Just Creepy: Scary Stories - 7 True Scary Stories from Reddit That Will Keep You Awake

Episode Date: June 17, 2024

Get ready for a spine-chilling experience with these 7 true scary stories from Reddit that will leave you on the edge of your seat! So grab a blanket, turn off the lights, and prepare yourself for a journey into the unknown. Watch if you dare! Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy Story Credits: ►Dangerous_Party_7554 ►No-Pomelo-8413 ►pieguy721 ►Best_Blackberry_4832 Timestamps: 00:00 Into 00:00:18 Story 1 00:15:24 Story 2 00:24:16 Story 3 00:31:52 Story 4 00:39:19 Story 5 00:46:06 Story 6 00:57:55 Story 7 Business inquiries: ►[e-mail] #scarystories #horrorstories #truescarystories #redditstories 💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀

You said this place was steps from the water. We just haven't found the steps yet. How much did we save? Enough. Enough to get lost. Or you could book a stay with Hilton. Welcome to your ocean front room. Just steps from the water.

The Hilton sale is on now. Book on Hilton.com or the Hilton app and save up to 20% to get the stay you expected. When you want savings, not surprises. It matters where you stay. Hilton for the stay. Last night, you spent two hours deciding what to wear to the party. This morning, it'll take you two minutes to list it on Deepop and make your money back.

Just grab your phone, snap a few photos, and we'll take care of the rest. The sheer dress and platform heels you'll never wear again, there's a birthday girl searching for them right now. Your one-and-done look is about to pay for your next night out, or at least the right home. Your style can make you cash. Start selling on Deepop, where Taste recognizes taste. Spring just slid into your DMs.

Grab that boho look for that rooftop dinner, those sandals that can keep up with you, and hang some string lights to give your patio a glow up. Spring's calling. Ross, work your magic. I'm a 36-year-old female in Sweden. I've worked in mental health care for the last 18 years, mainly with people with psychotic illnesses like schizophrenia.

I worked at a group home for nine years and was very close with my co-workers there, especially two females. In the last few years I worked there, another female started working with us. We'll just call her M. And the four of us grew very close. She was very timid, shy, friendly,

and we all got along well. She was often on long-term sick leave due to her own mental health issues, so we didn't see her much at work. However, she always showed up at our after-work dinners, allowing us to stay in touch even when she wasn't well enough to work full-time. She told us that she had a history of schizophrenia, just like the patients we were treating,

but that she was medicated and hadn't had any psychotic episodes for years. Since I have an education in psychiatry and extensive experience with schizophrenia, I had no judgment toward people suffering from the illness, and it didn't bother me to be friends with someone who had such a diagnosis. Even after what I will tell you, I still feel the same way. In the summer of 2023, I had moved on to work at a new place, still within mental health, but this time in forensic psychiatry, like a halfway house for mentally ill individuals who had committed serious crimes. The four of us stayed in touch

and still met for dinner parties. M. told us that she had been evicted from her apartment because of an incident where she accidentally entered her neighbor's apartment in the middle of the night. She explained that in the huge apartment complex, all the doors looked exactly the same, and she had simply walked into the wrong door by accident. She claimed the neighbors had created a scene and reported her to the police out of pure drama. I felt that while eviction seemed out of proportion for that incident, perhaps the landlord took action because he had judged her based on her medical history,

and I felt bad for her. I questioned her if something else had happened, but she insisted that that was the full story. In Sweden it's very difficult to get a contract for an apartment after being evicted. you pretty much get blacklisted. M asked me if she could move in with me, saying she was literally homeless, and I said, of course, you can. I've always gotten myself into uncomfortable situations by saying yes

instead of thinking about myself, and I had no idea how severe the situation would get when I said yes to M. I live in a small apartment with one bedroom, a living room that only fits a couch and a TV, a small kitchen, and a small bathroom. I also have two cats. We decided M would live in the living room, and I offered to throw out my couch so she could have the bed there, but she said she was fine with sleeping on the couch.

I insisted on giving her a bed, but she declined. There's a door between the living room and bedroom, but only an open arc between the living room and hallway, so she wouldn't have total privacy. I hung up a thick velvet curtain to give her a sense of a door and more privacy. There's another door from my bedroom to the kitchen, so I kept the kitchen door open at night for my cats to go in and out. She wasn't working at this time because she was on one of her long-term sick leaves while I was working shifts. Sometimes I had to get up at 6 a.m., and sometimes I didn't get home until 11 p.m. I have severe insomnia

and need to combine sleep medications. And even then, I wake up easily. I told her I would appreciate if she could try to stay quiet on nights when I had to get up early, but that it was fine to be loud when I was off work or doing evening shifts. She was a heavy smoker and coffee drinker, so I bought her a coffee machine to make her stay more comfortable. The coffee machine and sink are placed right outside my bedroom door in the small kitchen. The first night together, I had to get up at 6 a.m. for my shift. As usual, I had a hard time falling asleep. M. had been up several times that night to smoke, waking me up each time.

At 5 a.m., she started making coffee, and the noise woke me up completely. I asked her nicely why she was waking up so early, wondering if she had any plans. She said she couldn't sleep. I explained that I really needed that last hour of sleep because of work, and asked if she could wait until 6 a.m. to make coffee. I also mentioned that my epilepsy gets worse when I don't get enough sleep, and I was at risk of having seizures at work if I didn't sleep enough. She said that she wanted coffee with her cigarettes but would try to wait next time.

Despite this, she continued. to wake me up early in the morning and throughout the nights, insisting that she needed coffee with her cigarettes. I suggested making coffee the night before, or drinking iced coffee or Coke instead, but she refused. She demanded silence at 10 p.m. because that's when she wanted to sleep, and I respected that. She also had moments of binge eating, emptying my fridge and pantry. Once she ate an entire loaf of bread within 30 minutes of me leaving the apartment, promising to replace it once she got money. I'd also told her to feel at home,

so I couldn't really get mad, but it started to annoy me because of the cost and inconvenience. M had long black hair that was everywhere, on the sink, floor, and bathtub. I'm not a clean freak, but it was unpleasant, and she also left fingernails and toenails on the bathroom floor and drops of urine on the toilet seat. I saw a silverfish on the bathroom floor,

which feeds on hair and nails, likely enjoying its dessert. I initially tried to imply the need for cleaning by putting a broom and shovel in the bathroom, but it didn't work, and I eventually asked her nicely if she could clean the bathroom floor more often, using we instead of you,

to avoid making her feel attacked. She promised to think about it, but nothing changed. I started dating a guy and was head over heels for him. He was also in a roommate's situation, so we had a tough time getting alone time. I asked him if we could have one day to ourselves, occasionally, but she could have the apartment to herself as well. She claimed that she had nowhere to go, no friends or family. I wasn't asking for 24 hours, just a few hours for quality time, and she eventually

