets about my mom to her Facebook, which caused an almighty row at home. She wrote to my celebrity crush author telling him what a lunatic I am with a demand to stop following me. Worse, she tracked down one of the history freaks, a previous stalker, and falsely claimed. that I had racially abused her as she's half Japanese. I am autistic, and she contacted the National Autistic Society to ask if vain narcissistic behavior was a symptom of autism, tagging me in it from a new account so I got the notification.

She contacted other followers of mine who I knew from university, and told them to pass messages on, complete with knife emojis and photos of blades that she had bought off the internet, and she was apparently cursing me with witchcraft spells. To my relief, there was a sudden hiatus where she was harassing someone else. I thought it was over, until a year later. I was on holiday in 2015 when she reappeared with a new Twitter. In late 2014, I got into doll collecting in photography, so from seeing me comment on someone's Tumblr post, blocking didn't work properly back then.

She started messaging my friend that I still play with Barbies. I don't tell people about my doll collection. It's strictly between me and the fellow adult collector community. There was really no escape. Benny had come for my history nerding. She'd come for my art and writing. She'd gone for my celebrities, and now she was interfering with my doll hobby. More night photos were sent, for which I called the police,

who simply advised me to delete social media, and with it's all my book in art sites, but no. I decided to play her at her own game. She began bragging about her art skills and how she was better than the autistic doll freak. I did a reverse image search on her painting, and it brought me to an art site for Autumn Girl. She was offering herself for commissions with her email address,

phone number, and university. Through her university site, I found her real name, and then her home address. That weekend, I signed her up for hundreds of pieces of junk mail, adult magazines, really weird random catalogs about farming and fishing, and then I sat back and watched her have an epic meltdown about how I, who she was now calling her long-term jealous stalker, had planted a GPS tracker on her and was thither. threatening to come to her home.

She deleted all of her accounts, and it's been nine years since I last heard from her. I genuinely think that she was schizophrenic, because just before she deleted everything, she was claiming her family was trying to drug and kill her. Half of her pills were vitamin supplements. She was insane. I hope that she never finds me again.

My art is no longer for sale, and I only do book-cover commissions these days. I hope that she's getting some genuine medication now. Hi, Raven. Over the last month, I've come to the realization that there is a mimic living in my home. The first incident was about a month ago. I was in the living room, early one morning, looking for a lost remote control. For some reason, the remote controls in my house always end up lost, and then found in weird places.

My 23-year-old daughter occasionally spends the night with me, and this morning she had spent the night prior and was still sleeping, so I thought. As I was looking for the lost remote, I heard my daughter say, Hey, Mama, in a sleepy tone as if she was about to ask me something. I replied, yes, and waited a few seconds and didn't get a reply. I said, Maya? What is it? Again, no reply.

Confused, I walked into the bedroom that she usually sleeps in and she wasn't there. I looked around the house and she was not in the house anywhere, so I called her phone. When she answered, I asked her where she went, and she told me that she had gone to work early. I was confused because I clearly heard my daughter in the house just minutes earlier asking for me. I didn't tell her what happened because I felt that she would just say I'm probably hearing things but I know beyond a doubt that I

heard my daughter in the house a week later my fiance and I are standing in the hallway in front of the full-size mirror and I'm trimming up his beard when we both heard my son walk out of his room into the kitchen and say

Mama in a worried type of tone as if he was about to tell me something concerning I looked over and said, What is it, Hunter? And no one was there. I was so shocked and confused.

I stood silently and just stared at my fiancé as he softly said, You didn't imagine it, because I heard it too. We both walked into my son's room and knocked on his door. He said, come in. I asked my son if he had just walked into the hallway and asked for me, and he said that he had not left his room at all. He was playing a video game the entire time.

