As The Raven Dreams Podcast - The Best SCARY STORIES Of 2023, Part 2 - 8 Hours of TRUE SCARY STORIES

Episode Date: December 22, 2023

Today We have the second half of our BEST OF Collection for the year! This collection Goes through October of this year! Have a Story To Submit? ➤ https://www.astheravendreams.com Or Post to the Subreddit ➤ https://reddit.com/r/TheRavensDream 'As The Raven Dreams' is a community where we explore the darker parts of human existence through true and harrowing stories. From sinister encounters with strangers and stalkers, to terrifying experiences that defy explanation and unsettling mysteries that linger in the shadows, I am here to tell you the most haunting narratives ever whispered. Much Love, and Sleep Well... ----- ➤ Videos include a content warning for language and sensitive/disturbing content. Viewer discretion is always advised. ➤ ALL Audio and visuals in this video are copyright of AS THE RAVEN DREAMS / RAVEN ADAMS and may not be duplicated, in any format, without explicit permission ➤Consider Subscribing if you enjoy any of the following! Glitch in the matrix stories, creepy lets not meet stories, dark web horror stories, stalker stories, unexplained horror stories, paranormal encounters, cryptid encounters, paranormal stories, crazy ex stories, creepy neighbor stories, or True Scary Stories! ➤ BlessThisMess #TrueScaryStories #AsTheRavenDreams #RedditStories other tags.... (ignore) true scary stories,lets not meet,scary stories,true horror stories,Blue_Spooky,true scary stories from reddit,reddit stories,reddit scary stories,horror stories,creepypastas,creepypasta,true creepy stories,reddit horror stories,home invasion stories,true scary stalker stories,stalker horror stories,scary stalker stories,scary night shift stories,scary stories told in the rain,scary stories in rain,rain sounds,rain asmr,scary true stories,lets read --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/astheravendreams/message Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/astheravendreams/support Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Back when I was in high school, I was friends with this eccentric girl named Lisa. Lisa was one of those strange girls. The kind that wear quirky colors, but also tried to dress, goth-esque. And I really did like her as a friend, but she could be a bit much at times. I was on the football team, and while I wasn't in the jock click, I will say that I wasn't in her normal friend group. The reason I ended up being friends with her was because in freshman year,

I actually ended up in a group with her for a final project in our biology class, and I learned that she was a pretty interesting individual. I wouldn't say that we were close friends, even, but we were friends. And we would chat whenever we were together in a classroom or whatever, but nothing beyond that. She never showed any interest in me beyond friendship, and I wasn't interested in her beyond friendship. And that was that.

However, in junior year, things did change a bit. I started a relationship with one of Lisa's friends, Shelby. Lisa actually got us together, because Shelby had a crush on me, and I kind of had a thing for her, too. So, obviously, the relationship had Lisa's blessing. Being with Shelby meant that I did end up spending more time with Lisa. When we would hang out after school, Lisa would typically want to come over.

And again, Lisa was all right, but she started to feel like a third wheel. It got to a point where Lisa would start texting me, asking me what I was doing. And at first, I just thought, she was being friendly. At one point, it got to be a bit much when she called me at three in the morning to ask me if Shelby and I were going to hang out that day. I got a bit cross with her, telling her not to call me in the middle of the night. And she just sort of sheepishly apologized and hung up.

That day, when I went over to Shelby's house, I told her about the call and she freaked out, saying that Lisa had been doing the same thing to her. that she had called her every night for the last two weeks, asking about random things. We talked it through when we both decided that we needed to put up some boundaries with Lisa, especially when we were spending time together. We got to a point where we would make plans to go somewhere, and we wouldn't tell Lisa.

We wouldn't mention it around her at all. One weekend, we went to the movies just to get out and, go on a date. And after we'd sat down during the previews, who else would show up, but Lisa. She walked in the theater with a large popcorn bucket in her hand, and when she saw us, she excitedly yelled, Oh my God, there you two are! The entire theater looked back at us, and I'm sure that they immediately thought that we were going to be a problem. I just shushed her and asked her what the hell she was doing. She said that she wanted to see a movie and that she saw us walk into the theater earlier

and that her seeing the same movie was a complete coincidence. I didn't buy it, and based on the look on Shelby's face, she didn't either. Shelby just said something like, wow, what a coincidence. Lisa sat in the seat next to us, and the whole time she was being obnoxiously loud and annoying. It got to the point where one of the theater employees came into the room during the movie and actually asked us to leave. We tried to tell them that we weren't with her, but they didn't buy it. She was being loud and sitting with us, so we were all asked to get out. I didn't want to end up getting trespassed from the movies or told not to come back,

so Shelby and I just got up and started leaving. Then, Lisa started yelling at the employee. She started screaming about how everyone in the theater was discriminating against her, and how she, as an American, was allowed to say what she wanted. I'm going to be honest, I have no idea what she was going on about with all that, but it was embarrassing to be seen as associated with her. I nudged Shelby to go, and she agreed, and we made our way out of the theater as quickly as we could.

When we got out, we heard Lisa yell for us and asked why we left her there like that. Shelby actually went off on her, telling her that she was an embarrassment, that she was acting like an absolute idiot, and that she had completely ruined our date. At this last part, Lisa's shocked face kind of turned to a slight grin, which again telegraphed exactly what she was doing. Ruining our day was her plan, and she'd managed to do so. After Shelby finished saying what she had to say,

she grabbed my arm and pulled me away, saying that she couldn't stand to be around Lisa right then. I agreed. We walked away and got in my car to leave. Lisa just stood there with that same stupid grin on her face, and waved at us, saying that she'd see us around. It didn't end there, of course. It got to the point where Shelby had to block Lisa's number

because she started calling it all hours of the night again. Sometimes she would be sobbing, telling her how sorry she was, some nights she would call and be pretty obviously pretending to be drunk, and talk about how she and I had slept together, which was a complete lie. One night she called and told Shelby that she was in love with her and that they should run away together and never come back. Mind you, Shelby and I were 17, and Lisa was still 16 at this time.

After Shelby blocked her, Lisa started texting and calling me randomly, telling me that she was in love with me, that we should be together. I told her that she was nuts, and that I loved Shelby and wanted nothing to do it. with her. She laughed when I said this, saying that I didn't love Shelby, and that I was just using her as a means to get with her. I hung up on her, and then I blocked her number. One of the last occurrences happened one day after football practice. At this point, it had been around a month since Lisa had really done anything or contacted either of us, probably because we'd blocked her number. When practice was over, Shelby and

I went to get into my car and get home, and when I opened my driver's side door, I saw a manila envelope sitting on the center console. I asked if it was hers, and she said no. I knew it wasn't mine. I got in and grabbed it, and when I flipped it over, my heart stopped. The front said, from Lisa to the love of my life. I just stared at those words and kind of froze. How had she gotten into my car?

And worse, what was going to be in that envelope? Shelby asked what the hell it was, and I told her that I didn't know, and that I didn't want to know. She asked if I should open it, and at first I considered it, but then I had a second thought. I told her not to open it, and that I knew what we should do. I put my car in drive, and I'd, I went straight to Lisa's house.

I went and knocked on the door and was actually thankful when her mother answered and not her. I asked her if Lisa was home, and she told me that she wasn't, that she had to stay after school and would be home soon, which was the second blessing in this situation. Thankfully, her parents knew both Shelby and I. They knew Shelby a bit more, but since I was Shelby's boyfriend, they knew who I was. I asked her if we could come in and talk with her a moment about Lisa, and while she was confused, she invited us in.

When we got into the living room, I handed her the envelope, and I told her that I had found it in my car, and I then started telling her about all the things that Lisa had been doing. I told her that I respected Lisa and that she was my friend, but that something needed to be done about how she was acting. Her mother then asked what was in the envelope, and I told her that I had no idea, that we hadn't opened it. I watched her open the envelope and pull out what looked to be a stack of Polaroids. As soon as she flipped through the first few, her face went completely white as a sheet,

and she quietly said, oh my God. Almost as if on cue, Lisa walked in the front door, and the three of us all looked over at her as she quietly asked what was going on. Her mother stood up and turned to look at her, and when she did, I was able to catch a glimpse of one of the photos. It was exactly what you might think. It was a photo of Lisa in a very inappropriate way. I then stood up and said that Shelby and I should probably leave them to talk about things,

and her mother told me that she appreciated me bringing this to her attention. and that nothing like this would ever happen again. Shelby and I left, and the whole time we were walking to the door, Lisa was watching us with an incredibly angry look on her face, which should have left me feeling guilty, but what she was doing was way over the line. As we were walking down the front steps, I could hear her mother starting in on her, asking why she was taking nude pictures of herself and giving them to her friends like that. Again, I probably should have felt bad, but there's only so much that one can take until pity no longer becomes an option.

As we drove back to my house, Shelby asked if what we did was the right thing to do. I told her that we could have handled it differently, but that it had been months at this point, and that Lisa hadn't gotten the hint. I then mentioned that, since Lisa was still 16, what she had put in that envelope and in my car was 100% illegal, and that she could have called the cops and told them that I was in possession of those pictures. And I very likely could have been arrested for it.

When I mentioned that, I think Shelby understood what I was saying, and agreed with my sentiment. She asked me if I thought that that was her plan, and I told her that I didn't know, but that I wouldn't have put it past her. That was the last major event with Lisa, thankfully. She still tried to talk to us some, and she would sometimes send us text from a different number, asking if we could talk about everything, but we pretty much just cut her out, and told her that we were done with her. Shelby and I are actually married.

Happily so, and we have a two-year-old now, so thankfully Lisa wasn't able to drive a wedge between us like she wanted. The only reason that I even thought of this story was because Lisa tried to send Shelby a friend request on Facebook, as is the cliche reason. Shelby considered accepting it, and I told her that it was her choice, but also mentioned that junior year was only ten years ago, and that there's a high chance that she's still the same person, person she was. In the end, I hope that Lisa has a great life.

I hope that she finds someone else to fill the role of, quote, love of her life, because it's not me. And I hope that she can live out her days with them, because I never want to see her again. I first met Hannah online. I think it was on Facebook through a mutual friend that we shared. She commented something on one of my friend's posts, and I responded to her with a joke about something, and she then sent me a friend request, and that was kind of it, for a while, at least. At the time, I was seeing someone, she was seeing someone, so there was no intention beyond

we share a mutual friend and have the same sense of humor. A few years later, I'd get together for that same friend, and, wouldn't you know it, we were both single and we hid it off. She was a dream come true for me. Beautiful, smart, funny. She had a laugh that lit up the room, and I fell for her pretty much right away. Before I knew it, we'd been dating for about six months. It honestly felt like that.

We met at the party, and then we were together for half a year. Everything seemed perfect with her until then, when she sprung something on me way out of left field. Out of nowhere, she told me that she had a kid, which is something that should not have been a surprise, right? Those six months that we were together, she never mentioned having a daughter. There were no pictures of her with her daughter on her Facebook. In the time we'd been together, her daughter had literally never been mentioned, at all. So, when she came out and said,

I have court for custody of my daughter this week. I was kind of like, I'm sorry, you have court for what of who? Worse yet, she kind of played it off like, oh, my daughter, Courtney, you've met her, I've mentioned her, etc. Apparently this whole time Courtney had been living with her ex, Ryan, her father.

and I genuinely didn't even know this kid existed. Of course, I wanted to be supportive. I wanted to be there for this woman that I was pretty sure I was in love with. But I was taken aback that she was able to hide something like this for so long. I mean, it's not normal to hide a kid from your boyfriend, right? But she was adamant that she had told me about her, to the point that it actually became an argument. one that got pretty heated and pretty loud.

After a while, I relented and basically agreed that I probably just forgot, just to try to calm her down. After that, I asked her about the situation, what was going on with the custody battle and all of that. She started telling me about how abusive Ryan was, how he was controlling, and that he had even gotten physically abusive with her at least once, I asked her how he ended up with custody of her in the first place, and she broke down crying,

just completely sobbing about how nothing in her life is fair. I let it go, but I do want to mention that it wasn't lost on me that she avoided the question. Then came the day of court that she had mentioned, and she asked me to be there as a character witness, which, honestly, I wasn't even sure. sure was a thing for custody battles, but I agreed. I suited up and I went with her to the hearing. I just kind of sat there awkwardly and at one point I was brought up during a conversation.

She motioned towards me and I had to tell them who I was and what I did for a living, and that was all they asked me. I was basically told that I could remain seated on the bench, and if they had any questions they would call on me. They didn't, and I just continued to awkwardly sit there watching this whole thing play out. That was until one word came out of Ryan's mouth, one that was echoed by the judge, abuse. It was brought up that the reason he had full custody of Courtney was because of Hanna's abusive tendencies, abuse of tendencies that were, apparently, well documented by the legal system.

I don't want to get into all of it, but I think the overall theme of the whole conversation was that she had been abusive to Ryan for a long time, and the relationship fell apart when it was found out that she had been abusive to Courtney, too. This was shocking to me. I hadn't seen that side of her at all. By the end of the day,

it was pretty clear that she wasn't going to get custody of Courtney, at least not full custody like she had wanted, and it was unclear as to whether or not she would even get partial custody. The whole drive home, she was quiet, just staring out the window and crying. I asked if she wanted to come over to my place to talk things out, and she nodded. So we went back to my place,

which was a decision that I genuinely regret. We got in, and I sat down on the couch thinking this was just going to be her venting, which I would have totally understood. But she immediately started going off on me. She was screaming that this was my fault, that I was the reason she didn't get her daughter back. I was taken aback, asking her how the hell it was my fault. And she yelled back that I didn't tell the judge that she was a good person, that I should have told them that she had changed and that she was no longer the person she used to be.

I retorted with, They didn't ask me to say anything. I would have told them all that if they had asked, Hannah. And then she hit me. She smacked me across the face and yelled that I should have stood up and argued for her like a man when they were talking about how abusive she was. The irony in the fact that she had physical, physically assaulted me while yelling about how she wasn't abusive was palpable.

I had to hold my breath for a moment because I was about to explode. I simply stood up and pointed towards the door telling her that she needed to leave. She told me that I would regret it, that she was going to make my life a living hell if I left her. I reiterated that I just wanted her to leave and that she needed to get help. that I could no longer be involved in her life. And then she said something that haunts me to this day. Whatever I do, it's going to be your fault for pushing me over the edge. And she left.

Now, this was clearly a threat, but I didn't know what she meant by it. And there was only so much that I could do because they were only words at that moment. In fact, they were only words. for about two days. Until I got a knock on my front door, and when I opened it, I was met with three police officers asking very aggressively if Hannah was in my apartment. I was confused and honestly a bit scared. And I told them that I hadn't seen her and even gave them permission to come in to verify.

Not something I would normally do, but this seemed incredibly serious. While two of the officers started looking around the apartment and clearing the rooms, the third one asked me to have a seat because he had some questions for me. I asked him what was going on, and he asked me when the last time I had seen Hannah was. I told him that it had been a couple of days. He pressed me harder, asking me for a specific time, things that were said, etc. I told him everything about the argument, how she was upset about the custody case, and I told him that she had left after she got physical with me, and that was it.

He asked me if he could see my phone to make sure that she hadn't called or messaged. I showed him that the last call was from her that morning that she had court, and that she hadn't texted me since before that. And I told him that I hadn't had any contact with her since then. I then, again, asked what the hell was going on. The other two officers came back into the living room, and that's when they started explaining things to me. Apparently, I was the last person to see Hannah before she went over to Ryan's house.

They gathered from him that she was distraught and asked if she could come in, and he told them that she had said something about me assaulting her, and for some reason he fell for it and let her in. At some point, she had taken a blunt object and knocked him clean out and then kidnapped their daughter, and she'd been on the run ever since. They wanted to make sure that I had nothing to do with it. I told them that I was not a part of that, that we had broken up that day because of the argument,

and I told them that I had not touched her at. at all, mentioning that she had hit me, and that's when I told her to get out. They seemed to believe me, and told me that if I had heard anything from her, I needed to call them immediately. I agreed, and I told them that I would, and after they left, I was lost. How had this woman that I thought I was in love with managed to turn so quickly to someone that would go as far as kidnapping a child. How would I never see in the signs of who she really was? Was I really that disillusioned?

Or was she that good at hiding it? This is pretty much where the story ends for me. After the police asked me the questions, I was no longer involved. The next day, Hannah was caught. She was pretty obviously being looked for, and she stayed in town. In fact, she actually went to her mother's house and was hiding out there. She told her mom that she had won custody of Courtney, but her mom did not believe her. And the police did show up to ask her questions.

When they did, Hannah was there, and she was taken into custody. And that was that. She's doing time now for her acts, and I can safely say that she will probably never see her daughter again. Is that sad? Absolutely. Courtney doesn't deserve to grow up without her mother, but at the same time, Hannah doesn't really deserve to be in her life for what she had done. I can end this by saying that I know for a fact that Courtney is actually doing well.

I became pretty good friends with Ryan after all this. We ran into each other at a game stop one day, of all places, and were able to finally laugh. about the craziness. We've hung out, played cod quite a bit, and I can say that Courtney, who just turned nine, is a very

happy and intelligent young lady, with a very bright future. I have a haunting story that took place around the time that I thought I had my life figured out. My sophomore year

in college, I was finally moving out of my parents' house and into a small rental home that was around three blocks from the campus that I was attending. It was a really cute house, a bit rickety and in need of some love, but overall it was

a nice little house with a bedroom, a bathroom, and a kitchen living room thing. It was like the studio apartment of houses, tiny and affordable for a college student. I wasn't going to be throwing any parties in it,

but I could at least have a couple of friends over to play games or something. Plus, you look a bit more serious to the opposite sex when you live somewhere that isn't in your mom's basement. Just saying. The first couple of weeks were great. There were a handful of things I had to report to the landlord to get fixed, but nothing that was too serious.

There was a bit of a leak from the pipe behind the toilet, and the vent above the stove went out, unlike day number two, but they were really really. good about getting someone out to fix it. By the end of week two, I was pretty happy with how things were going, and was confident that I could live there for possibly

several years. Then I started hearing a knocking. At first, I thought it was someone at my door. The first night had happened, it was around 8 p.m., and I was eating my pizza and watching NCIS. I was sitting there and I heard a

fairly faint knocking sound. About four thuds. I put my pizza down, got up, and opened my door, but there was nobody there. I stepped out and looked around, but obviously there wasn't anything going on outside. I shrugged it off and went back inside to finish my episode, when I heard it again. This time, though, it sounded like it was coming from the other end of the room. over by the window in the kitchen's side, and not the door. I kind of jumped because I didn't expect it.

I grabbed my shoes into flashlight, and I did a quick once around the yard to see if there was someone there, but there was nothing. I started kind of playing through my head what it could be. Plumbing issues, maybe, but it sounded more like a person knocking on a door or wall for a time, both times. It could have been a pipe,

but the fact that it was in a rhythm and it happened in two different locations made me think it wasn't. My next thought was rodents. My parents once had a squirrel eat through part of the wall at the house, and they'd actually made a nest

under the bathtub, and it would make noise randomly, so it was possible, but again it felt too rhythmic. The only other thing I thought of was that it was someone messing with me. But if so, why? And how were they so quick to get away from the house when I checked? In the end, I just made a quick note of it and decided that if it kept happening,

I would let my landlord know and we could trace it down. If this were a connected unit like apartment or a townhome, I could have just assumed that it was my neighbors. But this house wasn't connected to anything, and it had some space in the yard, so I was confused. Now, it did happen again, but here's the weird part. It would only happen if I was alone. If I had someone over or was talking on the phone, it would not happen. There would be no tapping.

But if it was just me, I would hear it randomly at night, almost as if the house itself was screwing with me, making me feel crazy. I even tested this by having one of my friends sleep over for a couple of days. He needed a place to chill for a few anyway, and my couch was always welcomed to him. The whole time he was there, which amounted to three days and two nights, it never happened. The day he left, I started hearing it again. Then, things got weirder. I would come home from class and would find various things out of place.

The first thing I noticed was my chairs that I had around my tiny dining table. I came home from class only to find two of them facing away from the table towards the kitchen. If it was just the one chair, I could easily have assumed that it was just me for getting to push it back in after working on classwork. But two chairs? That was a bit strange. The next thing that happened was about a week after that. I was unlocking my door and I heard a crash, like something had broken inside of my house.

I shoved the door open like I was Rambo about to take out an intruder, but the house was as empty as I'd left it. I'd walked around thinking that maybe they had run into one of the other rooms, but this house was tiny and there was nowhere to hide. After I cleared the rooms, I went to the kitchen and found the cause of the crash. One of my coffee mugs was on the ground, shattered. This lent itself again to the possibility of it being rodents,

so I got my stepladder and I cleaned out that cabinet, and there was no indication that there was any way a rodent could have gotten into the cabinet. Plus, the cabinet was mostly empty already, and the only way for a rodent to have gotten in there and gotten the door open and the mug shoved out, would have been if it was a large rat. There was a small lip on the bottom of the cabinet to prevent you from accidentally knocking dishes out

for that reason. So it would have had to have lifted the mug over that and then thrown it into the kitchen, which is not something that rats do. There were a handful more things like this, things moved, things knocked over, One day I even woke up and found the linen closet in the hallway was open, and literally everything in the closet was on the ground. The linen closet was right next to my bedroom, so if someone had broken in, I probably would have heard them rifling through the closet.

Yet here we were. Then, about two months after all this started, was the creepiest of the events. I was asleep, fully passed out in the middle of the moment. the night, and my eyes shot open. I don't mean like I was asleep, and I just woke up. I mean, I was clean out in the middle of a deep sleep cycle, and the next second my eyes were wide and staring at something. At the foot of my bed was a figure.

I couldn't make out any facial features, but it was dark and shadowy looking, like a void in the shape of a person. My heart started pounding. I wanted to scream, but I didn't feel like I could. I sat there watching this thing with sweat pouring over my face. I watched as it slowly leaned over the foot of the bed. As it did, I was finally able to make out part of the face, the mouth.

It was a creepy, toothy grin that was edging closer and closer to me. Not like demonic teeth or anything. It was just normal human-looking teeth, but the smile was just terrifying. What's worse is that I literally blinked and the thing was gone. Just like that. It was there leaning in and smiling at me and then just gone. Obviously, this was enough to make me question whether or not I honestly wanted to live there. I could handle the oddities here and there.

The knocking, the things moving, though breaking my mugs was a bit extra. But actually seeing things, seeing apparitions or manifestations of the creepiness, that was a bit much for me. At the same time, I didn't really want to lose this house. It was such a quaint little place, and it was super affordable. I was a bit torn, so. so I decided to just see how things went. I'm going to skip ahead a bit and just mention that I did end up moving out after the 12-month lease was up.

Things moved, things were shifted and broken, and I saw the shadow every once in a while, but the tipping point was right before I was set to move out. I started hearing talking. I couldn't make out the words, but they sounded like they were pleading in an incredibly unsettling, tone. Worse yet, the voices were clearly coming from the walls, not any of the rooms. So, I told my landlord that I'd found a new place and just moved back in with my parents. I kept it amicable between him and I because he was a nice guy, but this place was seriously haunted. To end this story, I wanted to mention that I know the person that moved in after me.

He was a buddy of mine from class, and when he heard that I was moving out of the rental, he asked me to put him through to the landlord. So I did. I told him about the stuff that I went through. I told him about all of it, and he didn't believe me. Well, guess who's a believer now? He went through the same stuff. The knocking, the shadows, the voices.

It pretty much went to the exact same. same, getting creepier and creepier until he could not take it anymore. He lasted two years, though, and he told me that he was starting to have night terrors in that house before he left, and it was making it to where he swears he was seeing things. Obviously, I'm never going to have answers about any of this. It was just a creepy little haunted house. The last time I drove through my hometown, I wanted to see a little, I wanted to see if it was still standing. And it is, but by this point it's been condemned.

Who knows? Maybe I'll break in and check out how it looks, and see if anything happens while I'm there. If I do, and something does happen, I'll be sure to send you that story as well. This happened to me and some friends, back when we took a girl's camping trip in 2013. It wasn't a much-needed escape from our heck.

lives at the time, filled with failed relationships, demanding jobs, and college stress. There were six of us total, and we were determined to have a blast together in the great outdoors. We had plans for a fire, some light drinking, swimming, and whatever else piqued our interest that weekend. We found a great campground a few hours out of state. It seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, which kind of put some of us off to it, but after looking at the reviews more, it seemed like a pretty popular place, so we went to it. We all met up and squeezed into Dawn's SUV, preparing for a nice drive to our destination. When we arrived, there were already a few cars in the parking lot, so, again, it reassured us that at least other people were there. We wanted to hike through the grounds

to find our spot, so we left the car in the parking lot. We only had three tents, and it didn't take much, so it was an easy hike around. Not to mention, this was in late spring, and it wasn't a very steep climb, so it was actually quite a pleasant walk. We got to one campground that would have been fine, but as we started plotting it out and talking about it, the people in the nearby tents came back. The area was big enough for multiple tents, but the other occupants were two older couples,

and they didn't look too happy with the idea of sharing the area with us. They were staring at us and looking pretty annoyed, so we decided to just keep walking. We didn't want people complaining and ruining our fun, so it was best to find a place just for us, or with people closer to our age. Thankfully, it didn't take long to find one. We weren't entirely sure at the time if it was an actual plot for camping,

but it was open and flat, and off the trails, so we figured that it would be okay. We set up our tents, started a fire, and we were ready to start our much-anticipated camping party. The first night we stayed near our tents, talking, drinking. The days and nights after were filled with even more laughing, after, bonding, and some pretty wild activities. We all started drinking pretty heavily, and, as it normally goes, we started doing some pretty stupid things. Val tried to climb one of the trees, and Jenna was really wanting to swim.

The lake was pretty close by, so we all went for a late-night swim, hoping that it would distract Val from trying to climb too. Once we got to the water, Jenna stripped down and jumped in. which caused a chain of reaction of everyone else following suit. It was pretty dark, and from what we could tell, we were alone. None of us felt scared, or like we were being watched, so we just enjoyed being carefree in the moment. Things got a little more intense, though.

When one of my friends got out first, put her clothes back on, and then grabbed the rest of our clothes, making us all have to get out and run back, wearing just about nothing. It was all in fun, though. Nobody was mad, and we were all still having a great time, not thinking about any of our responsibilities. At that moment, everything seemed perfect, and we thought that our worries were left far behind us at home.

It wasn't until later that night, when we were all asleep, that things started to take a creepy turn. I woke up in the middle of the night for some reason. Maybe I was just adjusting or something of the sort, but I started to hear a weird sound. It was a click, followed by a grinding or winding sound. I heard this pattern three or four times before I finally sat up in my tent. It didn't sound natural, and I was afraid to go there by myself,

so I woke up summer, who was sleeping in the tent with me. I told her to listen for the sound, but of course it didn't happen again. She was still pretty groggy, so she fell back asleep, but I was too invested at this point. I got out of the tents to look around, but instead of the clicking sound, I heard footsteps. I was startled at first, trying to find the source of the sound, when I saw Dawn running from out of the trees. The look on her face told me everything. She looked just as frightened. She said that she had needed to use the restroom, but she started feeling like she was being watched.

So, she quickly finished up, but then she started hearing footsteps, footsteps that sounded like they were fast, like the person was running. This scared her enough to run back to our tents. We both sat awake for some time discussing what we had heard, and I brought up the clicking sound that I'd heard. She said that she heard it too when she was back in the trees. When we ran out of ideas and the area was void of any weird sounds, we told each other that we should try to get some more sleep

since we would be driving back the next morning. The next morning, the strange incident was pretty much forgotten about, and we continued to enjoy our adventure. We made a quick breakfast and some instant coffee and agreed to pack up so that we could take our stuff with us, through the rest of the trail, expecting to just leave afterwards. As we started packing up, Summer pointed out a disposable camera that was on the ground. The only thing that struck us as odd at the time was that it was on the ground.

Nikki was a photographer, she was going to school for it, and had already set her foot in the photography field. However, Nikki preferred disposable cameras. She said that she liked the older look of the pictures, and she also developed them herself at her school. We all just assumed it was one of hers, handing it to her, and she agreed that it probably was hers as it was the same brand. She didn't know how it got outside, because she had several of them with her,

but they were all in her bag, in her tent. We just joked about us being pretty messed up that night and left it at that. We packed up and finished our trip out of there and home, with nothing else significant happening. A few weeks later, we were all back home continuing with our normal crazy lives. We started a group chat for the six of us, when we planned our trip, and decided to keep it going. It was a great way for all of us to stay connected. Then Nikki came into the chat and started asking who was taking photos of us sleeping. No one confessed to it.

That's when she started becoming a bit more hysterical. She was talking about how she was developing the film looking at the photos when she noticed certain things weren't adding up. She would be absent in a lot of the photos as she was the one taking them, but there were times where she would hold it out to be in the photo too, or one of us would take it instead. But there was never a situation while we were camping that all of us could have been in the picture fully.

I think some of us were still in denial, me included, and trying to come up with some kind of explanation. So a few of us got together to look at them. I couldn't deny it anymore. As we went through the photos, there were far too many of us in candid moments. There were a few from us around the fire, but it got creepier when we saw the photos of us at the last,

lake, swimming. There was one of me running out of the water with nothing on. It was from a distance at the side, which was terrifying, because that would mean they were closer to the trees and trail going the opposite way of our campsite, which means the likelihood of it being one of my friends was slim. There would be no reason for us to go that way, especially when most of us didn't even have clothes on. and the worst ones we saw were the dark pictures of our tent.

Then, it looked like the person holding the camera stuck their hand in the tent and snapped the photo of us. The camera was above us, angled down into the tent, and there were pictures of all of us, sleeping. That's when it finally made sense to me as to what I was hearing that night. The clicking was the camera shuttered. buttoned. And the winding was the winding from the camera. I woke up at some point while there was someone out there taking photos of us. And then Dawn said she also heard someone in the trees. We started piecing things together. Someone must have gone through our stuff at some point while we were walking around and stole one of Nikki's cameras. It had to be at that point because it had

pictures of us around the fire, at the lake, and sleeping. But I'm guessing me waking up and talking to summer must have spooked them off, and they bolted. I'm assuming they meant to keep the camera, but dropped it. We were all thoroughly freaked out at this point. Knowing someone was close enough to take these pictures, we were all in vulnerable positions, and anything could have happened. But I'm thankful that they at least didn't have the courage to do anything else. Nikki said that she was still glad we found the camera,

so that we knew someone didn't keep naked and sleeping pictures of us. But just knowing that it happened, it was still plenty enough to freak us all out. Everyone wanted her to get rid of the pictures, not wanting to remember that, but she did confide in me that she kept the ones of herself. The whole situation still creeps me out, but I do my best not to dwell on it. There wasn't really anything we could do about it anyways, so we just agreed that we wouldn't ever return to those campgrounds.

And I hope that I never find creepy pictures like that of me again. Back when I was around 16, my parents wanted to get out of the house and take a vacation for their 20th anniversary. They toyed with the idea of taking me with them, but I mentioned that, being 16, I could handle myself for a couple of days, and that they should just go take their vacation and enjoy their time together. They were a bit hesitant at first, but I pushed them into it. I didn't have any plans on doing anything crazy.

I just wanted some time to myself more than anything. So, I was happy. happy when they said that they would let me stay home. The house was in a good neighborhood, one that had pretty much zero crime or issues. So there wasn't anything that I was worried about at all. It was a rarity to have some time alone, so I was taking this opportunity to work on my culinary skills.

I decided that I wanted spaghetti. And yes, it was a challenge for 16-year-old me. I was straining the pasta and stirring the sauce, and was happy that I had somehow managed to not burn everything when there was a very loud knock on the door. I was a bit confused. I wasn't expecting anybody. My parents hadn't told me anyone was coming over.

I thought that it might have been a friend of mine from school, but the knocking was very heavy and loud. So it wasn't. It wasn't likely. I thought that it might have been maybe a delivery person, or something like that, so I figured I could just ignore it and get back to my culinary masterpiece. I had just added the pasta back to the pot and poured the sauce over it when I heard the loud banging on the door again. When I glanced over at the door, I saw what looked like someone walking past the front window. and saw what looked like police lights out on the street.

This completely changed my thought process. The loud banging was probably an officer at my door, and I probably shouldn't ignore them. My mind went to why they were there, and for some reason, I immediately thought about the possibility of my parents having gotten into an accident. I turned off the stove and quickly stepped over,

over to the door. What happened next happened very quickly, and I want to say that it was probably only a couple of seconds, but it felt like it was moving in slow motion. I unlocked the door and went to open it, half expecting the officer to tell me that my parents were dead. But as soon as I had opened the door, I was met with the business end of an automatic rifle

and numerous men screaming at me to put my hands up, to get down on the ground and to not move. My mind was rushing, incredibly confused on how I was supposed to put my hands up and get on the ground without moving. But I ended up just putting my hands up and getting on my knees as quickly as I could, thinking I was about to be shot.

I had no idea what was going on, why they were pointing guns at me, why they were even there, and I'm pretty sure that I started bawling immediately. One of the officers grabbed my hands and pulled them behind my back, and then pulled me away from the door, while the other officers, the ones with the bigger guns, pushed into the house and started shouting. I was so confused.

But the officer pulled me over to his car and put me in his back seat, and then started to explain things. to me. He asked me for my name, how old I was, what was going on, etc. I told him all I could, that I was 16, that I was making dinner, and that I didn't know why they were there. He then asked me who else was in the house, and I told him no one. I told him that my parents were out of town for the weekend, and that I was just home-making spaghetti. And at this point, I know for a fact that I was bawling. He tried to calm me down, and after the SWAT team had cleared the house, they came out and one of them decided to talk to me some more. He told me that they had gotten a

call, saying that there were two men that had broken into the house, and that they were holding the family in the house hostage, and that these men had already killed the children. He was very thorough with the details about what they were told. I told him that, I told him that, that none of that had happened, that it was just me, and that I was making dinner for myself. This was such a terrifying and confusing situation, and they had me call my parents so that they could talk to them. They confirmed the information that I had given them, and then they explained what had happened. come to find out, for some reason completely unknown to myself and my parents, I was swatted.

Someone had called in a swat on my house, telling them about these murderous guys that never existed, and what their overall goal was is anyone's guess. The whole situation is one that I will never forget. I will never get rid of the visuals, of having multiple guns pointed at me, get the sound of their screaming at me out of my head. If any of those officers had had an itchy trigger finger,

gotten the wrong idea about me or my actions, I honestly could have died. I am grateful that nothing went wrong, that they handled it correctly, but it doesn't make it any less terrifying. So, this one may be, be a little out there, but I feel like there was definitely something supernatural happening to me. Or at least, that's the only explanation that I can think of.

This started many years ago, so I apologize if I trail off, but I want to make sure that I include everything that I can remember. When I was around 11, I was in a horrible accident. I was riding my bike around my neighborhood, literally in that square block, like I always had. My mom told me to be home by a certain time for dinner, and I had on my watch to keep track of the time. At one point, I was rounding the corner. I looked both ways and crossed the street. The intersection I was at was on a hill, so I didn't see the car that came flying over, said hill.

The last thing I remember was hearing tires squealing and me telling myself that I was going to die. Then I woke up in the hospital hooked to machines, but was quickly calmed down when I saw my mom. She explained to me a bit more as to what happened and then broke the news to me. The way the car had hit me and my bike pretty much crushed my left leg, mangling it. So, I lost it. I have a prosthetic now and I get along just fine, so please don't feel sorry for me. You may not even notice if you were around me. Anyways, I found myself to be incredibly lucky and even thankful to whomever was looking out for me that day.

Losing my leg will always be worth it to me so that I was allowed to keep my life. But from that day on, I started getting these weird feelings. or sensations that would make me feel like something was about to happen and I would avoid it. It may still play out, but it was like I was able to avoid any mishaps involving myself. Here's an example. One of the earliest ones I can remember, or at least remember tracking, was being outside after playing. It was hot and I was thirsty, but I didn't want to go away. all the way in the house and come back outside.

Instead, I made my way over to the water hose attached to the side of the house. Right before I bent down to grab it, I got this weird tingling feeling in my left thigh. I remember immediately reaching for my thigh, instead thinking that the feeling was weird. I was still a kid, and was worried that maybe something was wrong with it, or my prosthetic. So I instead went inside and told my mom. After looking it over, everything seemed to be fine. And the feeling was even gone, so we just chalked it up to maybe being a phantom pain, or maybe I was just standing funny.