accepted after some persuasion, and stayed with a friend one night while I stayed away the next week to give her more alone time. One morning I found my cat's water bowl completely dried out. There was no spill, and it looked wiped out with a towel or paper. I had filled it the night before. I had filled it the before. She claimed that the cats must have tipped it over, but there was no evidence of a spill, and my overly social cats began to withdraw from her, spending most of their time in my bedroom, which was unusual. I had an old saucepan from the 60s that meant a lot to me because it was my grandmother's and held nostalgic value. She burnt it and made no attempt to clean it, just left it on the stove and went out for a smoke. I found it ruined and cried, and she didn't even

apologize. She also broke dishes several times without replacing them or apologizing, and this added to my frustration. After two months, she kept waking me up at night, binge eating my food, never cleaning, never leaving the house, scaring my cats, and ruining my things. I realized that she had stolen my prescribed sleeping pills. I had 20 in my nightstand when I left for work, and they were gone when I returned. She denied it. but no one else could have taken them. The summer heat was strong, and I felt locked up in my tiny bedroom with my two cats.

I never got any time to myself or alone time with the guy I was dating. My apartment was messy, and she was stealing from me. Out of nowhere, my old elementary school classmate texted me on Facebook, and asked how I knew M. He had seen my Facebook post about us being roommates.

I told him that we were old co-workers, and that she needed a place to stay because she got evicted. He said, I know. Do you know why she was evicted? Yeah, she accidentally went into her neighbor's apartment, I replied. He said, that's not the full story. She broke in and snuck up to their sleeping baby with a knife in her hand. The father woke up and wrestled her down, saving the baby. I felt sick to my stomach. Could this be true? It would certainly explain why she was evicted, but it sounded so horrible. She seemed so timid, and my friend had the full police report. Apparently the couple that she broke into was his ex-girlfriend's family. It seemed M. had a

psychosis during the break-in, but those parts weren't public. It was clear that she had been lying about what happened, and how long she had been mentally stable. I started getting paranoid and wanted her to move out. We had a contract with a 30-day notice period. I knew asking her harshly would mean 30 days of chaos, so I wanted to handle it nicely. I started looking for cheap hostels for her to suggest so that she wouldn't be in the streets. I sat down with her and explained that I missed my alone time, and the apartment was too small for two people. I said it wasn't personal, and that I wouldn't want to live with anyone right now. I expressed regret and hope that we would remain friends.

She looked crushed and said it wasn't possible. I showed her the hostel I found and explained that I needed her to move out because I felt suffocated. The summer heat made it tough to keep the door to the bedroom closed, and I needed my sleep. She said that she would try to move out, but not until the 30 days had passed, and I agreed. The first night after our talk, she got up and made coffee at 2.30 a.m. I nearly had a mental breakdown. I was going to get up at 6 o'clock and couldn't go back to sleep. I asked her in the morning for probably the tenth time to wait until I got up to make coffee, but she didn't even answer.

She just sat on the sofa and stared out the window. I was freaked out but left for work. She kept being weird, making a mess, waking me up, eating my food, and all I could think about was the incident with her and the baby and the knife. Eventually, I got so angry about being woken up by the coffee maker that I unplugged it and stored it in my attic, which she had no access to. It might have been childish, but I was going crazy and just wanted her to stop. The next night, I woke up at 4 a.m. to her making coffee in a saucepan.

I tried talking to her again, but she just stared and didn't reply. In my frustration, I stored the saucepan in the attic too. The third night, the guy I was dating was sleeping over because I was getting really paranoid about her weird behavior. I woke up to him poking me, whispering, look in the doorway. Em was just standing silently, staring at us.

It was like a scene from a horror movie, with her long black hair over her face. I didn't say anything at first, wondering if she was doing something by the door, but realized that she was still just standing still, staring. It reminded me of the ending of paranormal activity where Katie just stares at Micah.

I sat up and said, what are you doing? But before I could finish, she slammed the door shut, and I heard the sound of something metal falling and her running into the living room. I yelled, You need to leave! And just started crying hysterically, because this was turning into a literal nightmare. Of course, I didn't go back to sleep and was really happy to have company that night. I kept asking myself if she had done this before, staring at me in my sleep. The next day, I opened the door that she had slammed. shut and saw a kitchen knife on the floor. That was the metal sound that I had heard. I took all my

knives and locked them in the attic. I asked a friend to come over when I told M that she had to move out immediately. During the conversation, I tried to stay calm, knowing that she had a mental illness and meant no harm despite my frustration. She didn't answer me, just stared out the window. She left the apartment and sent me a text, saying that I was disrespectful for bringing a friend over to her place. That night, I thought that it would be quiet without the coffee maker or sauce pans, but at 3 a.m., I woke up to her burning dry coffee powder in a frying pan, and I was terrified. Her face was dead, her eyes black, and I suspected that in that moment she was in a psychosis. I stopped the fire that was starting, and she ran off to the living room in silence.

She had an appointment with her psychiatrist the next day, and while she was away, I packed all her things and sent her a text telling her that she needed to pick them up and return my keys. I offered to give her money for a hostel for the remaining 26 days, and she didn't reply. The guy I was seeing came to keep me company in case she fought about it, and she didn't. She left the keys without looking at us, and left. Our co-workers told me that she moved in with the guy she was dating, and stayed there for a few. few weeks until she somehow got an apartment on her own. She started working again, and I was always happy to hear this, and she seemed to be doing well. Then in January, one of our old co-workers told me that M had called her, saying, everything must burn. I have a baby to save, and some other

very delusional stuff. She had called 1-12, the Swedish emergency number, but they hadn't taken it seriously. M. then proceeded to burn her entire apartment down because the voices in her head told her that she had to burn everything to save her friends and family. Her neighbors tried to rescue her, but she fought them off and ran back in, pouring liquor on the fire to make it burn more. She was arrested and sentenced last week for aggravated arson, and she will serve her time in a mental institution. Ironically, she will probably be in the facility where I used to work and where she used to work herself. My old co-worker was a witness at the trial. Apparently, M had stopped taking her medication, Abilify, because she felt that it made her numb and thought that she was

stable enough to function without it. Apparently not. She had also stopped taking her medication the last few weeks that she stayed at my house, which explains her behavior. It's disturbing to think about what could have happened to me and my cats if she had stayed, or if I had been a heavy sleeper. I also think about what could have happened to that baby she snuck up on before she was evicted. I know it's crazy that I didn't throw her out sooner. It was complicated. The reason I haven't been able to talk about it with my friends is that they sympathize with her and minimize my experience. They think I'm making a bigger deal out of it than it was, and I sort of understand, since they never saw the darkness in her eyes that I saw in those last couple of days.

at San Manuel is California's number one entertainment destination for today's superstars. Catch the Jonas Brothers return to the Yamava Theater stage on April 30th, the powerful vocals of Demi Lovato on May 17th, and the signature Southern Country Rock of Eric Church on July 19th. Tickets on sale now at Yamavat Theater.com, only at Yamava Resort and Casino, celebrating its 40th anniversary. You in? Must be 21 to enter. This is a Bose moment. It's 10 blocks from the train to your apartment door. 10 basic, boring city blocks until

the beat drops in Bose clarity. Streetlights become spotlights as you strut down the sidewalk, your own personal runway. With Bose, you get every note, every baseline, every detail, just as you should. Those 10 blocks, they could be the best part of your day. Your life deserves music. Your music deserves Bose. Find your perfect product at Bose.com.