So, who was just in the kitchen hallway asking for me? It remains a mystery. A few days after that, my daughter thought that she heard me in the bathroom. She texted my phone and asked if I was going to be much longer in the bathroom because she wanted to shower before bed. I told her that I wasn't in the bathroom. Her reply was, I literally just heard you, Mom. She said that she knocked on the door and asked how much longer I was going to be, and supposedly

I replied, just a second. She said that she heard me mumbling something, and then it got quiet, so after waiting outside the bathroom for a few minutes, she texted me. I was never in the bathroom, and when she opened the door, it was empty. She swears that she heard me in the bathroom, though, and I believe her. Up until this point, I had not told my daughter about the experiences we had prior. The scary part is when I told her what had been happening.

She said the same thing had been happening to her. She would hear her three-year-old son, my grandson, playing, laughing and asking for her, and when she would reply, no one would be there. She said she thought that she was losing her mind and decided not to say anything, for fear that people would think that she was hearing things and wouldn't believe her. Well, I definitely believe her, because as of this day, I hear echoes of people's voices while I'm talking to them before they can even reply. I hear my dog barking in the distance while he is literally right beside me not making a sound. My fiancé claims that something has been tickling the bottom of his feet at night while he's sleeping.

I heard my three-year-old grandson running through the hallway toward my room and saw his shadow making his way to my room before it stopped and completely. vanished. My grandson wasn't there. He was asleep in his bed. Does anyone know what this could be? I feel that it's a mimic, but it's now touching us at night. I've tried cleansing my home with herbs and different methods of purifying the energy in the house. I've even set out protection wards.

So far, it remains unknown whether this thing is planning on staying for a while, or moving out of my house. So this happened to my friend, not me, in 2007. But she's here next to me recounting her story and I'm typing it out and posting it for her because she doesn't have read it. Sorry, it's long, but I want to share as many details as possible to hear your thoughts about it. We are adults now, and this happens to her when she was 16. To this day, she describes what she saw in the exact same way as she had right after it happened,

and can still clearly picture it. So here goes. She was walking home from her friend's house at night. This is a town in Southern Oregon, in case that's important. She doesn't remember the exact time, but says it was definitely after midnight. And it was dark, so no one else was out. She says that she was completely sober. and not sleep-deprived.

So she's on her way home in just about two blocks from her house. She was walking on the sidewalk along the main street and was crossing between 5th and 6th Street, while her house is on 7th Street. Across the street is a safe way and a cemetery. Right then, she noticed something about 50 feet ahead of her, crossing the street from the cemetery side to the side that she was on, and this is how she described.

it. There were two creature things walking on their hind legs side by side. One was slightly shorter than the other, but they were both really tall, at least seven foot. They were hunched over, lanky, and extremely skinny. She says that her immediate first thought was that they almost looked like deer walking on their hind legs, but they didn't have any fur. It was more like a dark, grayish skin. They held their arms and wrists, kind of like how a T-Rex would, but their arms and hands were very long, almost as long as their legs. When I asked, she said that she didn't see any tails.

I asked her if they had hooves, and she says that she thinks so, but can't remember that part for certain. Everything was quiet, and she didn't hear them making any sounds on the pavement as they walked. I asked her if they had antlers or deer-like shaped faces, me thinking that maybe it actually was just hairless deer walking on their hind legs for some reason. She said no antlers, but that their heads were not shaped like deer's, or any animals, but more like a person's. She described their faces as looking human with human features, but that something was just slightly off. She had frozen where she was as soon as she saw them. Everything was quiet and there were

no cars driving by or anyone else around, which is normal at night in our small town. She says that she stood there kind of in shock. She watched as the two creatures slowly walked side by side, silently from across the street and over to the side of the street that she was on. She says they didn't seem to see her at all. Or if they did notice her, they didn't act at all like they did. She says they acted as if they were simply a couple going

on a casual night stroll together. She doesn't remember feeling any negative energy or vibes. She just felt fear because she was pretty damned scared. As soon as they finished crossing the street, they continued straight

down 6th Street, and she couldn't see them after they passed the first house and kept walking down. At that point, she said that she snapped out of the shock and started running the one more block towards 6th Street to see where they were going. Once there, she turned down 6th Street to follow them, but they were completely gone. She doesn't know where they could have possibly gone that fast, considering they were just walking, and not walking fast, but like I said, almost as if the two of them were just out on a casual

night stroll. As soon as she realized that they had somehow disappeared out of nowhere, she started running as fast as she could the one more block to her house on 7th Street. She told her mom and her sister the next morning. She says these creatures were like nothing she has ever seen or heard of before. The closest thing she can compare it to is the werewolf that Professor Lupin changes into in the Harry Potter movies. The hairless, superlanky, and hunched over, strangely. except these ones had more human-like faces than a wolf.