I got my water while I was inside and then went back out to play. A little later that evening, my dad went over to grab the hose as he was going to water Mom's Garden for her. I was in my bedroom that faced the wall that the hose was on, and the next thing I know, I hear my dad shouting expletives. It made me jump up and run out to see what had happened, and I saw my dad gripping his hand with the other, turning red in the face. Apparently, there was a scorpion that had made her home in the center of the hose. The crawl space was next to the spout, and there was some loose dirt around it.

So when my dad grabbed the hose, he unsettled the dirt trying to pull it out and disrupted her. My mom rushed him to the hospital while a neighbor stayed over to watch me and my younger siblings. I remember talking to my parents about it when they got back because I was going to use the hose too. My dad said that he was glad it was him and not me, even though I still felt bad. It was just luck, and I decided not to. to mess with it, I guess. Another time, I had been in my room doing whatever I was doing, when I started to feel a bit hungry, so I went to get a snack.

As I made my way to the kitchen, I took my normal path, skipped the last step down, grabbed the door frame, and kind of swung my way into the kitchen. However, I got that weird tingle in my thigh again, causing me to bring my leg further in than I usually do. Once I was in there, my mom came up behind me and shouted to watch my step, because she had just broken a glass and went to grab a broom to clean it up. She thought that she had picked up all the big pieces,

but there was one that happened to land right by the entrance, and approximately where I would have stepped with my right foot. If I did, I could have stepped on it, sliced my foot open, or something. Again, we just called to me. it a close call. I continued to have occurrences like this, and, for whatever reason, it would all start with that weird pain feeling in my thigh. And some of the things were minuscule, like the glass.

But then there were also bigger, more serious things that occurred, like when I stayed at my friend's house one night when I was about 14. She had a bunk bed that she shared with her sister, but when she moved to her own room, room, she just kept it. She slept on the top bunk, and I slept on the bottom. Out of nowhere, I woke up in the middle of the night fully awake, and I had no idea why. I sat up and started getting that feeling again, so I got off the bed and walked over to the door.

By this time, I was starting to get used to that feeling and practically prepared myself for the inevitable. I stood there wondering if I should wake my friend up when I heard a single pop, and the top of the bunk bed fell, crushing the mattress below. I stood there fully awake, stunned while my friend just screamed my name jumping off the bed. I turned on the light showing her that I was okay, but I think it assured her as well as confused her at the same time. Shortly after, her parents came in asking if we were all right and saw the bed. I didn't want to be weird, so I told them that I had just gotten up to use the restroom when I heard the sound. They believed me.

It's not like it would have been possible for me to bend and crush the metal bars like they were, but it was also very strange that had happened at all. As I got older and became an adult, these things continued to have. happen, but I actually started telling people about them. My parents and a few of my friends were convinced that I had some kind of supernatural power going on that protected me from danger, but there was still no explanation for it. I had one when I was around 23, that was by far one of the biggest memories that is forever etched in my mind.

I like to walk, a lot. I guess after losing my leg, it made me. me appreciate the little things like that. I thought that I would take a walk to a local cafe, hang out and enjoy my coffee, and then head back to start my day. On my way home, I pressed the button to cross the street and waited. When the signal changed to walk,

I started getting that feeling again, causing me to grab my thigh and hold off on walking. As you might have guessed it, a car came barreling through that intersection, honking their horn as they approached. Now, granted, I could hear a horn in the distance, but if you asked me if the car with the horn would be going through that very intersection that I was at, not stopping, I would have told you no.

I figured they were just honking at another car or something in the road. Needless to say, that one left me a bit shaken. Unlike my bike accident, I would not have survived that if I was hit. I went home and took some time to calm down. These incidents continued to unfold, and I was always left without words. Everyone around me joked about me being able to see the future. Whether big or small, I found myself one step ahead of calamity. Like the universe itself bestowed this power to me as a repayment for taking my leg, I guess.

However, as mysterious and welcoming the ability was, it also did come to an end. After the birth of my child, these, I guess, glimpses of the future gradually faded. But that didn't mean it was entirely gone. As she got older, I noticed that she would do things without any real reason. Like she would stray from her normal ritual, only for something to have happened. that would have harmed her otherwise. She's 13 now, and she still seems to do it. And one thing about her, she was born with a hearing disorder,

so she uses hearing aids. She's brought it up to me that she would get these weird pains in her ear, and I would assume that it was just her hearing aids, but she says that it happens when she doesn't have them in. She also explained how it happens before these, events, causing her to divert from her normal path. We've talked about this before. As in my daughter and I, I tell her that she's special.

My husband is even aware of all this, and thankfully he's open-minded, but I don't think he quite understands the connection the two of us have. To this day, I still have no explanation as to why I was given this ability, and I want to believe that it was just good luck or something, but I feel like it has to be more than that, especially since it now affects my daughter. I may never find the answers, but one thing is for certain. I was touched by something extraordinary, something that defied the boundaries of comprehension. I have a bit of a creepy story for you, Raven.

one that you may be a bit surprised to find hits a bit close to home for you. No, I'm not a creep that's stalking you or anything. I just know that you live in Kansas, as you have mentioned it. And I happened to be on a job in the Kansas City area. I have to travel a lot for work doing network administration for the bank that I work for. And, fun fact, the bank that I work for has a massive data center in a city. called Overland Park, just on the outskirts of Kansas City. In October of 2021, I was sent out to head up a major server upgrade for the data center out there.

One thing I was a bit surprised to find was just how cold and wet the month of October can be for you all in Kansas. I was born in the South, and while we do get some cold weather, we don't get the half rain, half snow that you guys are played with just before Halloween. How do kids go trick-or-treating when it's so damn cold? Anyways, distracting tangents aside, the job was boring. That's not where things happened. I was back at my hotel one night, and it was, of course, raining and cold out. I had the room temp up a little warmer than I should have, but not being used to the cold.

I had to. I had wrapped up some reporting that I had to deliver to my boss, so I shut off my laptop and just wanted to spend the night relaxing and doing a whole hell of a lot of nothing. So I sat up on the bed and grabbed the remote to flick through the channels. Nothing was really catching my attention, but after a bit, I landed on a documentary show about haunted places in the U.S. Ironically, the episode that was on was about a place called Sally House in Atchison, Kansas. For those that don't know what Sally House is, it's apparently this notoriously haunted house in Atchison,

where a young girl named Sally died. It was in the early 1900s, and she was being seen by a doctor in the house for pain in her abdomen. And they botched the appendectomy, and it killed. Ever since then, the house has been plagued by paranormal activity, a bunch of reports of objects moving, noises, cold spots, and such. There have even been reports of physical attacks on the people that have occupied it. I was oddly drawn into this show, and maybe it's because the house was like 40 minutes away from where I was staying, but it was really interesting to me. Now, obviously watching this documentary isn't a scary story. That'd be silly.

What was scary was the feeling I was getting while watching it. The whole time they were talking about the house, what happened, and walking around showing the rooms, I was getting this weird chill down my spine, and the hairs in my arm were standing up. It may sound weird, but I was feeling like I was connected to the house. Not like I knew anything about it, but like I was supposed to be seeing this episode. I'm not trying to say that this was like a past life thing or anything,

but there was definitely something, something I guess, paranormal about the whole thing. During the episode, I was just immensely gripped by the story. They were showing stuff about EVPs, pictures that showed figures, and one of the people was even showing off a bruise they had seemingly randomly got while there. It was terrifying. One of the investigators even claimed to have seen Sally's spirit in the room upstairs, a little girl with a white dress that was stained in blood. He then mentioned that when he tried to get closer, she vanished.

And this is where I started to get freaked out. Because the second he said vanished, the TV in my room shut off. It wasn't like it was on a sleep timer or an inactivity timer or anything, because it had only been about 20 minutes. But the TV just turned off. I jumped a bit because it kind of freaked me out given the circumstances, but I tried to turn it back on with the remote,

only to find that it wasn't working. I was annoyed, obviously. I was getting into the remote. the show and as soon as it was getting good, this would happen. I got up from the bed to turn it back on with the button on the set. The second, I reached out to touch the button, I felt this cold air rush across me. And I swear on everything in my life, I felt an icy hand grab the back of my neck. Like, I felt the fingers wrap around the back of my neck and just straight up grab me.

I freaked out to the point that I literally fell on to the floor as I flung myself around to see what had touched me. But, of course, there was nothing there. I literally just sat on the floor for like five minutes, staring into an empty room, and feeling like I was freezing. At that point, I was done, so I stood up, changed into my pajamas, and jumped. under the covers. Like, completely under the covers, including my head. I didn't even turn the light off. I did fall asleep after a bit, so at least I wasn't too freaked out.

The next morning, though, actually scared the hell out of me. When I got up and went to the bathroom to do what I needed to do for the day, I looked at myself in the mirror. Much to my surprise, there was a bruise. on my neck, just on the side. It looked to be the size and shape of two fingers. It was like someone had grabbed me really hard, or hit me with their hand on the side of my neck.

It wasn't a super ugly or dark bruise, but it was definitely a dark red with a blue hint, and it was very visible. Thankfully, I had a collared shirt that was able to cover it, pretty well, but it was terrifying to know that whatever had touched me was real enough to bruise my skin. That was literally the only paranormal event I experienced in that hotel. Nothing else weird happened for the rest of the week that I had to stay, thankfully. I didn't watch any more TV after that, though. If I wasn't on my laptop, I was sleeping.

I didn't want to risk it. Anyways, that's my creepy story that I wanted to share with you, and I thought you would find it even more interesting being so close to you. I'm pretty new to your podcast, and I love it, so please do keep up the great work. Oh, and please do let us know if you ever get the chance to check out the Sally House. It sounds like a downright, creepy place. I have a strange but scary situation that happened to me, back whenever I was 13.

My parents both worked, and I didn't have an older sibling or any nearby family, so I was left home alone, a lot. I know that's not the best parenting, but I'll give them the benefit of the doubt and say that they did the best with what they had. If they could have afforded someone to watch me, I know that they would have done so.

I wasn't a bad kid, I would just stay home and watch TV or play my PlayStation, and normally there weren't any issues. On this day, the sun was setting, lighting up the living room through the side window, and making me feel like I was about to doze off while I ate my pizza rolls and watched some late afternoon cartoons. In the middle of me starting to close my eyes, I was jolted awake by a loud pop. I shot up from the couch, throwing my plate of pizza rolls on the floor. The sound was like a balloon bursting or a firecracker, but a hundred times louder.

Looking around the room, I couldn't see anything amiss. The window was intact, the outlet hadn't burst into flames, nothing like that. I glanced out the window to see if someone was out there, but I didn't see anybody. I started picking up my pizza rolls and blowing them up. off to get the carpet bits off of them. I was 13, so I was still going to eat them. As I was picking them up, listening to the sound of the TV and waiting to see if anything else happened, I jumped again at the sound of the doorbell ringing.

I froze, but then it rang again, and I figured that I should do something. I shouted, Who is it? as I walked over to the door and reached for the knob. I heard a voice say something on the other side, but I couldn't tell what he said. All I could tell was that he was out of breath. I pulled the door open slightly, thinking that if I didn't open it all the way, whoever it was couldn't get to me. I asked him who he was and what it was that he wanted.

The man on the other side of the door was a large and quite burly guy, sweating heavily, and his face was a bright red. His voice was weak, almost like he was trying to not let anybody hear him. He asked, Are your parents home, kid? I should have lied, but in my nervousness I blurted out. Oh, no, they're not home. They will be soon, though.

I still don't know why I told this guy that, but I did. But then the man spoke again after taking a deep breath. Uh, all right. Could you call 911 for me, son? I've been shot. Wait, what? My eyes widened in shock. He moved his hands slightly, and sure enough, I saw the red stain on his shirt.

He wasn't kidding. This wasn't some kind of joke or anything. He had. been shot. Without another word, I dashed back into the house, fumbled with the phone, and dialed 911. The operator picked up and asked me where the emergency was, and I never knew how stressful calling 911 actually was. As I explained the situation, I could hear the disbelief in the operator's voice, but she assured me that help was on the way. The man staggered over the moment. The man staggered to our porch and dropped down sitting heavily against the side of the house.

I think those sirens were the most comforting sound that I have ever heard. Paramedics rushed to the man, applying pressure to his wound and loading him onto a stretcher, and they were gone as quickly as they showed up. Obviously, the cops showed up too, and my parents came home in the middle of the chaos, returning home with a sense of terror, I'm sure. The cops were kind, but their questions were a bit pointed. I repeated my story again and again. The pop, the man, the blood.

Eventually my parents took over, and I was left to sit on the couch, the adrenaline wearing off, leaving me feeling hollow and a bit shaky. A few days later, we got the news that the man had survived. thanks in part to my call. I felt pretty good about myself when the officer told me that I had probably saved that man's life. That pride was a bit short-lived, though. I was actually somewhat terrified to stay home alone, and my parents weren't willing to leave me there.

I'm pretty sure that we all had a bit of PTSD, me from the whole situation, and them from coming home to a bunch of cops, stationed outside their house. I was honestly okay with them not being willing to let me stay home anymore. To be completely honest, I feel like this event made me grow up a bit quicker than I should have. I didn't really feel like a hero,

though they told me I had done a good thing. I felt scared and vulnerable, and like my home wasn't the safe haven I'd once thought it was. It's one thing to see someone get shot in a movie. It's another thing to see a gunshot wound within a couple feet of your face. I had some nightmares about the whole thing for a while, and I had this weird fear that I was going to wake up to one of my parents being shot, something that obviously never happened, but still weighed heavy on my mind.

I know that all sounds a bit dramatic, but it's true. I was a bit too young to be thinking about my mortality, but if someone could shoot someone like that in my neighborhood, what was to stop them from doing it again? Would I get shot while walking to my friend's house? Being confronted with those kinds of things that early in your teens, it kind of changes you. And while I'm now an adult,

and have never been faced with anything like that since, and seeing that man hold his stomach like that is a visual that I will never forget. Hello, I've been a trucker for about 20 years now, doing both local runs as well as long halls. I listen to a lot of podcasts covering similar topics like yours, and thanks to my wife, she introduced me to your channel,

and she convinced me to send in a story that happened to us, a while back. We work well together, and there's never a dull moment between us. This was something we experienced on one of our trips. I was getting pretty close to my 11th hour driving, and my wife wanted to sleep in our cab instead of a motel. I had made some upgrades to the cab and added some simple amenities, so it was pretty comfortable.

We were on a pretty flat and open area of the house. highway, so we stopped on the side and set out my cones for safety. One thing I did have in my cab was a refrigerator, as well as a small portable grill, so we would often bring along our own food to make. We pulled out some hamburger patties in the grill and started making a late dinner for us. The night was actually quite peaceful, and the only light on us was from our flashlight, or my clip-on light that I used went under the hood. We could hear the sounds of crickets chirping and the smell of petrachore coming from the nearby vegetation.

There was a massive storm the night before, after what locals told me, was a pretty long drought for them. As we indulged in our meals, we talked and relaxed in our chairs, staring into the trees and taking in the simple joys of existence. When our conversation started getting shorter and shorter, we knew that it was about time to pack up and head to bed. That was around the time that something started to feel unusual. I was trying to figure out what it was when my wife said, Do you hear that? I remained quiet to see if I could discern what she meant, but I didn't hear anything.

But that was her point. Unlike how it was just a few minutes ago, it was completely silent. There wasn't a single cricket chirping. No sound from the slight breeze and trees swaying, not even a low hum coming from our light. All I could hear was our talking in my breaths. We both agreed that it was an odd occurrence and chalked it up to maybe another storm coming,

and mentally we both understood that we should hurry up and get back in the cab. As my wife was getting ready for bed, I was at the front in the driver's seat putting my wallet in the glove box. there was something in the distance that kind of caught my eye. It was a light. There was nothing but darkness surrounding us just prior, other than the one car that had passed by. As mentioned, we were on a pretty flat stretch of highway,

but I could clearly see a light just peeking up from the distance in front of us. As we were on the road, I told myself that it was just an oncoming car, turned off the cab light, and walked towards the car. the back. From the time it took me to walk back to the bed and sit on it, that car should have passed us. But I never heard the sound, so I asked my wife if she heard or saw anything, and she declined. This had my interest peaked, so I stood back up to look out the front window and there it was. The light was still sitting there, like I had seen earlier. This time, I was telling

my wife what I was seeing, which caused her to join me. We both stared at this light trying to determine what it could be, and thought maybe it was another vehicle that was stopped on the side of the road, too. We thought about it for a moment. My wife, being the altruistic person she was, wanted to see if maybe they needed help, whereas I've heard and seen way too many stories of similar situations, and told her that we were not going to be able to be able to help. out there.

She suggested that we could just drive up to it, but that would involve me having to get out, get my cones, and really, to be honest, I was tired, and being way too lazy to do that. So I told her that we should just leave it alone, and if they were still there in the morning, we could check it out. She reluctantly agreed, and we both went to bed, but I still couldn't shake this thought that there was something more to that light. After my wife had drifted off, I still laid there awake wondering what it could be,

so I ended up getting up to look again. It was still there, but this time it was different. Prior, it was the normal color that I would expect for headlights. This was now a deep yellow color. The odds of it being another car in the exact same spot, right out of view with different colored headlights just seemed very unlikely. Something told me that I needed to do something, to have a record of this, so I went to grab my phone and get a picture or video of it.

As I quietly returned and opened the camera, I watched the light shift slightly and changed from yellow to red. This caused me to freeze and just watch. That's when I felt the vibration in the floor beneath my feet. I looked back at the light and watched as it grew wider and taller, until I was hit with the bright neon red light. I couldn't look directly at it. It was so bright.

But as it rose up, I could see a metal shape of some kind of vehicle, but I couldn't make out what it was. And as I was trying to shield my eyes from the light, it slowly grew darker until I was able to look again. That's when I noticed the road was now shrouded in that red light. It was almost as if the source of the light was now directly above us, but the light was still so intense. Not only was it bright, but you could almost feel the heat coming from it.

What the hell could possibly cause something like that? Lastly, in nearly an instant, I saw the light flash back to the deep yellow that I had seen, and the rumbling had stopped. I didn't understand how my wife hadn't woken up to this. It was almost like an airplane was flying very low to the ground. It was that kind of rumbling. With the light now directly above us, my curiosity got the best of me, and I opened my driver's side door to try and look for the ground. source of the light.

I looked straight up and could make out what looked to be a dark triangle hovering above us. The light was definitely coming from this thing, and I felt as though I had just outed myself. I quickly shut the door, and I went back to bed praying that what I saw wasn't real and that I was just dreaming. I was hoping that my prayers were answered when I was awoken by my wife. but something was wrong. She sounded startled, and I was on the floor, not the bed. When I finally came to and had my bearings, I assured her that I was fine and asked what had happened.

She said that she woke up to an intense high-pitch ringing sound, and when she looked over at me, she saw me sitting on the floor. She was terrified, but by the time I came to, the sound was gone. on and I never heard it. In fact, even with the rumbling in the ground, it was still silent, all the way through. But one of the many parts of this that was bizarre was that I remember walking back to the bed again and getting in it. Yet, I was on the floor. We climbed back into bed, and I told her everything I had seen, and she did the same,

even though she was asleep through most of it. We both got up and looked outside, but it was now completely dark. There were no yellow or red lights anywhere. The road was empty, and we could even hear the wind and crickets again. Then we checked the time and realized that it had only been about two hours. I believe that I laid in bed for about half an hour before I got up, so all of that happened, and then I guess I passed out for about an hour, to an hour. and a half. After convincing my wife that I felt fine, I thought that it was best to just try to get some sleep.

I felt exhausted. When we awoke the next morning, I slowly drove in the direction of the light, and there was nothing there. The road was fine. The grass on the side wasn't even flattened like something had been there. We talked about it a bit more as we drove, and we both agreed that it was possibly some kind of military aircraft, I guess. We didn't talk about it for the rest of our trip. In fact, we made sure that we were both in bed, and we only stayed at rest stops and never on the side of the road, secluded from others.

It wasn't until we were back home in the privacy of our own house, that we finally said out loud what we thought. With the lights and the way that it hovered without any sound, That was no aircraft that we were familiar with, but we were both still pretty terrified to think about what it could have been, not to mention what could have possibly happened to me since I didn't actually make it to the bed. And honestly, I think I would rather stick to encountering weird people than something that I can't see or arm myself against.

Right before the craziness that was 2020, my girlfriend and I went on a road trip around Indiana with plans on sightseeing in a state park, and a few other local attractions. Bridget and I had been on long trips together, and it's become one of our favorite things to do, to be able to just go across the state, or even the country,

to see places that we've never been before. We plan on visiting at least all the states once, and we're about a third of the way there so far. Anyways, this would be our first time actually spending time in Indiana, instead of just passing through. After looking at our options, we opted to check out the Rocky Hollow Falls Canyon in Turkey Run State Park. We went in October, and while I haven't seen it in the summer, summer, that place was meant for autumn, and I would still recommend it despite our experience. Entering the canyons, it looked like something straight out of something like the Hobbit. The small trail along the creek was therapeutic to walk while listening to the water flow.

The mossy rocks looked straight out of a painting. It was quite a serene and peaceful day. We found a small secluded spot lined with both. boulders and decided to stop there for a break and eat. While sitting and chatting, I started hearing what sounded like someone walking above us. There were different levels at different areas at the park, so it was normal to hear or see people walking along the rocks above you, or below you, towards the creek. So it was one of those moments that I made a note of, but that was it.

Our conversation slowed down so we could finish our lunch. which gave me a chance to focus on the sounds around us again. This time I could hear the sound of footsteps approaching us. When I didn't see someone in front of us, I turned around to see who was coming, but again, I didn't see anyone. This time it didn't sound like it was coming from the trail above us. But I checked anyway, and there was no one there either.

Bridget was looking around too and looked at me like, Where is that coming from? I shrugged, thinking that I just wasn't seeing them or something explainable. We were just about finished when I scanned the area and finally saw something that looked out of place. There was a large boulder, probably 15 or 20 feet from us, and I could clearly see someone with short hair peeking out from behind it, staring at us. I thought it was weird because, with the size of the boulder, They had to be crouching or maybe on their knees to be hidden behind it.

I pointed him out to Bridget, too, and she definitely thought it was weird as well. We tried to ignore it, but as we both glanced over and saw them still staring at us, Bridget said that she was feeling weirded out by it, so we decided to finish the last of our sandwiches as we walked. We got past that area, and beyond a small waterfall of sorts, and again paused to take more photos. While Bridgett was trying to get closer to the water, I was looking around at the area again

because I was starting to get the feeling like we were being watched. I usually ignore those feelings, as I was used to us being stared at. But due to the person behind the boulder earlier, I felt the need to find who exactly was watching us. And, as expected, I saw what looked like the same short-haired person that I had seen earlier, now trying to hide behind a tree.

I pointed them out to Bridget again, and her expression quickly changed. She was worried that they may be following us since we had been secluded for some time, and I shared the sentiment. If they were following us, maybe they were going to try and rob us, or who knows what. We both agreed to again move on, and maybe get back around some other people so that we weren't alone. We made our way to the upper part of the rocks, and since we hadn't seen the person in a while, we stopped again to take in the sight. This time I started digging through my backpack looking for something when Bridgett nudged me.

When I looked at her, she nodded to yet another boulder where our same stalker was hiding. At this point I was pretty fed up. I still didn't know their intentions, but so far they've just been giving us the creeps, and I didn't want our trip ruined. While I was enjoying it too, I know that these meant a lot to Bridget. Bridget was actually a foster kid, and within the homes that she lived in, they never went on any kind of trips or vacations. so any time that we do anything out of our norm,

she gets extremely excited about it and wants to do all that she can. I mean, who could blame her? So, this time, since the person wasn't taking any action, I decided that I would, hopefully scaring them off and to let them know that they chose the wrong targets. I, instead, grabbed the hunting knife that I had in my bag

and told Bridget to stay where she was. She was hesitant to let me go at first, but I assured her that I would be fine. I started to slowly approach the boulder, the person still looking over it, now watching the approach. When I was about four feet in front of the boulder, I loudly, and as intimidatingly as I could,

said, What the hell are you doing, bro? And they quickly dropped, behind the boulder. I slowly made my way around it and was shocked by what I saw. First, I thought the guy just had really short hair, like a buzz cut, but no. This guy was completely bald. However, they had so many cuts and scratches across their head that were covered in scabs

that, from a distance, it truly looked like hair. That's how many cuts and scrapes he had. It looked pretty painful and unsettling as it is. But to add to it, this guy appeared gaunt, with skin that looked bluish, grey, and leathery. I thought that he just looked lighter from a distance because of lighting or something, but no. He was absolutely sickly looking,

and the color was completely unnatural. He was crouched, and when I reached the boulder, I was on his left. The way that he was crouched, I could clearly see his spine and even his hips. I was also able to see this so well because he was completely naked. So, taking this all in, I paused where I was. This was not what I was expecting to see, but before I could process much more, the guy quickly snapped his head to the left to look at me

and let out a wholly unhuman hiss. It made me jump back a few steps, and I guess that he took that as an opportunity because he immediately pounced on me, knocking me to the ground. With him now on top of me, I could see his bloodshot eyes and the dark sunken sockets around them.

His cheekbones were also very visible and sunken in. He looked terrifying, and severely sick and malnourished. Bridget was now screaming and I was just trying to get him off of me, but I was also still holding the knife. I went in to swing my right arm, my right hand being the one holding the knife, but this guy's reflexes were insane.

He locked onto my arm and he bit into the arm, causing me to drop the knife. I shouted a few expletives, and Bridget managed to throw a rock at us. This must have startled him as he jumped, hissing at Bridget. As she continued shouting and screaming to get off of me, he actually listened and took off on all fours. He ran so quickly that it almost seemed natural for him.

Once he was finally out of view, Bridget ran over to me as I got up and immediately checked my arm. he'd bitten hard enough to draw blood. Of course, now I'm worried about what that guy might have had and possibly spread to me. I immediately poured water and sanitizer onto it, and we quickly tried to make our way to someone who could help. We ended up at a shortcut back to the entrance, and found someone of authority to let them know what had happened.

The guy that took my information had a suspicious look the entire time that we explained to him. At first I thought he probably just didn't believe me. However, he said that this actually wasn't the first time they've had a report of a naked man roaming around the area, but they had yet to actually find him. I don't know if it made me feel better or worse that we weren't alone in what we saw. After providing him with any information that we had, we left, making a beeline to the nearest hospital to get checked out. Thankfully, all the tests came back negative, and even after more tests at home, I was fine. I got a few shots just in case, but the fear that I may have been infected with something

was pretty damn terrifying. The rest of the trip was fine, with no other weird people watching or attacking us, but it's something that I'm never going to forget. 9 out of 10, though, I would absolutely return to the canyons. Hopefully, the other visits will be more chill and fully clothed. I have an incredibly unsettling and disturbing story that happened around 10 years ago. When I got married, I quickly realized that I was navigating this new chapter of my life, and I needed some guidance.

I know that sounds weird, and for a lot of people, marriage is just a word, but I was anxious, and I didn't know if I was doing what was right for my new life partner. I found a social media group called New Wives United, which was dedicated to women like myself, those that had no idea how to navigate this huge change. Those in fresh marriages trying to figure out this whole, forever, thing. It was generally light stuff. Recipes, how to deal with in-laws, balancing work and marriage, getting to know your partner's friends and not make them think you're ripping them away. You know, the basics. But one user, let's just call her Emily, started posting about an issue she was having with her husband.

It all started innocently enough. She posted that she knows. She posted that she knows. noticed that he seemed a bit distant with her. They'd been married for a year at this point, and that first year seemed perfect. He'd kept the romance. He'd been caring and helpful, but this last month, he'd started going out with the guys, and it was becoming somewhat frequent that he wouldn't be coming home until the wee hours of the morning. The speculation in the group was, of course, ran.

The consensus was that he was probably having an affair. Some were saying that he may have a gambling addiction. Others were just saying that he may just not be into you anymore. We all had our theories, but obviously they were just assumptions and none of it was helpful. Then one of the mods, Darkmouse, made a suggestion that would set off a chain of events that none of us anticipated. You know, he may make a question. Maybe telling the truth. Maybe he's going through some stuff mentally.

And maybe he's actually spending some time with his buddies. Why not just follow him and see where he goes? The reactions were mixed. Some of us mentioned that this could be dangerous depending on what he was into, but Emily liked the idea. She said that she needed to know the truth. And she signed off with, I'll let you all know what I find. Wish me luck.

and then silence Emily just vanished from the forum weeks went by and the mods kept her thread alive just in case she came back or in case something happened and they needed it for evidence many of us assumed that she had just left the group maybe she was embarrassed or heartbroken by what she discovered but then one night she reappeared and her final Post, it was... Well, it was haunting. It started with, I did what you said to, and I wish that I hadn't. Emily went on to describe how she had followed her husband one night, driving discreetly behind him as he went around blocks,

and traveled deeper and deeper into the woods. He didn't go too far out of town, but he definitely wasn't going anywhere near the bar where he claimed he was going. After a while, he pulled off onto a side road in the woods that looked like it led to an abandoned house. The place was barely more than a ruin. It was the kind of place where you would see a ghost hunter

recording their videos. But the creepiest part of it all was that he didn't go into the house. She watched as he pulled open the storm cellar that was partially concealed by overgrowth. She said that she waited in her car, parked far enough away that he wouldn't notice her with her headlights off, and her body quaked in terror. What the hell was he doing here? Why was he at this abandoned house in a damn storm cellar?

She watched as he went down, and then came back up, locked the cellar up, and drove off, as if there was nothing going on. She said that she thought about confronting him, but after a few moments, it occurred to her that, Whatever he was hiding down there was worth lying to his new wife about, so it wasn't good. She waited for him to drive off, and when she was certain that he was gone, she made a split-second decision to break into the cellar and figure it out. She got out of the car, grabbed a large rock, smashed the padlock, and decided that she needed to go down there to figure this out.

She mentioned that her gut was telling her that something was horribly, Wrong. That she was about to stumble upon something nightmarish. And that's a damn good way to describe what she found. She described this cellar as being this destroyed, damp and rotting room that looked like a room in a horror movie where victims would be tortured. And, in the back of the room, was a young woman that was chained to a large concrete pillar. and she was emaciated, barely alive, and terrified. And the second that she saw Emily, she burst into tears and screamed for her to please help her. Emily immediately called the police, and she asked the woman what was going on.

As it turns out, her husband had kidnapped this woman and had been keeping her captive for about a week by this point. This woman had been reported missing, and her husband, was the reason for it. When the police arrived, she had to explain how she'd followed her husband, how she saw him enter and then exit the cellar, and the woman confirmed that her husband was her captor when she was shown the photograph. The reason Emily had disappeared for so long was because she didn't want to post while everything was still being investigated. But now that her husband was charged and was going to be going away for a long time, she felt comfortable enough to tell us what she'd found out.

Obviously, her whole life was shattered by this horrifying secret, and the only thing that she was thankful to find out was that this was the first time he had done anything like this, as far as they know. Though if her suspicions hadn't festered, it most likely wouldn't have been his last. Obviously, no one can know what Emily's husband's end-grim, goal was, but we can all speculate.

The forum obviously plunged into chaos. Darkmouse, the admin that recommended she follow him, deactivated her account. And the police started actually investigating the group to see if any of us knew what was going on. None of us did. Emily didn't even know, but they had questions and were trying to figure out why this all happened. The group was abruptly shut down.

Probably as soon as the police were done investigating us. It was for the best, because the group was pretty much dead after that. No one wanted to post in the group where all this was brought to light. Now, whenever I find myself scrolling on Facebook or whatever, and I consider joining a group that looks entertaining, I remember Emily. It felt like such a harmless suggestion on Dark Mouse's part. she wasn't wrong.

He could have just been needing some time to himself, but that simple suggestion destroyed the lives of several people. It was for the best, ultimately, that she found out what he was doing. And she most likely saved that poor girl's life, but it's such a painful situation. Proof that even those we think we know the best, those that we love and plan to spend forever with, can be monsters that we would never expect them to be.

Back when my son, Riley, was around seven or eight, my wife and I noticed something peculiar about him. He had a passion for drawing and coloring. It was actually very creative. He liked to draw the normal kid stuff, like pictures of us, our dog, and our two cats and other animals. but what really caught our attention was that he kept drawing the same house over and over again.

At first, we thought he had simply discovered a subject he liked and enjoyed drawing it. He'd drawn houses before, but they were pretty simple, the kind that you would normally see a kid draw. But this specific house was drawn differently than normal, and was a lot more detailed. I could tell it was the same house, because of those details and the colors that he used. Over time, he would add in more features of this same house

and would draw it from different angles as well. He added the square shingles on the roof, the shutters on the window, the flower bed in the yard. Everything was there and precise. Now, there was nothing wrong with these drawings, and none of it ever looked alarming or out of the ordinary, so we never questioned it, or called it out

other than saying that he was doing a great job. But we did become curious when he started drawing the house from the top, like a blueprint. Granted, he was only eight, so the lines weren't straight and there were no words or labels, but it was very clearly a blueprint.

Granted, he was only eight, so the lines weren't straight and there were no words or labels, but it was very clearly a blueprint. That's when we started asking about what he was drawing. He kept saying that it was his house, which we thought was odd because it obviously looked nothing like our house. I tried asking more questions about what he meant,

but his answers were typically short and vague. Again, it wasn't hurting anything, so I just let it go. During a school break, I stayed home with him a lot as I was a contractor and was in between jobs at the time. After lunch, he wanted to go play in his room and excused himself. I'd been lounging around the living room when I noticed it had been a few hours since I even saw or heard from him, so I thought I would go check in. He had the door open, and as I rounded the corner, I saw him with his Legos spread out on the floor, organized by color and piece,

and some loose-leaf printer paper next to him with the drawings of the house again. I could tell by his mumblings and long sighs that he was getting frustrated, so I knocked on the door frame to let him know that I was there. He looked up at me with an almost sad or frustrated eyes. I asked him what he was building, and again he said, my house.

I asked him, what he meant by that, and he explained that it was his old house. Again, this is the only house he knows when it comes to places he's lived. He's been to my parents and my in-laws' home before, but we've lived at this house since he was born. I think this frustration got the best of him, because he finally explained more. No, my house from a long time ago. I can't remember things about it. it's important, but I can't think about it as much anymore.

It didn't really clear anything up, but I just assumed that he meant his drawings. He was still young, so his sentences weren't perfect, but I feel like he got the point across. I just told him that he was doing great and to keep it up, and I was confident that he would make it perfect, just the way that he wanted. But Riley just shook his head. his expression's still serious. No, Dad, you don't get it. It's not made up.

It's my old house. I built it. I lived there. His sentence, slowly tapering off as the look on his face dropped to a frown. I was taken aback. Yes, he was a very creative kid, and I'd say even imaginative, but he's never been this passionate about it when me or his mom approached him while playing. I didn't know what to think about this. We hadn't watched anything about an old house

or building them for that matter. So where could this be coming from? It was hard for me to wrap my head around what could be troubling my young son, but I was still curious to learn more. I asked him what he could remember about this old house. Riley took a deep breath. I could tell his eyes were filled with sadness, and he said, I remember making the house with my own hands. Looking down at his hands with his palms out, he continued. I was happy about it. I did a good job. I lived there with my girlfriend, and there was a baby. But one day there was a cracking sound, and the floor broke upstairs. It crushed us, and I couldn't save us. I was very scared. And now I remember it again and I don't want to forget it because I need to figure out how I messed it up

so that it doesn't happen at our new home. I don't want to die again. I don't want you to die. My heart broke as I listened to him recall what I could only describe as a past life. I started trying to think of literally anything he could have watched or seen or maybe something he heard his mom and I talk about. But I couldn't. recall anything. I don't even remember hearing about a house collapsing on the news or on the radio. And when I asked him if this was a dream, he told me no, because he saw these thoughts all the time when he was awake, not asleep. At that moment, and even though it was the voice of my little boy, those weren't his words.