Introducing the new Best Skin Ever Ultra Slim Precision Concealer. from Sephora Collection. It's full coverage with a matte finish and perfect for any look, whether you're building it up for a full glam moment or targeting correction for a more natural vibe. At only $12, it's great for affordable touch-ups on the go. Get this new must-have concealer at Sephora,

or at Sephora.com today. A bunch of years ago, I matched with a guy on Tinder. I was a freshman in college and had just gotten out of a relationship, so I was having fun. I matched with this guy. He was 24. We'll call him D. He was a little odd, but we had similar interests and went to the same school,

so I thought, why not? The red flag started rolling in immediately when I said I would go on a date with him. Of course, the fact that he was much older isn't lost on me as the initial red flag. At this time, I didn't have a car. Dee offers to pick me up but tells me that he's not in town. However, he would leave his grandmother's funeral early, which was at a minimum five hours away, to come and pick me up. He showed up in sweatpants, a wife-beater, and flip-flops, which struck me as odd because

he said that he was coming from a funeral. We had made plans just to get a bite to eat and hang out. Since he had been out of town, he asked if it was okay if we stopped by to pick up his dog. He had left the dog with a friend. I like dogs, so I was like, no problem. It's dark, and we pull up to an apartment complex. He leaves me in the car and comes back with a golden retriever. The dog immediately starts growling at me, which has never happened to me before,

so I start feeling a little weird. Dee doesn't say anything about the dog's temperament. Because we have the dog, he wants to drop him off at his house, and this feels logical to me, so I agree. When we pull up to Dee's house, he asks if I want to come in. Not wanting to sit in the car, I do. The moment I walked in, I immediately knew that it was the wrong choice. The house was trashed, garbage everywhere, trash bags full along the front entry,

bottles and wrappers on the couch, and just general crap everywhere. Dee lets me know that he has a roommate, but that the roommate isn't home. I assume this is to imply that the mess isn't his. After brushing the trash off the couch, he asks if I want to sit and play chess. I had expressed that I was interested in learning, and he seemed more than happy to help me learn, and this too was a mistake. Dee begins explaining the game to me, and it isn't just fun first date explaining. He's gotten very serious, and is showing me each piece while telling me what it is,

what it does, and how it moves. D then begins questioning me over each piece, which I mostly get wrong, and every time I get one wrong, he yells at me the correct answer. and tells me to try again. He got more and more frustrated, and it made me very uncomfortable, so I suggested that we just pause chess and do something else. D suggests watching a movie, which is fine with me. The idea of us leaving and going to get food was seemingly forgotten. Dee tells me that we can watch a movie in his room, and I oblige. But then he explains that he has to put clean sheets on the bed. I'd assume that we were moving to his bedroom because it may have

been cleaner, but when we go in, it's not, and there was no TV in his room. He proceeds to put on Iron Man on his phone to have us watch, and we watched about ten minutes of it before things got intimate. I won't tell you strangers all these details, but long story short, we didn't actually go through with it. But other little things went down. I will say those things were consensual, and after they occurred, I was feeling really odd about the whole situation. and told him I didn't want to go any further than that. Dee was confused, but didn't push it at first. He said fine, and we watched maybe five more minutes of the movie

before he said that he didn't want to watch the movie anymore. He started complaining and asking me why I didn't want to do things with him, and I simply said that I wasn't in the mood anymore. He then began pressuring me to tell him exactly what it was about him that made me feel that way. And at this point we had moved from the bedroom back into the dirty living room, You might be thinking, seems like a perfect time to leave, and I thought so too. But this is where things start to get scary.

As if he knows I'm thinking about how I'm leaving, he explodes and begins to scream at me. This is a six-foot-something man screaming in the face of a five-foot-nothing young girl. Of course, I'm internally freaking out, but I'm trying to make sure that I don't make him any more angry, but also not agreeing to anything. For the next five to ten minutes, Dee screams at me about one. why I don't like him, why I don't want him, and continuously asks what's wrong with him, and to tell him. I tried to placate him as best as possible, saying the old, it's not you, it's me, and no, I don't want to leave.

Again, this man is my only ride home, and I'm truthfully not sure exactly where I was, though I did have my phone in Google Maps. I didn't have Uber downloaded at the time. D finally calms down when he believes I'm going to stay, then suggests we try playing some video games. I was in full internal freak-out mode, trying to make sure that I was playing the part of the interested date because I was terrified that if he felt that I wanted to leave,

he would freak out again. We played this game for a while. I forget what it's called, Overwatch or something, and Dee starts getting upset again. He starts yelling about why no one likes him, why no one wants to get to know him, and why no one loves him, saying that he has never had a girlfriend,

and all his dates had been just one-night stands. Again, I placate him with a, I don't know, lots of girls are just snooty like that. And at this point, I'm saying anything and everything he wants to hear. He even starts crying about how his mother never loved him, and telling me very deep, dark things about what his mother has said to him and treated him like. After he finally calms down once more, he gets up and goes to the kitchen to fix us some drinks. Now, if you're anyone with a brain, your thing. I was thinking, absolutely not, which was my exact thought at that moment.

I decline his multiple offers for a drink, and he asks instead of alcohol if I wanted water. And of course, I declined that too, feigning that I wasn't thirsty. I stayed at his apartment until about 1 a.m. because I was sitting next to him, terrified to one, ask him to take me home, two, say I'd walk home, or 3, figure out how to get an Uber. I've been trying to download Uber on my phone without him noticing, but then it asked for card information, and that was too hard to do without him noticing. So around 1 a.m., I yawn very loudly and say,

Oh, wow, it's 1 a.m. my roommates are going to be so worried about me. I laugh as if my roommate would be stupid to worry, and that I hadn't been watching the clock since he picked me up at 9 p.m. and then said, I'm so tired. I should get home soon. Again, I was super scared that he would freak out, but he didn't explode. He just looked at the clock and said, Yeah, it was late, but I was not taking any chances. So I said, I've got a great idea.