She's only ever told her family and a few friends, me being one of them. Oh, and she also has no history of mental illnesses. But whenever I ask her about it, she describes it the exact same way, and is still pretty shook up when she thinks about it. Nothing like that has happened to her before or since then. Anyone know what this could have been?

I've heard about, quote-unquote, not deers on Reddit, but I'm not sure that really fits because I think those are more like animal-shaped, and usually on all fours. If you guys have any questions, I'll ask her and get back to you, but any input would be greatly appreciated. Back in 2016, I was shopping around for my own place. I'd been living with roommates or with my parents, and I finally had. had a good paying job and enough savings put aside to get a place for myself i was long overdue for some privacy i looked into a few places but there was one in particular that i was really interested in it was a small two-bedroom house with a full basement it had plenty of room and i could already lay out how i wanted it to look the owner seemed like a pretty laid-back guy and the rent

was right around where i was looking for but when i did a watch walk through. I was surprised to still see someone's belongings in it, as well as a seemingly rushed attempt at cleaning the place. This was my first time looking for a place, though, so I didn't really know what was normal. To show off a place while someone was still living there? However, the owner explained that the previous tenant was in the process of moving out, so it would be empty and cleaned before I moved in. It made sense to me, and as long as I didn't have to deal with it, I had no reason to make a big deal about it. So, I shot for that place and was pretty ecstatic when the owner called me to tell me that all of my information and referrals checked

out. So the place was as good as mine. I secured the place, got the keys, and started the moving process. The owner met me there, and we did a move-in walk-through to check for any damages, or anything of that sort. The house was spotless. Everything was clean, and most importantly, it was empty, besides a sheet in the corner of the living room. The owner grabbed it and mentioned that it was probably left behind by one of the painters, and he grabbed it and later tossed it in the bin out front. It smelled like paint in there, so it made sense. After we did our walkthrough, the owner left and I began the process of moving.

I unpacked a few boxes that I had in my car. and then left to get a small U-Haul. I still had a decent amount of stuff to get from two different places. Plus, I wanted to use it to pick up the couch and chair that I had purchased previously. It took me all day, as I did this all by myself, but I was able to get everything I had moved in in one day. I was going to need to buy some more things for my house, such as more tableware and lamps, but I at least had enough to be comfortable for the same. the time being. All I needed was a place to sleep, my TV, and my cat, Tom. I started unpacking a

few boxes, such as Tom's box of food, bed, toys, and litter box, and then my box of bedding and toiletries. I wanted to shower before I went to bed that night, even with how exhausted I was. I got the stuff that I needed, got Tom situated in his bed next to mine, and went to shower. While I was in there, I heard a few thuds that made me stop what I was doing. I had left the bathroom door open because Tom is very clingy, especially in new places, wanting to follow me everywhere, so it's easier to leave the doors open for him. So when I heard scratching sounds and Tom's bell, I assumed he was either running around to play or maybe was getting on top of boxes and knocking them over.

It was a simple enough explanation for me that made sense, and I just let it go. I got out of the shower, saw Tom standing by the bathroom door looking into the living room, and I petted him, which diverted his attention back to me. We went back to our room to settle in for the night, and it took me a while to actually fall asleep. Part of me was a bit on edge, but I couldn't really understand why. I eventually convinced myself that it was just because I was sleeping in a new place and just had some jitters because of that. But after some time, I was finally able to pass out.

At some point in the night, I woke up needing to use the bathroom. I dragged myself out of bed, barely opening my eyes and opened the bathroom door, noticing the light coming through from under the door. When I opened the door, there was a man standing at the sink and shaving his face. He looked over at me, startled, and I was the same way. However, I started closing the door and apologizing when it finally clicked in my head. There was a stranger in my house.