I could tell. My initial skepticism was overruled by the overwhelming sense of compassion and wonder. I wanted to figure this out to not only make sure this never troubled my son again, but to make sure if this was legitimate, that the person he was could move on and be at peace. After telling my wife about what I experienced, she was skeptical at first too, but after hearing it come directly from Riley, She seemed a bit more convinced that something was definitely off here. Over the following weeks, Riley continued to share more details about his memories.

He described the layout of the house, the creaky floorboards, and even the scent of the baked goods that his wife would always make. He even described the flowers that his wife had planted outside the house, white tulips. But he would always bring it back around saying that he needed. to make sure this place was stronger, making sure history didn't repeat itself. I thought the best thing to do would be first to assure Riley that our current house was safe. I did everything I could to get diagrams, blueprints, and structural layouts of our home.

I contacted our realtor, I tried government records, and I even brought in an appraiser. With all the info I got, I was able to piece a lot of... of it together, and I showed it to Riley. He seemed to understand everything on paper better than I could. He explained where the stress points were in our place, and walked through it, trying to determine where the internal beams or walls were. But when we finished the walkthrough, he said that it made him feel much better, and it helped him understand what he did wrong.

He said he was no longer scared of our new heart. home. I just remember the huge hug that he gave me, thanking me for helping him that day, and I remember it being such an unusual hug. Again, it was my son, but the strength in this hug and the tears in his eyes made me think something there was not him. As time went on from there, he drew the house less and less, and rarely talked about it. Until one day he just never mentioned it again.

Riley is now about to start high school, and he said he doesn't remember any of this. Part of me is relieved because I only want him to remember a happy childhood, but I kind of also wanted to hear more about the house. I'm still curious about it myself, and I would love to find it, or at least some records on it, since it might not be standing anymore. But the first problem is, I don't even know if it was in the same state we live in now. I guess that that will just always be an unanswered part of this story.

In the end, it has definitely opened my mind to the world of past lives and possibly reincarnations. This extraordinary experience has taught me that there is certainly more to this world than just life and death. I have a story that happened to me back in the mid-90s. I was a pimple-faced 19-year-old college kid, trying to figure out what I was doing with my life. And at the time, I was working at a medium-sized department store,

one that doesn't really exist anymore, that rhymed with the word cheers. The store was outdated, even back in the 90s. And those of us that worked registers and customer service, were severely limited on what we could do for customers. And honestly, I hated that job, so I wasn't very willing to go above and beyond for people. The day that it happened, it was a pretty normal day. I clocked in at 8 and was assigned to the customer service desk,

and was then immediately told that we were short that day, and that I was going to be working the desk the entire 8 hours, and that there was only the one manager, so to not even bother calling for a CSM. That's customer service manager for those that don't know. I don't remember what I was doing at that exact moment, but a customer walked over to the desk, a burly and rugged-looking dude

with hair that looked like an absolute mess and an incredibly sour look on his face. I asked him how I could help him, And he pulled a pair of sneakers from a plastic bag and slammed them down on the counter, saying, I want to return these. These shoes were gross, and I'm not even sure that we sold them at my store. I started the shoes for a moment and then looked back at the man and asked if he'd had a receipt for them. That's where things started to take a turn for the worse.

He aggressively said, "'Hell no, I don't have the receipt.' I explained as politely as I could that I couldn't process the return unless he had the receipt for them. I wasn't lying. There was literally nothing that I could do without the information on the transaction. Nowadays, stores can track your purchases in other ways, but back then, it was receipt, or you were S-O-L.

The man started shouting at me, causing another. a customer that was in line to flinch and look a bit panicked. You're gonna take him back, one way or another. I told him again that there was literally nothing that I could do at all to process their return unless he had a receipt. I tried to keep myself calm and tried to not match his hostility or volume, but he was starting to throw a tantrum. It was unnerving.

He was screaming at the top of his lungs about how, he needed the money, and that he had just bought the shoes there the day before. Which, no, he did not, unless he had bought them and then ran several miles through mud and wet concrete. He finally wrapped up his fit by pointing a finger right in my face and yelling, You're going to regret this! He then turned and stormed out of the store, leaving the gross shoes on the counter. I wrapped them in a plastic bag and placed them behind in the counter just in case he came back for them. I was a bit shaken by the end of that,

but I was relieved that he decided to just threaten me and leave, instead of taking action. The rest of the day passed pretty quickly and without incident. I'd moved on from the crazy shoe man and just continued helping others with their returns and whatnot. It was reaching towards the end of my shift, and I was tiredly doing what I needed to do, just looking forward to being able to going home.

When I heard a loud smashing sound, followed by the screams of shocked customers. This was followed by the visual of smoke starting to billow through the aisles and the air starting to slowly get warmer. I rushed toward the sound with my heart pounding, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. Near the front of the store,

there was a blazing fire starting to spread. and it was very quickly burning its path into some of the merchandise. The fire alarm was going off, and people were running out the front door to get away from the blaze. I ran back to the counter and grabbed the fire extinguisher, and I tried my best to douse the fire with the foam, but it didn't do jack. Every bit that I put out was replaced with fire catching on more and more of the shelves and clothing, until the extinguisher eventually sputtered out.

I stood there for a second and watched as this fire just covered more and more of the floor. And for some reason, I felt like I needed to do something to stop it, but was quickly brought back to reality when I heard my manager shouting my name and yelling at me to get out of the building. I did what she said, and I ran over to the front door and started ushering customers out of the building telling them to get as far away as they could and to stay calm. Thankfully, the fire department arrived quickly, and they were on it. They moved in as fast as they could,

blasted the whole thing with water, and, after a little while, they were able to get the fire put out, and get the whole thing contained and secured. After they had finished their job, my manager and I went back in, and the store was an absolute, disaster. Everything in the store was either charred or completely saturated. The police had arrived and started asking my manager some questions, mostly because the fire looked incredibly suspicious,

having started in the clothing section. We all went to the back where the camera system was, probably the only thing in the store that wasn't antiquated. All of us watched the entryway camera for when this all started, and much to my surprise, I watched as the man from earlier that wanted to return his shoes, walked in the door, lit a cloth that was in a glass bottle, and heaved it as hard as he could into the store, and then bolted back out into the parking lot. This guy had come back with a damn Molotov

and threw it in an occupied store, because I wouldn't accept his dirty shoes. I told the officers about the encounter, I told them that he was going off on me and that he had threatened me a few hours before. They took my statement, took the camera footage from earlier, and the footage that showed him throwing the Molotov, and left to further their search. Thankfully, they didn't have to go very far. This guy was hiding out at the IHop next door to the store. Before they left, they were flagged down by one of the waiters that was outside of the restaurant. He told them that just after the fire had started, a guy came into the restaurant reeking of gasoline

and said that he wanted a table in the corner. Apparently the guy was just sitting in the eye-hop, watching the chaos unfold through the window, and giggling to himself. Worse yet, he was still. there when the cops went in. They approached him. He started yelling that he had been there for the last two hours, and that he had nothing to do with it.

Of course, he was wearing the same clothes, and still smelled of gasoline, so they knew that it was him. In the end, he was hauled off and charged with some pretty serious stuff. He caused thousands of dollars in damage, and our store was shut down for quite a while. I took that time to find a job at a warehouse, because that was the last day that I wanted to work with people. And, to be honest, I haven't worked retail ever since. I have a summer camp experience that seems like it would be worth sharing.

So, I wanted to send it your way to see if you would want to use it for your channel. I've written this story for another channel in the past, so hopefully. that's okay, but I'm rewriting it here, so odds are it'll sound a bit different anyways. When I was around 14, I spent a summer in a camp near the northwestern part of the U.S. They still do the summer camp, and I actually help out now that I have a kiddo old enough to get involved, but I was part of something at the camp that was legitimately scary, especially as a teenager. Most people think summer camp and think of the marshmallows, bonfires, swimming, and some friendly games and such.

And I would say that those are the typical things that people get to enjoy when they're at camp. Me, on the other hand, I almost feel like I was cursed when it came to going to the summer camp. I went five times, from 11 to 15, and like I mentioned, I help out at the camp now as a grown man, and things have been okay, but every year that I attended as a camper, something went wrong. I won't get into every year. I have one story in particular that I want to tell you, but I want to give some slight evidence to the fact that I was cursed. First year, half the camp fell ill with food poisoning, including myself, and we all spent a few days throwing our guts up.

Second year, I was swimming and managed to break my forearm, resulting in having to leave early. Third year, we had an incident with one of the fires that actually led to the camp losing one of the cabins. And of course, it was the cabin that I stayed in. Now, the fourth year, and the story that I would like to submit. This happened during what I have to say was my favorite night there, mystery night. The councillors decided they needed to create something engaging to really test our smarts. And it was just a fun and spooky game for all of us to solve. We all stayed up later than normal.

They gave us a story, and we had to go over the campgrounds and immediate woods to solve the mystery that they'd created. That year, the mystery leaned more into being a scavenger hunt. Each clue would lead a bit further into the woods to really add to the creepy factor. My team was feeling confident. We'd been the first to solve pretty much each step of the mystery so far. It was scary in the woods, dark, quiet, filled with only the sounds of night critters. But my excitement was pushing me through the thoughts of how scared I should have been. After a while longer, the three of us on our team had found what was the last location.

It was an old well in the woods. that was ancient, partially crumbling and barely held together. It was lovingly known as the wishing well to the camp, though I don't think any of us campers really considered it to be a fortunate thing. It was ugly, covered in moss, and mostly destroyed. I approached the well to grab what was our final clue when I heard it. As I reached, there was this low groaning sound pouring out of, of the well.

It was a gutteral sound, human-like, but kind of distorted. I remember being terribly freaked out, thinking it was some kind of spirit or monster or something. We all stood there staring at the well, like, what was that, when we heard it again? The sound was seriously terrifying. This low, gurgling, rumbling moan. The three of us took off back to camp, noping out of there as quickly as we could. The head counselor approached us with his jovial smile asking if we got the last clue,

but at this point we'd forgotten about the competition and were just going on about the creepy sounds from the well. We were frantic, but able to tell them what we heard, and of course they all laughed at us saying that we were just imagining things. After we kept trying to explain it, one of the counselors, Ted, decided that he would go with us to look so that we could be sure nothing was out there. We got to the well, and we were explaining that there was this really weird, groaning sound,

and we stood there waiting for it for a few minutes. After nothing happened, Ted started to say that it was probably the wind or something like that, but he was cut off by the groaning sound as it echoed out of the hole in the ground. I remember watching the blood drain from his face as he stared at the well, and we all started in with, uh, see, we told you it was real. He immediately told one of the other boys to go get the head counselor, and he ran off to get him while we stood there watching Ted carefully lean over the well with his flashlight. The head counselor showed up with his maglight and was able to see what was down there.

And he told Ted to call 911 immediately. To cut this a bit shorter, the authorities showed up to the camp, and what happened next was beyond shocking. After a couple of hours, they were able to pull a man from the well. He was half-starved, dehydrated, had a few broken bones, and was barely conscious. He'd been down in that well for at least a day or two. He'd apparently gone hiking and gotten lost, and he'd apparently gone hiking and gotten lost, somehow fell into the well, left to the mercy of fate and time. To say that we were shaken is a bit of an understatement.

The mystery night was overshadowed by the sight of that man, broken, barely clinging to life. He did, thankfully, survive, but the memory of those groans echoing from the well? It was nightmare fuel. The well has since been rebuilt by the camp, probably to be. to prevent that from ever happening again, but when I'm out at the camp helping in the summers, I tend to avoid it altogether, in the off chance that I have a repeat of that night.

So I know that my story is going to sound horribly cliche, but it did actually happen to me, and it's something that honestly scared me nearly to death. It's easy to look at a story and say, you should have done this or that, but to end up in the situation is a totally different story. At the time, I panicked, and I took the easiest way that I could to get out of the situation. And if I were in this situation again today, I think I would probably still do the same thing as my potential stupid actions are most likely what saved my hide.

This happened about five years ago, when I was living in the heart of the city, in an apartment that was only a few blocks from my office. I'm a night owl, always have been. There's something about being out in the world when it's completely still and silent that has always appealed to me. It was during one of these late nights, around two in the morning, to be exact, that I was walking home from my office. It had been a particularly stressful day at work. I mean, obviously. I was leaving it too. And I was looking forward to the cool night air to calm my nerves and to help me center myself a little bit.

I took my usual route down the familiar sidewalk that was illuminated by the dim streetlights, past all the closed shops with their metal shutters down and locked, towards the local park that was always deserted this time of night. I will say that there is this strange and eerie piece that emanates from the deserted cityscape at night that I've just kind of always felt comforting. That is, until that night. As I was walking, I heard what sounded like soft rustling coming from behind me. I didn't pay it much attention, assuming it was just a newspaper getting blown around in the winds,

or maybe a stray cat doing stray cat things. As I continued walking, I noticed that it wasn't fading away. It was persistent, and it seemed like it was following me. I slowly pulled my pepper spray off my clip that was attached to my purse and turned to see if there was someone there. And, sure enough, there was. About 30-ish feet behind me was a man in a hooded sweatshirt and gym shorts, walking it around the same pace that I was.

His hood wasn't up, but he was doing everything he could to make it look like he was not looking at me, looking down at the ground, turning slightly to the side. Now, I don't like to think the worst about anyone that I see, especially when I first see them. But the way he reacted to me turning around

was not normal, and it put me on edge. I figured the best thing to do was to keep walking and to pay attention to how far he was from me the whole time. I didn't have that far to go to get to my apartment building, thankfully, and after a couple more moments of upping my pace a bit, and putting a little extra distance between us, I came up to an alleyway that had the side entrance of my apartment building. At that point, I was faced with two options. Make a run down the side alley and make it into the side door quickly,

or take the chance and walk all the way around the building to the front to get into the front door. I decided that the side entrance being quicker and a straight shot was my best bet. As I approached the alley, I quickly turned and did a slight jog towards the door. When I turned back to see if he was following me down the alley, I was surprised to see that he was still just standing there and staring at me at the entrance. At this point, it was more than clear that he was. he was definitely following me, and that he intended to make me the victim of whatever it was that he was plotting.

I kept walking towards the door of my building, my key card in one hand and the pepper spray in the other, intending to get into the building quickly. When I approached the door, I heard a sound that sent me into overdrive, the sound of feet rapidly smacking onto the concrete. This guy was now running at me in a full sprint. I nearly fumbled everything as I beeped in with the keycard, stepped in and slammed the door shut behind me.

Thankfully it was a good door, and thankfully it locked immediately when it shut after being beeped in. Because as soon as I got to the other side of the door, the man was right there, his face pressed against the glass and staring at me. This guy really just stood there with his face literally pressed against the glass door, laughing and smiling at me. I turned back and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time, until I got to my floor and my apartment. I actually called the police and reported the incident,

but since he hadn't attempted to break in, there wasn't really anything they could do. The next day, I contacted the leasing office and they pulled the camera footage so that we could at least get a picture of the guy, so that we could hang it up and warn the tenants about him. which we did. One of my neighbors mentioned that they had seen the guy standing outside at the building a few weeks prior, and that he had asked them for change.

When they said no, he got mad and started yelling that whatever he ended up doing was going to be their fault. So that was nice to know. Unfortunately, I've never really been able to forget that night. The fear that I felt as I turned to see him sprinting at me, I no longer walk from the office to my apartment and actually moved to a different location a few months later for unrelated reasons. The whole thing was a chilling reminder of how a simple stroll from one place to another

can quickly turn into a nightmare. That night, the city that I loved definitely showed me a darker side, one that I hope to never encounter again. Late-night walks on the beach were my preferred way of unwinding. After spending way too much time running around the coffee shop that I manage, I needed something to help me clear my mind and relax. There's something about the sound of the waves and the cool sea breeze that just helps me push everything stressful out of my life,

even for just a few minutes. I never walk alone, though. My pup, Jeff Bridges, also enjoys these strolls. Yes, I know that is a dumb name and no, I will not give you the pack story. Jeffie is the best dog that I've ever had, and I love him more than I love some of my relatives. One particular night, we suited up and went out for our evening walk. It was a really lovely spring night.

I remember it was a full moon, because I made some dumb comment about Jeffie turning into a werewolf. As we got to the beach, the air seemed a bit heavier than normal. I assumed it was just the air currents or something, or maybe we were going to get some storms. As we walked, Jeffrey chased some crabs into the sand, and I laughed at him when he would get too close at them, and then get scared when they raised their claws.

I shined my light forward, and I saw, saw something glinting in the sand. My curiosity peaked. I walked over to it and crouched down to see what it was. I moved the sand off of it and was genuinely surprised when I saw that it was a cell phone. It was a bit strange to find a full-on cell phone on the beach like that, but then I figured that someone must have dropped it during the day and either didn't care or hadn't come back to check for it yet. I wiped the sand off of it, and it looked to be in good quality, which lent more credence to the possibility of it being dropped on accident.

I pressed the power button to see if it would turn on, and, to my surprise, it was already on, and the battery had about 30% left. Thinking that I might be able to identify the owner, I swiped across the screen. No password lock. Lucky me. There wasn't really much on the phone, at least not on the main screen, so I went over to the contacts to see if there was someone that I could call or text to inform them that they had lost the phone.

The contact list was incredibly sparse. It was mostly just numbers of businesses and a few names of people. Obviously nobody that I knew. I have to admit that my curiosity did get the best of me, and I clicked to the first of me, and I clicked on the gallery to see if maybe there was a picture of the owner or something. That's my justification, and I won't accept any other statements on it. There, in the gallery, there was an album at the top that was named simply with the date that it was made, and the date was the same as the day that I found the phone.

I tapped on it. There were about 40 or 50 photos in this album. The first few were dark, just shots of the beach, but as I scrolled further in, my blood started to run cold. In the dim light of the pictures, there was a figure that was barely visible at first, but became much more visible as the pictures went on. About halfway through, I could see the figure much more clearly. The man was wearing a mask, just some plain white mask that took. covered his face, and in his right hand, he was holding what was clearly visible as a knife. Suddenly, my comfy little beach didn't seem so peaceful.

The fact that this gallery was from the same day, that the beach was already dark, and that the battery wasn't dead, told me that whatever happened, happened a short time before I found the phone. I quickly put the phone in my pocket and pulled Jeffie and made me more. my way home. Every few steps, I would hear a slight sound and would jump a bit, looking around to see if there was somebody there, but of course there wasn't. My imagination was running wild. I swear that I was seeing a person holding a knife in every slight shadow. When I got home, I locked the door and took a deep breath, thinking about what I should do. I didn't know if calling the cops to report a found phone was appropriate.

but the pictures told me that something probably needed to be done. The other part of me was thinking that this was just a dumb prank. But who dumps a phone worth a couple hundred dollars on the beach for a joke? After thinking about it, I decided that I would just take the phone to the police station the next morning, unsure of whether or not this was a genuine situation. It didn't help that the beach was just outside my window, and I kept glancing out nervously throughout the entire evening. As soon as the sun came up,

I headed to the police station and handed the phone to the officers. They asked me a few questions, and I answered as best as I could, explaining that I had found it the night before, and I admitted to going through the pictures and then told them about the album. They went through them as well, and the officer looked just as creeped out as I was.

He promised me that they would figure out who it belonged to, and before I left, told me to stay cautious, just in case, and to call them if I saw anything out of place on the beach. I don't know what came of it. I don't know if they found the phone's owner or the man in the pictures, but those late-night beach walks, they're a thing of the past, because I can't shake off this feeling of being watched every time I go out there. I honestly have thought about the person that took those photos more than what I would say is healthy. What happened to them? And who was the man with the knife? Some questions, I guess, are better left unanswered. But if there was one thing that I learned from this,

it's that not all that glitters in the sand is as innocent as it seems. There's something else here now, something new. From, exclusively on Paramount Plus, It's the series Stephen King calls Scary as Hell. Everything here is impossible, but it's also real. Sci-fi vision calls it the best show streaming right now. We're running out of time and we still don't know the rules. Don't miss what the movie blog calls something you need to watch.

Saving those children is how we all go home. From Binge All Episodes exclusively on Paramount Plus. There used to be an old industrial area back in the 80s that sat practically behind my childhood neighborhood. There were a few old factories and what I think was some kind of medical supply and lab back there. I remember going with my parents as my mom dropped something off there. By the late 90s to early 2000s, the factories had seemingly been shut down or closed and the

medical place had moved. That made a perfect area for a lot of teens such as myself, to take. hang out and do things we probably shouldn't have been. It also had a lot of nooks and crannies that we could run to and hide if someone came patrolling the area. I'm sure we had all thought about it, but none of us, or at least no one in my friend's circle, had ever gone into one of them. But then we got to talking about it, and all of us, being bored, opted to check it out. There were five of us going in that day, fueled by our curiosity and readiness to explore a new and unknown place. We helped the girls over the fence, then the remaining three of us climbed over.

Once at the entrance, we all noticed we were not going to get through the front door. There were thick boards nailed to the entrance, so we walked around the inner building, trying to avoid the road. We came across a window that you had to jump to look into. It was pretty close to the ground on the inside, so one of my friends said this was probably our best way in. However, I didn't realize the window didn't open, and my friend was basically asking permission to break it to get in. So when we all shrugged and agreed to go in, we jumped as he unexpectedly kicked in the window. That's how Mikey had always been, so I don't know why we were all surprised. We followed our same procedure over the fence as we all went in one by one.

Once inside, we looked around to see everything still in its place, but covered in a thick layer of dust. The east and west walls were lined with those same windows, which all cast the light down onto the factory lines and floor. At first, it was a bit of an eerie sight. The place wasn't picked up and cleaned, like how I would expect a factory line. to look right before it closed for the night. No, this place looked like everyone left in a hurry, such as in an emergency evacuation. There were gloves scattered on the ground,

small pieces on the belts, containers of bolts and screws spilled all over. It made me stop and wonder what had happened. What caused people that worked here to leave so quickly? There was no immediate indication of their being a fire or explosion, there was nothing spilled on the floor and certainly nothing we could smell. In fact, the only thing we could smell was the dirt and stale air. I'm not sure how to describe it, sorry. If you've ever explored a sealed up or abandoned place, you know what I'm talking about.

We started walking around as some of us split up. Mikey and Gloria went one way while Billy, Kurt, and I went another, agreeing to meet back in the middle. Billy and I had been flirting on and off, so it was no surprise when she clung to me like she was scared. As we made our way towards the back, we saw several smaller rooms that appeared to be for storage, or one as a sort of employee lounge. There was an old, tattered, and clearly used couch, a wooden table with two standing chairs left, and remains of what looked like the two other chairs that had broken and fallen apart. There was a small kitchenette-like area with a sink, which is where I had to do a double take. The sink had a small amount of water in it,

but the water didn't look dirty or like it had been sitting for years or even days. Hell, it didn't even smell stagnant. I turned on the faucet and, to my surprise, it worked. Billy and Kurt were in the room and witnessed what I had just did, and I explained to them why I did it. Billy was already nervous about this whole thing, and our discovery definitely seemed to put Kurt on alert, but not enough to make him want to leave.

And of course, what else would make an abandoned factory creepier than having a cellar. The door was at the end of the hall and easily opened as the door creaked. Billy was clinging to my arm as we walked down the stairs behind Kurt. He flipped the switch and surprisingly, the light kicked on too.

This place had obviously been closed for years, yet the power and water was still on. Why? We looked around the small room and immediately noticed it had been turned into a maids. shift bedroom. There was a small pile of blankets and tarps on the floor and everything else had been shoved and stacked into the corner of the room. Underneath the old buckets of junk and detritus

was just an old desk holding it up. But what really caught my attention was on the edge of the desk. There were probably a dozen old worn-out dolls arranged in a neat line. They were all Barbie like ones, each a different style between the hair and clothing they had on. But the one thing they had in common was that all of the eyes had been scraped or scratched off. It was pretty damn creepy. This place had no indication of being a toy factory. In fact, it looked like it made large equipment based on all the bolts and large metal sheets all over the place. So where did these dolls even come from? Of course, my only thought was that they were brought here by whomever made the bed. Billy was already tugging at me, saying we should go, and I had no reason to say no.

This was the last place we had to check, so I thought it was best for us to go back to the front, hoping Mikey and Gloria were waiting for us. As we walked back towards the entrance, Mikey shouted for us. I could hear in his voice. He tried to sound calm, but you. you could tell there was distress. We all walked quickly to the assembly line, and he brought us all in close,

saying we needed to leave. No one questioned this, and we all went back out the window we used prior. Once we were out, Mikey again told us to keep going and was adamant we needed to leave the area, suggesting we go to my place. I didn't hesitate to offer this either,

and we all walked back in silence. I watched us Mikey look, behind us on occasions, and Gloria looked absolutely petrified. We saw some pretty creepy and unsettling things ourselves, but I was wondering what they saw that had them so terrified. Once we got back to my place, we sat in the back of Kurt's truck and discussed what we saw. After sharing what we saw,

I could tell by Mikey's reaction that it only confirmed something for them. They told us that they looked in a little, side room that had a bunch of books and cubbies. They all had labels on them in the form of like a first initial and last name, and most of them still had things in them. They said they were looking through the items but didn't take anything, none of us ever did. Then they looked over the books. As they pulled out the books, they found two that were carved out, and inside one of them was cash. Mikey debated on taking a stack for a split second, but thankfully, Gloria convinced him it was a bad idea, and I'm glad she did. As they left the room, they were going to go upstairs where it looks over the assembly floor,

but as they did, they saw two guys standing up there. Both of them looked very frail and sickly, but not in the elderly sense. But then Mikey noticed one of the guys had something. Between the railing he was holding on to in his hand, he could clearly make out a gun. That was when he tried to stay calm and act like he didn't see them and called for us. We were all pretty freaked the hell out after he told us this, and now we were looking all around, making sure no one followed us here. No one ever came around, and that included the police, so we all assumed that they weren't supposed to be there either. We shook off the bad vibes that place gave us and just agree that

we were done going there and would find a new place to hang out. I'm sure it's been thought of by the others too, but while I'm thankful those guys didn't do anything to us, I worry about what could have happened if they did. Or even, what if Mikey and Gloria did take the money? Was it theirs? Would they have tried to stop them? It was a horrible thought I tried to forget, because if they were to have acted, no one knew where we were, and we could have just gone missing, never to be seen again. Back in college, I used to date this girl named Jenna. Jenna was beautiful, captivating, and smart.

All the things that a naive young man like myself would fall for in a heartbeat. She was fun to spend time with, and she and I got along really well for the most part. The only part that became a bit of a problem between us was that Jenna was a bit possessive. She had a bit of a possessive attitude when it came to me. She didn't like me spending time with my friends, and if there was another woman there, she would get really passively angry. The only thing that made our relationship a little more complicated was that, At the time, I was 21, and Jenna was about to be 40.

Yes, there was almost a 19-year difference between us, which may sound really strange to some people, but to me it didn't matter. There were people in my family that weren't fond of the idea, but I live for me, not for them, so I did what I wanted to do. Unfortunately, that age gap also came with differences in how we wanted to live our lives. I wanted to socialize. I wanted to party. I wanted to go out and live life to the fullest.

This was an issue with how possessive she was, obviously, and she had this mentality that living life was just spending time together alone. I have no issue with that, and I was happy to just spend the night with her, but there were times where I wanted to go out and do other things, and she wouldn't want to. My point is that, no matter how much we cared about each other, we were definitely two different people, who wanted different things.

And it was a major rift between us. After about nine or ten months of being together, we sat down and talked about things, and we both kind of agreed that while we cared about each, each other, it was for the best that we went our separate directions. It was a rather amicable breakup. She understood, I understood, and we agreed that we could still be friends and get together for non-dating dates, if that makes sense.

Because the breakup was mutual, I didn't really feel the need to sulk about it. Jenna was a great lady, and I enjoyed our time together, but if we both decided it was best to move on, then why should I get depressed about it being over? I thought that she felt the same way until about two weeks later, when I got a text message from her that said, Really missing you right now? It was a bit heartbreaking to get that text,

so I figured that I would call her and we could talk it through. When I did, I could tell that she had been crying, and I told her that I missed her too, that I'd been thinking about giving her a call anyways to see how she was doing. We just chatted about nothing in particular, which seemed to cheer her up, and as the conversation came to an end,

she said something like, I'm sorry to have bothered you like that. I just missed you a lot. I made a comment like, well, I haven't gone anywhere. I'm always around if you need me. She turned that around on me and said, If I needed you tomorrow night to get dinner, would you be around?

I chuckled and responded with, Okay, anytime you need me that is not tomorrow night, I have class tomorrow. When I said this to her, her tone changed a bit. She changed from this sweet voice to one that was a bit more aggressive. She asked me since when did I have class on Wednesday. night, and I told her that the quarter had changed, so my class schedule shifted literally the week prior.

I could tell that she didn't believe me and that she was getting upset. I told her that I could get together on Thursday, and she just kind of brushed it off and said that she would see if she was available, and wrapped the call up. I was a bit upset with how she'd reacted, but I figured that it was just the side effect of us breaking up. That next night, as I said, I had class. When it had let out, I was walking to my car, and to my surprise, Jenna was standing there leaning against my car.

Unfortunately, at the time, I was walking with a few guys that I was friends with, and one of them was a bit of a jokey, a-hole. He made a comment that was very audible to both myself and Jenna, saying, yo man your mom's hot jenna stood up as we approached and much to my surprise she pulled her arm back and slapped him across the face saying i'm not his mom you little punk he just stood there staring at her and then at me with his jaw hanging wide open after a few seconds of silence the others just sort of awkwardly walked away from me without saying much else I asked her what the hell that was, and she said something about how what he'd said was disrespectful to both of us, and that she didn't want me hanging around with him anymore. At this point, I kind of lost it. I asked her what she was doing on campus, and why she thought that she could control me like that.

She said that she was there to make sure that I was actually in class, and that she didn't want to control me, but that she didn't want me. but that she didn't want me being influenced by people like that. I laughed at her, and then made a comment that she was acting like she was my mom, and that I didn't need her to raise or protect me, as my own parents did a good enough job for the first 18 years of my life. I could see that she was fuming when I said this,

but I just said, good night, Jenna, and got in my call. and drove off. I thought that I had made my point. I thought that she was going to leave me alone after that, and yes, what I said was rude, but her slapping my friend was way over the line.

Jenna, on the other hand, did not take my disrespect lightly. And this is where things went from an annoyance to something that I could have never expected. I was driving home, not even really thinking about the whole thing, thing that happened with Jenna. Honestly, I was more focused on the project that I needed to do for class than anything.

Unfortunately, that was enough of a distraction that I didn't even realize that Jenna was in her car, following right behind me. I was about to pull into my apartment complex, and I just happened to glance up at my rear-view mirror, only to see Jenna staring at me, with her hands gripping the steering wheel so tight that her knuckles were white. I kind of panicked a bit, thinking that this was not going to end well. And if I had known how unwell it was going to end,

I would have driven to a police station or something, not home. I parked my car and quickly got out, expecting to have an argument with this woman that I thought was a great person until recently. I grabbed my bag and just stood the woman. on the sidewalk, watching as she backed into an empty spot in front of me. I raised my arms like, what do you want from me?

Basically, just feeling defeated at this point. After several moments of me just standing there in the glow of her headlights and her not getting out, I waved her off in a dismissive way, kind of to say, well, then forget you. And I turned to walk into my apartment building. The second I turned to walk toward the building, I heard the sound of an engine revving up, and tires screeching. At first I thought that she was just going to gun it out of the parking lot,

but, to my surprise, she wasn't turning. She was speeding up, and she was coming right for me. Fortunately for me, the distance between myself and the spot where she was parked it was enough for me to damn near literally throw myself out of the way and avoid getting run over. Unfortunately for her, I lived in the building by the pool, and where I was standing when she floored it was right in front of the cheap metal fence that surrounded said pool area.

I'm pretty sure the thought of hitting me with her car clouded her judgment to the point that she didn't have an exit strategy. because when I jumped out of the way and she kept going, she smashed through the flimsy fence, and her car's front end went right into the pool. I immediately grabbed my phone and called 911, explaining what had just happened and saying that they needed to send someone right away. I was even nice enough to mention that they should send a medic just in case,

though I pretty quickly found out that Jenna wasn't hurt. I watched as she opened the door and climbed up out of the pool. She looked like she was seriously lost and confused. I then watched as she took off down the parking lot and started running down the sidewalk. Like I said, no exit strategy. It didn't take long for the cops to show up, and it was pretty clear that what I said had happened was what happened. They caught her, and they got her in cuffs.

and they may have even taken her in for a mental evaluation or something, I really don't remember. So, after all that, I really don't know what her plan was beyond just hitting me with her car. If she would have hit me, she probably still would have gone through the fence and into the pool, which sort of leaves this massive piece of evidence pointing to who had committed the crime. I will say that explaining the whole thing to the rental company was a lot of fun. And thankfully, they didn't try to take me to court for the damages or anything, since it really wasn't my fault that my ex went crazy and tried to murder me. In spite of all this, in spite of all that happened,

I really hope that Jenna got the help that she needed, for whatever mental issues she very clearly had. I don't wish any ill will on her. I just hope that I never run into her, ever again. I saw that you were going to make a video about malls, and I remembered a story that my mom actually told me many years ago. This was something that happened directly to her, and she talked about it often enough with friends and family.

Everyone's retelling was the exact same way that my mom would explain it, and she's really not the type to dramatize things, so I absolutely believe it. So, here it goes. I am the second oldest kid in my house, and this took place about six to eight months after my mom had me, so, yes, I was still a baby. She was a stay-at-home mom for most of my childhood, until she got a part-time job to give her something to do while we were all in school. But when I was born, my older brother was already in all-day kindergarten, so it would just be us during the day. One of those days, my mom wanted to get out of the house, and what could be better than a small shopping spree for some new clothes after having a baby. So she bundled me up, packed the stroller in the car, and headed out to the mall for some retail therapy.

When she arrived, everything was going as planned, and she had already stopped at a few stores. After a couple hours, she said that I started getting fussy, so she went to the food court to get herself something to eat, and to feed me in the process. She pulled the stroller close to her so that we were facing each other, as she relaxed and fed us both. While sitting there, she was looking around the court, and she noticed, noticed a woman sitting a few tables away with her eyes locked on us. She said that she had seen people staring at her before, especially while she fed me, so she ignored it at first. But then as she scanned the area,

she would find herself going back to look at this woman, and she was still staring at us. But it was her expression that really caught her off guard. While her gaze was undoubtedly on us, she said that her expression seemed blank and devoid of any emotion. At first, even though the gaze itself was pretty odd, she tried to let it go thinking maybe she just wasn't all there, or was just innocently staring off.

She finished eating and throughout would glance at the woman as she continued to stare at us. Being who she was, my mother tried to show kindness to the woman by smiling at her. She described her as an older woman. Her skin appeared smooth from a distance, but she had deep wrinkles in her forehead and around her mouth. She had stringy shoulder-length hair that looked like it needed to be washed and brushed. She thought maybe she needed someone to show her kindness, and it seemed to relieve some of the discomfort. When the woman's eyes brightened and she smiled back. With any uneasy feelings now diminished,

my mom packed up to leave the food court and finish her shopping trip. She said that as she walked around the outer square, she kept getting that feeling like she was being watched. She stopped in the children's clothing store, and when the feeling wouldn't dissipate, she looked around. That's when she spotted that same woman from the food court. She quickly looked away from her, pretending that she was looking for something specific, but it was too late.

The woman had approached my mom smiling and just complimented me, saying how cute I was. She thanked her, and they both awkwardly stood there for a few moments, until the woman also complimented my mom, saying that she looked great for just having a kid. Again, she thanked her, and as the woman continued smiling and not moving, she wished her a good day and walked away to complete her purchase. As she walked toward the checkout counter, the woman followed her. And when she parked the stroller next to her as she was checking out, the woman was right there, smiling at me, cooing, and then trying to touch me.

My mom was a little less overbearing with me, as she was with my brother, her first child, as in she was typically okay with people touching my hands or feet or just wanting to hold me, even though she wouldn't let strangers hold me, of course. But she said that she started feeling uncomfortable with how involved the woman was with getting with me. So, once she was finished, she quickly made her way out of the store, helping to soon lose sight of the woman or vice versa. However, it wouldn't go the way that she wanted, because she spotted the woman following close behind.