If I get to bed soon, I'd love to have breakfast with you on campus. I was hoping my offer convinced him that I was intending to see him again, and it did. He seemed very happy at the prospect of it and jumped up, walking me out of my house, into his car. The drive back was excruciatingly long. The ride was completely silent. Neither of us spoke. It was only a ten-minute drive, but I could have sworn that he slowed down every time we got to a particularly dark area or underpass. Dee dropped me off, and I smiled and made a good show of being tired, yet excited to see him tomorrow. He offered multiple times to walk me to my door, but I declined every time and said that I didn't want to bother him, and I'd say, and I'd say,

see him tomorrow. I walked myself to the building, and the moment I got around the corner, I sprinted so fast up the stairs into my door before he could change his mind and follow me to my door. When I got in my dorm room, I genuinely felt like I had just escaped a serial killer. Even now, writing it makes my heart race a bit. I never met up with him, but he begged me for multiple days after to meet up with him again. He even asked to pay me $20 an hour to sit near me in the library. I declined obviously, and only ever saw him once after at the gym on campus. He didn't see me, and I left immediately. I thought about Dee occasionally since the date, and wondered if all those girls that he had one night stands with had the same experience I did.

And I still sometimes wonder how many girls there were after me. As the sun dipped behind the distant peaks, casting long shadows over the Montana wilderness, Julia and I finished setting set up our campsite. The air was crisp, fresh with the scent of pine and the subtle musk of earth, a smell that always brought me back to simpler times. We had chosen a spot less frequented by tourists, but well loved by locals for its tranquility and natural beauty. It was our escape, a place to forget the world's chaos. I spread out our newly purchased map on the foldable table we had set up beside our tent. Looks like we could try hiking up to Black Ridge tomorrow, suggested, tracing the root with my finger.

Julia nodded, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. She was always up for a challenge, and our adventures together were the threads that wove our friendship tighter over the years. As the evening grew darker, we lit our campfire, the flames casting playful shadows around our sight. We sat there, roasting marshmallows, the crackling fire blending with the chorus of crickets, and the occasional distant howl of crickets, and the occasional distant howl of a coyote. It was perfect until a dusty SUV rattled past our campsite, slowing down just enough

to peak our curiosity and unease. There's something off about that, Julia murmured. Her brow furrowed as she watched the vehicle disappear, only to see it reappear minutes later, moving back the way it came. This time, one of the passengers leaned out the window, his phone raised as if filming us. I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the evening air. let's get a photo of their plate just in case i said more to assure myself than out of any real suspicion but as i approached i saw the plate was smeared with black paint deliberately obscuring the numbers my stomach tightened that's not good Back at the fire, we debated what to do. Probably just some guys being creeps, Julia said, though her voice lacked conviction. We were no strangers to the unsettling attention that sometimes came our way,

especially when we were alone in remote places. But leaving meant conceding, and neither of us was willing to let paranoia disrupt our long-awaited escape. We'll stay in the car tonight, I decided, and Julia agreed. We set up an empty tent as a decoy, hoping to try. trick anyone into thinking we were asleep inside. Securing everything else, we retreated to my old Ford, the back filled with blankets and pillows atop the folded seats, a makeshift bed that now felt like a fortress. As we lay there, the fire outside our window reduced to glowing embers. The forest around us held its breath. Every crack of a twig, every rustle of leaves tightened the knot in

my stomach. Julia's hand found mine in the dark, her grip firm. We didn't speak. Words were superfluous when the sharp edge of fear was pressing against our throats. Night in the wilderness is never silent, a fact you forget until you strain to hear every small sound. It was deep into the night when the murmur of voices sliced through the silence. My heart hammered against my ribs as I peered through the fogged window, catching the faint outline of the same SUV creeping past. They were back. My breath caught as I locked the doors quietly, avoiding the telltale beep of the alarm. Julia and I lay still, barely daring to breathe, listening to the muffled voices outside. As the minutes dragged into hours, the voices faded,

replaced once more by the natural sounds of the night. But sleep remained elusive, chased away by the echo of unwelcome whispers and the unsettling feeling of being watched. The night stretched endlessly, each minute longer than the last. Lying in the back of my ford, I could feel every beat of my heart, loud in the suffocating silence of the car. Julia's breathing beside me was shallow, punctuated by the occasional quiet shift, as she tried to find a more comfortable position on the makeshift bed we'd made from our camping gear. outside the branches of the pine trees rustled though there wasn't a breeze to stir them i strained to listen my ears picking up the subtle shifts in the nocturnal orchestra a twig snapping underfoot whispers floating through the trees they were muffled barely audible over the pounding of my own pulse in my ears but they were unmistakably human i felt julia tense next to me should we check it out she whispered her voice a threat of sound in the the darkness. No, stay down, I replied, my voice firm despite the tremor I felt. We couldn't risk

revealing our true location, hidden as we were within the car. As hours ticked by, the eerie sounds continued, now closer, now retreating, like a sinister game of cat and mouse played in the shadows just beyond our sight. Our car, usually a small sanctuary against the wilds of Montana, felt like a glass cage, fragile and all too visible. Finally, just before dawn, the unsettling presence seemed to lift. The sound of the SUV's engine faded into the distance, leaving behind a heavy silence that seemed to press against the windows. We waited, neither of us willing to break the fragile peace that had settled.

When the first light of dawn filtered through the trees, casting long, thin shadows across the ground, we dared to breathe a little easier. I was the first to leave the safety of the car, stepping out into the cool morning air that smelled of pine and damp earth. The ground was littered with pine needles, soft underfoot, muffling my steps as I moved towards the tent. The sight that greeted me stopped me cold.

Above our tent the deer hung, suspended from a tree. Its lifeless eyes stared down at me, accusing, its body mutilated in a grotesque display. Blood dripped slowly onto the fabric of our tent, staining it dark red. The limbs were severed, arranged in a chilling circle around the tent like some macabre ritual. My stomach churned, bile rising in my throat as the reality of what had occurred while we hid hit me full force. Julia joined me, her gasp sharp in the quiet morning. Oh my God, she breathed, her hand flying to her mouth, tears shimmered in her eyes,

but her face was set in a mask of determination. We need to call the police. Now. We didn't bother packing up. Our camping gear, our belongings. They all seemed contaminated somehow, touched by the malice of the night's events. Using our cell phone,

Julia called the authorities while I stood watch. The unease never quite leaving, despite the morning light. As we drove away, leaving behind the scene, I couldn't shake the image of the deer. the sense of being watched that lingered like a shadow. The wild had always been a place of refuge, of peace, but now it was tainted, corrupted by the actions of those who had turned it into a stage for their cruelty.

I don't know if I can ever come back here, Julia said quietly, mirroring my thoughts. And as we drove toward home, the wilderness that had once felt like a friend now seemed like a stranger, unpredictable and dark. Some things work better together. Like Narz's soft mat, complete conceit. and radiant creamy concealer. Soft mat complete concealer erases and blurs imperfections with full coverage.