I swung the door back open, now fully awake, and started yelling at him. What the hell are you doing in my house? But the man had yelled back to me, accusing me of, being in his home. I ran back to the bedroom where Tom remained and I grabbed my phone to call the police. As I talked to the operator to explain what was happening, the man walked into the room with a pair of scissors held high above his head. I dropped my phone, grabbed my alarm clock and threw it at the guy. It was enough to throw him off, I guess, and I was able to shove him backwards so I could close the door. I locked it but pushed my back to it so he couldn't try to break it.

through it. Poor Tom looked terrified. I was able to grab my phone with the operator still there and waited for the police to arrive as the man continued to bang on the door. I then heard knocking on the front door, but there was nothing that I could do. He was still banging on the bedroom door, until finally he seemed to stop to answer the front door. I could hear them talking, or more like the man yelling and the police trying to talk to him. He was yelling at them that I had broke into his house, and he was demanding that they go shoot me.

I was terrified. He got to talk to them first, so are they going to believe him? Are they going to shoot or tase me if I opened the door? They asked me to come out, and I explained my side of things. I told them what happened and explained that I was the one that called for help. I even showed them copies of the papers I had just signed a few days prior. and gave them the owner's phone number. I was still freaking out.

They were going to call the owner as well as to confirm, and I was stressing that my first night here, I was already involved with the police. What if he told me never mind and that I had to get out? Thankfully, to my relief, the police came back and told me that not only did the owner confirm that I was the new resident, but that the man was the previous tenant that had been kicked out.

The owner actually showed up and there was a huge discussion between the three of us and the cops. Or more like between them and I listened and just confirmed. Apparently that guy hadn't paid rent for some time. The owner tried to work things out, but with the amount of complaints from the neighborhood about things he was doing, things they heard or could smell apparently, and the number of police events, he had to evict him. That's also why the police weren't quick to take his side. He was told that he had to leave but refused to do so.

So, the owner ended up having to pack all of his stuff up to get him out. He apparently wasn't too happy about that, and decided to try to stay anyways. He had collected the key from the last guy, but wasn't aware that he had made a spare and never changed the locks. Thus, how he was able to get in that night, while I was in the shower. He was going through my stuff, I learned later,

because those were actually my scissors from my office box. In the end, the guy was asked to leave peacefully. He refused and then tried to start a fight, so he got a free ride back to the police station at least. The owner apologized profusely and said that he would actually be back the next day to change all the locks, to make sure that no one else had the keys, but us.

So, my first night in my new place was pretty eventful, for all the wrong reasons, but it was still mine. I actually still live in the same house with Tom by my side, as the rent is great, and the owner is pretty cool. I've also never seen that man again, and I really hope that it stays that way. I grew up in Belgium, Europe. Since I was young, I've been with my friends and the scouts. It's mixed in Belgium.

We don't have boys and girls apart, usually. We start scouts when we are six years old, and then we go through all the groups until we are 18. That's when we become scout leaders, usually. I'm saying this to give you a little background on me and my friends. We are people who I would consider close with nature, camping, and overall used to a lot. I would not say we are your typical rough outdoors lumber type of person,

but we can manage ourselves well through a forest. Back when we were around 16 years old, one of my friends invited our group to go wild camping in the forest that we have close to our homes. It is not your average American national park, I wish, with stories of Bigfoot or worse. But it definitely has its own charm and legend. We have a century's old tale about werewolves in our forest, and a couple of legends about witches.