She explained to me how she felt like something bad was about to happen, and she really didn't know what to do. This was a long time ago, so she didn't have a cell phone at the time. The only thing she could do was to either find somewhere that she would feel safe, or to try to leave. However, where she was located in the mall was on the opposite side of where she'd parked. At that point, she just wanted to leave so she picked up her pace, pushing along the stroller and actively trying to keep an eye on this woman.

As infants do, though, I apparently started crying and would not let up. So my mom tried to pull me out to hold me while steering the stroller one-handed. This, of course, slowed her down some, and the woman once again approached her. At first, she acted like she was trying to be helpful, commenting that I was upset and offering to help. My mom declined, telling her thanks, but no thanks. But the woman was adamant. She offered to hold me so that my mom could rest,

and she said that she didn't mean to, but she kind of laughed as she again said, no thank you. It was one of those nervous laughs you do when someone asks you or tells you something shocking, so this seemed warranted. Why would anyone just hand over their infant to some random stranger? Apparently this woman didn't appreciate that, though.

As her previous demeanor changed, and her eyes went back to the ones she initially saw in the food court. They were dark and nearly glazed over, as she began spewing a barrage of comments and questions at my mother. She asked her if she even knew the father. My parents are still together. She said that I didn't look a thing like her. I'm actually a spinning image of my mother now,

and even questioned if I was even her real baby. My mom is still walking at this point, and not responding to the woman, now slightly offended, and still very much worried about her sudden change. Finally, my mom snapped and yelled at this woman to leave her alone. The woman seemed surprised that she spoke up and quit moving, So she took advantage of this to put me back in the stroller so that she could get out of

their quicker. But the woman didn't stay silent for very long. She immediately started shouting, She stole my baby! My mom quickly turned around to confirm what she already knew. This woman was now pointing at her, making a huge scene in accusing my mom of having kidnapped me. My mom was horrified. as the woman ran towards her, she once again grabbed me to hold me tight, fearing that she would try to take me,

or that someone else would, believing this old woman's story. As more and more people began looking around, my mom left the stroller behind and ran with me into a nearby store, asking someone to call for help. They were all starting to look out into the walkway to see what was happening, and she said that someone already looked suspicious of her. Right then, she told me that she feared people would not believe her. She told me how one of the ladies working there agreed to call 911, but demanded that she stay where she was.

This, again, confirming her fears that they may not believe her. While the woman was on the phone, the crazy lady caught up and ran into the store that my mom was in, screaming to give her the baby. but she was now holding what looked like a large kitchen knife, and she was swinging it at anyone that got close to her. My mom was terrified that she may actually hurt someone that worked there, or me. So she just squeezed herself into the back corner,

trying to make herself as small as possible, as she wrapped herself around me to protect me. Thankfully, the knife-wielding didn't last long as one of the mall security guys, guys got there and practically wrestled it away from her. She was held nearby, but out of the store until police arrived. My mom can joke about it now, but I can still see her get choked up a bit when she talks about this part. She really told me how afraid she was waiting for the police to arrive.

She didn't know how she was going to be able to prove to them that I was her baby. She had the stroller with our belongings in it, but she was her. She feared that they would think that she just took off with me, leaving the stroller behind. She didn't have any identification for me, just her own ID in her purse. She asked to use the phone at the store to call my dad, hoping that he would be able to get my birth certificate or some newborn photos, anything to help prove her case. While she was able to call him, thankfully she ended up not needing anything other than her ID. When the police arrived, they took statements from a few people nearby, including my mom, and they asked her if either of us was hurt or needed medical attention, and she said no.

So they basically told her that we could leave. She was confused by this, remembering how she was happy they believed her, but also concerned that they didn't do much to check. What if it played out the same way but they believed the old woman instead? but the police assured her and explained why they believed her. Apparently, this woman was actually known to them. She had issues with substance abuse, and she had a few kids herself. However, they'd all been taken away by the state because of neglect and abuse.

She'd been using so long that she now seemed to be paranoid and accused everyone she saw that had young children of stealing her kids. This wasn't the first time that she had done this to someone, just the first time in this mall, apparently. She was also only in her 30s, but my mom said that she looked much older. My mom said that she left there feeling relieved, but also remorseful for the girl.

She, thankfully, never saw or heard from her again. But she also wouldn't go to the mall alone anymore, And that was the same reason that she wouldn't let any of us kids go alone or with friends either. We always had to have an adult with us. Like I said, we joke about how I was almost kidnapped or how I was a stolen baby. But I can't imagine how anyone would handle that situation. And I hope that I never do, either. I have always been a fan of the open road.

Give me a full tank of gas, a playlist on spot-finding. I have some of my favorite tracks, and a destination that gets me as far away from the world I know as possible, and I'm a happy camper. Well, not a camper. I don't like camping. I very much prefer hotels, but that's not really here nor there. So, when I got a chance to drive across the country for a temporary job relocation, I jumped at it. It wasn't a permanent move. It was going to be for a couple of months, most likely, and then things would shift to me moving back to the home office. I was pretty psyched to be living in a new state,

even if it was only for a little while. The whole trip there was pretty smooth, for the most part. That is, until I was about halfway through the Midwest, and stopped at a random highway rest stop to take a break. It was a pretty basic rest stop. Nothing too crazy about it. It had a quaint little convenience store on one half, and then a restroom that was only accessible from the outside of the stop.

The store was pretty basic. Like a convenience store kind of place, just chips, soda, maybe a questionable hot dog if you're feeling particularly brave, which I wasn't. I went into the store first, thinking I would grab my stuff and then head over to the restrooms. I got my snacks, my energy drink, and chatted briefly with the two employees behind the counter, about the area and where I was headed. They seemed friendly enough, just your average folks working the late shift at a highway rest stop.

After that, I headed over to the restroom. As mentioned, it was detached from the store. It was the same building, but the door to the convenience store was on the far left, and the restrooms were accessible on the far right. The restroom part was a bit unsettling at first glance. It was just basically cold concrete blocks put together to house a plumbing system. You know the restroom buildings that are typically at public parks? It was like that.

My guess was that the restroom was built first in common. concrete, and there was probably something else attached, but they had since made it a modern-looking convenience store instead. I went in, was happy that it was actually pretty clean, and went to the stall to take care of business. That's when I heard the door creak open, and someone walked into the stall next to me. The creaking in an otherwise silent restroom was a bit unsettling, but nothing about it was weird, really. Probably just another traveler trying to get somewhere overnight

like I was. A couple of seconds pass, and I hear this guy cough a bit, and then ask, Hey, you got a light? I was a little taken aback. Who asks for a lighter in a public

restroom? Was he planning on smoking in the restroom like that with someone else in there? Then, of course, was the question of smoking what. Uh, no, sorry, I don't smoke. I replied, a bit direct with my tone, but if he was planning on smoking in an occupied restroom, then that was kind of rude of him.

So it was warranted. He grunted at my response and then sighed, and then there was silence. A long, awkward silence that seemed to stretch on forever. the kind of awkward silence that came to be when a random person in a bathroom stall next to you talks to you. Just when I was about to write it off as some weird and random encounter, I heard what sounded like a splashing sound, like a liquid being poured on the floor. My first and obvious thought was that this dude was peeing on the floor.

But I was immediately corrected in my thoughts when I struck. strong, acrid smell filled the air. Gasoline. My heart started to pound in my chest, and my stomach turned. This guy was pouring large amounts of gasoline in a public restroom. What the hell was he planning? I didn't want to stick around to find out. I quickly finished up, flushed, and bolted out of the stall.

I didn't even wash my hands. I just ran right back to the car. convenience store, yanked the door open, and almost incoherently shouted, Hey, there's some dude pouring gasoline in the restroom. The two employees looked at each other for a moment like, is this dude high? But I think the panic in my voice and the fact that we had just spoken a few moments ago, and I was completely normal, then lent itself to the validity of my statement. One of them grabbed the phone to call the police, while the other sprang.

towards the restrooms. A few tense moments later, he came back, his face pale. You weren't kidding. The place reeks of gas. Go ahead and call 911. By the time the police arrived, the guy was still in the restroom. He was just sitting there in the stall, completely drenched in gasoline. It was like he was actually waiting for someone else to come in and give him that light that he'd

requested, so he could set himself, and I guess the place ablaze. They got him out, and in cuffs, and they had so many questions about the situation. They determined that there was a truck in the parking lot that belonged to him, and they got his information from running the tags. But the cab was completely empty, with the exception of a set of keys. It was like he had come to the rest stop with the intentions of doing what he was doing, and that's it. The clerks didn't recognize him.

I didn't know who he was. And overall, it was just a really weird and confusing and potentially deadly situation. Of course, by the end of this, I was taunted with a horrifying thought. What if I did, smoke? What would have gone down if I had been carrying a lighter in my pocket and handed it to him under the stall.

Would he have gone through with lighting himself on fire while I was still locked in my little stall next to him? Would I have just been collateral damage for him? I don't know, and I don't like to think about the fact that this was a lucky brush with potential death for me. Thankfully, after the cops left and everything was done, I was able to get back on the road. I felt bad for the employees. They were probably near the end of their shift, and they were then thrown into a deep cleaning situation where they now had to remove the stench of gasoline from the men's restroom.

I hope that that guy did get some help because he needed it, and I hope that those clerks never had to deal with anything like that again. Because, honestly, that was one of the scariest moments of my parents. My life. About 20 years ago, I had some pretty sudden life changes and ended up renting a small house in a small suburban neighborhood. It was nice. It was a major change for me, and I would say that it was a peaceful and fresh start. The house was charming, not too big. Had a comfortable little yard, and I knew the person that was renting it out, so it was, it was. wasn't too expensive.

As comfortable as it was, I will say that some of the neighbors were a bit out there. The majority of them were kind people, but some of them were nosy. One neighbor, in particular, Mr. Weller, was a very confusing individual. He lived in the house directly across from mine, and the day that I moved in, I saw him standing outside on his front porch, just sipping on a glass of tea, and watching me. He waved. He seemed friendly enough, but we didn't talk, so the only knowledge I had of him was that he lived there and was willing to wave at a neighbor that was outside. I didn't see him for a couple of days after that, but about a week or so later, when I'd gotten home from work, I felt

eyes stabbing me when I was walking up to my house. I turned around to see who was staring at me, and I noticed Mr. Weller standing at his front window and just staring. He wasn't trying to hide the fact that he was staring. He was clearly watching me, with an unreadable expression. I waved, thinking maybe he was just lost in thought and didn't realize that he was staring,

but he didn't wave back, or blink, even. He just held that same deadpan stare. I felt a bit unnerved about the whole thing. I quickly made my way inside, but the eerie feelings did not stop there. When I would come home from work or from a jog, he would be there just staring at me. When I would step out to get the mail, he would be there at his window. If he was outside doing something like mowing the grass, and I went outside, he would stop doing whatever he was doing, go back inside, and stand at the window until I went back inside. Then it got worse.

Sometimes whenever I would go inside from doing whatever I would need to do, my landline would ring. But when I would answer it, the person would just hang up. no breathing, no voice, just me saying, hello, and then a click as they hung the call up. I couldn't prove who it was, and the caller ID would always show blocked, but I had this weird feeling that it was Mr. Weller. I had no idea what I had done wrong, or if I had done something that made him hate me. But clearly, this man had something against me. I called up the person that owned the house. They were a friend of my mother's, so I had their direct number.

And I asked her if she'd ever had any troubles with Mr. Weller. She told me that she hadn't personally, and that I was only the second person to rent the house. But the other tenant hadn't mentioned any issues. So, by this point, I knew that it was just me. After a while it started to get to me. The incessant staring, the silent calls, it actually made me feel paranoid. I would actively avoid going outside so that I didn't have to see him standing there and staring at me.

I stopped going for my jogs, and when I got home from work, I would just go straight to the house without turning around. I would get the mail every few days to avoid having to walk to the end of the street. It hit a point where I would wake up thinking that he was staring in my windows, literally just paranoid. Then I hit my limit. I went outside to get my mail one day, and sure enough, he was there at the window, staring daggers at me. My paranoia shifted to rage, and I started to worry. and I started walking towards Mr. Weller's house.

I hate confrontation, but I was done with all of this. As I was walking to the house, I watched Mr. Weller pull the curtains closed and retreat back into the house, but I wasn't going to just let this go. I stepped on his porch, and I banged on the door, probably harder than I should have. After a few seconds of waiting for him to answer the door, part of me was actually more angry at the possibility of him being a coward and not answering.

Then the door unlocks and opens, and the person that answered was not Mr. Weller. A frail old woman opened the door and looked at me with a big smile and asked how she could help me. I was a bit confused. I had never seen this woman. I mentioned that I was looking to speak with Mr. Weller, and she looked at her. looked at me a bit like she was upset at my request. She then hits me with, Oh, I'm sorry, dear. My brother Kennedy passed away a few months ago.

I've been living here for a few months now. I had no idea what to say, but after a few moments, she smiled again and said, Were you too close? I shyly just kind of shook my head and mentioned that I was a neighbor, and that I was sorry for her love. She thanked me, and I awkwardly made my exit out of the conversation, feeling like a total idiot. I was walking back to my house, just thinking about how creepy it was that he was dead,

and apparently had been for a few months. I got chills thinking about how I would see him staring at me from the window, even though he was gone. Then, I stopped, and it hit me that the... This was all a load of BS, and that I had literally seen him mowing the lawn the day before. I turned and looked back at their house, and sure enough, he was there at the window staring at me. I actually laughed as I went inside. This jerk was such a coward, and was so unwilling to face me after being a creep for so long, that he had, whoever that woman was, his sister or wife or whatever, lie and tell me that he was dead.

After that, the staring and calls actually stopped. He never bothered me again. I would see him outside doing whatever he would do, and I would wave at him any time we made eye contact, mostly to taunt him. And he would just scowl at me and turn away. In the end, I don't know what the hell Mr. Weller's problem was. I don't know what I did to make him dislike me so much, and I don't know why he was such a creep.

But I was thankful that it all stopped. I only lived in that house for another year, and the whole time I never spoke to him or that woman. And I never had any other problems. I have a short but pretty terrifying event that happened to me about four years ago. I had just moved into my new apartment and it wasn't in the greatest part of town. It wasn't like it was riddled with crime and scary to be in. It was just an area that was a bit lower income, really.

The best way to describe it is somewhere in between pretty decent and a tad sketchy. if that literally makes any sense. I will mention that I am not white, and while I don't like to play the race card for anything, I'm pretty certain that this had something to do with the situation that played out. Like I said, I had just moved into a new apartment, and it was actually my second night living there. I was watching TV, and I had this idea that I should go buy some ice cream to celebrate moving in.

You have to treat your house. yourself every once in a while, right? Just celebrate those little milestones and everything. It was a brisk night walk to the store, quiet and peaceful. Little did I know that the trip back was going to be the complete opposite of the walk there. I walked back on the same path that I took to get to the store, except this time I was carrying a bag with a tub of Rocky Road. A bit into the walk, I noticed a group of three guys standing up ahead.

At first, I thought they were just some guys out enjoying the evening like I was, until they turned toward me and started walking. I tried to avoid being paranoid thinking it was just good timing, and that they were just randomly heading in my direction. It became pretty quickly apparent that they weren't just heading in my direction, they had intentions. They very quickly stopped me and had me backed up against a wall. Initially, I thought this was a mugging.

I told them that I didn't want any trouble, and I put my hands up basically saying, take what you want to take, I won't fight back. Mostly because it was three guys, at least one of them with a gun, and me armed with nothing but a container of Rocky Road ice cream. I assumed that they would take my wallet, probably my cell phone, and maybe even my ice cream, and that they would just run off, and that would be that. But, of course, it was actually much worse than that. The leader, I'm assuming, or at least the guy with a gun, barked at me to drop the bag.

I did. He then told me to get down on my knees, and I did what he asked. He told the other two guys to pat me down, which was weird, but I wasn't going to question the guy that literally had my life in his hands. They patted me down, and one of them said that I was. clear, whatever that meant. But then it got even weirder. One of the other two grabbed my hands and pulled them behind my back and then cuffed me. My mind immediately went to, are these some kind of rogue police officers?

I actually summoned the courage to ask them why I was being arrested, and the leader just told me to shut up. No more than a couple of seconds later, the area was lit with flashing red and blues. as a car pulled up to the scene. The car parked and I heard a stern voice shout, What the hell is going on here? The guys responded in a manner that was far from scared or concerned, the one just saying something along the lines of, Don't worry, Sheriff, we got him taken care of.

Apparently this was the wrong thing to say to the Sheriff as he lost it. He told all three of them to get on the ground and immediately called in for backup. The three guys started yelling at the sheriff about how they were helping and how I was one of them. Again, whoever them was, and saying that they were helping him. The sheriff told them they were a bunch of idiots, and yelled that the one guy needed to drop his weapon and they all needed to get on the ground right then. The whole time I'm just sitting there on the ground, hands behind my back thinking,

I really chose a bad night to get ice cream. When the other officers arrived, they swiftly handled the faux cops while the sheriff uncuffed me and asked if I was all right. I told him that I had no idea what was going on, and he confessed that he was just as baffled as I was. He told me the obvious,

and mentioned that those guys were not cops, and he was clearly just as confused about their end game as I was. He offered to take me back to my apartment, and when we got there, he took my statement. He promised me that he would see to it that those guys would face the consequences of their actions, and then followed that up by suggesting, with genuine concern, that it may be safer for me to avoid late-night strolls in the area. With the guys' comments of me being one of them,

and the way he said that, it told me all I needed to know. I told him that I understood. He offered me his business card and then told me to call him if I ever had any trouble. I was shaken, of course, but at least I knew that someone out there was looking out for me in this crazy part of town. Looking back, that night could have gone much worse. If the sheriff hadn't pulled up right when he had, I can only imagine what those guys were going to do or what their next step was. I was completely defenseless.

And honestly, if that guy had wanted me dead, I think that I would have been dead. Thankfully, that didn't happen, and I'm grateful that the timing was on my side. While I have had to deal with people like them a few times since that night, it's never been anything that terrifying or life-threatening. I still live in the same apartment, and thankfully most of my neighbors are friendly. I will say that this lovely welcoming party did go away for some pretty serious crimes. And of course the guy with a gun was a felon, so he shouldn't have had the weapon in the first place. Also, when I go to the store now, I drive.

No more late-night walks to get my rocky road. I have a story, or maybe a set of smaller stories, that happened while I was a child. It was something that was recently brought up again between some family members, and while I try my best not to let it get to me, some days it's not so easy. This may be submitted anonymously, but I think overall I will feel better at least talking about it. Also, I wanted to warn that this happened to me when I was quite young, like up to the age of five or six, I think, so some of it, was from my own memory, but there were some missing pieces that have been added by family to help complete the picture for me. My mom was definitely a troubled kid, but I don't think anyone could really answer the why part.

She had a good childhood, based on everything I've heard from my grandparents and aunts and uncles. But nonetheless, I was the result of one of her mistakes. She seemed to still be optimistic about my arrival, of course, for all of the wrong reasons. She at first was going to give me up for adoption, something my grandparents even suggested to her, hoping that they could bring her back home and help her turn her life around. But she wanted to keep me and my grandparents supported her and agreed to help her where they could. I wasn't their first grandkid, but they were always...

loving to us all. As my mom said to my aunt and others in passing, her plans were to use me basically, as both payback, by getting child support from my father, as well as any other

financial support that she could get. She bragged about how much money she made just from having a kid to some of her siblings. She never got child support, however, because she couldn't even prove who my father was. and she never did.

Also, she didn't stop drinking or using while she was pregnant, and my birth defects and fetal alcohol syndrome proves that. Of course, nothing was done by the state, because she claimed it must have been an early pregnancy because she swore she stopped drinking after finding out. After I was born, some of my earliest memories of her weren't anything spectacular either. I had a small room with toys, most of which came from my grandparents or aunt, and I typically

stayed in there by either force or because my mother just demanded it. I remember some nights being hungry, as I hadn't eaten or even just not feeling well, and I would ask my mom for help. She would get pretty angry with me, yelling at me to go back to my room, and that's what I would do. but I was still a child. I would throw tantrums if I was hungry enough, and then she would come storming into my room with something to eat. Or if it was because I wasn't feeling well,

she would have some kind of liquid for me to take or a pill. I was still too young to understand you had to swallow it, so I would always chew it, and would cry because it tasted so awful. But shortly after she would bring me something, I would feel incredibly tired and typically would lay down wherever I was in my room

whether that was on my bed the floor or with my toys and then when I would wake up I would always become violently ill I remember thinking for a long time as I grew up that I must have had something seriously wrong with me

since I would fall asleep immediately after eating and wake up sicker than I was before there were even times which she would tell me that she had to do something very important, and demanded that I stay in my room no matter what. I remember one thing she used to say. If there's a fire, you best figure out how to open that window.

It was her way of saying that I was not allowed to open the door. I never thought about it, but now, thinking pack on it, at my age and size, I would have never have been able to open one of those windows. When I wasn't being nearly locked in my room, I would be dropped off at my grandparents' house, walking down the sidewalk as my mom left the driveway. Their place, however, was much different from my home. They had three meals a day, sometimes even snacks, and when I asked for seconds, they would tease me about being too skinny

and would load my plate up with huge helpings. They had a spare bedroom with a chest full of different toys and a dresser full of kids' clothes. I always thought of it like a shopping spree as they always had stuff in there that I hadn't seen before, so I would wear something new and find something new to play with. They welcomed me to watch TV with them in the living room and even played games with me.

I was always so torn because I never wanted to leave my grandparents but when my mom would come back to get me, and if I made a fuss about leaving, she would immediately send me to my room telling me not to come out again. Then she would come in with a pill for me to take, even if I didn't say that I didn't feel good. But she was still my mother, so I trusted her. So I took it.

And then I would soon drift off. So that was my life as a young child. and something that I just found normal as I knew nothing else. But that all changed one day after my mom took us to meet some guy, and after a brief conversation, we went back home. My mom again demanded that I not leave my bedroom, until she told me that I could and I would obey. However, as I played with my toys, I had the urge to use the restroom.

I called out for my mom, and when she didn't answer, I opened the door and yelled for her again, saying that I needed to use the bathroom. Again, no response, so I told myself that I would use the restroom quickly and then just return to my room. As I walked out of my room, I looked down the hall to the living room and saw her slumped over on the couch, like she was sleeping. So I followed through with my plan. I then went back to my bedroom and, shortly after, went to sleep on my own that night. The next morning I woke up and repeated my plan from the night before.

The second time, she was still on the couch, but she was more so laying down rather than sitting up like she had been. I went back to my room and played for a while, until I could no longer ignore the sound coming from my stomach. Again, my mom didn't respond to me calling for her, so I decided to just try and get something to eat for myself. I went to the kitchen, and I found a box of graham crackers that were already open. I grabbed some of those and went back to my bedroom. I think I stayed there until and unless I needed the bathroom. I think I even napped a few times not having anything else to do. I then remember getting hungry again.

so I went to grab more crackers and went back to my room, pretending that I was camping since I was up so late. I just remember it being dark. Shortly after, I again fell asleep. I woke up the next day repeating the same process, but I remembered thinking it was weird that my mom had not been up and gone to my room all the day prior, and curiosity got the best of me.

This time, I walked straight to the living room and can still remember the stench. She'd gotten sick, too, all over the couch and herself. I could tell that she was still breathing, not that I could do much about it being a young child, but I wanted to do something different. So at the risk of her waking up and yelling at me, I grabbed the box of crackers and sat on the floor, turning on the TV. I was hoping that she would wake up before.

before then because I was going to be out of crackers. I sat there most of the day watching TV, occasionally going to my room until I heard someone trying the front door. I knew I was told to never unlock or answer it, so instead I called up on the couch with my mom hoping they would go away. But not only did they not go away, they were able to open the door. To my pleasant surprise, it was my Aunt Lisa. I remember her face when she walked in and immediately saw my mom and I.

It honestly scared me. I jumped up and all I could think to say was sorry. She waved me over and hugged me and looked me all over asking if I was okay and I said I was, but also mentioned that I was really hungry. She asked me to go to my room to get some clothes. and toys together, as I was going to stay at Graham and Gramps for a while, which made me happy, so I did what she asked. The next thing I know, my aunt came to my room, and she looked really sad, and she started

putting my clothes and toys that I picked out in a plastic bag. Then she carried me out the door. I remember looking back at my mom one last time, and I saw her now sitting up on the couch, but her head was still slumped over and her hair was matted with stuff in it. That was the last time that I saw her. My aunt took me to McDonald's before taking me to my grandparents, and I just remember being really happy to be there. My grandma was waiting on the porch for me,

and after getting me settled in the living room with my food and cartoons, they all went to talk in the other room. After a few days with my grandparents, I ended up going home with my aunt and uncle, and I lived with them until I was 19. She became what I knew as my mother. I called her by her name, Lisa. But for a while, when I had friends around, I just called her mom to make it less confusing and to not have to explain it to them. When my aunt and uncle had a kid of their own, they even became like a little brother. to me that I adored, and we just became a loving and happy family.

It wasn't until I was much older that I learned more about what happened to me all those years ago. You see, as a child, and seeing my mom the way she was, I thought she was just sick. But the truth, as you may have already figured out, was that she was an addict. and when she was having withdraws or in between, me being around and needing the bare minimum to stay alive annoyed her, and it got in the way. So, she fed me pills, and God knows what else to keep me quiet or mostly unconscious. When I went to the doctors as a kid, I remember them doing a lot of tests, and they even took some of my hair. My aunt confided in me years later that that was one of the reasons that she won custody of me.

She checked that my mom was still alive and then called the cops as we left. I appreciated her honesty when she told me that she didn't care if she lived or died, based on how she was treating me. As of today, I have not heard from my mom since. She tried to get custody back when I was in great. school, but not only did she constantly fail to show up to any of the hearings or complete any of the paperwork, she also never completed the rehab, which was a requirement.

After that, she seemingly just disappeared from our lives. She even stopped calling anyone for birthdays and holidays, and to be honest, I'm okay with that. I'm okay if she is never a part of my life again. She could have easily killed me, pumping me full of whatever drugs she had, not to mention the different people that she brought around. I'm just incredibly thankful that I had other family members that stepped up when she obviously couldn't. And that's all that matters to me.

I know that there are kids out there that aren't as lucky as I was. while I was helping a friend move a few months ago, it reminded me of something I personally experienced, and I wanted to send it to you. I guess, while it may not have necessarily been creepy throughout, the possibilities of what could have happened definitely could be. Okay, so this was back in 2019. I had just gotten everything finalized on this duplex

that I was going to be moving into. It was in a nice community in the middle of, one of the more populated cities in my state, which made it super easy to go anywhere. The duplexes, however, were all individually owned, or, in my case, through a middleman. There was an owner,

but all the property management and whatnot went through a rental company. They were easy to work with, and I was pretty excited to get moved in. The first day of moving in, I was pretty excited, so I'd gotten a U-Haul the day before and filled it with as much as my little self could. I lived alone, and that wasn't changing, so it was just me for the most of it. I had a few friends that were going to help me over the weekend, but I wanted to at least get started on it. I met the rental lady that I had been working with at the new place where we did the move-in walk-through, signed the final papers and I was given the keys.

As the woman left, I noticed the people across the street were sitting outside, watching me. It looked like just a middle-aged couple, and they waved, so I waved back. I was walking through my new place and talking to my mom on the phone as I got out those last bit of new home jitters before I started unloading the truck. It was probably about 10, 15 minutes. that we were talking before we finally hung up. I wanted to bring stuff in through the garage since it was connected. So, as I opened the garage door, I saw feet on the other side.

When it came up enough, I realized it was the neighbors from across the street that had waved at me. It was pretty fast, but I figured by the kind smile on their face that they were probably just the sociable and outgoing type, eager to meet their new neighbor. They introduced themselves, and, to keep it simple, I'll just call them the Jacksons. I told them my name and we started out with a pretty simple conversation. They asked if I was from the area, or out of state, and I told them that I used to live in the next city,

which was only about half an hour away. They asked me how I found out about the place that was for sale, and I told them that it was actually for rent. and that I found it through a realty company online. I thought the question was a little odd, but maybe they were just curious. Then they asked me if I had heard anything about the neighborhood. I was confused by this question because I really didn't know what they meant. I just said that I didn't really know anything about this place,

other than it being in a convenient part of the city, and the rent was within my range. That led them to ask me what was within my range. This caught me off guard because I just met these people, and they were wanting to talk about money and income. I just said less than two grand and laughed, and so did they. It was kind of awkward to me after that, so I just said, Well, it was nice meeting you two,

and shuffled towards the back of the truck to make myself busy. They stood there for a few minutes whispering something to each other, then smiled and walked away. My first thought was, great, I've got some nosy and intrusive neighbors. At least they're across the street. I got the truck unloaded into the garage, and before I started sorting them into their designated rooms, I grabbed a box from my bathroom and unpacked it. I wanted to grab a rag to put on my neck because it was a very hot day. As I walked back out to the garage, I realized I had left the door open, and there were two new people standing at the edge of my garage, very obviously, looking in at my stuff.

I kind of laughed, thinking of how these people all seemed to be very nosy and then greeted them. They said hi and apologized, saying they were looking for me to introduce themselves. They were my neighbors to the right, and we'll just call them the Smiths. It was an older man and woman, at least compared to the Jackson's. I would guess probably in their 60s or 70s. They said that it was just them at home with their four Pomeranian pups because their kids had moved on a long time ago. They asked me where my other half was,

and I told them that I didn't have one, that I lived alone, other than my two iguanas, which I hadn't brought over yet. Miss Smith didn't like the idea that I had to have one, lizards by the look on her face, but to be honest, and I thought maybe that would make them just leave me alone. After her soured face, she then tried asking me if I was planning on getting married or having kids. My parents haven't even asked or pressured me about that, so I just hesitated on responding and said that I hadn't really thought about it. So she said that I should

really think about it because children are very important for the future and their community. It was already a weird comment, so I didn't catch the whole community part at first. I just said that I would keep it in mind. Before I could put a stop to the conversation, Mr. Smith laughed and made a comment about how they shouldn't overwhelm me so fast, as we had plenty of time to get to know each other. I nodded in agreement and said that I should probably get back to work, thinking maybe he thought she was being too much too. But as I was going to wrap it up, too, Miss Smith turned and said, Oh, I almost forgot to ask. What do you think of our president?

She had a huge smile on her face, as did Mr. Smith, and they both just stared at me waiting for a response. Now, I'm not one to really talk about politics, but who asks something like that within the first ten minutes of meeting somebody? I just stammered for a bit and said, You know, I'm not sure I'm quite ready to talk about that yet. And again laughed a bit, and they were the ones to have a softer, awkward kind of laugh. They asked the question. We all just sort of walked away from that, and I left thinking how freaking... weird my new neighbors were.

Other questions have been so far out of left field. Not to mention weird and inappropriate, too. I just quickly shut the garage door, ready to not have any more interactions with them. One of the things that I didn't get moved was my bed along with some other bigger items, so once I finished sorting, I went to leave and go back to my old place for the night. As I was getting in the truck, I heard someone hollering, so... I turned around to see a man swiftly walking towards me. He looked around the age of the Jackson's,

and as he approached, he told me that he was the neighbor to the left, and we'll just call him Pastor Wilson. Obviously, he said he was the pastor for their local church, and even mentioned how the Jacksons and the Smiths attended the same church. He said that wasn't him trying to get me to join them, but just wanted me to know, as this was just to just, introduce himself. A bit burned out at this point, I just gave my name and greeted him back. He asked where I was from, and then actually asked me some pretty normal questions.

It was definitely refreshing, because I felt like I could just have a conversation with him. He even mentioned that he had his own plumbing business, and if I ever needed anything, he would be willing to take a look for me, so I thanked him. That's when he brought up the previous tenant. He said that I seemed a lot nicer and open-minded than the lady that lived there before me. I laughed again and said something like, Huh, yeah? Not really expecting that to open another weird conversation.

He mentioned how she was very nice and open with the community until she started becoming very hostile, so they had to report her. He claimed that she then became reclusive and seemingly, moved out one night without anyone noticing. I said that definitely seemed odd, and that was it. The conversation again started dying down, so he said he would leave me to it, but then mentioned that Ms. Smith told him I was single, and he said that he also helps with matchmaking in their community,

and pulled out a pamphlet. He said that he would be happy to sit down with me to start an interview about helping to look for a future husband, Pretty fed up at this point. I told him I was happy with myself and that I wasn't looking for a partner at the time, but thanked him for his time. Once again, he mentioned how time was running out for me

and that children are needed for the community. I just dropped the pamphlet in front of him, told him I was gay and got into the truck. The shock on his face as I drove away, though, that was pretty satisfying. All of this, everything that I just, mentioned, happened literally on the first day of getting the keys to my new place. I wasn't even finished moving in yet, and they were already making me have regrets, and I hated it.

However, I called a good friend of mine and told him everything that happened, and they made me recall how many times they referred to the community. They said that it seemed odd to say that instead of just the neighborhood, or even the country, like when they mentioned the children being importance to the community. That's when they mentioned how creepy and cultish it sounded, and I couldn't disagree with that. So we both started looking into the previous owner of the place. My friend was very good at finding people, and sure enough,

we were able to find a woman that used to live there a few years prior to me. We actually found her on Facebook, and I sent her a message hoping that she would respond and be able to answer some questions. It took about a week, but she did finally respond. She said that she didn't like to talk about it, but we were right. She said that she owned the place, and sold it to the first person that she could, who then went through the leasing company that I went through. She said that they seemed nice at first, and invited her to her. to their community, and they had some very sketchy and creepy requirements.

She said that it was pretty traumatizing for her, so she didn't want to get into it, but she did say to not give them any detailed information about myself, and to distance myself from them as much as possible. She also said not to accept any gifts or favors from them, as they will harass you saying that you owe them. When she tried to leave their little community, they made her life hell. They were always walking around her place, trying to look into windows or wherever they could. They would call her non-stop, just all kinds of stuff. I was appalled after hearing all of this.

I just got this place, and now I wanted out. I called my leasing lady who said that I unfortunately really couldn't cancel or back out of it without losing a lot of money, but apologized. because she said they had no idea about the neighborhood, nor how much of that was true. I thought that was kind of weird, because why would the previous owner lie about that? She had nothing to lose or gain from it. So, overall, I just had to make it at least through the year,

which I was thankful that I didn't sign a longer lease. I kept my guard up all the time while I was at home, making sure that all windows and doors were locked, and the curtains were nearly always closed. I even put cameras up not wanting to take any chances. I never bought into their gimmicks, even though they tried for a few months, but after that, they seemed to do the same to me.

There was always someone outside when I was, and that person would be on the phone. If I had someone over, I would end up with a pamphlet on my door talking about different sins. If I had more than two people over, the cops would be at my door talking about a noise complaint.

Nothing would happen, though, because I didn't have parties at my place. I didn't want my friends to be harassed by them, so they would just always leave. So, that year was pretty hard for me, but I know the previous owner must have had it much worse, since she wasn't willing to talk about it. I moved out since then, and I love where I'm at now, and my neighbors are a million times better.

But I can't help thinking, what the hell do those people do? Sometimes, I wish I could just be a fly on a wall. Once upon a time, in the digital world, I met a girl online. We'll call her Bella. Bella was a breath of the freshest air that I have ever inhaled. Before meeting Bella, I was depressed as I had just come out of the worst relationship I had ever had or known. I was ready to move forward, though, and I thought that I would give online dating a bit of a try. Something I now know was a terrible idea.

Bella, though, seemed like she was going to be my turning point. her profile picture was absolutely gorgeous she had these adorable bright blue eyes this really curly red hair and this smile that just screamed absolute sweetheart i swiped right wanting to see what happened but honestly i thought that she would take one look at me and think no thanks to my surprise we matched even more to my surprise we hit it off instantly We talked about everything and every conversation was crazy comfortable. Like we had known each other for a long time. I would start messaging and she would be able to relate to everything I said. I told her my favorite books. She would talk about her favorite parts of those exact books. We talked about movies and we had identical taste.