Then, radiant creamy concealer evens and brightens with a luxurious texture and radiant finish. Two concealers. One, flawless look. Perfect for a no foundation base. Nars. Better together. Visit Sephora to shop now.

Predator Badlands. Now streaming on Hulu and Hulu on Disney Plus. Here, you're not the predator. You're the predator. Pray, pray, pray, pray, pray, pray, pray. Critics are saying it's epic, stunning, and breathtaking. Many have come here. None have survived.

Predator Badlands, now streaming on Hulu and Hulu on Disney Plus rated PG-13. I remember thinking that Christmas in Paris would be magical. That's what you'd expect, right? Lights, laughter, and the kind of holiday spirit that you only see in movies. It was supposed to be a grand adventure, a big girls' trip, as Mom called it. It was just Mom and me, along with some friends from the base where Dad was stationed. We were a military family, so home was wherever we unpacked our bags, and that winter, it was going to be Paris. Our first few days in Paris were like a dream. We visited all the famous

spots, the Eiffel Tower shimmering with its golden lights, the bustling Christmas markets that smelled of spiced wine and roasted chestnuts, and the wide-eyed wonder of Disneyland Paris, where I met princesses and pirates. Those days were filled with laughter and endless photos, moments I wished could last forever. But as they say, all good things must come to an end, and our perfect holiday took a sharp turn one chilly afternoon. We were all huddled in a Starbucks, the Louvre, the famous museum that was much more than just a home to the Mona Lisa. It had a sprawling underground complex with shops and eateries. It was there, sipping hot chocolate that all the moms, including mine, received the same

shocking email. Our flight back was canceled due to severe snowstorms. Panic didn't set in immediately. It was more of a slow, sinking feeling as everyone scrambled to pull up new flight information on their phones. It's okay, honey, mom reaversed. assured me, though her tight smile told me she was worried. We'll figure this out. The adults talked rapidly, discussing options, while I and the other kids sensed the change in mood and grew quieter,

our laughter fading away. The airline managed to re-book everyone, but somehow, in a jumble of bad luck and worse timing, Mom and I were placed on different flights. Mom argued with the airline representatives over the phone, her voice firm yet polite. There was no way she'd let me, a nine-year-old, fly alone. After what felt like hours, they told us the next available flight for us to fly together, wouldn't leave until four days later. We'll need to find a new place to stay, mom said as we left the cozy confines of the cafe. Our original hotel was fully booked for the rest of the season. I could tell she was trying to keep the mood light, but the crease between her brows deepened. Finding a new hotel on such short notice was tough, but Mom managed

to book something online. It'll be an adventure, she said, with a forced cheerfulness as we climbed into a taxi. The driver, a middle-aged man with a gruff voice, looked at the hotel address, and then back at us with a stern expression. Be careful, he warned as he helped us with our luggage. Don't go out at night. His words echoed in my mind as we checked. into the hotel. It was nothing like the pictures online, darker, dingier, a stark contrast to the festive spirit we had enjoyed just hours before. As Mom handled the check-in, I clung to her side, trying not to think about the taxi driver's warning or why he'd felt the need to say it. That night, as we settled into our less than perfect room, Mom wrapped an arm around me.

It's just for a few nights, she whispered. kissing my forehead. We'll make the best of it. Despite her reassurance, I lay awake long into the night, listening to the unfamiliar sounds of the city and wondering what the next few days would bring. The days seemed to stretch longer as Mom and I tried to make the best of our unexpected extended stay. We spent our last day wandering around the beautiful streets near Sacra Kerr, marveling at the painters and street performers who brought so much life to the quaint cobblestone squares. but even the bright winter sun and the vibrant colors around us couldn't completely chase away the unease that settled in my stomach every time I remembered the taxi driver's ominous words. By late afternoon, as shadows began to creep across the city, we decided it was best to head back to our hotel, earlier than we had any other night.

The warning to avoid the night echoed in my mind, and I clutched mom's hand a little tighter as we made our way back through the bustling crowds. Back in our hotel room, the sense of safety I felt during the day began to dissolve as soon as the sun set. The building seemed to transform at night, with every creak and whisper of the old structure feeling like a warning. Mom tried to distract me by turning on the French TV, which was showing a cartoon that neither of us understood but appreciated for the noise it added to our silent room. But then, the unsettling became terrifying. loud noises erupted from the lobby, shouts, and the heavy pounding of footsteps that seemed too forceful, too angry to belong to any normal hotel activity. The sounds of other people should

have been comforting, but these were not. They were alarming. Suddenly, there was a sharp knock at our door, followed by an insistent pounding. A man's voice, loud and slurred, filtered through the thin door, speaking rapid French peppered with angry shouts. We know you're in the there, he yelled, banging harder. I could barely breathe, frozen in fear. Mom's face was white as she quickly motioned for me to stay silent. She dragged me to the corner of the room, furthest from the door, whispering urgently, don't make a sound, sweetie, stay down. Her phone was in her hand, and I could hear the desperate trembling in her voice as she tried to call dad, but the call wouldn't go through, and she was left frantically texting him instead, telling him to call the police.

The pounding continued, each thud against the door sending a shockwave of fear through me. The man outside kept shouting, now making threats, his words unclear, but his tone unmistakably menacing. We sat huddled together, the only light in the room coming from the flickering images on the TV, which we left on to mask any sounds we might inadvertently make. Hours passed, hours marked by the periodic return of the pounding at the door, the shouting never ceasing. Somehow, amidst the terror, exhaustion took over, and I drifted into a fitful sleep, curled up in my clothes with my backpack as a makeshift pillow. Mom didn't sleep at all, her eyes wide and watchful, guarding our little fortress.

When dawn finally broke, the noise and the threats had stopped. Mom peaked through the window to see the first light of morning and decided it was safe enough to leave. We gathered our things silently, left the room with as much stealth. as we could muster, and didn't stop moving until we were safely inside the airport. At the airport, while waiting for our flight, Mom finally broke down and cried, not just from fear, but also from relief. We were safe, we were going home, and soon this nightmare would be just a memory. As a small consolation, the airline upgraded us to first class, an unexpected end to our harrowing ordeal. From the moment Dan and I decided to head out to the local

grocery store, I knew it wouldn't be just any regular shopping trip. The town we live in thrives on cheerfulness and an almost forced sense of community. Everyone is supposed to smile, wave, and chat like old friends, no matter the underlying currents pulling us apart. As much as I admired the lively spirit of our small town, sometimes it felt exhausting, especially for someone like me, who cherished quiet and personal space. Dan, with his striking tattoos, and the remnants of a tough past visibly etched in his posture, often drew mixed stairs. While some greeted him with warm, forgiving smiles, others couldn't hide their murmurs and skeptical glances. I always admired how he handled it, with a sort of resigned grace,

knowing he couldn't change his past but could shape his present. The grocery store was buzzing when we entered. The familiar ding of the door seemed to announce to everyone that Dan and I were there, triggering a subtle shift in the atmosphere. I tried to shake off the unease creeping up my spine as we grabbed a basket and started down the first aisle. Hey, I'll go grab some veggies, Dan said, nodding toward the produce section. Meet you by the bread in five? Sure, I replied, giving him a small, reassuring smile. As he walked away, I felt the safety of his presence diminishing, leaving me exposed somehow.