It is not a huge forest, but one can get easily lost if they are not familiar with its trails, and all the trees look the same. This being said, to describe it the best I can, we were very familiar with the forest, since we were small children playing in the tree line and afterwards as teenagers being blindly dropped with nothing but a map, in the middle of it, by our leaders. I don't know whether this game is popular in other countries to the scouts,

but in Belgium, it is very well-known and quite safe, actually. We don't have bears, or until a year back, wolves. Nguyen dropped, we would carry lights, so just in case anyone didn't manage his or her way out, they would be spotted easily by a search party. Again, this is not a national party. that is so huge a person could go missing for days. That being said again, we were very familiar with the forest,

and we were all locals from the village nearby. So we started our camping journey with our bikes from the village to the entrance of the forest. And, once there, we would continue to the deeper parts of the forest on foot, since it was an area with lots of hills and a few trails for bikes. The mood was good. It was beautiful, although a bit cold. It was an autumn evening with a few clouds and a beautiful sunset. We hiked our way through the forest until we got to a small clearing with some grass

and prepared our tents for the night. We made a small campfire. We always learned to be safe, never putting in danger in the forest, and ate some beans and sausages for dinner, together with some tasty Belgian beers. Around 11 p.m., we decided to call it a night, and we each went to sleep in our tents and sleeping bags. Everything seemed like a normal camping day in the forest. Then, suddenly, at around 1.30 a.m., we woke up to the sound of what seemed to be like drums.

A couple of us gone out of our tents with our flashlights asking what was going on. Our forests had always been a quiet place at night, and during the day the only noise you could hear were the critters. So you can imagine the surprise of hearing drums in the middle of the night. We were located on a flat area on the side of a hill, to have a beautiful view in the morning. And at the other side of the hill, over the top, we saw light and smoke of what seemed to be a bonfire.

We figured that that had to be the place where the place where the... drum noise was coming from. So the ones who had gotten out of our tents decided to just go over there and see what was going on, and maybe talk with the people who decided that it was a good plan to be making noise in a calm forest at 1.30 in the morning. We hiked over the hill so that we could have a glance at the people to know who we were dealing with first. We walked about 15 minutes before we could actually see the bonfire. It was located in a small circled clearing with lots of trees and bushes around. We crouched toward the bushes in the tree line to get a look of what was going on,

and that is when we saw the people with the drums. A couple of them, I recall a group of five to six, sat around the fire playing the same tune on the drums the whole time, and another group of people was dancing around. the bonfire. Although I say dancing right now, I mean these people were making weird, unnatural movements.

Almost as if they were having spasms. And honestly, the best way to describe it is bodies contorting. The people dancing around the circles were wearing suits. At first glance would make it look like people dressing to be one with nature.

But a second glance would make it look like pagan suits. Almost like the original celebrations of Halloween, see, Sam Hain. This was when we realized that whatever these people were doing, whether it was some sort of gag or seriously some sort of ritual, we would be better off if we did not confront them. So we decided to back off and go back to our camping spot as quiet as possible. Once there, we decided to wake the rest and tell them what we had seen.

We packed up that same moment and left to the entrance of the forest. We then got on our bikes and all went back home. We have since still frequented the forest, both our scouts and in our free time with our friends and family, and we've never seen this circle of people again. However, it has stuck with me ever since, and I will never forget how we felt out of our place in the forest for the first time in our lives. It's the first time and luckily the last time that we did not feel welcome in our own forest.

I'm not sure what exactly this would fall under. I'm very skeptical of the matrix hypothesis, but I do believe in the possibility of alternate universes. I've heard many people describe my situation as a form of quantum immortality as well, but that doesn't seem to fit right either. Here's my situation. I've seen my own death more times than I can count. The first and most frequent was when I lived in Federal Way, Washington. I didn't drive at the time and I was walking to work.

Suddenly a garbage truck comes around the corner where I'm waiting to cross the street and drives by a little faster than it should be going. Nothing actually happened to me. However, the second the truck was past me, I suddenly had the memory and a slight physical sensation of the truck taking the corner way too fast and falling over sideways and crushing me. It scared the crap out of me,

and that particular scenario happened enough times to give me a phobia of garbage trucks. However, there have been more scenarios than that. One time I was exiting the store that I was working at early in the morning, and a plane fell out of the sky crashing into the store from above. Three days before Christmas. Another couple of times my husband and I were on the bus to Seattle, and on the freeway, the driver had a heart attack and would either drive us into oncoming traffic or over the edge of a cliff.