I remember one of the first nights, we actually stayed up until 3 a.m., talking about our love. for older rock bands. She started talking about Pink Floyd, and the two of us got into an incredibly pretentious conversation about the musical genius of the wall and dark side of the moon. These conversations honestly had me feel like the two of us were naturally in sync, like we had found each other through some act of fate, and our future was calling.

I know, crazy thoughts to have about. someone that you met only a week prior, but, you know, something, something soulmates. When I suggested that we meet in person, Bella was incredibly hesitant. She said that she wasn't comfortable with meeting so soon, and that she was nervous that I may not like her if I met her in person. I didn't want to push it, but also, what? She was amazing. We vibed together like crazy.

Her pictures were gorgeous, and everything about her was absolute perfection. Almost too perfect. This is when the idea of, Am I being catfished, came to mind. I did a bit of fishing myself, asking if there was a reason that she didn't want to meet. I didn't want to be pushy, but I also wanted to know if this was a waste of time. I thought that maybe it was just worth asking,

is there a reason you don't want to meet with me? She got a bit defensive, but then asked if she could call me. I immediately agreed, and when she called, I could tell that she had been crying. I immediately felt horrible about trying to push her, and I immediately apologized to her saying that I shouldn't have been so aggressive about it. She then told me that the reason she was so nervous about meeting was that she was scared of how perfect things were going, and she said she didn't want to move too fast. She followed that up by explaining to me how she had just come out of a really bad relationship,

where the other person was emotionally abusive, and she didn't want to end up in that same cycle. We talked a bit about relationships, and I told her about my ex and how she was, and it felt like we connected even more. I then told her that I really liked her and that I would be more than happy to just keep this over the phone and in text for as long as she needed.

And whenever she was ready, we could get together and get coffee. Much to my surprise, the next morning, I got a text from Bella saying, You've convinced me, let's meet up at 10 at, and then mentioned a local coffee shop that I was definitely familiar with.

It was a quaint little place that was a favorite hangout spot for my friends and I, so it was perfect. Feeling a mix of nervous excitement and anticipation, I arrived at the coffee shop, and I thought that this was going to be the start of something amazing. I sat at my favorite table for a few minutes, and then about half an hour, then an hour.

I was actually quite upset. thinking that she had ghosted me until I heard a voice call my name. I turned around to greet Bella, but was immediately struck with a gut-wrenching feeling. Standing there was my ex, Christy. The only thing different was that she dyed her hair and was wearing blue contacts. I kind of said, oh, hi, Christy. not really certain if what was happening was happening, and she chuckled saying,

Christy? No, my name is Bella, silly. This sent chills down my spine. Now, you could ask how I didn't recognize my ex in the pictures on the dating app, but I will also say that the woman in those pictures was not Christy. They were someone else altogether. You could ask how I didn't recognize her voice, but I'll say that Christy had a very generic mid-20s Midwestern girl voice,

so it didn't even cross my mind. I felt a wave of anger, betrayal, and disappointment hit me, but I won't say that I was surprised. Manipulation was Christy's specialty, and she had certainly manipulated me. I asked her what she was doing there, and she kept trying to pretend that she was. Bella and not Christy.

It was honestly sickening the way she kept saying, My name is Bella, not Christy. As if I was going to fall for it. As if I would just say, Oh, you're right, and you're totally not my abusive B word of an X that made me feel like garbage. How could I ever be so silly?

I pulled up Bella's account and one of her pictures, and I kind of pointed it at her. Like, that's not. you, Christy. She then mentioned that it was just an older photo. No matter what I said, she would come back with something to try and convince me that she was this other person. I stood up and said that I was done with that.

She was a psycho, and that I wanted nothing to do with her. I asked her how she could do something so damn deceitful like this. How could she do this and think that it was okay? that I would just be okay with it. She then started off by trying to justify her actions, saying that she did it because she still loved me, and that now she knew I was into redheads, as if that was the reason that we broke up,

because I like redheads. As I kept laughing and shaking my head at her statement, her demeanor shifted. She moved from explaining herself to screaming at me about how I belonged to her and no one else. The entire coffee shop went silent. The manager walked over to our table, trying to calm her down, but she was beyond reasoning. She lashed out, attacked him, jumping on him and hitting him repeatedly.

Some of the other baristas jumped in to grab her and pulled her off the manager and restrained her until the cops arrived. They took her, took state. asked me some questions about her, and after all was said and done, I was just left there shaken and shocked. I went home, deleted my profile on the dating app, and decided that I was just going to take a break from dating altogether. I've decided that while online dating may be simple and efficient, it's not worth the risk of potentially getting catfished by Christy, Again, I have a story that's pretty intense and honestly shakes me right to my core when I think about it. It was a Saturday night, around midnight. I had just finished hanging out with some friends and was driving home.

I've never been one to drive on the highways, so I was taking the back roads through the neighborhoods to get home. I live in a pretty suburban, edging into rural part of the state. So it was a mix of houses and small neighborhoods, intertwined with various patches of woods and trees. I have to drive a bit slower to get through the neighborhoods, because there are a lot of winding curves. But in my opinion, it's the safer route, because it's typically pretty empty on the roads that time of night. Plus, it's just really peaceful. I was making my way through the winding paths, about two-thirds of the way home, when I see another set of headlights behind me. No big deal.

Just another car driving on the roads. Nothing out of the ordinary. Or so I thought. It took me a while to notice, but this car was coming up on me fast. Too fast. Like, way too fast. They were approaching, but the lights were getting bigger and brighter at a pace that was, at least, two or three times what I was going. And I was going around 30 to 40.

I slowed down a bit and pulled over to the side, watching as this car rockets past me and thinking to myself, that idiot is going to get himself killed. It was a reckless move that had bad news written all over it. and it made my stomach drop watching him go way too damn fast around those roads. As I continued on my way, a wave of dread washed over me. You know that gut feeling you get when something is off? Like that feeling you get when your boss calls you into their office and you think, I'm about to get fired?

That feeling. I knew the path ahead, and it was not a straightaway. There were a number of twists in this section of my town, and it was mostly wooded out here, so I guess the word underdeveloped would be fitting. I drove cautiously, half expecting to see the inevitable result of that kind of reckless driving, just thinking that this was going to be a nightmare for everyone involved. Sure enough, less than five minutes after that initial encounter with that car, I rounded a small part of the road, and my headlights landed on exactly what I was terrified to see.

There was that car, completely wrecked, and slightly burning. I knew as soon as I saw it that it was the exact same car that had passed me. I slammed my brakes and hit my hazard lights, and then grabbed my phone and called 911. I stammered out that there had been an accident, told them the nearest cross. and told her that the car looked like it might be on fire. She told me to calm down and explained that emergency services were on their way. But I knew deep down that time was ticking, and if the driver was still in that car and still alive, then they wouldn't be for very long.

I told the dispatcher that I was going to check on the driver, and at first she was hesitant to say that I should. But I mentioned that if the driver was stuck or bleeding, then they may not have the time to wait, and she seemed to agree. I left the call going and put my phone in my pocket, and then grabbed the small emergency hammer from the glove compartment. It was the kind that has the window breaker with the seatbelt cutter, a tool that I never thought I was going to need, but at this moment was thankful to have. I ran over to the car and realized that the fire was definitely starting to catch on the ground, as well as the vehicle itself. The car was so badly damaged that it was nearly unrecognizable, but my gut was telling me that I needed to help this person,

that if they were alive, then I needed to do something. I circle to the driver's side, shaking but determined. I was able to make out the silhouette of a man in the driver's seat, but he was out entirely. My heart sank at that moment, thinking that I was too late. I put my hand on his shoulder, and I started to talk to him in a loud but calm tone, asking if he could hear me. It took a few moments, but he did eventually open his eyes and slowly came to, asking what had happened.

I was honestly shocked that this man was still alive. I asked him a couple of questions, mostly about if he could feel his legs, move his toes, things like that, and he told me he could. He was talking, able to move all of his body, so I knew that I needed to move forward with helping him out. At this point, the fire was starting to spread out, which was making me feel nervous,

thinking that whatever time we had was absolutely minimal. I told him that we needed to get him out of the car, and he obviously agreed. I handed him the hammer tool and told him to cut the seatbelt off. He grabbed it and sliced it in two spots, forcing it to break loose, and his body to shift. I was able to get my arms under him and told him that I was going to pull him out through the window. He pushed with his legs. I pulled, and after a bit of a struggle, we were able to get him out onto the ground. I asked if he could stand, and he said he could,

so I slowly helped him get to his feet, and was able to get him over to my car so he could sit on the ground and let it support him. I turned back when I knew he was safe, and I watched as the car became mostly engulfed, and the tree that he'd hit went up around the same time. I'm pretty sure we were moments away from this guy's imminent death. Around that same time, I heard the wailing of sirens approaching, and a wave of relief washed over me.

The emergency crews took over the scene, battling the flames, and tending to the man. The paramedics got him up on a stretcher, and got him to the ambulance. I had to give my statement to the police, still in a state of shock over the whole. whole thing. My mind was on the man, thinking about whether or not he'd make it. He seemed mostly okay, but I had no idea how much of that was adrenaline. And I know that if he did have a head or neck injury, me getting him out of that car may have actually made it worse.

Unfortunately, it was either that, or just sit by and watch this man get burned alive. The medics took him away. The officers asked me a few more questions. The firefighters got the blaze under control. And I just sort of stood there. I was trembling. And honestly, I couldn't help but think about my own mortality in that moment. How fine of a line it is between being alive and, well, being trapped in a car that's upside down and burning.

Yes, it was his life. his decisions that ultimately put him in that position, and yes, it was stupid to think he'd be safe going that fast around curvy roads, but no, he did not deserve to die for that decision. We all make stupid mistakes, and they shouldn't all be a death sentence. Ultimately, all I can do is pray that people realize they are not invincible, that one wrong move can be what crosses that fine line. Keep your wits about you when you're on the road. Be cautious, be careful, and be attentive.

And please, use caution when you're operating your two-ton death machine. I know that this story that I'm sending you is going to be met with skepticism and potentially criticism, but I don't care. I'm living through all of this. I'm going through the motions, and I know that it's all real. This isn't about attention, or to get clout, or whatever. I'm not even attaching my name to this story because I don't want any of that. I just want to put this story out there and try to understand the line between life, death, and whatever is in between.

Ever since I was a kid, weird things seem to have circled around me. At first, I don't think they were any more than what normal people would experience. Just the slight and common paranormal thing here and there. But that all changed when I either died or nearly died, depending on how you decide to look at it. When I was eight years old, I was hit by a car while riding my bike across the street. Some old guy was messing around with something in the footwill of his pastoral. passenger side, and going about 20 over the speed limit, while I was aimlessly peddling back and forth in my neighborhood.

Everything went from innocent me enjoying the summer sun to girl meets windshield than concrete real fast. I should have died. I did die temporarily, but they were able to bring me back by the grace of modern science. During those moments when I was out, I remember the darkness. There were no lights, no voices, just this overwhelming sense of emptiness. It was like standing on the edge of the abyss, staring out until it decides to stare back. When I woke up, I was blinded by the sterile lights of a hospital room, and deafened by my mom yelling that I was awake. Ever since that moment,

I have had this overwhelming sense of dread that has followed me around. Yes, since I was eight years old, I've been having this dreadful feeling. From that moment on, it felt like the universe had sent me a sign, one that read in a very bold font, Your on Borrowed Time.

After that day, I started seeing things, strange. things. I would see movement where there was none. I would see figures shift out of view in the corner of my eyes. Inexplicable flashes of light like an old disposable camera, but there was never a source of said light. I told my parents about this, and they took me in to be checked out, and from what I've been told, there was nothing physically causing these phenomena. My brain was miraculously, okay.

I think my little pink helmet that I was wearing for that fact. These visuals kept going as I grew up, and it got to the point where the hallucination shifted to auditory ones as well. The voice I have heard has always been the same voice. It's a low whisper of what sounds like an older man. It's called my name before and said other things, but I've never been able to decipher. for what else it says.

And now, the reason I'm actually writing this story. Things have seemingly escalated. One of the most recent and scariest things that I have experienced was about four weeks ago. I was taking a shower, and as the steam filled up the bathroom, I saw what looked like a child's handprint on the mirror. I live alone. I don't have children, and there has not. been a child in this apartment since I moved in five years ago.

I've cleaned that mirror numerous times over the years, so there shouldn't be any sort of smudge or print on it, yet there was. It was a clear and clean handprint of a child, square in the middle of the mirror. After that, I started to have various things happen in my apartment, things moving, disappearing, etc. My cup of coffee would be in one place, and I would enter the room, and it would be elsewhere. My phone would be plugged in on my bedside table, and when I would wake up, it would be on the kitchen counter. One time, my keys disappeared, and then ended up in the freezer somehow.

I know that this sounds like poltergeist activity, but it's been so sudden and random that it's hard for me to attribute it to a haunting, and not my reality falling apart. And for those that will say it, no, it's not me doing these things and then forgetting. And I'm 99% certain that I'm not sleepwalking either. I know deep down that there is more to this. Physically, I've also been feeling off. I've been having random bouts of vertigo that will literally knock me on my ass.

I've been having weird moments where I'll start shivering uncontrollably even when it's warm. My heart will skip beats, start racing, and then slow down all in the span of a minute, which I will say is physically exhausting. I did go to the doctor, and I explained all of these things and the tests that they ran didn't see anything concerning, or any potential cause for these issues. The last thing that I've been having issues with is people. Both real people and people I think I see, but don't. I know that sounds confusing, but let me explain.

I've been having this weird sensation where I will be somewhere, and I'll see a person, look away and then look back only for them to be gone. I will walk by someone, get that weird feeling, turn around immediately, and they will not be there. On the other hand, I've been having this weird issue with seeing people I know and my brain not putting together who they are, or forgetting things as simple as their name. Again, my brain is fine according to the doctors that I've seen. My health is great, minus the permanent damage to certain parts caused by the accident way back, but none of that's in my head. I know that all of this sounds like rambling, but I probably probably,

promise you it's not. These are things that I've been going through for a little while now, as well as the things I've experienced since I was young. But now? Well, now it feels like I'm starting to fade out of this reality, or existence as a whole. It kind of feels like a countdown. Like each sign and each happening is starting to push me further and further into oblivion. You would think I'd be scared out of my wish. but the funny thing is that I'm not.

I'm unsettled by it, sure, but there's also this sense of fatalistic acceptance. It's like my fate was sealed when I came back so long ago, and I've lived my best life these past 20 years, so if I'm right and my time is winding down, then I accept it. Do I think I'm actually close to dying? Yeah, probably. And deep down, I think I've always known that my time was limited. That the universe or God or whatever you want to call it

is just biting its time and waiting for the right moment to reel me back into that abyss. I don't know when, exactly, or how it'll happen, but I hope it's just quick, and I hope that I just happen to slip away without even realizing. that it actually happened. I have a story that I wanted to share with you from back when I was a kid. This was in the early 2000s, back before I had a cell phone and landlines were still prevalent. I was about 13, with two younger siblings, and there were plenty of other kids on the same block.

So, it was a normal occurrence to see kids playing outside, riding bikes in the streets, and the likes. One thing I liked to do was help out our neighbors with their pets, especially when they would go out of town. There was one house that was two houses down from us that belonged to Becky and Larry, and they had a blue healer named Sassy. I loved playing with that dog,

and when I was bored, I would ask them if I could take her for a walk, and they would let me. She was incredibly well-behaved, never even barked at others, and was super affectionate. They had asked me if I'd be willing to house-sit for them while they went out of town for the weekend. It would just consist of me caring for sassy and bringing in the mail.

They also said I was welcome to walk her, and then I could help myself to the snacks and drinks they had, nor even watch the TV. I loved taking care of others' pets, partially because they usually paid me, and what preteen doesn't want their own money. But I also felt really grown up when I could house sit, as they would leave a copy of their key for me or tell me where they hit their spare. So, after school on Friday, I walked down to their house and let myself in to let Sassy out the back.

That night was as normal as it gets. I sat in their home and played with the dog. I went home a few hours later, and everything was fine. It was Saturday evening that things got weird. I told my parents I was going to go down there once more to let the dog out and decide to watch some TV to enjoy some time by myself. It was probably 7 or 8 p.m. when I saw what I thought was someone walking past the big front window. They had thin curtains on the window, and I left the porch light on, so I just saw a dark figure go past the window. I quickly went back to watching TV, however, not thinking much of it.

Maybe it was just a shift of light, nor maybe a glare from my glasses. But then came a knock on the door. I was curious at first, because if it was my family, I figured they would just try to open the door, but all they did was knock. Being young, though, I just opened the door, still thinking that it may have been someone coming to get me. But I did not recognize the person at the door.

It was a man, maybe in his 30s, wearing a workout jacket, with a collared shirt underneath it, and a scruffy but short beard. Not knowing what to say, I just looked at him, so he spoke first.

Hey there, is Mr. Larry home? He said in a friendly tone while smiling at me. His demeanor and saying Larry's name lowered my guard a bit, thinking that he knew them but maybe didn't realize they were out. I was still aware of some common stranger danger type of things, and I knew better than to say that I was alone or how long someone would be gone, so I told him that they had just stepped out for the night and would be back shortly,

and denied that I was alone. The man smiled again and said, Oh, I'm actually here to look at their cable box. They said they were having some problems with it. Now, I was a little suspicious at this point for a few reasons. First, I'd been watching TV all night with no issues. And second, they had a satellite dish on their roof. My family had cable at the time.

And of course, that came with a big, clunky cable box. and while I didn't quite understand all of that, I know that we didn't have a dish. So, I don't think that they had cable. I told him that he should come back later when they were home because I didn't know where their box was, and he quickly responded with, Oh, no worries, I'm actually a friend of Larry's. I know where it is. Don't worry, it won't take me too long.

He then winked at me as he pushed his way past me and into their house. I was mentally freaking out at this point. This did not feel right, and I didn't know what to do. I was alone, Sassy was still out back, not that I knew how protective she would be, since she was very friendly. He started looking around the living room in hallway like he didn't know where anything was, not something I would expect from someone who claimed to be a friend. As my anxiety slowly rose more and more, he then asked without turning around to face me,

so why are you here if they're just out for the night? The way that he asked this was nagging at me, telling me that he obviously knew. He knew they weren't going to be back soon, and he knew I was alone. So, trying to think fast, as he looked over the TV and the kettle, cabinet with Becky's fancy dishes, I walked toward the back door, replying, I like their big dog, and opened it, with Sassy running in. I'm guessing Big Dog got his attention, and he quickly turned around. Thankfully, Sassy reacted just as I hoped.

She ran in, stopped in her tracks when she saw this guy, and started barking like crazy at him. The guy froze in place and asked me to put the dog back outside, but I too froze behind Sassie, just letting her take control of the situation. The guy slowly walked back towards the door, started stammering to say something, before he finally just left. When he was gone, I ran to lock the door as Sassie moved the curtains with her snout to look out and continued barking. I couldn't see him anymore. so I did my best to calm her down and led her back to the kitchen, enticing her with treats.

She very quickly obliged. I called my house from their landline, letting my mom know what just happened. She told me to make sure the doors were locked and to stay on the kitchen floor, so that I was out of view from the windows. She stayed on the phone with me, but I could hear her talking to my dad and then even heard the door open and closed from the phone. When I heard my dad knocking on the door, I stood up and my mom told me that I could hang up now. I let him in and explained everything, and he told me to stay in the living room with the door locked while he looked around.

He came back in, called my mom, and then the cops showed up shortly after. With everything going on, I was pretty scared and upset, thinking that. This was all my fault and that I was going to be in trouble for letting this random guy into our neighbor's house. After the cops were gone, we locked up the place and went back home. Both my parents had the opposite reaction than what I expected, however. Not that they were really mean or punishing anyways, but I at least expected to talking to about strangers. However, they both hugged me and said that I was very brave and smart to let Sassy in the way.

that I did, and then call them. They understood, and didn't doubt me when I explained that he practically pushed his way inside, and that I didn't let him in. They also explained to me the next day, probably to make sure I slept that night, why I handled that very well. When my dad came to get me, my mom called Becky, and asked her about the guy. They confirmed that, one, they did not. have cable, so they did not call for maintenance, and assured that they wouldn't do that

when they knew there wouldn't be anybody home, and two, they didn't recognize anyone by the description that I gave. Mom then called the police at that point, and we talked to them from there. The cops did a few circles around our neighborhood, and even checked out their backyard and shed, but unfortunately the guy was nowhere to be found. And they never did. Becky and Larry were returning that Sunday, so my parents told them they would keep an eye on the place, and I wasn't allowed back over there by myself again, just in case he came back. But thankfully he never did.

At that age, I was conflicted. Somewhere between being upset that I couldn't go by myself, But I also shuddered at the idea of him coming back. They returned, and we never heard about him or saw him again, but I still wonder what his true intentions were. Was it really just to case the place out to rob it? Or was there something more, since I just happened to be there? Back in the early 2000s, my family and I went on a camping trip to a popular lake.

The drive was about four hours, which wasn't terrible, but there were three of us kids. Me being the oldest at 15, my younger brother 10, and my sister, six, and of course, both my mom and my dad. Upon arrival, we set up our tents, which consisted of a large family-style tent, and a much smaller one. My parents and younger siblings shared the larger one, and they let me have one to my itself. Sometimes my little sister would want to sleep in the tent with me, and that was okay. She was a pretty hard sleeper. Once the tents were put up, I was free to do whatever I really wanted as long as we stayed close. My siblings stayed near the tents, playing with their toys in the nearby gravel and sand. I don't know why I remembered this place so well, but I knew how to get to the beach,

and I wanted to walk there to swim. I was given permission, so I grabbed a towel and headed towards the water. I sat on the beach for a while, just taking in the warm sun until I finally wanted to jump into the water. There were already several people there, so I wasn't alone, but I was thankfully left alone. I did notice a younger boy that looked close to my age that was swimming, wearing goggles, and seemingly diving into the water. I remember watching for a while because I didn't bring goggles or even think to do so. But I thought it would be cool to use them and look at the bottom of the lake. I guess I was staring a bit too much because he noticed and smiled at me.

A bit embarrassed, I smiled back and then turned away to make myself look preoccupied, as much as you can standing in a bed of water. The rest of that evening went without incident. I washed off in the nearby showers and then headed back to my family where they were preparing dinner. The trip went about the same while we were there. We ate together, played some games together, maybe even fished, and then I would head to the beach to swim with the rest of my family following shortly behind. It wasn't unusual, but I did see that same boy just about every time we went swimming. He would either already be there, or he would end up showing up shortly after I did.

I didn't mind it, though, as I did think he was cute and he was paying me attention, so what was the harm? Eventually, he did approach me and handed me a rock that had a cool impression on it, saying that he thought I would like it. Then we started talking about all what he'd seen down there, and he let me use the goggles. It was actually pretty fun, and I told him. myself to get goggles the next time we either went into town or next time we plan to come out here. I looked forward to going swimming, anticipating that he would be there, so I made an effort to look my best, as much as I could. We were there for four days, three nights, and on the third day,

he said that they were going to be leaving the next morning, so that would be the last time he would get to go swimming. I made a comment about how we should do one last dive together, to see what we find, and he suggested that we swim further out, towards the safety barrier that was out there. I agreed, thinking it was something different as I rarely went out that far. There was really no reason to. I guess I just never needed or wanted to, but there we went, racing how fast we could swim to it.

After we arrived, I think I dived once, and then he took the goggles back and motioned for me to come closer, like he was going to whisper something to me. It seemed silly at the time because there wasn't anyone close enough to hear us, but I obliged. He then suggested that we make out. I had gone through several crushes, but I had never dated anyone at this point, so this took me completely by surprise. I could feel my face getting hot, and I really didn't know what to say.

I stammered and was finally able to speak, offering to do. give him our phone number, we just had a landline at the time. He laughed and accepted the number, but then again pushed his first intentions, while putting his hand on my side. I pushed it off of me and told him that I didn't even know him, and at that point was starting to feel uncomfortable and like my time was spoiled. I told him I had to go and started swimming back. He made a remark at me, but I didn't even look back and continued my way out of the water. feeling like I needed a shower more than usual, so I went to the stalls to do so.

The bathrooms and showers for men and women are completely separated buildings, with the women's being closer to the front of the beach. Walking in, you see the sinks and bathroom stalls, and in the back there are four showers. I usually put my clothes and towel on the bench right outside of the stall because I hated putting on wet clothes, which meant that I undressed outside of the stall.

I got in, used the cheap soap dispenser they provided, and lathered up. As I showered, I started getting this uneasy feeling that would just not go away. My nerves were already on edge, so I stopped to look around. I even opened the stall door, peeking out into the room, seeing if someone was around. It was empty. I went back to my shower, dismissing it as paranoia, stemming from the odd encounter with the boy. But as I continued, so did the feeling.

It was like someone was watching me. Not being able to overcome this feeling, I quickly turned off the water and flung open the door. As I looked around again, I saw a dark shadow towards the entrance, like someone was just standing at it, just about to enter, or maybe they were leaving. I was suspicious at this point because I never heard a toilet flush or another shower turn on. I turned to get dressed so that I could just get out of there when my heart plummeted to the floor.

My clothes were gone. My towel was on the floor like it was dropped in a rush, but that was it. I looked under the bench and in all the stalls, but they were gone. This confirmed my suspicion. and confirmed that it wasn't just a shadow, that there was someone in there with me. I wrapped my towel around me, and I looked out the door to see if I saw anyone around,

anyone carrying my clothes, but there were just a few people that were already at the beach when I left, except for one. I didn't see that boy anywhere. I knew it had to be him. And if it was him, what are the chances I felt like I was being worried, watched because I was.

The showers were just like the toilet stalls, so there were breaks in the wall where anyone could have easily been looking. I also then recall the remark he made as I was leaving. He said something along the lines of, Fine, go take your shower then. I wasn't even out of the water yet, so why would he assume that's where I was going?

I felt violated and scared, not knowing what to do. He took everything. My clothes and my bathing suit were just gone. I paced for a while in there trying to figure out what I was going to do. I could wait until someone else came in and told them, or I could make a run for it. The walk wasn't that far,

but still way further than my 15-year-old self was willing to go in just a towel. So, I waited. I knew my parents would either show up eventually to swim, or because they were worried that I hadn't returned yet. But I also hoped that someone would come in sooner and I could tell them to get my parents. Thankfully, that's what happened. Two older ladies came in and right before they got into the showers, I asked them for help. I told them that someone took my clothes and they looked appalled.

One lady gave me her cover-up dress, which was obviously too big, but not at all see-through, thankfully. and they walked with me back to my family. It became a fiasco when I got back. I had to embarrassingly explain why I didn't have my clothes, and even though I had no proof, I wasn't going to hold back the fact that I had an idea of who could have done it. My dad's face instantly became red. After I got dressed and gave the lady's dress back,

my dad wanted to drive around looking for this kid. We went to the beach, and to different campgrounds, but we never saw him. I never saw him interacting with anyone at the beach, so I couldn't even identify his family or anyone that he'd come with. We went back to our camp without any luck. I could tell that my dad was still furious, and even though I knew he wasn't mad at me, I still felt bad.

I felt like I've ruined our trip. We went home the next day as normal, but my mom slept in the tent with him. me just to be safe. We never saw that kid again, nor did I get my clothes, and I still get this creepy, gross feeling that he's out there somewhere, still holding on to them. I have a bit of a strange and potentially creepy story that I've toyed with sending into you, and after I worked out some of the details with my wife, I decided why not.

The story is about a vacation that my wife and I took a few years. years back, one that I could probably never forget if I tried. We don't get the chance to really take vacations anymore, because we have a little one, but most of our vacations were fairly normal and uneventful. This one, however, was anything but. After talking about what we wanted to do for some time away, we settled on a quaint little beach town for our vacation. It was a little picture-perfect kind of place, the kind where the houses have all those neat little flower boxes hooked to the windows, and everyone knows each other.

We'd rented out this adorable little old cottage off the beaten path, surrounded by woods, and only a couple moments away from the ocean. It was our first night there, and the place was dead quiet. Not the kind of quiet where you can hear the sirens or cars on the high. way off in the distance. No, this was that deep and almost unnatural silence.

I was sitting on the porch, the cool evening breeze carrying the scent of the ocean to me, with the moon illuminating the woods around us in this pale and eerie glow. It was probably the most soothing and peaceful

thing I have ever experienced in my life. We were sitting on the swinging bench on the front porch, just taking in the beautiful night. When somewhere in the distance, we heard a soft rustling. Initially, I passed it off as the wind, but then I thought that I saw something, or rather saw someone, out of the corner of my eye.

I turned to the left to look at the edge of the woods, and, sure enough, there was a figure that was definitely human-shaped, just kind of standing there still as a statue. It kind of creaked me out. But after a few moments, my logical side kicked in, and I figured that it must just be a neighbor out for a late-night stroll. After a few seconds of them just kind of standing there, they turned to walk back into the woods slowly.

And this kind of put me in a weird place mentally. So I mentioned to my wife that I wanted to my wife that I wasn't. wanted to go ahead and head to bed. She agreed, and that was that. But that wasn't the end of it. The figure became a bit of a recurring sight, seemingly just there late in the evening, just standing on the edge of the woods.

The strangest part was that every night we saw it, it would just stand there on the edge of the woods. It never got closer to the cottage or really further into the woods at all. It would just stand there in the same spot until it decided it was done. Then it would turn around and disappear. Honestly, it felt like it was watching us. And as much as I wanted to believe that this was just some person being a creep or whatever, I couldn't really convince myself of it.

I remember one night lying awake in bed. The room was feeling unsettlingly quiet. Then, there it was again. that rustling. But this time it was louder, closer. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. My heart pounded as I slowly walked toward the window and slowly parted the curtain. The moonlight lit up some parts of the outside area,

but not enough to highlight what I was looking for. As my eyes adjusted, I was able to see that the figure was once again outside, only this time it was closer. It wasn't on the edge of the woods. anymore. It was just on the edge of the yard. I couldn't make out its features, but I could tell that it was staring right at me, watching me in the window. I felt that cold dread settle in my stomach.

I woke my wife up and we called the local police. I didn't tell them there was some weird creature in the yard. I just told them that some person was creeping around the house. By the time they got there, the thing was gone. They did a quick sweep, and by the end of it, told us that it was probably just a local, mostly harmless, but definitely odd. He told me that, if it happened again, to just yell at them to leave. And if they didn't, then I should call them again.

For the last three nights there, we were incredibly jumpy, and every single noise would cause me to get those same chills. But the thing wasn't. around anymore. I thought that it was seriously gone. Like, they may have been right, and the police presence ended up scaring this person away. On the last night of our stay,

I remember waking up suddenly, like some alarm had gone off in my head. I sat up and listened, but it was pretty much just the normal silence. Until I heard what sounded like a slight creaking sound. I knew that creaking. It was the sound that the front step on the porch made when you approached the front door. I jumped up, grabbed my phone, and turned on the flashlight, and I ran down the stairs.

When I got down to the living room, there was nobody there. I hit every switch on the way, lighting up all the rooms, but there was nothing in the house. However, when I got to the entryway, my heart stopped. the door was cracked open like it had been unlocked, opened and left slightly ajar. I yelled for my wife to call the cops and I jumped out onto the front porch,

but there was nothing there. I stayed outside and waited for the cops to show up again, and I told them about the whole thing, that I'd heard the boards creaking and that the front door was open, and that I thought that it was whoever or whatever had been watching the house over the last week or so. They took the information and told us that they would patrol the area, which was great, except that we were leaving in less than eight hours.

I did not sleep the rest of that night. I just sat on the couch in the living room and watched the window, thinking that the stupid thing had ruined my relaxation. I have no idea what or who that thing was. it didn't really look like it was a human, just human-like. But the police said it was likely someone from the area just being a creep, and I'm certain that whatever it was, was capable of unlocking and opening the front door.

I'm glad that nothing else occurred, that it didn't come upstairs and we weren't hurt or anything, but it was still the most terrifying thing that has ever happened to me. In the end, I'm never going to know what it was. it was, and I am never going to vacation in that town ever again. When I was in my early 20s, around 2010, I lived alone in a ground floor apartment, and what I would say was a decent part of my hometown. It was a bit of a humble but comfortable place, and honestly, I was loving living alone.

I didn't dislike living with my parents. I get along well enough with them, but I'm more of a loner, and I like to live within my own confines, not someone else's. For the entire first year, things went really well in my apartment. I loved the area, I'd furnished it the way I liked it, and I was happy. Then, near immediately after I signed my second year's lease, things started happening that made me reconsider whether or not I was really safe. At first, the things that would happen were incredibly subtle. I would come home from work

and would find various things that seemed out of place, but that I couldn't be sure about. The first thing was one day when I got home and found my front door was unlocked. I kind of freaked out a bit at first, but as I thought about it, that morning I was in a super rush because I was running late, and it was wholly possible that I forgot to lock it. I went in and checked everything, and as far as I could tell, nothing had been taken or moved. I chalked it up to a, Hey, dummy, that was stupid, moment, and moved on.

A couple days later, I came home to my door being unlocked again, and again was incredibly mad at myself for having left it unlocked like that. However, when I went inside to make sure nothing was missing, it pretty quickly clicked that it wasn't my doing. When I walked in, I noticed that the lamp in the corner of my living room was turned on, which to most people wouldn't be a huge deal, but to me, it was a massive issue. I never used that lamp. It was a room lamp from my room at my parents' house that I took. so that they didn't have to deal with it.

But I hadn't had to use it because the living room has a ceiling light. I'd put it in a corner behind an extra chair because it kind of looked nice, but I never used it. I checked the rest of the apartment, but again, there was nothing missing. I actually went across the hall and asked one of the neighbors if they saw anyone coming or going from my apartment that day, and they didn't recall anyone. being there. I mentioned the whole thing and they were a bit shocked, but again, they couldn't

give me any information. I ended up calling the main office to let them know, and they mentioned that it could have been maintenance because they were doing pest control on my building at some point that week, but that they should have left a note if it was them. I told them that there was no note on my door, and that my neighbor said that they hadn't seen anyone, which made me think it wasn't the maintenance crew. They told me that they would ask the crew and see if it was them, and then told me to call them back if it happened again, and that they would figure out a way to get the situation taken care of. And, of course, something did happen.

One night I got home, and when I opened my door, I found an envelope on the floor on the other side of said door. Like it had been slid under. I initially assumed it was a note from the office or the maintenance crew, but normally they just tape those to the front door, not slide them under. I grabbed it, put my stuff down, and opened the letter to see what they had to say. And it made my blood run cold when I read it. It was a typed, an unsigned note that said, you look so peaceful when you sleep. I was freaking out in my head.

Who the hell had been watching me sleep? Had someone actually been watching me, or was this some kind of screwed up prank? There was no evidence that anyone had been in my apartment beyond the lamp, and my door being unlocked twice, which to me was a mountain of evidence, but to anyone on the outside could just be coincidences. Of course, this letter, was a big red flag,

screaming, I'm watching you. But who the hell was the person that typed it? After the letter, I started taking precautions with everything in my apartment. I double-checked all the locks on the windows. I kept all my curtains and blinds closed. I put Christmas bells on every single door

so that I could tell that they were opened. And I bought a metal baseball bat that sat right next to my door. bed just in case. I had also reported the letter to the office, who made a police report with my information, and they had an officer that would circle the area multiple times a day to see if they could find anyone suspicious. Despite this, things would still end up happening.

I would come home to find my fridge open, my bathroom's sink running, the books on my bookshelf removed and piled on the floor. I seriously thought I was going insane. I begged the rental office to change the locks on my door. I told them every single thing that had happened, and they were completely unhelpful. Their solution to figuring it out was telling me to get a camera

because they couldn't do anything else. This was my home. I was supposed to feel safe here, and the company responsible for that safety was basically telling me that I was out of luck. I was starting to feel depressed and anxious all the time because I was thinking that this person was going to escalate and eventually they were going to hurt me,

nor worse. I hit a wall mentally. I wasn't sure what to do. I did end up buying a camera, one that I could hang up in the corner that watched the door, but part of me thought that this person was going to be able to beat the camera. and that they would somehow get in and mess with me without being seen. Of course, that would have been impossible.