It wasn't long before I felt the weight of a stare, turning something. slightly I saw him. A man about my height with a too bright smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He approached me with an eagerness that set off alarms in my head. Hi, I'm John, he said, stepping a bit too close. His voice was friendly, but his proximity wasn't. You're Olivia, right? I've seen you around. Mind if I join you for your shopping. I backed away slightly, clutching my basket tighter. I'm actually just finishing up, I lied, glancing around in hopes of spotting Dan. Oh, come on, I insist.

It's always nice to make new friends, don't you think? John continued, not picking up on or blatantly ignoring my discomfort. As I struggled to maintain politeness, I felt increasingly trapped. I really need to find my boyfriend, I managed to say, hoping to deter him. Just then, Dan appeared at the end of the aisle, his eyes quickly sizing up the situation. Without a word, he moved to my side. His presence like a shield. John looked between us, his smile faltering but not disappearing.

Everything okay here? Dan asked, his voice calm but firm, his stance protective. Absolutely, John replied, though his eyes darted nervously. Just saying hello to Olivia here, but I see you're busy, so I'll leave you to it. Relief washed over me as John finally turned and walked away. Dan watched him leave, his brow furrowed. You okay? he asked, his hand-finding mine. Yeah, thanks to you, I said, squeezing his hand.

Let's just get what we need and go home. As we resumed our shopping, I couldn't shake the feeling of eyes on us. Was John just overly friendly, or was there something more? I shivered, wishing the world could be as simple as just a trip to the grocery store. As Dan and I walked out of the grocery store, the cool air outside couldn't wash away the lingering discomfort from our encounter with John. Dan's hand felt reassuringly firm in mine, a silent promise that he was there, always looking out for me. But even as we loaded our groceries into the car, I could feel his tension,

a silent vigilance that had tightened around him like a coil ready to spring. We're not coming back here for a while. Dan said once we were inside the car, his voice low but resolute. I nodded, understanding his concern without needing any explanation. The safety of familiar places had been tainted, and the comfort of routine replaced by caution. As we drove home, the silence between us was thick with unspoken worries. Once we were safely inside our apartment, Dan turned to me, his expression serious. Let's check out that Instagram account John mentioned. Something felt off about him. I hesitated for a moment, but knew he was right. Pulling out my phone, I searched for the username John had unwittingly given when I tricked him with the fake account.

What we found was a public profile that seemed normal at first glance. Pictures of landscapes, food, a few selfies. But the longer we looked, the more we realized how impersonal it all was. There were no friends tagged, no comments from family. It was as if John wanted to present an image of normalcy while revealing nothing truly personal. It's like he's hiding in plain sight, I murmured, scrolling through the posts. Dan nodded, his eyes never leaving the screen. And no locations tagged in any of these photos.

It's all too generic, he added, pointing at the pictures that could have been taken anywhere. We discussed the possibility that John might be more dangerous than he appeared, perhaps scouting for people to target. It was a chilling thought, one that made our own openness feel like a vulnerability. Later that evening, as we sat on our couch, the weight of the day's events finally settled around us. I couldn't help but feel isolated, a feeling amplified by the town's expectations of sociability. It's hard, you know, I said, breaking the silence. Feeling like you always have to be on guard, even among neighbors.

Dan reached out, his hand covering mine. We'll be okay. We just have to be a bit more careful. Keep a lower profile for a while. His words were meant to comfort, but they also painted a stark picture of our reality. We had to adjust our lives, change our habits, because of one unsettling interaction. It was a small but significant shift, acknowledging that the line between public and private had to be guarded more fiercely.

As the night drew in, the conversation turned lighter, but the resolve remained. We decided to change our shopping habits, opting for less frequented stores or different times when fewer people were around. It wasn't just about avoiding John or others like him. it was about protecting our peace, ensuring our little world remained intact despite the unpredictable nature of the one outside.

I hope this never happens again. I get so many headaches every month. It could be chronic migraine, 15 or more headache days a month, each lasting four hours or more. Botoxalibotoxin A prevents headaches and adults with chronic migraine. It's not for those who have 14 or fewer headache days a month. Prescription Botox is injected by your doctor.

Effects of Botox may spread hours to weeks after injection causing serious symptoms. Alert your doctor right away as difficulty swallowing, speaking, breathing, eye problems or muscle weakness can be signs of a life-threatening condition. Patients with these conditions before injection are at highest risk. Side effects may include allergic reactions, neck and injection site pain, fatigue, and headache. Allergic reactions can include rash, welts, asthma symptoms, and dizziness. Don't receive Botox if there's a skin infection. Tell your doctor your medical history, muscle or nerve conditions, including ALS-Lugherics

disease, myasthenia Gravis or Lambert Eaton syndrome, and medical including botulinum toxins, as these may increase the risk of serious side effects. Why wait? Ask your doctor. Visit Botox Chronic Migraine.com or call 1-800-44 Botox to learn more. This first started happening 15 years ago and would take place over the next 13 years of my life. It all started in the summertime, about four months after we had moved to a new house in a different state. I was nine years old at the time, and I didn't really have any friends in the air. One day, I was out in the front yard helping my dad with yard work. He would mow the front and backyards, and I would either pick dandelions out of the ground,

or water the plants at the front of the house. Not super helpful, I know, but I was nine and wasn't allowed to do anything with the lawnmower, besides maybe pull the cord to start the motor. My dad had just finished the front yard and had moved his way to the backyard while I stayed in the front yard to finish up. I remember seeing a package on the porch in front of our door and going up to pick it up, and that was when I turned around and saw him, a man in his late 30s, with long dark hair tied in a ponytail hanging down past his shoulders,

wearing a plain white t-shirt, black pajama pants, and no socks or shoes. He was standing at the end of our street, standing with his arms crossed and staring directly at me. Now for context, my house is four houses down from the end of the street. At the end of my street, there is a road that forms a T-shaped intersection. On the other side of this intersection from my house, there are three houses, with one house lined up with the middle of my street, and the other two houses sitting to the right of it. To the left of the house lined up with my street is an old steel treating factory that existed, surrounded by houses in our neighborhood, and, at that time, was still active 24-7.