But every time this happens, I don't ever actually see it happening, like a lot of the people who claim the quantum immortality theory. It's almost as if a different version of me has died and their final memories get uploaded to my brain seconds after they die. For a while, the occurrences were happening very frequently. It was freaking me out. But they seemed to have subsided a bit in the last few years, and I'm not sure if I'm just not dying as much,

or if my connection to the other me's has gotten weaker. I've tried explaining this to my family and friends, and I'm sure they think I'm either making it up, or I've got something seriously wrong with me mentally. But thought the listeners here would understand what I'm going through. I'm not one for superstition. I have a pretty bad memory, so I'll often get details mixed up,

get corrected, and move on with my life. So for me to be here, I have to be completely convinced that I'm right, and a detail has absolutely changed. No question about it. I've never been one for music or instruments. I have no talent for it, no ear for it. I don't enjoy it. I've tried some stuff, but nothing stuck.

I did, however, try to learn the piano, and that didn't stick either. But I did it enough and messed around with pianos in general enough that I know which side is high-pitched and which side is low-pitched. My sister has been learning piano lately. A few weeks ago, she showed me a song that she learned. Something seemed off with the keys, but I brushed it off and assumed I was just unfamiliar with the black keys, since I never got that far in learning. That night, she did something with the white keys for our parents. I was in the room, and that's when I actually paid attention.

The low side of the piano was on the right. In my memory, piano keys go high to low, left to right. I asked my dad why the piano keys were switched, and he and my mom looked at me like I was crazy. They said I had failed and that the keys had always been low to high. There's no way in hell I would misremember a detail like that. Absolutely no way. I'm not thinking of a xylophone or anything.

I've run through it in my head so many times. times. High was always left. I wish I was making this up, but I even texted a couple of friends about it because I was so freaked out. When I try to remember myself playing piano, it's right in my memory, but the memories are fuzzy, and I feel weird trying to think about it. I don't have the same feeling trying to recall other memories. I think it happened when I was cleaning upstairs. I wiped down a window, looked downstairs, and almost pissed myself because my front door was in the wrong place. It was just a reflection from a new mirror my family had gotten, but I was staring at it way too long before I realized it was a reflection. The reflected floor

and walls lined up perfectly with the real ones. I went down and touched the mirror, and it felt normal, but after that is when I noticed the piano. And I've never felt so disoriented by a mirror before. I don't know if the mirror was the cause, or the angle at which I saw it, or

if the piano is the thing that changed because it was in the room that belonged to the window I was cleaning. I don't know, but it's freaking me out. The damn piano changed, and this is one thing I know that I didn't remember wrong.

It's not Mandela. I'm not superstitious. I don't think the heart or kidneys moved places, and I don't think it's ridiculous that I misremembered Baron Stein instead of Baron Stain. If anyone knows what's up, feel free to share. Everything is similar enough, and I don't feel like I need to get back. I just want to know if anyone has felt anything like this, or if anyone remembers the pianos like I do.

As a side note, I sometimes get a weird vertigo feeling when I walk into certain places, even if I've been there before. Like something is urging me to get out. I recently went into one of my house's bathrooms and felt it. I don't know if that's a universe thing or a spirit thing and it doesn't seem to affect anything else, but I thought I would mention it. My three-year-old son suffered from chronic ear infections last year, which led to it. him having high fevers. I slept with him on this particular night because I needed to give him Tylenol throughout the night to keep his fever down and keep him comfortable. I set my alarm to wake me up at around 2.30 a.m. When I woke up, I went into the kitchen to get the Tylenol. I noticed

a bright light shining into the apartment from our deck door, which also illuminated part of the woods behind my apartment. When I went over to see what it was, it turned out to be a car with those bright LED headlights in the parking lot to the far back right of the apartment. I figured they were dropping

someone off. I saw the movement of what resembled a dog walking around near the woods. I started to think that the lady who usually walks her dog, a cute little corgi, in that area, purposely faced her car in that direction

so she could see while she walked her dog. As it got closer, I realized that there was nobody out there walking a dog, and there was no dog. I don't know what it was I saw, but I'll describe it in the best way that I can. At first, it looked just like a dog, corgi-sized,

but as it walked closer, it looked like your average house cat. Then it looked like a black bear, and then it looked like a koala. I live in North New Jersey, farmland and lots of woods, and there are no wild koalas here. At this point, my heart is pounding out of my chest, and I'm scared. The fear I felt was like a primal type of fear that I have never felt before. I ran to my bedroom to wake up my boyfriend, and I shook him awake very roughly.