And the last day of all this was probably the most excited I've ever been. I came home from another day at work to find my door, unlocked, again. I walked into my apartment, more pissed off than scared, and in the kitchen found another envelope taped to a bottle of wine. I grabbed the letter and opened it, and this time it was a bit more terrifying. The item in this envelope was a printed photograph of me at work, and on the back it said, you're always so busy. It was a picture of me serving a table that I had waited on only a day prior.

I remembered the customer in the photograph, which meant that this person had been in my restaurant, and that they were now following me in my everyday life. I started to panic, but quickly turned my attention to the camera in the corner of the room. This guy had the gall not to only walk in, but walk right in front of the camera to get into my kitchen. When I got to my computer and got the footage loaded, I was speechless. I watched as this man opened my front door with ease, and walked in with a huge smile on his face

and put the bottle of wine on the counter. I watched as he put the photo on the counter and wrote his note on the back of it and placed it in the envelope. The reason that I had that level of excitement that I mentioned earlier was because I knew who this was. It was one of the maintenance guys for the property.

I had seen him on the property. I had waved at him. I'd had short passing conversations with him. I called the office and told them that I had the video of the person breaking into my place, and I asked one of the property managers to come to my apartment so that I could show them. They did, and I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn't surprised to see what I was showing him. To wrap this up a bit quicker, I called the police, and I showed them the evidence. After he was arrested, it came out that this wasn't his first offense.

He had been arrested and reported of stalking numerous other women. The reason that the office manager wasn't surprised was because he knew full well that this guy had done this before. Apparently, he was what they called a second chance hire. They knew that he had a record of stalking, and when I told them that I was being stalked, they didn't put two and two together. I have no problem with second-chance hires. People do deserve a second chance when they make mistakes. But he was a textbook case of,

We hired a man known for stalking women. We have a woman being stalked. Maybe we should consider that. Thankfully, the police took this all very seriously. And since he had a rest, record, they had zero tolerance for his actions, and he went away in cuffs. And, of course, after he was arrested, all of the craziness stopped. Obviously, I moved out of that property and into a new apartment.

The inaction of the property management was enough for me to break my lease, which I happily did. my husband Kent and I took a trip out of state one year for our Independence Day celebration. We decided on a road trip to the west coast, to a national park that we've both been wanting to go to for years. We were both very outdoorsy, but also very amateur too. We were not professionals by any means, but we loved being out there with nature, seeking the serenity of, and not to mention the allure of an adventure into a new place. So, with our bags packed, and excitement in our hearts, we set off to enjoy each other's company,

and immerse ourselves in the breathtaking beauty of steep cliffs, and trees taller than we could even fathom. The drive itself went fine. We took all of our precautions and car maintenance before we left, so no issues there. We got to the park on a Sunday, which was the weekend before the 4th. It was during the week, so we wanted to go before then, knowing it was probably either going to be insane or just closed.

We had our bags with us, with some pretty normal hiking equipment, and we even had a small insulated bag with some cheap hot dogs and a few other small food items. We were wanting to find a good spot to maybe have a small barbecue, or fire to ourselves. After about an hour of walking and sightseeing, we came across a beautiful fenced area that looked like it may have been an old campground.

I say old because there was a bordered off place where you would see tents and a grill, but it looked really run down, like it was abandoned. However, with that in mind, and the breathtaking view, Kent said that we probably wouldn't be bothered this far up, so we decided to call it dibs.

We sat under a nearby tree in the shade for a while, resting, and just enjoying each other's company. That was until our stomachs started talking, too. We started pulling out our food and blankets when we realized we didn't bring any type of utensils. Our condiments were all in packages, and we didn't bring anything like potato's salad, of course, so bringing something to grab the dogs from the grill didn't even cross our mind. So Kent set out to find some good sticks that we could use instead, making our meal even more authentic slash camping style, I suppose. I stayed behind getting our stuff ready and trying to prepare the fire.

As I busied myself with prepping our small food bar, I listened to the sounds of the birds chirping, the squirrels scurrying around the trees, and his footsteps slowly fading out. However, that's when our seemingly perfect day darkened. While Kent was searching for our utensils, I heard what sounded like a soft thud. I didn't think anything of it at first, just assuming it was maybe nearby rocks falling, or even my husband dropping something, knocking something over, or maybe breaking off a branch. No big deal.

But when I called out to him asking a question, and did not even get as much as him asking me to repeat myself, I became a little concerned. I doubted that he would have gone somewhere far enough to not be able to hear me without telling me. So, I dropped what I was doing and again called out for him and got no response. I started walking back by the trees when my heart dropped. I saw him laying nearly face down on the ground. I ran up to him, turning him around when he started groaning. I was nearing a panic attack, not knowing what to do. We were way up here on a mountain pretty much alone.

How was I supposed to get him help by myself? I was maybe 160 pounds at the time, and I couldn't even pick him up. I softly tapped his face and grabbed his hand trying to get him to wake up, fearing to shake him too hard just in case he'd hurt his spruce. vine or neck. Thankfully, he finally came too, but he was still groaning in pain. I tried to ask him a million questions at once. What happened?

What hurts? Are you okay? He just said that his ankle seemed to give out, and he fell to the ground, hitting his head on something. He also said that his ankle was now an excruciating pain, so I pulled up his pant leg to see a huge, purple, and swollen ankle. If he didn't break it, it was definitely fractured or dislocated or something. After confirming that he was feeling all right otherwise, other than a headache,

and that he had feelings in his legs, I helped him up. He used me to lean on and I brought him back to our blanket where I had him sit down. That's when I noticed the blood on his head. A first aid kit was something that we packed, but it too was pretty basic. I pulled out an antiseptic wipe to clean his head, and I tried my best to bandage it with the gauze that we had. Then I gave him a small one-time use ice pack to put on his ankle.

While I thought I had the situation somewhat under control, my mind finally started to process the gravity of the situation that we were in. We needed help, and I was going to have to be the one to go get to. that help. The cell signal was shoddy at best. This was in the early 2000s, so we had some pretty crappy flip phones. Kent realized this too and said that I needed to go back down to let someone know.

But to be honest, I was worried about leaving my husband alone. If he'd hit his head hard enough to get knocked out, I was worried that he might have a concussion, or something else might happen while I was gone. He did his best to assure me that he would be fine, but ultimately, I knew that I didn't have a choice. I had to go. I gave him a hug and a kiss, wiped my face, and told him that I would be back as soon as possible. I quickly walked down the path that we had used to get there, and I tried to stay calm, but the tears would not stop. I was so afraid.

I was afraid of leaving him there alone. I was afraid of the idea of us being in an unfamiliar place, far from the comforts and conveniences of home, not to mention a car and a hospital. As I sprinted down the path hoping to not fall myself, every rustle of leaves and every snap of a twig sent my imagination into a frenzy. I couldn't help but envision every nightmarish possibility. Each step that I took felt heavier and heavier, knowing that it was to help my heart. husband. After what felt like an eternity, a glimmer of hope emerged from the dense foliage. I spotted a family setting up a tent. I began crying at the sight of the other people, and immediately approached the adults and explained what happened. The woman started pointing me

in the direction of a ranger cabin nearby and asked me if I needed any help. I don't know what else they could do, but the man agreed to go back up so that he wasn't alone. I felt bad, not wanting the woman to be by herself, but she at least had the two kids with her. I continued down the path to thankfully find their nearby ranger cabin that was on the path opposite of the way that we went. Someone was there, allowing me to explain what happened, and they quickly grabbed some things and called in for an ambulance. Thankfully, they had a small golf cart-like vehicle, and we were able to get back much faster. I was so relieved when we got back to see him fully conscious and aware of what was going on,

but his ankle definitely was not looking any better. The man with the family and the ranger helped get him into the passenger seat of the cart, and I quickly scrambled to pick up our stuff. My thoughtful husband was still trying to pick stuff up while he waited. The Ranger allowed me to hold on to the back of the cart, where there was basically just a small cubby place to put items, so that I could get down to the entrance with them quickly. By the time that we got down there,

the ambulance was already waiting to whisk us away. I drove our car behind the ambulance, and in that moment, I marveled at the sheer power of human compassion, of these complete strangers who were willing to stop and help us in our time of need. When we arrived at the hospital, they did x-rays and determined that he did dislocate his ankle, so they were able to fix it without surgery at the least. They also did a scan, since the fault did knock him out to make sure that he didn't have a concussion, or worse, internal bleeding, and again, he was fine.

Thank God I didn't think about that possibility at the moment of the event. Once he was in a room, I had pizza delivered to the hospital, and we just celebrated our night there. He felt bad for, in his words, ruining our trip, but I was more than happy just knowing that he was okay. We stayed at a nice nearby hotel that had a pool, that we swam in and still enjoyed our vacation. Thankfully, we both got home okay and had one hell of a story to share with friends and family. But for that moment, I was terrified, not knowing what to do in the situation. We're a lot more careful now whenever we go hiking and go into places unknown to us, but we're also much better prepared for emergencies.

So stay safe and stay hydrated, friends. Something happened to me a few years. years back that still gives me some chills to this day. But I've never really shared it with anyone. No real reason. I just don't like to think about it. And typing this out requires me to do so. If some of this sounds disjointed, I do apologize.

I'm not a very good writer. But I'll try to give this as much detail as possible. Anyways, here goes. I was working a consulting gig in Texas back during the past. pandemic. It was remote, but I knew that at some point, I was going to have to drive to the main site to give the presentation that I found during my consultation. I've done this before with other clients, but this was my first on-site during the years of COVID, so I was a bit iffy on this whole trip anyways. But what happened really cemented that I should have just demanded a remote

presentation. The night this happened, I was most the way to my hotel, and I really didn't want to stop, as it was only about an hour or so to get there. But I was also feeling nervous as the roads that I was driving were incredibly empty and remote. I was driving feeling like I was going to hit a wall soon, and I noticed that Google Maps showed an alternate route to the hotel from where I was. That was even more rural. but was about ten minutes quicker.

I quickly hit the button and made the next turn to take that route instead. The roads were incredibly empty and dark, pretty much just a random strip of asphalt that cut through the Texan wilderness. A couple of minutes down this road, I spotted what looked like a figure on the side of the road. I slowed down a bit and noticed that it was a woman, frantically waving her arms in the glitons, of my headlights.

I could feel my heart rate increasing as I stopped to see if she was okay. I really didn't want to, but I couldn't have lived with myself if something happened, and I could have helped her. She was middle-aged, her hair was a wild mess, and her eyes were wide with panic. She immediately started babbling a mile a minute, frantically screaming about anything and everything, until she finally stopped, took a deep breath, and said that she had just been in a car crash. She followed that up with sobs, saying that she had driven off the road, that she'd somehow flipped her car and that her husband was still trapped inside,

and she needed my help. The story was believable, but something about it still seemed off. She had some bruises on her face, but other than that, she just looked pretty well untouched. She didn't have any cuts. Her clothes weren't torn or dirty, and she didn't look too injured. Though I will say that adrenaline can do some wild things.

I also didn't see a car behind her, but if she had driven off the road and flipped it, it could have been deeper into the woods. I started asking her some questions to gather more information, trying to piece together the situation. She was cagey with details, first saying that she had fallen asleep and veered off the road. I mentioned that I could call 911 for her and wait until they showed up, but she cut me off. However, this is where she slipped up, saying,

Please, hurry, my son really needs help. He's still trapped down there. I froze. She'd said her husband was trapped, not her son. I'm sensing that something was off, I made a split-second decision. I looked at my phone and said, I don't have a good enough signal to call 911 right here. Let me drive a bit further down the road to make the call. She became frantic when I said this, urging me to come with her,

getting to the point that her sobbing became an angry screaming at me to get out of the car. I shifted back in to drive and started down the road, hitting the gas pedal as quickly as I could. I could hear her continuing her screams as I watched her waving her arms at me in the rearview. About 20 feet down the road, a man then jumped out of the tree line. I watched him jump out and hurl something at my car, which was followed by a sickening thud and a shattering sound. A brick, what I'm assuming is what he threw,

had smashed into my windshield. sticking into the glass but not breaking through it. I slammed on the gas, freaking out and realizing this whole thing was a massive setup that I almost fell for. I looked back again and saw the two people in the middle of the road, arguing with each other, and making very aggressive motions towards each other and the direction that I was going.

The rest of that drive was an honest blur. I was in shock, shaking, and sweating, the brick just sitting there in my windshield, blocking the right half of my vision. I got to the hotel, which was about 30 minutes away from where I was, and I asked the front desk to call the authorities. I just sat in the lobby chair breathing heavily and thinking about what happened. They took my statement and promised to check it out, but as far as I know, they never found anything. They did call me in the morning and told me that they found a spot on the road that I'd mentioned,

where there was a lot of broken glass, but there was nobody anywhere nearby. Obviously, that trip was a bit stressful, as I was three states away from home in my personal car with a now shattered windshield, and I still had to give my presentation. I did give the presentation, and I actually mentioned what happened, and thankfully the client was willing to give me a little bit of wiggle room, considering my stress levels. I had the windshield replaced in Texas.

Thankfully, my insurance was willing to cover it since they had a police report number, and the report did explain things pretty well. I've since pushed all my clients to do remote presentations, and thankfully they've mostly been okay with it, including the extra work that I've done for that same client down in Texas.

Regardless, I will never drive through those empty parts of Texas at night, ever again. Hey, Raven. Long-time lurker, first-time submitter. I never really thought that I would share this story with anyone, but figured that it would be a good one to get out there. This is pretty much the most terrifying thing that has happened in my life. And it's the only thing like this that I've ever experienced, thankfully.

This happened back whenever I was about 13 or 14, at some point in the early 90s. I had a buddy named Mason that I spent a lot of time with throughout my childhood. During summer break, I would stay over at his house, and he would stay at my house, and we were just the best of friends. So, when his dad mentioned that they were going on a camping trip for a week that year, and told me that he wanted me to ask my parents if I could come with them, I was more than excited to do so. Of course, my parents were all for it.

They were more than happy to get me out of the house for a while. We got to where his dad had decided to set up camp. It was a campground that was pretty much in the middle of nowhere and really didn't have many people in it. I wouldn't say that it was completely remote, It had a convenience store at the entrance, after all, but it was definitely on the outskirts of civilization. At least more on the outskirts than I have been in my time on the planet up to that point. Being that age, I'd been pretty well kept in the boundaries of our small town, so all I really knew was suburban life.

We were a few days into the trip when the event happened. We'd been enjoying everything that nature had to offer, hiking, cooking on a campfire, and of course telling each other scary little ghost stories. That morning, Alex and I had been up since right before the sun had come out, talking about what we wanted to do that day, and Alex mentioned that we should go to the lake and go fishing. We settled on that, and then we mentioned it to his dad. His dad said that he was pretty worn out from the previous day's hike

and said that he wanted to take it easy, but that we could go by ourselves, as long as we were back by noon. I had a watch, so I knew how long we had, and when we needed to head back. So we agreed. We got our fishing gear together, and I suggested that we take the quick hike up to the convenience store to get a soda first, so that we had something to drink. Alex was really eager to get down to the lake,

so he said that he would take the fishing gear down and told me to go get the drinks and meet him there. I agreed, and we went in separate directions. I got to the shop, bought what I wanted, and got some extra snacks while I was there, and then started making my way back towards the lake. I was pretty excited as I made my way back, thinking it was going to be a really fun morning,

and that we were going to catch some really big fish. I got to our spot where we had planned on sitting up our lines, and I was a bit surprised to see that Alex wasn't there. At first I kind of thought maybe he'd found a new spot for us along the shoreline or something, so I looked around and started walking around the lake, calling out for him. After a few minutes of me calling out and him not responding, I started to get a bit concerned, thinking maybe something had happened to him.

The more I looked for him, the more I started to feel this weird, unexplainable unease, at the fact that he was nowhere to be seen. Then it occurred to me that he may have gone back to the camp for some reason, so I started my way back to where we were set up. A bit up the path, I started to hear what sounded like a groaning sound. It was low and filled with pain, and it sounded like whatever was making this sound was struggling. Considering how quiet it was out on that path, it was kind of unsettling. As I glanced around trying to see where it was coming from, it clicked.

That groaning sound was Alex. Alex was in pain and struggling. I dropped the sodas and sprinted towards. where I thought it was coming from. My breath hitched when I approached Alex. He was crumpled over on the ground with an unmistakable dark spot staining his gray shirt. It was blood. He was bleeding.

And it was a lot. I knelt down to him to make sure he was still mostly conscious. I was a young teenager and this was the mid-90s. I didn't know what to do with this situation. I knew that I needed to do. to get him help, but I didn't want to leave him in the underbrush bleeding like that. Being as early as it was, no one was out hiking the area yet, and I was starting to panic. I told him to stay there and that I would go get his dad, which, thinking back was kind of silly.

He definitely wasn't going anywhere. I sprinted to the camp, and I yelled for his dad. I explained to him that Alex was on the ground and that he was badly injured. and then I took him to where I'd found him. He told me to run to the convenience store and tell them to call 911 and that he would take care of Alex. Those minutes that I spent sprinting to that little store were mentally draining. I was pushing my legs as hard as I could, struggling to breathe, and my mind was racing over the fact that if I wasn't fast enough, Alex was going to die. I remember just praying to myself begging any deity that would listen to not let him die.

To give me enough time and strength to get to the store quick enough. I swear every second felt like minutes and every minute like an hour as I made that fairly short run to that store. And trying to explain to the clerk what happened was difficult as I tried to catch my breath. I ended up just yelling, call 911, which thankfully was enough to get him to spring into action. The ambulance got to us in record time. I had to direct them to our camping spot and then take them down the trail to where Alex's dad was holding him, and pretty visibly sobbing.

The park rangers also showed up to where this was happening, as well as the police, and I had to explain to them my side of the story, which wasn't. exactly helpful. At one point, one of the paramedics mentioned that this was a stab wound, that this wasn't just a natural laceration, this was done intentionally with a blade of some sort. That's about the time where things kind of came together for me. He was stabbed. Our fishing gear was nowhere to be seen.

He'd been robbed. Someone at the campground had stabbed my best friend, and then stood. stolen our fishing gear. I actually ended up blurting out that the gear was gone and that I think he was robbed, and the police seemed to agree with my assumption. The officers told us that they would be sweeping the area, but they let us go with Alex to the hospital, thankfully. They got him stabilized in the ambulance,

and we had to take the 20- or so minute trip to the nearest hospital. I just remember staring at Alex as he lay unconscious on that stretcher. He did survive the attack. They hadn't hit anything vital. He was at the hospital for several days while they made sure nothing internally had been damaged, and they got him all fixed up. His dad and I had to get a ride back to the campground, and we packed everything up.

Camping wasn't exactly sounding like a good time anymore. It's crazy to me that on this simple camping trip, something so terrible could happen so randomly. Alex wasn't a threatening kid. He was 13 and weighed nothing. He was smaller than me at the time. If this person wanted the gear, they didn't have to go to such lengths. He would have just given it up. I know him.

He was finally stable and mentally awake enough to explain to him. things, he basically told the exact thing that I assumed. He was walking to the fishing spot when he heard someone shouted him. He thought it was me at first, so he stopped and turned around, but the second he turned around, there was a knife going into his abdomen. He didn't get a good look at the person, because all he could focus on was the pain of getting stabbed. He remembered feeling it, grabbing the spot and just falling over, and watching as this

person grabbed the gear and walked off. In the end, it was a case of wrong place, wrong time. Of course, I have those thoughts that if I had been with him, maybe this wouldn't have happened, but I can't dwell on that too much. This person was clearly willing to just straight up stab someone for like $50 worth of tackle, so they would have probably done the same thing. either way. We never went camping again, and Alex ended up with a gnarly scar and a story to tell when we got

back to school. They never caught the person that was responsible for it. They did the full search, and they never found anyone. Obviously, the psychological scars of seeing my best friend lying on the ground bleeding like that, they really messed with me. But I try to not let it haunt me too much since. he did make it. Alex and I are still pals with our own lives,

though neither of us has chosen to go out camping since that incident. I wanted to share something that actually happened to me just a few weeks ago. It still gives me shivers thinking about it, but after talking to my friends and girlfriend about it, I decided that I should share it with you, since you provide me with such great content, too. I'm currently living in Texas due to work. I've been here for about three months, and I'll be here for another two months at least.

Sorry to say it, but I'm not a fan. I do not do well in the heat, so if I'm not at work, I'm usually lounging around at home or using the pool at the local gym. At least I have my girlfriend here with me to help me keep in a better mindset. However, during this event, my girlfriend had gone back home to Oregon to see her family, and, of course, I was alone that night and having trouble sleeping, so I wanted to try to go on a walk, hoping to just wear myself out. However, to my surprise, it was a lot cooler than I was expecting,

so it immediately made my mood turn around. It was refreshing. I put in my earbuds and started on the sidewalk that lined our quiet suburban neighborhood. I continued walking down the block, and I wanted to really take advantage of the cool air, so I rounded the corner and thought I would walk around the new cul-de-sac that they were developing. They had the foundation laid for three of the houses, and the walls on one, but that was about it. But going around the back of the houses, there was a walking trail that looked recently repaved. It made sense enough with the new houses being built.

I took the new path expecting to go through the trees and get a serene view. I could hear the crickets chirping over my music. I only had one earbud in, but there were so many, and it was pretty loud. The moon was shining right above the trees, giving the only light source back there. I was just taking in the unusual but welcoming night. until I started to get this weird feeling in my gut. It was the same feeling you get when someone's watching you or when you know someone is looking over your shoulder.

I took out my earbud, stopped where I was, and looked around to see if I could spot someone or something looking at me. I didn't immediately see anything, so I continued to walk with my guard up just in case. As I continued forward, I was watching the trees, noticing the imperfections in the trunks, when I saw what I thought was just a twisted trunk until it moved. This stopped me in my tracks.

I started staring at this shadow, squinting and straining my eyes to make out what I was looking at. The moonlight was working in this thing's favor, as all I could see was a dark shadow. As I stared at it, the earlier feeling I experienced was now more intense. tense, making me feel pretty uneasy. My first thought was that maybe I walked in on something I shouldn't have. Maybe they were going to try and rob me. Or maybe it was just someone doing the same thing as me, and I startled them. I thought the best thing to do was to acknowledge their existence,

so if they were planning on something bad, maybe they would think twice if they knew that I knew they were there. So I simply said, good evening. When the figure didn't respond, it made me feel even more on edge. I was no longer feeling comfortable walking any closer to them, let alone passing them, so I took a few steps backwards ready to turn back. However, something was telling me knots to turn my back to this thing. I pulled out my phone, ready to turn on the flashlight and hopefully get a video, just in case something happened.

But before I could, the shadow finally moved. The movement was unnatural. It was choppy. Almost like I was watching a skipping video as this thing reached his hand straight up towards a tree. As I watched its arms, I could see this thing had clawed like fingers at the end of its hands. It seemed to turn towards the tree,

letting me see what I think was the same. side profile, and its spine looked twisted. But one thing I didn't notice until it started moving was the stench. It started as just a sickly sweet odor reminiscent of decaying leaves, but quickly turned into a putrid smell of sulfur. The smell quickly found its way down my throat, making me gag. Between this weird, unnatural smell and this inhuman creature in front of me, I was now shrouded in a sense of dread, and I told myself that I needed to get the hell out of there.

I started walking backwards as fast as I could, until I saw the creature seemingly climb up the tree on all fours. It looked like a cat climbing up a tree. My fight or flight instincts finally kicked in full force, and I ran. I kept looking back to make sure that nothing came up behind me, and thankfully nothing else. ever did. I got out of those trees and was now back in front of the cul-de-sac. The smell was gone, but with my senses now elevated, I realized I could no longer hear a single cricket.

I could hear them across my entire walk, but now the air was still and silent. That made me feel like I still wasn't safe, so I quickly walked home, looking in every direction the whole way. When I finally stumbled on to my front porch, I quickly went inside locking all the doors and turning all the lights on. I didn't want to be in the dark alone anymore. That walk was supposed to help me sleep, and now I was wide awake with no chance of sleeping. Once it was early enough, I called my girlfriend and told her what I had seen. She was worried, but thankful that I made it back home in one piece, but we both agreed to.

to not go back there alone, and definitely not at night. What I saw, smelled, and heard is still very vivid in my mind, and it gives me the chills just thinking about it. I've always loved listening to cryptid and creature stories, but I never wanted to experience one. I have no idea what that thing was, and part of me wishes that I would have went through with taking the picture or video, but... At the same time, I fear what could have happened if I had stuck around any longer.

This happened to me and my sister back in the early 2000s, but it's still fresh in my memory as it still creeps me out. At the time, I was 12 and my sister was 6. Even though we had several years between us, we were always super close. We did everything together, shared all of us. of our toys, rarely fought. We also loved playing outside and pretending to be explorers. We would climb trees and collect leaves and branches, crawl under the porch and look for rocks and bugs.

We loved trying to make houses out of mud and the supplies gathered for our dolls, and just always had a creative and imaginative mind. So when my little sister, Katie, started talking about an imaginary friend, No one, including my parents and myself, were surprised. Nor did we think it was odd. Katie started bringing up her friend when she was moved into her own room. She technically always had her own room. It was just a nursery, but due to health concerns when she was born,

she pretty much stayed in my parents' room until she just randomly decided that she would stay in her own room. It literally went like that. We were getting ready for bed. She went to her own room, and she said she wanted to sleep in her own room. So, they converted her crib into a normal bed, and she started staying in there. So now I would walk by her room to go to mine, or intentionally be going to hers, and I would hear her talking. I figured she was just playing with her dolls and would walk in her room and ask what she was doing. and she would respond saying that she was playing with my friend.

At my age, I assumed that she meant her dolls, and then we would continue with our plans. Then, there was one time later at night where my mom told me to go get my sister since dinner was ready. I started towards her room and noticed that her door was cracked open. I was preparing to quickly open the door to scare her, but again, I heard her talking. This time it sounded more common. conversational, and she seemed to be explaining to someone how to do something. So, instead, I slowly opened the door and saw her standing near her window, putting her toys on the ledge.

I asked her what she was doing, and she again said that she was playing. I asked her who she was talking to, and she said, Jimmy. I was curious myself, so I asked, who's Jimmy? and she claimed that he was her imaginary friend. I thought that it was kind of silly at my age, but I just went along with it. I asked her how she met him, and she explained how he just showed up in her room one day, and that he wanted to play with her. It sounded like a true story for an imaginary friend, so I left it at that.

We had several incidents like that, where she would be talking to someone, and she would say it was Jimmy. Even while we were around our parents. She would say things like, Oh, that's Jimmy's favorite color. And Jimmy is afraid of that. I like to play dolls with Jimmy. We all thought it was cute and creative

and just left it where it was. I even recall one time when I was playing with Katie in her room. She mentioned Jimmy, and I said that I can't wait to meet him one day. She seemed very happy. and said that he wanted to meet me, too. Being that he was imaginary, I asked her where he was, and she told me,

well, he's not here right now, but he should be later. So, okay, maybe she just didn't feel up to pretending at that point. So, life goes on as normal for all of us, and before we know it, summer has snuck up on us, giving us more time to play. One day, when we were playing outside, we had started a whole game similar to what I mentioned prior, where we were collecting treasures and making up what they could do. At one point, we stopped and we were just laying in the grass in the backyard,

which kind of made us want to sleep out there too. And, thankfully for us, when we asked our parents for blankets and pillows to turn the porch into a fort, my dad gave us one better and set up a tent that we had in the backyard. I just remember being so excited to camp in our yard. And our parents weren't even going to be in there. My parents said they were going to be staying in the back room, which was like a smaller living room. That room had a door that led to the backyard so they would be nearby

in case we needed them. So, we got ready for bed and grabbed a few things. things to keep us busy, like coloring books and flashlights, until we fell asleep. We were pretty well nestled in our tent, singing and coloring, and we'd probably been in there for about an hour when I would say that we both were getting pretty drowsy. So we cleaned up, and we snuggled into our sleeping bags, ready to end our night. But, shortly after, I heard someone walking in our yard. I just assumed it was one of our parents checking in on us, so I said,

Hey, who is it? In a curious and playful tone. And a voice whispered back, it's me. I could tell that it was a man's voice, but I couldn't tell if it was my dad because of how they were whispering. However, right after he responded, Katie jumped up and quickly unzipped the tent, giggling. As she did this, we were met with the face of a man that I had never met before. However, Katie seemed excited to see this person, and she also answered some questions when she shouted, Jimmy!

I was shocked and honestly horrified. Jimmy wasn't imaginary, but was a real, grown man. He hugged my sister, and I had to be. asked suspiciously, Who are you? That's when he gave me a sickening smile and said, I'm Jimmy, your imaginary friend. Like I said, I was old enough to know that imaginary friends were not real.

And when I did have one, they didn't look like this. Maybe everyone was different, but mine were always close to my age, and they never had their own voice. I would give them one. Oh, and they were typically 100% imaginary, like not real people. I don't know if it makes sense to others, but what's important is that this guy was definitely not imaginary. Unlike Katie, I was scared. I couldn't explain why at the time, other than maybe a strange man was standing in our backyard,

but then he asked if he could stay in the tent with us. Instantly, I knew this was not okay. He should not be there, and if we agreed to let him, something bad was going to happen. Unfortunately, Katie said yes, but I simultaneously said no. The disappointed look on his face alarmed me even more. I didn't know if he would try anything if I tried to fight him, so I had to think fast. I told him something about not having another blanket and pillow, so we would have to go get him one first. He said that he wouldn't need one, but I tried to perk back up and insist on it, so I just said,

No, I don't want you to get cold and not want to come back. So we'll be right back. We'll grab some more snacks, too. He smiled and agreed, telling us to just hurry back. I grabbed Katie's arm and pulled her along with me inside, and as soon as we were in, I shook my parents awake and told them about Jimmy being out in the tent, and I tried to make the most terrified face I could to let them know that this was not a joke. Thankfully, they caught on quickly, and my dad dashed out the door immediately.

My mom told us to stay on the couch with her, and she was looking out the window toward the tent, so I looked too. I saw my dad enter the tent, walk around it in the yard, until he finally came back in. The guy was gone. My dad asked us what exactly happened, but his tone instantly told me that something was wrong.

Katie explained that Jimmy wanted to join us in the tent, and I agreed with her story, further explaining everything. They then called the police and report, ordered it, but, of course, he was long gone. My parents told Katie that she was not allowed to play with Jimmy again, and that if she ever saw him again, she needed to tell them immediately, but we never did see him. Katie and I have talked about this at length as we've gotten older, and we make more and more

sense of it each time. She told me about how he just showed up one day at her window, and when she said, she was noticed him, she asked what he was doing. She said that he was the one that called himself her imaginary friend, and kept pushing that as a way to get her to not talk about him, or to give an excuse when people like myself or parents asked why he seemed to have such a personality for an imaginary friend. He never did anything to her, thankfully, but he told her that he just wanted to watch her sleep and she was okay with it. Sometimes I'll check police reports, offender lists, and the news to see if I ever

recognize a face, but nothing so far. I guess it would probably be better if I did see his face, to at least put my mind at ease that he's not still out there, doing the same thing to other kids. For as long as I can remember, my grandparents' cabin. has been a real haven for the family. I spent a number of summers up there. We had small parties and get-togethers there, and it was one of my favorite places all throughout my childhood.

It was nestled in the woods, and was pretty much perfect for a group of kids looking for some innocent fun. Well, and some not-so-innocent fun as we got a bit older. It was one of those rare weekends where my brother and I decided that we were going to stay up at my grandparents' cabin. I was 19, and still at home, Ben was 17, and while we were both pretty much adults, we still had to have permission to stay, just in case. Thankfully, everyone was okay with it, and we were told that we just needed to not get too

rowdy or destroy anything. We agreed, and then immediately invited a few friends over that had access to alcohol. We figured as long as we just stayed at and in the cabin, everything would be fine, and we weren't likely to cause too much damage to anything. Of course, as the night grew on, some of the guys got a bit stupid, and after a while an idea hit Ben, which is never a good thing, not for Ben. He stood up and loudly proclaimed, Let's have a bonfire! I could tell by the fact that he slurred the first half of this sentence into one word that it was going to be a terrible idea. Ben always was a lightweight, and at 17, he was already loopy after two beers. He looked at me with that mischievous little twinkle in his eye, and then pointed at me saying,

You, go get some firewood. To which I responded, Ben, that is a terrible eye. idea. He frowned and asked why, an emotion to the fact that we were sitting outside on dead grass and logs, and basically said that the woods around us were just a potential tinderbox. Ben scoffed and waved me off trying to tell me that I was being a wimp, but I put my foot down on this one.

I was okay with stupidity, but I wasn't okay with him burning the cabin down. I told him no fires and that if he started one, I would kick his ass. He grumbled, but eventually agreed and sat back down. We had a bit more back and forth before it started to get too late for me, and I decided to call it a night. I told the guys that I was headed in and pointed to Ben saying, Don't do it. He laughed and said that he wouldn't, and I thought that was that. I went in, threw myself on the couch, and passed out pretty hard.

After a little while, I started hearing someone screaming. But half drunk, I thought that I was just having a dream. Until I heard someone scream my name, and the sound of distant sirens wailing through the woods. Panic surged through me as I jumped off the couch and ran outside. My heart skipped as my worst fears were confirmed. and I took in the chaos in front of me. There, a few feet from our gathering spot, a bonfire was raging out of control.

The fire had danced its way from the small pit where it had started and was spreading rapidly into the dense woods. The wind, just as I had feared, was carrying the small embers away, and it had pretty clearly spread this bonfire into what could become a catastrophic forest fire. And amidst the chaos in front of me was Ben. His face pale and his eyes wide with terror. Thankfully, the local fire department was there quickly, and they worked like crazy to control the blaze as it grew.

It took them a couple of hours to completely douse the fire, preventing a disaster that could have easily consumed the cabin, and destroyed a lot of the land. Even after all was said and done, the only thing that you could smell was that stench of burnt wood. Ben later told me that he'd waited all of 30 minutes before he started the fire, thinking that he could control it. He honestly could not have been more wrong. We surveyed the area to see how much damage it had done and to see where the fire had spread, and it hit Ben pretty quickly that, had the fire gone on for literally a couple more minutes,

the cabin would have been completely consumed. There was a section that was actually charred, that I would say was less than five feet from the rear wall. It would have caught, and it would have gone up like nothing. This place wasn't built like a house. It was just a small wooden cabin. There was nothing to stop. from burning like a pile of cheap wood because that's what it was.

After that day, we weren't allowed back at the cabin, like, at all. My grandparents still hold this against us, and rightfully so, and we haven't been back up there since, unless our mom or dad are with us or they are there. Nothing like being in your late 20s and having to be escorted by your parents, because they can't trust you to be on their price. property alone. So, the lesson from this incident?

Well, first off, my dear brother learned that he should listen to me when I tell him that his ideas are stupid, and dry summers are bad when it comes to fires. And for anyone out there that thinks that things like this can't happen to them, I have a short but effective word of warning for you. Disaster doesn't knock before it kicks in your door. Don't be like Ben. Take your surroundings into consideration, and don't think that you can control things like fire. Nature does not like pain controlled.

I guess some people have to learn the hard way like my brother did. Even today, whenever I smell wood burning, I think of that scene with Ben standing in the woods staring at me like, I messed up, while the fire just rages behind him. It's a stark reminder for me how a moment's stupidity can lead to a potential disaster. I was an elementary schoolteacher for about 15 years, and one thing I learned about children, very young ones, is that they have no filter. They will say whatever is on their mind,

and for the most part, it's true, unless they fear they may be in trouble, of course. With this in mind, I have heard many, many stories from kids, some quite alarming and just bizarre. I wanted to share one with you that I remembered quite well that has stuck with me all of these years. This was when I taught first grade. There was a little girl that I will call Sally. Sally started class about halfway through the school year, as her family had just moved to the area. I do what I normally do and introduce myself to her outside of the class

and ask if she would like to share something with the class or just introduce her from her seat. I didn't like to put kids on the spot if they didn't need to be. She asked to do it from her seat, as she was very shy, and it showed. Everyone was very kind when they looked at her and said hi, and some kids even tried to invite her to play with them. She would refuse, however, and would watch them from the side,

typically just singing to herself. Finally, we did a team activity, so I did push her a little to intermingle with her classmates, and she actually became good friends with another girl. At one point while they were at recess, Sally came up to me after scraping her knee and asked to clean it up. I took her into the restroom to get her rack, and then back to the classroom, as I kept my own supply of bandages. As I helped her get all fixed up,

I asked her if she was liking her class and her new friends. She smiled and nodded at me. I didn't say much else, and then she said a bit more than I expected, and it left me confused. She told me, at first I was scared because in my last life, the kids were very mean to me.