This man was standing in front of the house lined up with my street. street, at the top of the T-shaped intersection, he was standing right off the edge of the street and in front of what I assumed was his house, just staring at me. As soon as I saw him, I immediately froze and stared back at him with a sudden uneasy feeling washing over me. The longer I looked at him, the more red flags I began to notice. To my nine-year-old mind, this man was dressed very strangely, and that had already been an immediate red flag, but the creepiest thing that stood out to me was his face. His face had absolutely no expression of any kind. There was just this intense and piercing stare with him looking directly at me. It felt like he

was staring right through me, and for at least two minutes, we stared at each other, never looking away, or even blinking. Eventually, the uneasy feeling built up enough for me to slowly walk myself down off the porch and over to the side of our house, never looking away from the man. When I made it out of sight, I ran to the backyard to tell my dad about what had just happened. I came up to him as he finished mowing the backyard and described what I had seen, and that was when he told me that he had seen this man the other day doing the same thing, except just staring straight down our street. Arms crossed, plain white t-shirt, pajama pants, no shoes, just like when I had seen him. After that, my dad told me that he

thought that man seemed off and to stay far, far away from him. Unfortunately, that would not be the last time that I saw the man at the end of our street. From that point on, I would see this man much more often. I would be riding in the car with my family, or outside, doing something in our yard or on our block, and I would look over and see him standing in the same spot, arms crossed, intensely staring. He wasn't there 24-7, but at least three days. a week, I would see him outside, sometimes for five or more hours at a time. If not staring at me, staring at someone walking their dog or a car passing by. Once, I tried to figure out his schedule, so I wouldn't have to be around him as much, but it felt too creepy keeping track of him,

because he would occasionally start scanning his head around looking for people to lock onto, which really creeped me out. Now some of you may be thinking, he's just staring and not doing anything, that's not that bad, right? Well, sadly, I would later find out that things were far worse than I had ever imagined. So fast forward about nine years. I am now 18 years old and looking to get a job to save up for my first car. I hadn't really been able to save any money up to that point, and my parents weren't in any position to be able to help me with purchasing one. So I knew that I had to try and find a job that would be easy for me to get to, and that would pay me enough for me to hopefully get a cheap car quickly.

Lo and behold, the steel treating factory next to the creepy man's house has a now hiring sign out front, and I decide that a two-minute walk to work had to be worth it, even if it meant walking by the creepy man's house. I had seen this guy doing this routine for almost a decade at this point and figured that it wasn't going to be a problem, so I applied and ended up getting the job. It was hard work, which usually consisted of heavy physical labor and keeping up a constant pace, but nothing I hadn't expected.

I started off fairly slowly, but ended up getting much better and able to do tasks much faster. About three months in, I was assigned to work on a machine that I had not previously worked on, located in the loading dock. From the loading dock I had a clear view of the wooden fence that separated the factory loading zone from the creepy man's house, as well as the front of his driveway where he would normally stand. I couldn't see the man standing at his post, but I was able to notice a large hole in the fence, which seemed like it had been made in some kind of accident. The fence was not broken cleanly, but there were splinters and cracks in the fence where the hole had been made.

I asked the floor worker who was with me at the dock, let's call him Ronnie, if he knew anything about this, and this actually got us into a longer conversation about the creepy man. Ronnie had been with the steel-treating factory for over 15 years, and had seen the man during his staring routine more than once. According to Ronnie, the hole in the fence had been made by the creepy man, and he had told the managers of the plant that it had been an accident with his truck. But that's not all. Ronnie then went on to tell me that creepy neighbor guy actually runs a daycare out of his house, and that it was an unregistered business and has actually led to police being called on him more than that. than once. This surprised me, as I had never seen the police over at his house before,

but after Ronnie told me this, something else occurred to me. When looking at creepy man's house, whenever his van wasn't sitting in the driveway, you could see one of those children's mini playgrounds with a slide and toys built into it, the kind toddlers would play with. This always struck me as odd because never once in those nine years up to that point had I ever seen anybody else come or go from his house, especially not any children. But I had never really dedicated much thought into it. After Ronnie told me this, I thought back to when I had first seen him as a nine-year-old, and all the other times he had stared at me growing up, and I began to wonder if he had been secretly plotting to try and get me over to his unofficial daycare. Sadly, I couldn't

really confirm what Ronnie had told me, and at this point, I had been dealing with my own personal problems at home, so I just filed the story into the back of my head as something I would not at all be surprised to find out was true. I left that job not long after this. I had saved up the money I needed for a car and was able to make my way into the career field I had been hoping to make it into. Fast forward to three years later, and to one of the scariest things that has ever happened to me, and the reason for my posting this. At this point, I had moved away from home, but ended up having to move back home with my parents for reasons I'm not going to get into. I had also met my girlfriend, and we would spend some nights driving over to my parents' house to watch old movies or play games

with my janky basement setup. By this point, my girlfriend was aware of the creepy man, but paid him as much mind as anybody else. As creepy as he was, he wasn't breaking the law by standing there, and our lives already had too much going on for us to be focusing our time and attention on his weirdness. On this night, I was driving home with my girlfriend for a normal night of watching movies. I didn't want to block my mother's car in on our single-lane driveway, so I had recently started parking in the grass patch behind our house. Behind our house was an alley that ran past everybody's backyards. Our backyard had a wooden fence up against the alley, with a separate garage building which opened up into the alley. I had started to park in the grass patch area in between the garage

doors and the alley more often. And so that was the direction I had been driving home, silently hoping to myself that the creepy man wouldn't be outside on a pleasant night like this. Well, of course, I had jinxed it, and the way home that I was going ended up taking us right past him, standing and staring us down. I locked eyes with him very briefly as we drove past him, headed to the right side of the T intersection to turn into the alley to go behind my house. But here's where things got scary. For some reason, I don't know why, as we passed by the creepy man I got a really bad feeling. A feeling very similar to the day I had first seen him, a gut-wrenching something is wrong kind of feeling.

And so I decided to look in my driver's side mirror. To my horror, the creepy man had actually left his post and started walking quickly in my direction. I can honestly say that this was the first time I had ever seen the creepy man not standing completely still, and here he was walking the same direction I had gone. As my thoughts started racing, I turned into the alleyway and then went four houses down, turning into the grass patch behind the garage in our backyard. I immediately told my girlfriend what I had seen and how strange it was. I did not want to freak her out, but I didn't want her to get blindsided if something bad was about to happen.