I said, you've got to come see this. he was a bit annoyed with me. When we look outside together, we see this thing getting closer, and it looks like a skunk now. White stripe down the center with the perky, fluffy tail? I said, Oh, it's just a skunk,

with a little chuckle. I felt a bit embarrassed that I woke him up over a damn skunk, but at that moment I also felt relieved. However, I was mistaken. As it walked, it looked as if it was struggling to find a form. I thought it looked like it was falling apart, but also coming back together again at the same time. I know this doesn't make sense, but it's hard to find the words for what we saw. After the skunk formation, it looked like a person crawling on the ground with some type of fur or skin attached to them around the legs.

Then it changed again and looked like a raccoon, groundhog, blackbird. bear, cat, koala, deer, and skunk. The part that stuck out to me the most was that, whatever it was, it seemed to be coming apart or shedding, but at the same time it was growing. Whoever had their headlights on turned them off as it went deeper into the woods. This happened pretty quickly. I'd say it was only a couple of minutes from start to finish. He ended up going back to bed, but I couldn't sleep after that, so I grabbed a flag.

flashlight and shined it into the woods to see if I could see it again, but it was gone. I also opened the door to see if I could hear anything, but I couldn't. It was very quiet. I had a hard time going back to sleep that night. My boyfriend wasn't scared, but he was confused and stunned. He didn't know what to make of it. I was scared and creeped out. I know if I hadn't woken him up to see it for himself,

he most likely would not have believed me and would have chalked it up to me being groggy from just waking up or it just being an animal. Unfortunately, I know what I saw, and I'll never forget it. I often go camping and hiking on my own as a way to decompress from everyday life and enjoy the gift that is nature.

After sleeping under the stars, I always felt rejuvenated and ready to take on the world again. But after this specific trip, I did not come back with that same energized feeling, and I will never forget it. I was taking a trip through a remote forest in northern Michigan. It's not the first time I've been in this particular set of woods, so I had an idea of where I was at, and where I wanted to stay. I set off with my always well-prepared pack and scouted out where I I wanted to stay for the night. The first few days and nights

even went exactly as I wanted. I hiked the trail, spent time in the small creek, watched frogs and other creatures in the water and birds in the trees. It was absolutely rejuvenating. Then on the third night, things took a turn.

The sky was starting to darken unexpectedly, so I was anticipating rain. I reluctantly set up my tent to sleep in for the night, not wanting to be potentially soaked by morning. I settled into my tent for the night and listened to the sounds of wildlife to lull me to sleep. I was starting to doze off, right, in the in-between states of awake and asleep, when I noticed something, or rather the lack of something. The sound I was listening to was now gone. The crickets chirping was gone. The owls were silent.

Even the slight swaying sound The tree branches from the wind seemed to have lost their voice. I held my breath to see if maybe I was mistaken, but I quickly picked up on a prickling sensation creeping up my spine. Something now felt off. Again, this wasn't my first time camping in these woods,

so I assumed it was wildlife. Something was nearby and probably spotted my tent or even picked up on my scent and became curious. I can usually just let it pass and be fine, but this feeling was giving me predator vibes. I decided to look out of my tent to see if I could figure out what it was, and if I needed to try and scare it away or run away myself. I unzipped part of my tent and scanned the tree line. It didn't take long for me to spot a dark shadow that, if I'm paying honest,

seemed to shift and writhe in ways that defied logic. But then I noticed what I believed to be eyes. They were huge and had almost a red hue to them, but the height of those eyes was even more alarming. Even from the distance, the eyes reached the lower branches of the trees. That's when I started hearing a low rumbling sound, almost like a growling. But I could feel it in my feet where I stood. For once, since I've started going on these trips, I was frozen, not knowing what to do.