I, of course, just assumed she meant her last school, and maybe she had problems there. It was upsetting to hear about because she was a really smart and kind girl, and I couldn't see any reason as to why someone would choose to bully her. So I told her, I'm sorry to hear that. That wasn't very nice of them, was it? Then she continued talking. Yeah, they made fun of me because my mommy was poor and I didn't have a daddy.

They threw food at me and pulled my hair and sometimes cut up my clothes. Again, I was thinking that this was awful, and it broke my heart to hear it. But I was confused, because I had met her parents, both her mom and dad. Of course, her dad could have been a stepfather, but I don't think he was. They looked way too similar. His mom was also a stay-at-home mom because they had an older son that was in about the sixth grade and a newborn. So, neither the part of her mom being poor or her not having a dad made sense to me.

So I asked her about the one that was a little more obvious. But you have a tad, right? Wasn't he with you and your mom at conferences? I asked her. Yeah, but that's my new mommy and daddy. In my old life, I didn't have a daddy. At that point, I just agreed with her and finished up. so that she could get back to her recess.

It left me wondering for a little bit as to why she kept phrasing it as her old life. I thought maybe she was adopted, or in foster care, because of how she briefly described her old life, but again, she looked like a spitting image of her father. I brushed it off as kids just being kids and then let it go. But then, another event occurred with her that added more to the source. story. I had partnered the kids up for a class assignment, and since Sally had become

close to this one girl, I put them together. As I walked around to check on all the kids, I stopped at each table as I listened to their process. When I went to Sally and Katie's table, I asked how they were doing, and Sally thanked me for letting her work with Katie.

I said you're welcome, and I asked them about their project. After some time, Sally again mentioned how much nicer this school was, and all the kids and teachers. This time I asked her if she remembered what the school that she went to prior was, and without skipping a beach, she told me. It was a saint's name school for girls. I'd never heard of this school, and I had lived in this area my whole life,

so it seemed to cement my idea that she went to a different school in a different area. I asked her if she knew where this school was, and she said that it was far away, and that people talked differently at that school. I was trying to decide on what to say or ask next, but Sally continued talking for me. I didn't like it there. The girls were very mean to me about my clothes. So I told her that her clothes were very cute, and Katie said that she liked her shirt. Katie was always a very kind girl to everyone, so I appreciated her help. But then Sally explained more. I had to wear a special skirt and shirt, and the other girls had a lot of them,

but I only had the one, and it was always dirty. They made fun of me and ripped my skirt. I apologized and Katie hugged her and changed the subject saying how much she liked her and seemed to cheer her. her up. I again walked away, reminding myself to look up this school when I had the chance. I had written down

the name of the school, but after that, it was out of sight, out of mind, when you have a class full of young kids. We also have classroom duties, and those selected change weekly. I chose randomly by pulling sticks from a jar, and

Sally was chosen to help wipe down all the tables. This was done before they went to recess, So, as she cleaned them, I cleared the board, and due to our previous conversation a day prior, I complimented her on her outfit. She thanked me, and then thanked me for being a much nicer teacher. I said you're welcome and thanked her for being such a great help. That's when she sat down and started bawling. I immediately went to console her and ask what was wrong, and what she said has always stuck to me.

everybody's so nice here, not like they were in my old life. I was afraid they would all hurt me here too. Even you, but you're my favorite teacher. This has obviously affected her, possibly even traumatized her, and I wanted to bring it up to her parents in case they weren't aware of what may have happened to her. As I knelt in front of her, I asked if she wanted to talk about it, and she was more than willing to share.

She explained again how she was teased because she only had one uniform that she would wear the entire week, and that the girls would throw stuff on her clothes and her hair, only to make fun of her when she came in the next day wearing the same stained shirt. She even explained how the teachers would always turn a blind eye to the bullying and only told her to stop complaining.

Then, she explained how she ended up here. One day, as I was walking to class, the girls started following me and pulled on my skirt. I yielded them to stop, and I tried to get away, but my foot slipped, and I fell down the long stairs, and I hit my head a lot. When I stopped, I couldn't move and my whole body hurt, and then I got tired and just went to sleep. then it was dark for a very long time but I got a new mommy and daddy and they're very nice and they have money and everyone is so nice here

I was in awe as I listened to Sally's story I tried my best to hold back the sadness and shock in my eyes and just told her that I was sorry that it happened to her and explained that she was safe now I even told her to her to love let me know if she's ever hurt or bullied here because I refuse to let any of that slide.

She cheered up pretty quickly after that, and I dismissed her to go play while I finished up. Still, I didn't quite understand what I heard. Yeah, it sounded like she was bullied, but after a fall like she described, you would think she would have substantial and possibly

permanent injuries. Or maybe even have died. And that's when it hit me. I went back to my computer and looked up that school that she'd mentioned. That school did exist. It was an all-girls school for ages three to 18, but it wasn't even in the U.S. Part of me wants to say that I think it was in Ireland, but I might be wrong. But the crazy part about all of that, it had been closed for years, way before she was even born. How would she have known about that school?

After our little moment that day, Sally didn't bring up her old life again. She grew into a very happy and playful girl, much like Katie, and she wanted to befriend everyone that came through the door. I wanted to ask her parents about her story to see if she ever talked to them about it, but since it didn't seem to affect her anymore, I didn't... feel it was relevant. I didn't want her to possibly relive something if she didn't have to, and since it wasn't interfering with her life or school, I thought it was best to leave it alone.

After looking into it more, I've just determined that poor Sally may have still had memories of a past life, and maybe I helped that part of her move on, so that she could have a happier and better second chance at life. Okay, so this is the story of the weirdest, most surreal event of my life. It happened during a camping trip that my girlfriend at the time, now wife, went on while we were still a pretty fresh couple. I think at the time we had only been together for about a year. That summer, my girlfriend and I decided to go out into the woods and just have a lovely little camping trip. We found our perfect spot, an open section of the woods with a huge open section of sky, and we set up our tents.

As the sun started to set, we lit a cozy campfire, and we were sitting there just enjoying the gorgeous night, cuddling up, sitting on our plush blanket, and loving this romantic evening. Out of seemingly nowhere, a man wearing a ski mask and holding a gun stepped into the light of our campfire. He approached slowly, and I think that we both didn't realize that he was there at first, but when we noticed him, we both jumped up and entered into a state of panic. We both froze in fear, me saying, whoa, please, we don't have anything, thinking that this guy was just here to rob us. The man quickly tried to diffuse the situation saying,

Hey, hey, settle down. I'm not going to hurt either one of you if you just do what I ask. Okay? He then motioned for us to sit back down, and we both kind of looked at each other like, do we do what he wants? He actually answered that question for us, saying, Look, just sit down, relax.

Let's just enjoy the night, and everything will be okay. I just need you to sit down and relax. I looked over and nodded at my girlfriend, and we went to sit back down on the blanket, and I pulled her down with me. He nodded, and then took a seat in one of our cloth lawn chairs, sitting across from us by the fire. After a few seconds, he motioned towards the cooler by me and asked if we had any beer. I said that we did, and he asked for one.

I cautiously handed him one, and the three of us just kind of sat there in this really awkward silence. He broke the silence after a bit, asking me my name. I told him that my name was Todd, which it is, and he responded with, it's very nice to meet you, Todd. And he then asked me what I did for a living. I mentioned that I was a desktop support guy for a company. He asked what that meant, and I explained that I was basically the guy

that set up all the computers for the company's employees. He nodded and smiled saying that it sounded kind of boring. I actually chuckled at this and said, Yeah, it kind of is, but hey, it pays our rent. He nodded again and then said, Here's to that. And then took a drink. Then he looked at my girlfriend and asked her the same question.

She told him her name and mentioned that she was going to school to be a nurse. He almost looked excited to hear this and then said, My mom was a nurse. It's stressful, but she loved it. You'll do great. We sat there for about half an hour, just engaging in this bizarre small talk,

with this masked stranger holding a gun in his right hand, and a half-empty beer in his left. After talking a bit more about what we did for work, our hobbies and all that, he starts to laugh and then shares a story about his brother. He tells us that this one time his brother was trying to light a bonfire, like ours, and he ended up setting himself on fire.

He said that he ran around, screaming like an idiot, and that he had to dump a cooler that they had full of chunks of ice and beer cans on him to put out the fire. It was surreal. This guy was sitting there, laughing, sharing this story as if we were best friends at a little reunion, acting as if he wasn't masked and basically holding us hostage. After about an hour had passed, he ended up standing up and, thanking us for the beer.

We were both stunned at how... I guess friendly is the right word. How friendly he was to us. He mentioned that it was getting late and that we should probably get to sleep, and then casually started just strolling away. Before he left the campsite, he stopped and turned back toward us,

waving his gun in our direction, and said... Oh, and... I don't know if it's obvious, but... I was never here, right? We nodded, too shocked to really say anything. And he just said, good, have a good night, guys. Just like that, he was gone, leaving us in the glow of our little fire, shaking and thinking, what the hell was that?

I still have no idea what actually happened that night. Was he on the run? had he just committed a crime and was just hiding out for a while? Was this just some kind of messed up prank possibly? We can really only speculate, but what I did know is that this experience is certainly one for the books. It's a story that she and I share with new friends, mostly because of how absurd it is, and how much it sounds like a small scene from some kind of horror movie. I will say that he was a very nice guy, minus the obvious,

and that I'm more than grateful that he kept his word. He could have shot us, he could have attacked us, he could have done so many things, but he seemed like he just needed a spot to stop for a while. And if he was going to be there, he figured he may as well have a drink and make some small talk. Now, despite how polite he may have been, I really hope that we never meet again. My father's job had us traveling a lot all over the world.

This event took place while we were living abroad. I was still young, around 12 at the time, but I do consider myself lucky to be able to see such an amazing place so early in my life. I just wish that I hadn't experienced this. As mentioned, I was pretty young at the time. The town I lived in was pretty small and close to my school, so a group of us boys would often walk home from school. Sometimes we would stop at a local store to window shop, or one of our favorite things,

go hang out by the stream behind our neighborhood. It looked a little like this. Walking home from school, we took the main road. We would then branch off to an alley that came out to the other side behind a lot of houses and businesses. I was shown this place by one of my friends, who I'm going to call John. Once you get out of the alley, there is a concrete wall lining the business. We would jump that wall, which is where the drainage pipe was, cross that, and go down a small grassy hill, then there was the street.

stream. We would walk along the stream until we found the larger body of water that it was connected to. People fish and swim in there all the time. They're just usually on the other side of the lake, so it wasn't really weird for us to do it, too. Our parents did know that we went down there, so they didn't worry about us not coming home directly after school. This was just our normal thing to do. We just had to be careful because we had school uniforms and we had to make sure to not mess them up. So, this was one of those days, the day when we encountered this thing. John, Kai, and I decided to head out to the lake as the next day was a holiday,

so there was no school. We walked through the alley, over the drain and towards the water, ready for a couple hours of fun. We started by looking around the nearby trees and rocks for the water, looking for bugs or other things that caught our attention. There were many times where we would find the things and take them home, especially fishing gear. There was a broken rod that we found, and we took it home and fixed it up. We found some bobbers that were caught in trees or other vegetation, and we untangled them as well. I guess in a way we helped clean up the place, all while putting together our own little fishing rod that we all shared.

After we were done exploring, or if we just weren't feeling it, we would take off our uniforms, toss them over a small light that was nearby, and jump in the water. We would just wade in the water, splash and goof around. But sometimes we would find things in the water too. Up to that day, it all seemed pretty fearless and light-hearted. We lived in a great neighborhood. There was little to no crime in our area, at least none than I was aware of,

so we never had a suspicious thought in our mind that we ever needed to be careful or to keep a lookout. As we enjoyed our time in the water, talking about school and other things, the sun was beginning to set and the sky was now getting that dark orange, color. We knew that we had to get going soon, but tried to use up every last minute a hard time, until we started to get a whiff of a very strong and pungent fishy odor. It was normal at first. People fished there all the time, and we've smelled things similar, but this time the stench was worse and continued to get stronger. We tried joking about it at first, but it got so strong, but it was making us gag.

So we finally decided to get out and leave. If we came home smelling just as bad, our parents would probably be upset. As we went back to our clothes and began dressing, something caught my attention that seemed to be moving near the water's edge, right where we were. John and Kai were already looking before I could motion to them to look too.

What we saw, I still have no real answers. for. Right there at the start of the water by the large boulder that we had stood near just moments earlier, we saw a creature. It was standing on its back legs that looked human, but they also looked reptilian. The legs looked to be a pale gray or green and scaly. They also looked very thin, like there was hardly anything to them. Its back was grotesquist, round and warped, as though it had some kind of malformation on it. It also almost looked severely bloated.

The head was small and looked just as scaly and pale as its legs. It had what appeared to be hair, but there was very little. It was thin and stringy. I like to describe it as being similar to Gollum's hair from Lord of the Rings. It was in small patches, and thin, stringy, like that. It seemed to be moving to hide behind the boulder, and when it finally moved, it ran towards the water.

But the way that it walked was wholly unnatural. It kind of waddled, but also seemed like it was in pain, or maybe didn't know or understand how to walk on two legs. I couldn't even begin to describe what it looked like. there aren't many creatures that I can think of that were in that country that were bipedal and looked scaly or reptilian like that. It truly seemed otherworldly. We all stood in all as we watched to see what this thing was going to do.

After it reached the water and got in, it slowly sank deeper and deeper into the water, and then turned to face us. The water was up to where it's not. nose should be, but it didn't have a nose. It was flat, with a small indentation in two holes for nostrils, and the eyes were dark and looked extremely sunken in. It stared right at us, and it was as if time seemed to stop for that moment.

None of us seemed to know what to do, so we stood completely motionless, until it turned back and was completely submerged in the water. Once it was out of sight, we all looked at each other with our eyes and said, What the hell was that? To add to the confusion, the strong fishy smell was even gone entirely. But even after the creature and smell disappeared, something no longer felt right about that place. We hurriedly grabbed our backpacks and shoes, as we had a little bit of the creature. put them back on yet, and got as far away from there as we could.

When we reached the intersection where we normally split to go home, we set our goodbyes, and I walked in the opposite direction of them. The whole time, I felt that I had to keep looking over my shoulder, wondering if that thing knew where we were, where we were going, or was possibly following one of us. It seems silly now, most things just want to. to be left alone, I'm sure, but at the time, after seeing something that we couldn't possibly identify, it left quite an impression on me, and not in a good way.

I got home and took a shower, which left me with my own thoughts even longer. None of us mentioned if we should tell someone about it, so I debated telling my parents. Normally when we saw a bug or caught a snake or lizard that I couldn't identify, my mom could tell me what it was. But for some reason, I feel like we weren't supposed to see that. I felt like if I told my parents I could be in trouble, but I was also raised knowing that I could go to them and talk to them about anything, no matter what it was.

So that's what I did. I explained what I saw, describing everything I remembered, and the look on my mom's face told me that I wasn't alone in my thoughts. She had no idea what I saw. I could tell that she was trying to provide a reasonable explanation while also not being dismissive, something I loved about my mother. When my father got home, she told me to explain it to him, and he said that it definitely sounded bizarre. but also could not identify it. My mom was concerned about the size of the thing and explained how if our guts were telling us it wasn't safe

or that something was wrong, then it must have been true and asked me to avoid the area until and unless they find out more about this thing. My friends talked about it several times, and we even told a few of our other friends who wanted to check it out. John and I didn't want to go back there, as I was told not to, and John was creeped out by it.

But none of my friends have said they've seen it either, so I think it was just the right day to catch that thing. Over the years, the thought of it slowly moved to the back of our minds until it was no longer something we felt was relevant. But it was still there, always with us. I now live in the U.S., and I've kept in touch with Kai, and we've talked about it on occasion as well. It came up recently as he invited me to his wedding, which would mean that I would be taking another trip overseas. We've flirted with the idea of going back out to that lake to reminisce, and maybe see if that thing is still there, or possibly reproduced. I'm excited to see Kai, and... my old home, but I have mixed feelings about seeing that creature again.

However, this time, if I do see it, maybe I'll be lucky enough to catch it on camera. This story is mine, sort of, but it's more my dad's. So the entire thing is based on what he's told me. I was there, I was just strapped into my little car seat in the back, and was obviously way too young to remember any of it. He told me about this way later on in life, and honestly it was terrifying. It's probably why my dad has always been so protective of me, and emphasized being alert and aware of your surroundings.

Hell, when I turned 17, and I got my license, he always told me to take the main roads and to avoid back roads. From what my dad had told me, it was a pretty normal morning. He needed to go run some errands, so he was taking me to my grandmother's house. I was just sitting in my car seat and watching the back window, as I always did, completely unaware of anything. He was driving down a relatively quiet road with trees on both sides. My grandma lived on the edge of a suburb, so there were a few spots that you had to go through that weren't heavily incorporated. He was there, just cruising at speed,

when a man jumped out of the woods and ran in front of my dad's car, flailing his arms wildly. Naturally, my dad slammed his brake, barely avoiding to hit this guy. He said that he could see that this guy looked terrified, like he was running from something or someone. But something about it didn't seem right. Something about the situation was off. His instincts were screaming at him

That this guy just wasn't some random dude Running across the road The guy didn't say anything to my dad He just limped over to the side of the car And made the motion of rolling down the window My dad, curious as to what this guy's explanation was Cracked the window and asked if he was okay The man didn't respond

The two of them just stared at each other eye to eye for several silent seconds. My dad said that his heart was pounding, and like his mind was saying, nah, get the hell out of there. He was prepared to drive off at the first sign of trouble, and, sure enough, trouble arrived. As soon as he turned to look back at the road,

out of the corner of his eye, he saw two other figures starting to emerge from the undergrowth of the woods on the other side. Without hesitation, my dad stomped on the ground. gas. The car lurched forward, leaving the three strangers standing there in the middle of a dust cloud that he'd kicked up. He said that he could see them in the rear view, and all three of them just stood there watching as he drove away. He didn't stop driving until we reached my grandmother's house, where he said that he called the cops to report the incident. He wasn't sure what they were

planning, but he gave them the description of the man and the location. But the details were sparse. outside of that. We never did find out what happened in that situation, or what all that was. The police never called us back with any details, and my dad didn't press the issue. He was just happy to have avoided what was undoubtedly heading towards a dangerous situation. Even today, years later, my dad sweats every time he tells this story, which really tells me how much it does scare him. My dad is a good guy.

He'll stop and help people on the side of the road, but this was definitely a sobering reminder that some people will take advantage of those willing to stop. It's important to trust your instincts and be hyper-vigilent about your surroundings. When I was a kid, we had a lovely backyard with the full garden that we actually didn't build.

It was all built by the previous homeowner, who had supposedly passed away in the house. My parents kept it all intact. They never really did anything extra with it. They just left what the previous owner had planted and just let it do what it naturally did. It was actually quite pretty, and even being left to its own devices,

it would end up being the loveliest little flower bed. To add to this, the previous owner had installed a clothesline around the flower. and my mom was old-fashioned, so she believed that sun-dried clothing smelled fresher and felt crisper. One day she asked me to go hang the laundry outside. Normally, this was a chore, but I didn't really mind it. It was almost meditative, so I kind of enjoyed it. But on this day, for some reason, when I stepped outside with the basket of damp clothing, I stopped.

I don't mean that I just stopped walking. I mean that I literally froze unable to move. I got hit with this intense fear, this strange and paralyzing feeling of unease. It was overwhelming, so overwhelming that I almost started to feel like I was going to cry. I tried to keep going, I tried to take a step forward, but I literally couldn't.

I was trying to think, logically, looking around for a person in the yard that was maybe watching me, thinking about whether or not I'd watched a scary movie or read something that had me in an anxiety attack. Look, I was like 12, so I was just trying to piece together why I was feeling like I was freaking out in the backyard that I had spent countless hours in. At some point, my mother must have realized that I was acting strangely, and just standing there in the yard and staring at nothing in particular when she had asked me to take care of the laundry. I heard the back door open, and I heard her stepping toward me, and then heard her say,

Hey, Melody, what's wrong? Why are you... Then she just stopped when she got next to me. I glanced over at her, and I watched the color drained from her face and her eyes got wide. She felt it, too. I remember just looking at the garden, looking for whatever it was that was causing this and asking, What's going on, Mom? To which she said, I don't know. Let's go back inside.

She grabbed my arm and pulled me back into the house. We got back inside, and she just stood there staring at that flower bed, looking terrified. I asked her if there was something out there, and she just shook her head, saying, that she didn't know. I asked her if she felt what I felt, and she told me that she felt something, but she didn't know what it was. She ended up just throwing the clothes in the dryer,

and we didn't talk about it after that. She didn't even mention it to my dad. So what the hell was that? We never spoke about it at all after that day, but I've obviously never forgotten it. my mom didn't hang the clothing on the line for a couple of months after this and I think that whatever that feeling was was the reason I know that there was nothing physical there

it wasn't like a creep in our yard or some kind of animal or something it was just our normal backyard complete with the pretty flowers in the back so why were we so freaked out in the end I'm talking this up to something paranormal, because it was not normal. I don't know if it was some spirit in the garden or some weird messed up shared hallucination, but it was horrifying, and definitely something beyond our understanding. When I was a kid, probably around six years old, I had a summer experience that still

sends shivers down my spine. It was one of those events that happened quickly. and could have been much worse, but it taught me one hell of a lesson by the end of it. I remember that it was a really hot day. The kind where the air does that fun shimmering stuff off the asphalt. And I was home with my mom. She was a teacher at my school, and we were both on break. We were spending some time in the backyard.

My mom was inflating and then filling the little pool that my dad had bought the weekend before, and I was just excitedly running around waiting. to jump in the water. My mom told me to go inside and get us a couple of popsicles, and I excitedly did what she requested. I was there digging in the freezer for a specific flavor, blue raspberry, of course, and enjoying the cold air blasting me in the face, when I heard it. A light knock at the door. We didn't really get a lot of visitors where we lived, usually just my grandparents or our neighbor, Miss Shelley, whom I absolutely. adored.

Thinking it was probably grandma, or Miss Shelley, I went over and swung the door open, expecting to be greeted by a warm smile and some cookies. Instead, there was a man standing there, a stranger, with a creepy yellow grin that seemed to be way too big for his face. I may have been six years old, but I cannot forget that face. The smell hit me next. a sour stench that made my nose scrunch up. I didn't know it then, but as an adult,

I now realized that it was probably the stink of some kind of booze. I bluntly asked this guy who he was, and he laughed and responded that he was a friend, and that he was there to see me. I was a pretty social kid, so I just assumed that he was a friend of my parents that I hadn't met yet. When I asked him how he knew me, he leaned down, laughed, and said, I've known you for a long time.

I was there when you were born. It was a weird thing to say, but at that age, I didn't really question it. He then followed this up with, Hey, why don't you come outside? I brought lunch for us. You like pizza, right? I did, in fact, like pizza. In fact, I loved pizza.

And with the word pizza mentioned, I then really wanted pizza. I started to step outside, but just as I did, my mom appeared at the front door and put a hand on my shoulder. She asked this man who he was and what he wanted. I remember him flashing that ugly yellow smile at her and asking for someone named Melissa. My mom, clearly not convinced, told him, no one named Melissa lives here. I think you need to leave.

He then responded with an, Oh, of course, my mistake. Still holding that creepy smile and turned to walk off. Without saying another word, he walked out our front gate, got into an old minivan and drove off. My mom immediately pulled me back into the house, and that's when I got my first lesson about Stranger Danger. She explained that we should never trust people that we don't know like that,

especially if they're asking us to go somewhere with them. I mentioned that he said he was a friend and that he was there when I was born. She told me that none of that was true. And that sometimes people will lie to get us to trust them. Now, looking back as an adult, I realize how close I came to a potentially dangerous situation. If my mom hadn't come inside to check a. on me when she did?

Well, I really don't like to think about what could have happened. It's a really chilling reminder of how important it is to teach kids about the dangers of trusting strangers. And it's a lesson that I've held closely ever since. I used this story to actually explain to my own son about stranger danger. I never saw that guy again, thankfully, and I hope that I never do. This actually happened a few years back when I was in college, so it would have been around 2018. Back then, I was a very social person.

I liked to hang out in large gatherings, go out to events, etc. You get the idea. That year was actually the last year that I went to house parties, partially because of COVID two years later, but mostly because of this event. I'd gone to a house party that was hosted by a really good friend of mine, Wayne. Wayne is a weird guy. He likes parties, but he's also kind of a stiff. He wasn't the type to throw wild bashes. He was the one that planned out a gathering, made sure that everyone knew that closing time was 10.30 p.m.,

and kept things within what the law said was okay. The plan of this party was that it would be a small to medium, sized get-together. No more than 20 or so people total throughout the house and yard. Just people that we both knew pretty well. But as the night went on, I noticed that the count of people was definitely

more than 20. I leaned over to Wayne at one point and asked if he invited more people than he told me, and he took a look around the party and gave a bit of a scowl. He hadn't. He mentioned that there was a group of guys that he didn't know that showed up a few minutes ago,

and that he just hadn't had the chance to talk with them because he'd been talking with everyone else. I patted him on the shoulder and mentioned that I would go talk to them for him if he wanted, and he said that he would really appreciate that. I walked up to the small group that was standing off to the side, just chatting amongst themselves, and lifted a hand to sort of wave in a friendly way. I'm the diplomatic type.

I tried to keep the conversation light, casual, assuming that maybe these guys just didn't know they weren't supposed to be there. I didn't want to make a scene or be rude. They could be good guys. I asked one of the guys how he knew about the party, and he mentioned a mutual acquaintance of Wayne and I, a guy named Jason. I nodded, asked if Jason told them about it, and they sort of shrugged it off and said that they were friends of his, and that's where the conversation tapered off. With that information, I went back to Wayne to let him know. Upon hearing the name, Wayne's expression changed to one of annoyance.

He said that Jason had actually done this before, and that he was going to have to have a talk with him. Jason was actually a co-worker of Wayne's, so Wayne definitely treated him with kid gloves when it came to these things because he didn't want to have to sort out any bad blood with someone he worked with. I could tell that this, however, was a breaking point. Wayne asked me to come with him just in case, and I agreed. As we walked towards the backyard,

I noticed that the group of unfamiliar guys was headed in the same direction, just ahead of us, which made me feel a bit uneasy for some reason. We got outside just in time, to witness the horrifying scene. That group of guys had jumped, Jason. They were relentless

as they beat him senseless, punching him, kicking him, beating him harder and harder. It was a quick but very intense assault, and after just a few seconds of chaos, they stopped. One of them leaned over Jason

who was completely motionless and yelled, consider this a warning. Next time, it'll be your last. Then, in a show of audacity that still haunts me to this day, the group walked calmly through the party out the front door, and all got in a car and drove off. They didn't rush, they didn't glance back, they didn't do a damn thing to hide who they were. They walked, as if they owned the place, as if they were untouchable. In the aftermath, of course, nine

was called, and an ambulance arrived to tend to Jason, who I honestly thought was dead. Thankfully, he wasn't. Despite the attack, Jason refused to identify his attackers. He claimed that he had no idea who they were, and that he'd never met them. It was pretty clear that he was covering for them, for whatever reason. Nothing came of this event, at least not to the best of. of my knowledge. They were never identified, and I haven't seen any of them since.

As for Jason, I haven't really seen him either. This was also the last time that Wayne had an actual house party, which is completely understandable. We can all speculate what the hell this was, but it was pretty clear that Jason had upset someone that he shouldn't have. And I think that it's best that we all just left it. at that. I have a story that some people may read

and think it's not scary in the traditional sense. And it's really not, but it's still a nightmare situation to be in. And it's a story that I want to tell, so... Here goes. I used to volunteer for a local search and rescue team near a prominent national park. Our team was flush with medics,

experienced hikers, and even a couple canine units that could be called in if necessary. We weren't typically needed, but when we were, we gave it our all, and we absolutely saved the lives of a number of people out there in the woods. What follows is one of the most harrowing events that I have ever lived through, both as a search and rescue member and in my life in general. It happened on a morning that was colder than normal,

It was late November, though, so we knew that we were going to start to get that wintery mix in the near future. The sky was dark, even in the late morning. The clouds blocking out the sun, making it feel even colder out in the forests. We'd gotten a call that we needed to do a full sweep of part of the trails, as there was a hiker that had been missing for around three days. And each hour that passed made us all feel more and more desperate. it. With a cold coming in like it was, being out in the elements like this, depending on where he was, things could quickly go from scary to tragic. The area where he was thought to be was rugged,

a lot of steep cliffs with some horrifying drop-offs, a lot of terrain that was working against us. By the time that night fell on that first day of searching, the temperature had dropped sharply, and the sky decided to open up with some freezing rain and a bit of snow, which was going to make the terrain even harder to navigate. Our team started considering the possibility that this was no longer going to be a rescue mission, but a recovery mission. On that second day, one of the canine units had actually picked up a faint scent near a treacherous ravine. We followed, all of us getting that hit of adrenaline with that growing sense,

of dread crawling all over our brains. And then we found him. He was lying at the bottom of a cliff, twisted and broken, his face pale and his eyes wide open in the look of sheer terror. We were all pretty visibly shaken as we approached. Even professionals get scared as things come to a head like this. It was pretty clear that he was severely injured. His leg was visibly broken in ways that I can't.

can't explain. His body was covered in bruises and cuts, and he was looking pretty bad. We all jumped into action, working to stabilize him. At first, things appeared to be heading towards a better outcome. We had found him. He was still alive, and if we all worked our back ends off, we could get him out of here, and he would have a fighting chance. But when we all got to him and started to work, Things took a sharp turn. He was smiling at us, but his breathing started to get shallow.

His pulse was weakening, and his eyes started to fall vacant. We all knew what was happening, and we did everything we could to keep him with us until the helicopter could get to us. We all worked to keep him going, to warm him up and keep his heart beating, but we couldn't.

The man saw us. He knew that we were there, and I can only imagine that he thought that we were going to be able to save him, but we were too late, probably by no more than a few minutes. I will always have those thoughts, that if we had just woken up 20 minutes earlier,

if we ran just that slight bit faster, climbed down with a little less regard for our safety, we may have saved him. I will always have that in my mind, that this man was seconds away from being saved but had slipped away, that no matter how much he wanted to hold on, no matter how much he thought that we would be saving his life, his body just couldn't take it any longer. His body was carried away, and we were all left to face the unforgiving wilderness, now tinged with the sadness that we, as a unit,

had failed. Unfortunately, this story is just a reminder that there's not always a happy ending. And even those innocent little outings can turn into something so much more serious without warning. Ultimately, nature has the final say in how things go, and all we can do is try our best, try to be as careful as we can, and try to prepare for the unexpected. And the last thing that I want to say is, be careful out there. We can do a lot to save people, but there are times where things do not go as planned. For about four years, I worked for a buffet-style diner that was open until around 10 p.m.

But closing at 10 meant that we usually left at around 1130 or later. The job was not glamorous. I was a back-end worker, so I mostly just did the dishes and some of the prep work, which at a buffet is an absolutely ludicrous amount of work. Being that I did a lot of the back-end cleaning, I was also assigned trash, meaning that I had to pull all the bags of trash from the front and back, and then take them to the dumpster out back. Again, not glamorous.

Nothing that I would consider an entertaining job, but it was a job that paid okay, so I did it to the best of my ability. One night, around 11 p.m., I was doing my standard routine. I bundled up all the trash bags, got all the bins emptied, and headed out the back door of the restaurants to take the first load of bags to the dumpster. As I was heading back in to grab the second load of bags, I noticed that a pickup truck was pulling into the lot slowly.

I didn't pay it much mind, mostly because I was busy and really didn't care. I went back in and grabbed more bags, went outside and tossed them into the dumpster. When I turned back to head back in and get the rest of the trash, I heard a voice shout out, Hey. I paused, thinking that there was no way they were possible.

possibly talking to me. But then they shouted, Hey, you, come here. As I turned and looked over at the truck, the guy opened the door and stepped out, just kind of standing there waving me over. Again, I just stood there and stared at this guy. He looked like a linebacker.

He was covered in tattoos with what looked like a gnarly scar on his face. I would say that if, I had seen this guy in a movie, he would be playing that part of Mafia Enforcer, if that makes sense. The guy again motioned for me to come over to him, which removed any doubt about whether he was talking to me or not. I cautiously approached him, maintaining a bit of a distance. He then asked me, Hey, are you frank? His voice was cold, and it honestly sent chills down. He then asked me, hey, are you frank? His voice was cold, and it honestly sent chills down my spine.

But I am not Frank. Far from it. My name is David. And for the first time in my life, I was glad that my name was David. I shook my head and told that guy that I wasn't Frank. And for some reason I even said, Oh, no, sorry, my name is David.

As if me and this threatening man were going to become close friends. Without missing a beat, he cut me off and said, Well, if you don't want to end up skinned and dumped in the river, I highly recommend you go back inside, and don't come back outside for a while. His tone was flat, matter of fact, and like he was simply explaining something to me.

I stood there for a second and kind of stared at him. I had heard what he said, but it took me several seconds for the words to, actually register. I mean, who says something like that? Of course, the look in his eyes was dead serious, which kind of set me into motion. In a bit of a daze, I nodded and said, Right, yeah, uh, okay.

The whole way back into the restaurant, I expected to feel this guy grabbed me, or a knife to get stabbed in my back or something, but it didn't happen. I went back inside and I decided that my last load of trash could wait for a little while. After I got back inside and did my dishes and finished up my other duties, I started thinking about things and realized that I didn't work with anyone named Frank. There was no one in the building named Frank. So who was that guy looking for? I even asked my shift lead if anyone worked there.

named Frank, and she told me that there were no employees with that name. I told her that I was approached by someone out back that was looking for a Frank, leaving out the threatening to be skinned part, and she told me that it was probably just a drug deal, and to forget that it happened. Which, thanks, that helped quite a bit. Anyways, I never saw that guy again, and thankfully I don't work that job anymore.

The fact that I did work there for four years is crazy, and I do have some other stories that I may send your way at some point, but for now, I think this is the best one to put out there. I hope that the mystery man was able to find Frank, or I guess depending on his motives, that he didn't find Frank. Either way, thanks to him for scaring the hell out of me that night. I have a story about something that happened way back when I was only 11. It was about a party that happened at a local skating rink.

This was back when everything worthwhile happened at the skating rink, so if nothing else, you should be able to tell around when this happened. The rink was one of those ones that was set up to look like a disco. It had a lot of neon lights and a big disco ball that shot light spots all over the place. It was pretty well occupied every Friday and weekend, and a lot of kids my age would hold their birthday parties there. That's actually where this all happened, at a birthday party, specifically for my friend Henry.

Henry was turning 12, and he wanted to have a bunch of us kids out at the skating rink. The party was going awesome. We were playing the arcade games, skating around the big rink, and ate some of their really cheap pizza. So, overall, it was a pretty dang good party for an 11-year-old me. Henry's parents had paid for everyone, but they didn't allow you to rent the whole rink, so there were people there that weren't part of the party.

But then, about halfway through the party, a man walked into the rink. He must have been in his 50s, and he didn't have any kids with him, which was a bit odd since this was a skating rink. His hair was dirty and his eyes were bloodshot. And honestly, I don't know if he was homeless or just a fairly unkempt older man. But he looked completely out of place among a bunch of preteens celebrating a birthday party. Henry's parents were busy setting up the cake, so they didn't even notice him at first.

He just stood there at the entrance. and stared at us, watching all of us skate around and scowling. He didn't speak at first. He didn't really move. He just watched. I think I noticed him first, and I felt uncomfortable with how he just stared at me. It felt like he was trying to intimidate me, like he knew that I knew he was watching, and that he was 100% trying to let me know that I should be scared. I nudged my friend Jimmy, and I pointed him out. He asked who it was, and I shrugged, telling him that I didn't know.