From the angle that my car was parked, I could turn around in my driver's seat and stare at the alley way through the slits in the wooden fence in our backyard. I would be able to see if he was coming and see if he rounded the corner. I locked my car doors, turned in my seat, and reached into my pocket to tightly grip my pocket knife. My eyes widened, and my heart started beating fast as I saw him casually walking down the alley through the slits, right up to the edge of the wooden fence, and then pause. After a few moments, he turned around 180 degrees and started walking back down the alley

in the direction he had come from. I waited about two minutes before getting out of my car and slowly approaching the edge of the fence, then walking into the alley to see that he was gone. I have thought about this quite a bit since it happened two years ago. I don't actually know if he recognized me, or the house that I had pulled into, or why he chose that night to follow me and my girlfriend

and scare the hell out of us. Honestly, I don't really care. I was able to move out of that house shortly after that, happened and am now living with my girlfriend who today is my fiance but to the man that stared at me in my entire neighborhood for over half my life and who followed me and my girlfriend into a dark alley for god knows what reason let's never meet again kayak gets my flight hotel and rental car right so i can tune out travel advice that's just plain wrong bro sky coin way better than points never fly during a scorpio full moon just tell the manager you'll sue

Instant room upgrade. Stop taking bad travel advice. Start comparing hundreds of sites with kayak. And get your trip right. Kayak. Got that right. This spring, Uber Eats has you covered. Whether you're celebrating mom, dad, or your favorite grad.

Not all of us are great planners, and with the Uber Eats gift tub, you don't have to be. Send flowers, perfume, champagne, or just their favorite meal straight to their door. Gifts arrive in as little as 25 minutes. And you can add a personalized video message for that additional, so not last minute. touch. So this spring, get a leg up on gift giving with Uber Eats. Last minute gifts that land every time. Must be 21 or older to purchase alcohol. Product availability varies per regency app for details. This episode is brought to you by Perfect Bistro Cat Food. Cats, this ad is for you. Has your human ever called you picky, persnickety, choosy? If so, perfect bistro cat food is for you, with

ingredients like wildcat tuna and pasture-raised lamb, tantalizing textures, and delectable flavors that meet even the most discerning cat standards. You're not picky. You're just perfectionists. Perfect Bistro. Mealtime Perfect Bestro for every cat. Have your human visit perfect bistro.com. It was summer break, and unlike every other break, my family didn't go on any trip. I was just eight years old, and my younger sister was three. We were playing with other kids who lived in the same building as us, just on different floors. The building is not exactly an apartment building, it's more of a multi-storied house. The front gate, which is the only entrance and exit, is a bit further from there. Since we were downstairs playing, anybody who would enter or exit the

building would be visible to us, and we'd greet them because every tenant knew us, and we knew them, as well as their family members who might visit. Although a new person visiting any tenant is rare, it is not impossible. Right adjacent to the big entrance gate is a small, old-style window with a grill, but it has a small opening at the bottom. We were all playing, but then I got tired and sat on one of the chairs placed on the porch area. From there, the window was on my right side and I could clearly see the gate. I was just looking out when I noticed a man staring at the gate. He was able to look at my sister and friends through that gate. It concerned me when I realized that he wasn't even trying to look away and was just staring at them blankly. I turned around from where I was sitting

to signal my friend to move to the other side, away from his sight, but she didn't understand. Frustrated, I turned back and was about to stand up when my gaze fell on the guy, and he was now staring at me. My body froze, and I could feel fear creeping up on me. I couldn't move. I don't know why, but I stared back at him, and suddenly he started smiling, a full-on grin from ear to ear that scared the soul out of me. I mustered some courage, got up, and ran towards my friends. I didn't tell them anything and just asked them to go upstairs with me, which thankfully they did without questioning. I didn't mention anything about this to my parents because I thought they would stop me from going downstairs to play. The next day, we came to play again, and I looked

through the window just to make sure he wasn't there. Fortunately, he wasn't, or so I thought. 15 minutes in, and I spotted that guy again, standing at the very spot and staring at us, at me. I tried to play it cool because my friends knew nothing about him, but I couldn't for long, and we went back inside. From what I remember, this happened for three to four days. Now my friends started complaining about how I didn't let them play, and that they had to come back earlier than they were supposed to. On the fifth day, or fourth, I don't remember correctly, I made up my not to pay attention to him and just focus on playing. We were playing cricket that evening, and I was batting. I hit the ball hard, causing it to go over the gate, which was a very

normal thing. As per the rule made by us, the one responsible must fetch the ball. My heart started beating because I could see his grin getting wider and creepier. He went towards the ball in the road and picked it up. He then held his hand out, gesturing for me to come and take it. I was scared, but I had to go, so I did. As soon as I reached to take the ball from his hand, he bent close to my ear, and his words are still ringing clearly in my ears to this day. I'm a good man.

Look at the window when you go inside. I'll leave something for you. That sent shivers down my spine, and I ran with the speed of light. After we were done playing, I saw him sliding a piece of paper through the little opening. He then looked at me, grinned, and waved. I grabbed the paper and opened it.

He had written his phone number and asked me to call him at 2 o'clock in the afternoon, knowing my parents would be asleep by that time. It was also written that if I didn't do it, my friend's lives would be in danger. As an 8-year-old, I didn't know any better, so I called him using my mother's phone. He picked up, and I didn't have the courage to say anything, so I stayed silent. He said, You're a good girl, just like me. You should come stay with me. Come outside. I'm waiting to pick you up. Since I lived upstairs, I went to the balcony, and he was actually standing near the gate, looking directly at me,

waving and smiling. I couldn't contain it anymore, so I started crying and disconnected the call. I ran inside and bawled my eyes out in my room. Thankfully, my mother didn't wake up, and I cried it all out. I didn't go out for the next few weeks, and everybody kept asking me about it. That guy stopped coming too, and I don't remember when he stopped coming, but he did, and I was relieved. Eventually, this experience just started fading, and I grew up. Fast forward 10 years. I was 18, and my mother asked me to buy some snacks. I took my sister and went out, and the shop I had to go to was at the end of the road, several houses away, so not too far. I was standing in a queue when I felt uncomfortable because the man behind me kept pushing me.

Annoyed, I looked at him only to realize that it was the same man. My face went pale, and I could feel my heart throbbing in my throat. I tried not to panic and calmed myself down by telling myself that he couldn't do anything in public. There were tons of people there, and that gave me a sense of security. As soon as my order came, I took out my wallet hastily to pay, but he beat me to it. The owner looked at him weirdly. and then at me because I was a regular there,

and he was seeing this man for the first time. I paid for it anyway, and the owner politely asked him to take his money back. I gave the bag to my sister and asked her to go home and inform our mom about a man following us, and just in case he attacked, I'd have a backing, and she would be safe too. Our house is within the vision range of the shop,

so I waited for her to get inside, and now it was my turn to go home. As soon as I stepped out, the man followed me and said something like, You're a beautiful lady now. We should catch up. I kept walking, but now that we were far from the shop, he started speedwalking, and I had to walk faster. I could feel goosebumps all over my body.

I started running, and I could see him catching up to my speed. When the owner called for him loudly, saying that some of his money was still at the counter and asking him to come back, it gave me enough time to get inside and lock the gate. I haven't seen him since that day, and it's been two years. I'm twenty now, and I hope to never meet him again. I don't know why, but it's instilled a sort of paranoia in me, and I dread seeing him when I turn.

Twenty-eight.