I didn't have a car, so I had no chance of running or driving away. I just slowly zipped back up my tent, laid down and listened, praying for whatever it was to lose interest in me and walk off. Of course, I couldn't get that lucky. Shortly after, I could hear the crunching of leaves and sticks as if someone or something was walking on them. The sound was getting closer and closer to my tent, and I tried my best to control my breathing and remain calm. As I continued to listen, I could hear the creature's massive breathing.

It sounded similar to a dog sniffing around, but put through an amplifier. As it got louder and closer to my tent, I could sense its presence. With the moonlight against my tent, I could make out the silhouette of a creature. that was now too close for comfort. It was just as enormous as I thought. It had to be eight, maybe nine feet tall. The shape was bizarrely unnatural. It had a mix of human and animal features.

It was walking on all fours, but then stood on two as it pressed its face against my tent. That's how I could tell not only its height, but the fact that it had a snout. The spine also seemed to have a shrew. sharp curve to it, like it had a hunched back or how a cat looks when it's frightened. But the stench was honestly what nearly got me in trouble. It was a stomach-churning mix of rotting meat, wet dog, and something chemical. I couldn't really tell what, though. I tried to remain calm, but the smell was making me sick.

I was holding back from gagging, hoping the creature would pass soon and not realize there was someone in the tent, but I couldn't hold back anymore. The stench was unbearable, and I actually dry heaved. That's when the creature let out another growl, but it seemed to carry a hint of almost a human-like vocalization. It was like it was trying to speak, but couldn't form the words. The sound was just uncanny, and made the whole situation that much more terrifying. that this weird beast or creature was maybe trying to talk to me.

But after it tried to speak, I could hear it walking back the direction from which it came. I continued to lay there too afraid to move. But once the stench was completely gone and I couldn't hear the growling or walking, I mustered up the courage to look out of my tent again. It was definitely gone, but it was also still silent. I went back into my camp, took out my little hatchet from my bag and laid still, waiting to fall asleep. I figured it was safer for me to try to stay put for the night and then leave the next morning, rather than to try to take down my tent and walk through the dark trees.

By morning, I woke to birds chirping and even a few nearby frogs, so whatever came by that night must be long gone. I got out of my tent, hatchet still in hand, and walked around the area, as I wanted to look for tracks. And it certainly didn't take long. It seemed like it rained a little bit, but not much. My tent wasn't even wet anymore.

But on the ground near my tent, I could see the prints. They looked like massive canine-like prints, easily twice the size of a wolf's. I followed them to where the same. they stopped at my tent, and faced forward towards it, and then followed the prince back away from my tent and into the trees, where the prints were lost in the leaves and grass. But back in those trees, I saw something that added to my fear. There was a spot in the ground where the grass and leaves were flattened. Something was obviously lying there. Was that creature

watching me? And was it watching after it left? Or was it watching? before. The thought of being watched like prey made me even more uncomfortable. Something was not right about this. This was no longer a fun get lost in nature sort of trips, so I packed up and left. Since then, I researched known animals in the area, trying to convince myself that it was just an abnormally large wolf, but I can't get past the part where it stood on its back legs. This wasn't a quick up like some house dogs do. It stood as if it was a natural position

for it, not to mention that it walked like that. But as silly as this is going to sound, the only thing that keeps coming back around is that I may have witnessed the dogman. I didn't pay much attention to cryptids and things of the sort prior, but I mean, it could just be some kind of deformed creature. Or maybe something we haven't quite identified yet. It's entirely possible. I've told a few friends about my sightings before, and they were intrigued. We've gone camping in the same area since, hoping to spot it, but so far, it has yet to come

back. Or at least it hasn't made itself known. Who knows, maybe it just watched us in the distance without us having the slightest idea. Maybe it's waiting for us to trail off alone before it'll come out of hiding.