When I pointed him out, this guy finally started moving, which actually scared me even more. I was freaked out by this guy staring at me, but him starting to walk towards me was even worse. He held that horrible stare as he approached, and I just stood there frozen, thinking about what was going to. to happen. Henry's dad finally noticed him and approached him cautiously. I could see that he was trying to stop this guy from getting any closer to us kids, but I obviously couldn't hear him over the music. I could tell that the man was not happy to have been stopped, and after a few moments of the two men arguing, he pulled back and head-butted Henry's dad square in the nose, knocking him to the ground. This caused the chaos to start.

Everyone had noticed what had happened and was watching this crazy man standing there and breathing heavily. The staff had paused the music and was pretty clearly trying to get the situation under control, but the second the music stopped, this man screamed. I advise you all to leave if you don't want to die. This led to a chaotic situation unraveling as everyone started rising. running for the front door. Us kids were all rushed out of the building, confused and scared.

We all got out, and to the end of the parking lot, Henry's mom asked us if we were all okay and making sure we were all there. Henry's dad took up the end. His face bloodied. I'm pretty sure this guy broke his nose with that headbutt. Obviously, someone had called the cops, because as we were all getting outside, a number of police cars pulled up

and cops all dressed in body armor ran into the building, while the others asked us if we were all okay and tried to figure out what was going on. Henry's mom tried to explain that this guy just ran in and threatened everyone, and that none of us had ever seen him before. Long story short, the cops got him restrained and arrested him. We found out that he, He didn't have any weapons or anything.

So his threat was just that. A threat. And odds are he wouldn't have been able to actually do anything, but none of us wanted to take that chance. Odds are, he was on, something, and whatever it was caused his rage to boil over. And he opted to take it out on Henry's dad. And, of course, ruin our fun time. This was supposed to be a fun day for Henry. An innocent celebration to welcome him to his last year as a preteen.

But, instead, it turned into a nightmarish experience that none of us who were there would ever forget. That man's face was burned into my memory. And, honestly, I'm beyond glad that I've never seen him again. This happened in middle school. back then I had taken a home economics class with Miss Clark Homeck was a boring class a lot of really basic stuff but there was like half a quarter where we got to learn actual cooking skills

and I was pretty eager for that because I loved cooking at the time Miss Clark was a stern and older woman but was honestly more bark than bite and while she would yell at the students, she would typically never follow through with any of her threats. Maybe if that weren't the case, then this all wouldn't have happened. But it did, and nothing can change it.

For the most part, the cooking parts of Homek, we were doing more baking than anything, and we didn't need to use any utensils that could be considered more dangerous than a whisk. However, during this, particular week, one of the lessons was knife safety, and we had to use larger knives to cut and chop vegetables. We were divided into groups and we had four stations that were each assigned with their own recipes. I was in a group with Tommy, a girl named Emma, and Troy. Now, Troy was a bit of an oddball. He was actually the class clown, always doing stupid things.

to seek attention, but his antics would often go beyond what was normal or safe. He would push things further and further until he actually got in trouble because he thought it was funny. In most cases, it was annoying, but not a huge deal. In this situation, however, it became a major problem. Our station had to make a vegetable stir fry, which meant a lot of chopping and slicing. Troy was in charge of cutting carrots, but he was obviously getting bored with it.

As we were all doing our parts, he picked up his knife and began swinging it around in the air. Look at me, I'm a ninja chef. He yelled out with his eyes wide and looking like an absolute idiot. I laughed nervously, but it was clear that this was not

okay behavior. He kept swinging the knife like he was fighting off some enemies in a video game or something. He kept swinging closer and closer to all of us, which definitely freaked all of us out. Troy, cut that out right now, or you'll be out of this class for good. Ms. Clark's voice boomed out from the other side of the room. Troy froze and had a look of defiance on his face. He lowered the knife and muttered something under his breath, but the warning seemed to have done

its job. For a while, things went back to normal. We all continued our cooking. Troy even went back to cutting up the carrots, but he was clearly unhappy with being told to stop playing his little game. And I could tell that he wasn't done. The second that Ms. Clark turned her back and was assisting another group, Troy grabbed the knife again and he starts swinging it around again, making what I guess were

ninja noises. This time it really wasn't funny. It was downright terrifying. As if in slow motion, I saw Emily walk past Troy. Her back turned and she was completely unaware of the danger. Troy's arms swung wide, and then the unthinkable happened. The knife connected with Emily's face. And more specifically, her eye.

A scream ripped through the room causing everyone. to jump. Emily's hand flew to her face, blood running in between her fingers. Chaos ensued. Miss Clark rushed to Emily's aide, her face pale and her hands shaking. Troy dropped the knife and his face went pale as the realization of what he'd done slowly dawned on him. The school nurse was called, and Emily ended up being rushed to the hospital.

Troy was taken away by the school's security officer. he actually looked more shocked about what had happened than most of the class. We were all left in the room with a bunch of half-cooked food, and blood-spotting the floor where Emily had walked. We just sat there in silence. That image, though, the visual of Emily getting hit with that knife, and the sound of that scream that she let out, those were haunting. In the end, Emily actually lost her,

Troy was expelled and none of us ever saw him again. When Emily was able to come back, she was a good sport about having to rock an eye patch, claiming that it was going to be the newest fashion statement, but it was such an unfortunate situation. One that absolutely could have been avoided, had Troy not been an idiot? The Homek class wasn't the same after that. knives were handled with trepidation, and we were no longer allowed to be split into our own groups. We did everything as a demonstration in front of the whole class, one at a time instead.

I think everyone learned a harsh lesson that day, about how fun and dangers share a very fine line, and how quickly things can go wrong. I'm not typically one to share personal stories online, but I have a bit of a position. bizarre and frankly terrifying event that I experienced during a move several years ago. It genuinely freaked me out, because it could have gone much, much worse, and I think that I got really lucky with how it all actually played out in the end. So, several years ago, my boyfriend and I were preparing to move into a new place. He ended up having to work through most of the days that we were planning on moving, so

most of the packing, boxing, and actual moving of things from one place to another fell solely on my shoulders. He recommended that we just hire someone, or ask my brother for help, but as stubborn as I am,

I absolutely refused to let anyone touch my stuff. I assured him that I could handle it and that I would get it done while he was at work. One of the days, in the midst of our move, I had packed up most of the rooms into boxes, and most of them had large stacks of all our things in said boxes sitting in the middle of the room. I was working on the bedroom at this point.

It was the last room that we needed to get packed, since it was the main room we were still using. I was standing there, emptying the dresser, when I thought that I'd started hearing talking. Initially, I shrugged it off as possibly coming from outside, thinking that I may have just left the upstairs window open. The more I listened, though, it became rather clear that the voices were coming from upstairs, inside the house. A chill ran down my spine when I was hit with that sudden realization that I was not alone inside my house. Part of me wanted to shout out, ask who it was, but then it kind of clicked that these two people had broken into this house, in the middle of the day.

They probably weren't there for conversation. I quickly jumped into the closet having to squeeze through the stack of boxes that I'd placed in front of it and shut the door, just standing there with my heart beating hard. I could hear the intruders walking through the house, stepping through the kitchen, and then I heard them walk down the steps and into the bedroom. As they walked into the room, one of them,

his voice, scratchy and gruff, asked, "'You sure this is where he said they lived? These people look like they're moving. I don't think they were going anywhere.' The second voice responded with, "'Yeah, I'm pretty sure.' They went quiet as if they were waiting for something, and after a few moments, I heard.

one of them rummaging through one of the boxes outside the closet. He started making joking comments about my clothes and items, which really made it that much worse. Not only was I scared out of my mind, this guy was violating my privacy and handling my underwear. This whole thing felt surreal. Like, was this really happening? Was this some kind of messed up joke or something?

After a few minutes of him commenting on my stuff, and the second guy huffing impatiently, the second voice said, You know what, let me go call him and make sure something seems off about this. The silence after that was deafening, punctuated only by the remaining intruder's casual rifling through my boxes. I could barely even breathe, fearing that if I did, I would give myself away. when the other guy came back his voice sounded way more urgent than before hey dude come on

we got the wrong house I wrote the address down wrong the other man chuckled and said something like damn man that could have been bad imagine if they were home and we got the wrong person then their voices trailed off as they walked upstairs and out of the house I stayed huddled in that closet for a while longer, too terrified to move.

When I finally got my nerves up to step out, the house was completely silent. I quickly checked the hallway and bolted into the garage to grab my cell phone from the van and called 911. The police arrived, they took my information, and they checked the whole house for me. They asked if I had seen the two guys, and I told them that I hadn't. because I had hidden in the closet. I told them what the guys had said, and obviously they were concerned. They told me they would do what they could to find them, but with how little I could give them, I doubt they ever did.

Nothing was stolen. Nothing was disturbed outside of the items in the box the guy was going through, and nothing happened during the rest of that week. I couldn't have been more thankful to have been moving out of that place. The memory of this still unsettles me, and it absolutely taught me a very valuable lesson. Lock the door. Always make sure it's locked if you're not near it. There was no forced entry, so they walked right into the house with literally no issues.

I have no idea what they were planning on doing, but, based on the conversation, I could be pretty certain that their intentions were not good. I feel bad for whoever it was they were looking for, but I'm glad that I never had to see them again. Let me take you back to a time when I was in college, and I was broke AF. I was in between part-time jobs and was needing some cash to pay my phone bill, and I was told by my mom that she had a coach,

worker that was looking for a babysitter for the following Friday. Well, what luck. I needed money. They needed someone to watch their kids. Win, win. They had two little kids. A boy and a girl.

And they were just the cutest kids that I'd ever seen. Well, at first. Carmen was the older of the two. He was five and was a very giggly kid. Carrie was four and she was the definition of a adorable little girl.

They seemed pretty normal on the surface, like I said. They were playful and cute, and pretty much right away I had this feeling that this was going to be a super easy night for me. They were watching TV for a while, and I was making dinner for them, just getting some pasta boiled and chicken cooked for spaghetti. Carrie didn't like beef, so they used chicken. After the show ended, Carmen asked. if they could go upstairs to play while I finished dinner,

and I told them that was fine since it would still be a little bit. The two of them run upstairs, and I'm just left to finish up the food. No big deal. I finished up the spaghetti, and I got it plated for them, and then headed up the stairs to let them know that dinner was ready. I get to the outside of their door, and I can hear the two of them giggling and laughing quietly, peppered with some hushed whispers.

I knocked softly on the door and asked what they were doing, not wanting to scare them or anything. When I asked this, I heard a bit of shuffling and then heard Carmen say, Oh, nothing. With his voice coated with that sugary innocence that told me they were doing something that they weren't supposed to be doing. It kind of put me on edge, and it just felt off. I pushed the door open to see what it was they were hiding, and my heart skipped a beat.

There they were, both sitting on the floor huddled around a Ouija board. Where they got it from, I didn't know, but I was a bit speechless for a moment before I gathered myself. Guys, you should not be playing with that. Where did you get that from? I was firm but calm when I asked my question, trying to mask. my nervousness. Carmen responded with, I found it in the closet.

It's cool. It spells words. I nodded like, yep, that's what it's for. And I ushered them out of the room and down into the kitchen. I went in to pick up the board, and I swear that that room felt ice cold. I can't prove it, but I swear it.

We all went downstairs, ate our dinner, and after we cleaned up the table and dishes, Carrie asked if they could color down at the kitchen table. I figured that was fine. They would get into less trouble doing that than playing with a Ouija board at least. I got them some paper, got their tackle box full of coloring items out onto the table.

At this point, I had mostly brushed off the whole Ouija board situation, thinking it was probably nothing. They didn't know what they were doing and that they had to have intent to even do anything with it. Right? After some time, Carrie skipped back into the living room, a proud smile paced on her face, as she held a piece of paper against her chest

and just stared at me with her big eyes. I asked what was up, and she said that she had made something for me. I asked what it was, and she flipped the paper over, and my blood ran cold. It was a drawing of a tall, menacing, incredibly demonic figure. All black with horns and a large mouth, red eyes.

It was crude, as children's drawings often are, but there was something horribly unsettling about it. I asked her trying to keep my voice steady. Sweetie, what is this? Without skipping a beat, she replied in that cute little carefree voice. voice. It's who we were talking to upstairs. He doesn't like you. He said that he wants to cut you up. She then giggled and skipped back into the kitchen to continue coloring. I was honestly paralyzed.

Her words just echoing in my head. He doesn't like me? He wants to cut me? I just kind of laughed and folded the picture up and put it in my pocket. When their parents got home, I tried to talk about it, but they didn't really see anything concerning about what had happened. They laughed it off and just said, Oh, yeah, she's really imaginative, and dismissed it. Helpful, I guess. Obviously, nothing else happened that night, and I was never attacked by some demonic being or anything. But the overall feeling I was left with that evening was nothing short of skin crawling. Those kids were adorable, minus that business,

but I was happy to know that I wasn't going to have to babysit for them again after that night. Call it intuition or paranoia, but I was seriously worried that something was going to latch on to me after that. But thankfully I got away, a bit mentally scarred, but physically unharmed. As a kid, summer camp is synonymous with freedom, adventure, and summertime fun. My experience, on the other hand, is nowhere near fun.

My time at the summer camp, back whenever I was 12 years old, took a horrendous turn just three days into camp, when I decided that I wanted to take a hike alone. A decision that quickly turned into the most painful thing I've ever gone through. The summer camp that I went to was this neat little Bible-focused place in the middle of the woods, tucked away in the middle of nowhere Midwest. I'd gone to this camp once prior and had no problems. This was my second time going, and because I was 12, I was part of the young, teen group.

This meant that during the time at the camp, we were given free days to, in their words, find ourselves and venture into God's glory. Basically, go out into the woods with friends and enjoy nature. Now, I didn't have any friends there, which meant that I did my hikes solo. Despite this, these were my absolute favorite days of camp. I loved going out and identifying the plants, the birds, the bugs, all that. They would give us a checklist that we could fill out for a prize.

I never found out what that prize was because I never saw a chipmunk while I was there, which, thinking back, I guess I could have just checked it off and said that I saw one. Tangent aside, I had a great time just being out by myself. It was on one such hike that my day took a sharp turn, both literally and figuratively. Walking along the narrow dirt path, my foot got caught. on a large tree root, and I was sent tumbling down into the small gully to the side of the dirt path. It wasn't a large ditch or anything, but it was enough that the fall was definitely going to hurt.

I remember feeling the dirt slip out from underneath me, having a sudden jolt of pain, and then an overwhelming feeling of fatigue. To put it bluntly, I had fallen down and somehow hit my head and basically knocked myself out cold. When I woke up, the forest seemed really weirdly silent, and like it was spinning. Dazed, and I tried to piece together what exactly had happened. I was laying face down on the ground, my arm throbbing in pain. I was incredibly confused and woozy for all of ten seconds, which is when the real pain kicked in.

A burning sensation spread across my face and my arm. The intensity of it was enough to make me jump up to my knees from where I was lying. I brushed my hand across my face to figure out why I was in so much agony when I came to a horrifying realization. Fire ants. I had fallen face first into a fire ant mound. I started screaming. My shouts echoing through the woods as I jumped up and sprinted back to camp,

slapping and brushing at my face and arm in a desperate attempt to get these ants off of my skin. The pain just kept feeling like it was getting worse and worse. And I just remember thinking for some reason that they were burrowing under my skin. That's how bad that it hurt. When I got back to the camp, one of the counselors saw what was going on and immediately rushed me to the shower room, not wasting a moment to get my clothing off and blasting me with cold water from one of the detachable showerheads.

Each and every drop of the water was a small bit of relief as it washed away the ants. I was literally sobbing as I watched those little bastards go down the drain. Of course, that wasn't the end of it. I don't know if you know this, but fire ants contain a venom called paparidine. something I looked up while typing this out. It's a nasty venom, that when you get too much of it, such as when you're stung by hundreds of these suckers,

can and will cause major issues. This was the day that I learned that I wasn't allergic to them, which was probably the only mercy in all of this. I did, however, get horribly sick. Throwing up, struggling to sturdling to, sleep through the pain, dealing with various other issues. The swelling and blistering on my face were so bad that I could barely open my eyes. I remember one of the kids coming to visit me in the hospital, and he joked that my face

looked like hamburger. That comment alone added a whole new level of terror to this. As mentioned, I wasn't allergic, thankfully. If I were, I can tell you that this story. would have had a much more grim ending, one that someone else would have had to have written. I was left with a number of scars from the blistering and scabbing on my face, and I still actually have these scars all this time later. The right side of my face is definitely not my good side, is all that I'll say to that.

To this day, I cannot stand the sight of ants. Each tiny little bugger reminds me of that hike and what they're capable of. I guess all I can say is, if you decide to go hiking out alone on a summer day, try to watch your step. And if you see a mound of dirt that's teeming with activity, just stay away from it. Because the consequences might just leave you scarred.

This experience is one that I've kept to myself for a very long time. And I've always wanted to put it out there, but I've always had this concern of people telling me that I was lying or was just making it up. I will say that I am not making this up at all. It may sound like a crazy story,

but it is something that happened to myself and my cousin when we were much younger. I'm not much of an author, so if the story, feels a bit stiff, I do apologize. I'll try my best to make this detailed and written well enough. But this is the story of the night that my cousin and I believe we ran into the Jersey Devil out in the Pine Barrens.

As I've said, I was spending my time with my cousin back when I was about 20. While I was there, we had made plans to go on this camping trip as a way to wrap up our summer. as is only natural, when you're in that part of New Jersey, I had told him that I wanted to spend a few night in the Pine Barrens, an area notorious for those urban legends about how creepy the woods can be. We were fully aware of all the stories about the Jersey Devil, but being that age, and with him having lived there, we all thought that it was just a joke,

or a story to tell the kids to keep them out of the woods. We got to our destination, a spot that was a bit secluded, far away from other places, and we settled in for the night. The first day was great. We did some hiking, cooked up our food over a small fire, and we turned in pretty early. The second day we spent a lot of time out enjoying the weather, and we had broken out our case of beer, so that we could party a bit over the campfire. That was honestly the overall plan of the trip. I was 20. My cousin was 22, so we planned on going out into the woods to get drunk and have a good time. That night, we started drinking and sitting around the fire, and my cousin started telling me about his plans for college, how he had actually gotten a scholarship for whatever sport it was that he played, and in the middle of this sentence, we both paused and looked into the trees.

The silence of the forest was broken by a weird sound. A high-pitched scream mixed in with a low growling sound. When we both heard it, I mentioned that it was probably just a wounded fox, that they make some really creepy noises, and it was most likely just that. My cousin laughed and said that it was creepy as hell, and then we heard it again. Except this time, the higher-pitched tone was like,

less prominent, and the growling was way louder. I then said that we should probably just go ahead and get to sleep. Part of me wanted to just ignore the sound and not think about it. My cousin agreed, and we got into the tents and went to sleep. After a bit, I did doze off, but I was woken up by that same sound again, probably around an hour or so later. I heard it, and my eyes shot open. like an instinctual reaction to the sound.

Like my body was telling me, hey, you need to wake up and be scared. I just stayed there on the sleeping bag for a few seconds, staring up at the ceiling of the tent, thinking about whether or not this thing was actually a threat, when I started hearing footsteps near the tents. I glanced over to where I thought they were coming from, and sure enough, there was something there.

The steps were a bit heavy as this thing approached. I started to get hit with this heavy fear when I saw a hand-like appendage pressing against the fabric of the tent, almost like it was rubbing it, trying to figure out what it was. The thick fabric crinkled and folded slightly as this thing started pushing against the walls, and then the top. I just sat there thinking, it'll lose interest, right? it'll walk away. Thankfully, it did lose interest after a while, and it did start walking away.

At that point, though, I had to know what the hell that was, and when I was satisfied that it was a good distance away, I unzipped my tent to see if I could find this creature. To my surprise, my cousin was already standing outside of his tent, pale as a ghost under the moonlight. It was at that point, that I realized that this thing wasn't just a normal creature, nor was it something I was imagining. He had seen it very clearly.

I saw this thing too, but he saw it in much better detail. What I saw was a very tall beast-like thing covered in matted fur, and I swear that this thing had wings that were tucked in. My cousin added two details to this that makes me think this thing was the Jersey Devil. He said that it had glowing eyes that he saw as it walked away, and he claimed that it had legs with knees that shifted backwards, like a goat. I can't make that claim as I didn't see its eyes, nor could I really see its legs in detail,

but this thing was not a normal animal. That much I am certain of. Unfortunately, it was the middle of the night, and we were both a bit tipsy, so driving away wasn't really a good idea. We both made a conscious decision to start our fire back up and just wait the night out, and then drive away when we were sobered up in the morning. When the sun came up, we got our stuff together and got the hell out of Dodge.

To this day, I'm convinced that what we encountered that night was the infamous Jersey Devil. I can't explain what it was or why it chose to check out our little camp like it had, but I'm grateful that it didn't go any further, or decide that it wanted us, and not just to check our tents out. I know that nothing really happened to us, thankfully, but it was still a scary moment. That was the only time we ever camped out in the Pine Barrens,

and I will never forget that thing, whether it was the Jersey Devil or not. My friends and I loved going, to this local festival that our county held every year in July. They had live music on an open field where you could bring your own blankets, chairs, and drinks. They had some fair games and food, drink, and craft booths set up for you to shop till your heart's content. They were never really a bad time. Between the single people, the groups of friends like us, and even the families with kids and older couples,

choosing the craft, everyone always seemed to be in high spirits and looked after one another. That's exactly what we were expecting when we went there this time. There were five of us that went there together, Ashton, Navia, Tanner, Page, and myself. We brought a couple of blankets in a small cooler with our beverages of choice. We just lounged around talking and enjoying the electric atmosphere that surrounded us. The band was full of energy, and everyone in the crowd was cheering them on for more, and after the band was done, there was going to be an intermission before the finale. The finale was going to be fire jugglers, so they had set up an area in front of the stage

where there was a small fire pit. While they were setting up, my friends and I walked around the booths, got ourselves something to eat, and even played a couple of games, betting on who would do the best and which of us would fail miserably. Once it started getting darker, we heard someone talking through the audio system from the stage, and decided to start making our way back to the field to settle down again with more drinks and entertainment. When we got back there, we danced to the music and waited for the show to start.

It was nearing the end of the main event, so there were already a lot of people that were drunk, or should I just say under some kind of influence. We all laughed as we watched other people being silly with their friends, too. Then the lights on the stage dimmed, telling us that they were ready to start. But it wasn't dark for long. The stage came alive with swirling flames and dancers going to the rhythm of the song. It was very impressive, and quite beautiful. We all watched in awe and the craft.

cheered them on as they landed each successful stunt, one after another. There was one particular guy that I noticed on several occasions that was absolutely enthralled by the entertainers. He was whistling, clapping for them, he would holler out wanting them to do more, all while dancing and pretty much headbanging to their music. He was pretty obviously drunk, but enjoying himself, and he wasn't being a new to anyone around him either. So no one was bothering him, of course.

Then the show came to an end, and many people started packing up, mostly the ones with the kids. My friends and I were all still sitting on our blankets, talking and deciding on if we wanted to stick around longer, or if we should go too. We started gathering up our stuff, but a few of us still wanted to go check out some of the booths. While we were waiting for Tanner and Paige to finish getting their stuff packed up,

I was looking around, taking in the atmosphere. They had the music playing again, and there were some people laying on the grass together. I saw the families leaving with the kids excitedly talking about the day, and I even spotted the man from earlier that was next to us. He was spinning around and dancing, slowly making his way towards the stage. The fire pit up front was something. still going, and I assumed, since they weren't the ones to set it up, they weren't going to be putting it out, either. But it was contained, and people were taking notice of it to either avoid it,

or they were using it as a backdrop for their selfies. I even thought that it would be nice to get a picture of all of us with it as well. But then the happy and euphoric moment would be, brutally ended. I watched the drunk man climb up onto the stage as he continued dancing and singing. I instantly knew that this was not going to end well, and I looked around for anyone that I had seen him with. There was a girl and a guy that were standing with him during the show, but now I didn't see them anywhere, not even by the stage.

I thought to myself, I need to find someone in charge to let them know, so that they could get him down. But I was out of time. I turned to mention it to my friends, and the man yelled out something and jumped, right into the fire. The air filled with screams and gasps as we watched him land in it,

and the flames engulfed him. Ashton, Tanner, and I ran towards the man, hoping to be able to help somehow as we yelled at our other friends to get help. Before we reached him, he'd stood up and started screaming. He managed to get out of the pit, but he was still on fire. Knowing how intoxicated he was and how he danced around with a bottle, I'm sure he had spilled it on himself as well, making this so much worse.

The man ran around screaming for help and flailing his arms. The crowd of people that was forming recoiled in horror. They were all desperate. to keep him away from them, but no one was doing anything to help him. As he ran towards people, they would shove him away, or he would run into a piece of the building, causing it to begin a new flame, that people were trying to put out. Tanner and I were trying to catch him to make him drop on the ground, but he wouldn't stop moving, as one might expect.

Your mind is already altered by the alcohol, and now you're in pain and don't know what to do. I thought about it afterwards, and God, I can't even imagine how you would handle that kind of situation. Tanner actually ran after the guy, tackling him, which also caused him to get burned, but we at least got him to the ground. That's when a few of us patted him down and tried to get him to respond to us while we waited for help. We were in the middle of a field. We didn't have much that we could really help with or do. I could only pray that he was still alive as he wasn't responding. I was frozen with fear as everything around me started moving slowly.

People were screaming all around, and the once lively festival grounds now looked a bit like a hellish landscape, with small fires starting everywhere. Those agonizing screams from the man replayed in my mind until the wails of the sirens finally drowned out my own thoughts. They started checking his vitals, at least confirming that he was still alive, as they got him on the stretcher to wheel him off. We watched as they loaded him up and left, leaving the rest of us with these haunting memories of what had just unfolded in front of us. We all tried to move on and shake off the event that we had just witnessed, but I don't think anyone could really move on from that.

Tanner especially He probably saved that man's life by tackling him to the ground and patting out the fire He wasn't talking much so We all thought it was best to leave I know it was a pretty restless night for me But I felt bad for Tanner as well I wanted to add that the accident was covered on the news

The man had third-degree burns all over his body And it also affected his eyesight I was thankful to hear that he had survived and told Tanner about it too, but that night still makes me sick to think about. That festival was always a lot of fun for me and my friends, and now that will always be a memory of how an innocent night of fun can quickly turn to chaos and change lives forever. When everything started with COVID, I lost my job for a while, and, while unemployment did help a bit, and my wife was able to keep her job, we were spreading ourselves a bit thin financially. So, I needed to do something. I thought, hey, let's offer handyman services on Craigslist.

I wasn't a handyman by trade, and I admit that I wasn't certified or anything, but I knew how to do most home repairs. benefit of my dad being pushy with making me pay attention to him when he worked. He was a handyman. And when I was a kid out of school, I had to go with him to all of his jobs. All that is to say that I put a post up on Craigslist to advertise my abilities as a handyman. And I priced myself lower than anyone else, hoping that that would be enough to entice people to convent. contact me. And entice it did. I got a notification on my phone the next day, an email from someone that had seen my ad, and they asked me if I could repaint a room. I've painted rooms before,

successfully, even, so I responded and told them that I would be happy to help them out with painting a room, if they needed. The deal went through quickly. They wanted me to come over the next day to start it and asked if I could finish it within the week. After a bit of finessing on the price and how quickly we could get it done, he agreed to pay me half up front on PayPal, and when the payment came through, I excitedly said, all right, I'll see you tomorrow. I got to the house and was a bit shocked to see the outside of it. It was not pleasant.

The yard was overgrown. the shutters and the windows were literally hanging off, and the exterior paint was peeling. Part of me was a bit confused. Why would you worry about the color of your living room and the outside of your house is so uninviting? The other part of me was thinking, I bet I could talk him into letting me mow his lawn and fix those shutters, too.

I rang the doorbell, and a middle-aged man answered. He looked a bit tired, but other than that, was pretty normal. He looked at me with half-opened eyes and a bit of a scowl, asking me what I wanted. I want to add here that I was wearing overalls, a hat, and carrying my painting equipment. It was pretty clear why I was there. I'm here to paint your living room. I'm James from the Craigslist ad.

As soon as I said this, the guy perked up. Oh, James! Come on in. Thank you for taking the time to help me out with this. I thought maybe this guy wasn't too social, and he put on a face for uninvited visitors. And when he realized who I was, he changed his tune. I walked into the house, and let me say that the inside of this house matched the outside. The house had clearly been neglected. The walls were tinged with that nicotine yellow, and there were cobwebs in the corners.

Each room had a fluorescent light in the ceiling, of which only about half worked, and the other half just sat there flickering. I wasn't there to judge, only to paint, so I ignored it and just maintained my customer-friendly smile. Then we got to the room that he was planning on dubbing, The Living Room. The walls were covered in a dirty, half-peeled wallpaper, and the air was stale. There was a chair in the room in one corner, but... Other than that, nothing else but a lamp. I wasn't expecting wallpaper, and he hadn't mentioned needing to depaper the room,

but he said that he would help me to remove the paper and make it easier, and then apologized when he realized he hadn't mentioned the wallpaper. He had some tools and some wallpaper remover to get it off the walls, so I wasn't overly concerned. We started on one corner together, but after about ten minutes, he mentioned that his back was hurting and asked if I would be okay if he sat in the chair for a couple of moments. I would prefer that he hadn't, but at the same time this was his house,

and he was paying me to do the work, so I wasn't really in a position to argue. He sat down and just started watching me take the paper off. And while I assumed that he would get back up to help, he just sat there. watching me with a big smile on his face. As the night went on, the room started getting a lot darker, and by the time it was hitting the evening, I was about three-quarters done with removing the wallpaper.

I started stripping off the last wall, and I noticed something on the wall underneath it. I was a little bit confused, but intrigued, so I stripped the paper off, only to see what looked like a pentacrouped, burned into the wall underneath the paper. I took a step back and said, What the hell?

When I said this, the man jumped up from the chair and stood right behind me, damn near breathing in my ear. You can see it? You can see that symbol on the wall? He asked this as if it was a serious question. Of course I could see it. It was burned into the drywall.

I turned slightly, which is when I realized how close this guy was to my face, which made me jump even more. Yeah, I can see it. What is it? I stammered out my stupid question. I don't know why I prodded for more information. I didn't want to know what it was, but I guess I was curious. My curiosity was rewarded with this man giving me this really... terrifying Willem Defoe Green Goblin grin.

It's for the ritual. He held that smile and then grabbed my arm tightly. I need your help for the ritual. I yanked my arm free and shouted, Help you with the what now? He started laughing, and I saw him reaching into his pocket for, I'm assuming, a knife or something. I shoved him as hard as I could,

and I told him that I was done with this nonsense and started to walk out of the room. He then started shouting about how I had to stay and how he had sent me the PayPal and that I had to finish the job. I told him he could shove his job and do a charge back on the payment, and I took off out of that house,

kicking myself for leaving my painting equipment, but it was a small price to pay for whatever that. hell this was. I jumped in my car and I started to back out, and I saw this man starting to run out of his house at me. And he seriously chased me out of his driveway and partially down the road. He was sprinting as fast as he could, keeping that creepy smile on his face the whole time.

Thankfully, this middle-aged creep was no match for a pickup truck, and I did lose him eventually. I don't know what all that was. I don't know if this was some kind of satanic insanity that he was trying to get me to be a part of or whatever, but the money he'd pay me was nothing in comparison to how terrified I was. Funnily enough, he never did a chargeback, or ask for a refund or whatever you have to do. So I kept the money that he sent. I did lose a day, and I had worked my back end off stripping that wallpaper, only for this guy to turn into an absolute lunatic, but I guess I got paid for it? I have a story that I have never shared online, mostly because it just never really felt like something I should share, but you convinced me that I should go ahead and get it out there.

So, here you go. This is probably the most terrifying thing that has ever happened to me, and it happened on what was a fairly normal day otherwise. It happened about five years ago, in the middle of the summer. Back when this happened, I was attending evening classes to get an associate's degree, and after class, I went to work. I worked as a box truck driver for a company that produced car parts, most of the last. just the plastic ones, though. It may sound strange to some, but the biggest part that we produced,

and what was probably our biggest moneymaker, were bumpers. For what they are, they're ridiculously expensive, and they break pretty easily. Anyways, my job amounted to nothing more than overnight parts delivery guy. I got to drive this box truck

filled with parts to each of our partner dealerships in town, and I would unload the parts for them. It was a pretty lonely job. It was an overnight job, so no one was ever at the dealership, so it was just me, my truck, and whatever audiobook I was listening to at the time. It was, for lack of a better word, fairly mundane. On the night that this happened, I actually remember that I was listening to the audiobook version of Ready Player One

because the movie had just come out in theaters and I wanted to hear the book before I went to go see the movie. I was just driving along, plotting out my route and glancing at the delivery log to see which locations I needed to go to that night. When, out of nowhere, this car came blowing past me on the small two-lane each-direction highway. It didn't surprise me.

People hate being behind trucks. I just didn't really expect to see anyone else, on the road this late. They gunned past me on the left, the headlights glaring in my side mirrors, and before I could even react or really process the car, they cut sharply in front of me. I swerved hard, narrowly avoiding a disastrous collision.

My heart was pounding, my palms were sweaty on the wheel as I veered over to the shoulder of the road. Interestingly enough, the other car also pulled over just in front of me. Part of me assumed that maybe they wanted to apologize, or maybe they were freaked out, or maybe they were about to go off on me in a bit of road rage, but nothing happened.

I sat there in my truck trying to catch my breath, and they just sat there a bit ahead of me, not moving or really doing anything. After about four minutes, two of the car's doors burst open and two figures jumped out. I assumed that they were going through the motions the previously mentioned road rage, but then I noticed that they were wearing ski masks. I barely had time to process this before I saw them sprinting towards my truck, guns in hand.

I was struck with this paralyzing fear. I really only had two options. floor it and risk getting shot, or do whatever the hell they demand it. I was a delivery driver, not a hero, so I decided that it would be less risky to just comply. I put my hands up, and I climbed out of the truck, my hand shaking and my breath ragged. The masked men did not waste any time. They nudged me out of the way, and two of them jumped into my box truck and then sped off. The third person that hadn't left the car, then gunned off down the road, following the truck,

leaving behind nothing more than the screeching of their tires. Then there was me, just standing alone on the side of the highway, watching the taillights of both vehicles as they disappeared into the distance, and thinking about whether or not I was going to get reprimanded for this. As I thought about that, and about work, My mind stepped over to, who do I even contact about this? I then realized that I still had my cell phone in my pocket. I pulled it out and dialed 911 and tried to explain everything that had just happened.

I must have sounded insane because I remember the operator asking me to calm down, telling me to breathe, and then asking the same question a few times to clarify what I had said. She stayed on the phone with me while I stood there and, in the same spot the robbers had left me, just waiting for the police. Within a few minutes, I could hear the sirens coming my way, and thankfully they saw me just standing there, and realized that I was the one calling. They took my statement and information, and one of them offered me a ride back to the warehouse, while the other officers mentioned that they would drive up ahead to see if they could find the truck. Worse yet, they did find it. But it was not the

outcome that I had hoped for. They found the truck only about 15 miles up the road, abandoned off the side of the highway, and set ablaze. The truck, the parts in the back, and everything inside the truck was completely destroyed. The metal frame was

completely warped from the intense heat of the fire. To this day, I have no idea why this happened. Why me? Why did they take my truck? I can only imagine they did this for the hall, but the truck was very clearly marked as an auto parts delivery truck,

and I can't think of any modern parts that would net that much cash that would be in a truck like that. I guess maybe catalytic converters, but I can tell you that my list had zero of those. So if that's what they were going for, then I was a poorly chosen target. beyond that, it just felt so damn random and pointless. Either way, it was the most terrifying experience of my life, and I struggled to get back into the cab of another box truck without thinking about that visual of them running at me with shotguns pointing up at me. The fear, the confusion, that mental feeling that I might actually die for some bumpers.

I was just a dude driving a truck and doing that. my job and it was painful to be pushed so suddenly into this nightmare i do still work for the company and i did move up when i got my degree but i now work in warehouse and the only thing that i drive for them is the occasional forklift