Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 10x13: The Accident - Let's Not Meet

Episode Date: May 8, 2023

Stories in this episode: - How Did He Find Me?, by Anonymous (0:51) - Island Vice, by Joe (10:11) - Mark, by Haley (14:30) - Alley Man, by Anonymous (23:03) - Psycho Ex-Boyfriend, by CamperGirl (30:33) - He Was Living in my VRBO Rental, by John S (35:06) - The Accident, by A Nonnie Moose (40:35) Extended Patreon Content: - My Dream Job Led to a Nightmare, by Anonymous - I Met Him at Taco Bell, by Xandra - The Off-Season Shopper, by Evie Due to periodic changes in ad placement, time-stamps are are estimates. All of the stories you've heard this week were narrated and produced with the permission of their respective authors. Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast is not associated with Reddit or any other message boards online. To submit your story to the show, send it to [e-mail].    Get access to extended, ad-free episodes of Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast with bonus stories every week at a higher bitrate along with a bunch of other great exclusive material and merch at patreon.com/letsnotmeetpodcast. This podcast would not be possible to continue at this rate without the help of the support of the legendary LNM Patrons. Come join the family! Check out the other Cryptic County podcasts like Odd Trails, Welcome to Paradise (It Sucks), and the Old Time Radiocast at CrypticCountyPodcasts.com or wherever you get your podcasts! Join me at twitch.tv/crypticcounty if you dare! Get a 4-week trial, free postage, and a digital scale at stamps.com/. Click the microphone at the top of the page, and enter code MEET. Thanks to Stamps.com for sponsoring the show!  You’ll be amazed at what you can do with GrammarlyGO. Go to grammarly.com/GO to download. Right now, Stitch Fix is offering my listeners $20 off their first fix at StitchFix.com/MEET. Go to prettylitter.com/meet to save twenty percent on your FIRST order. - Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/groups/433173970399259/  - Website - https://letsnotmeetpodcast.com - Patreon - https://patreon.com/letsnotmeetpodcast - Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/letsnotmeetcast/ - Twitch - https://twitch.tv/crypticcounty  

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Enjoy the show. My name is Andrew Tade and this is season 10 episode 13 of Let's Not Meet a True Horror I've contemplated whether I should send this story in for some time. The guy in question is still out there. My story may serve as a warning to someone, not to be so trusting of a person, even if they work at the same place as you. A few years ago, I received a friend request on Facebook while I was on a train going to a large convention in the UK. My best friend and I make this trip every year. It's like a girl's weekend away but with comic books, so I was in a pretty good mood and

I let my guard down that day. I didn't recognize the name of the friend request nor could I make out the profile picture properly. In those days, I would accept all friend requests, and if the person turned out to be weird, I'd just block them. But I used to give everyone a chance. Within ten minutes of the acceptance, a message request popped up. The guy asked me how I was.

I replied politely that I was fine. Then he asked something which may have been a red flag. How's work? When he asked me about work, he mentioned the company's name. I don't have that information listed on my profile, and I didn't add people I work with as friends on social media. Of course I thought this was creepy, so I looked at his profile a bit further. There wasn't much information to go on, but when I found his tagged photos, I instantly recognized him as somebody that I used to work with.

This made me relax a bit, and I replied with something like, shit, as always, ha ha. I had seen this guy around the office, but he worked in a different department on the same floor as mine. Of course we would have noticed each other. We had never spoken before this, though. From what I remember about that day, the conversation lulled, and I went on to enjoy the weekend with my friend. This guy messaged me on and off, but I didn't really engage too much.

I found out that he had left his job. I wondered why he waited until after he left to start a conversation with me. I chalked it up to him just being shy and shrugged it off. I didn't reply to his messages if I was too busy, but he persisted with the random DMs and started following me on other social media platforms. One day he sent me a DM. He asked if my boyfriend drove a Range Rover. He does. At this point, we had covered a few different topics, but I thought asking what my boyfriend drove was strange. Another time, when I was waiting for the bus to take me to work, he messaged me. He said that I looked cold where I was waiting. He offered me a lift to work. I declined

jokingly. I don't mind the cold. The bus is fine apart from the strangers who don't have spatial awareness. He replied, are you assuming I have spatial awareness in cars?" This was creepy. In truth, I'm not sure why I didn't block him then, but at the same time as a woman, I was always taught to be polite, especially to men. One night, he messaged me again, starting with the usual pleasantries until the conversation took a turn. He asked, which porn should I watch, redhead or Japanese? This instantly struck a chord with me, as

I usually dye my hair red, and a simple browse of my profile shows my interests in Japanese culture. I felt like this was some weird attempt at flirting, so I didn't reply. The next week I went drinking with some colleagues, one of whom was the manager of his former department. As we got steadily drunker, the conversation turned to weird people that we worked with. I mentioned him and even shared some of the messages on my phone. Both she and one of the other managers said that they weren't surprised. The manager of his department even said she had heard stories about him, but she had never met him since

she didn't start working with us until after he left. I made a mental note that night to block him. But for some reason, likely the alcohol affecting my brain, I forgot. This was the event that finally made me block him. Behind my office building are a few apartment buildings into small convenience store. There are a few bars in the same area that don't open until the evening. There isn't any reason to be in that convenient shop unless you either live in the apartments or work in my building. I went to the shop every morning before my shift started to get coffee and breakfast.

One day I walked into the aisle with the breakfast stuff on it and the guy was standing right fucking there. He no longer worked in my building or lived close to where I did, so definitely not in those apartments. The guy had no reason to be there. There were even other branches of the same convenience store closer to where he lived, which were much bigger. If he didn't work in our building, why would he need to be there,

at the same time I happened to go in there every morning? I managed to keep my head up and walked right past him, as though we had never even interacted. I guess I knew he would not have the courage to say anything to me in person, given our previous interactions. But I could still feel my heartbeat quickened. I turned the corner where he couldn't see me, and grabbed my phone to call my boyfriend. My boyfriend calmed me down and stayed on the phone with me until I purchased my food and left the store. I remember running toward my office and finally feeling safe after I let myself inside with my keycard.

I blocked him on Facebook that same day. For some time after that day I felt nervous whenever I walked around near my home. I started getting picked up from the bus stop so I wouldn't have to do the 15 minute walk to my house. I definitely stopped going to that shop as well. This guy continued commenting on things I posted on Instagram or Twitter until I blocked him on shop as well. This guy continued commenting on things I posted on Instagram or Twitter until I blocked him on those as well. He even tried to add me as a friend on my steam account, and luckily I never saw him after that again. I hope this story shows that a person

doesn't even need to do anything physically to scare you, and for one last note, to this day, I still don't know how this guy managed to find me on Facebook. I didn't even use my last name on there, I used my mother's maiden name instead. He does a lot of work with computers, so I still wonder if he used certain skills to locate me. Since then, I've taken up mixed martial arts, so for his sake, I hope we never meet again. When it comes to mailing and shipping, every person moment and pinning counts in your business, you can't afford to take any of them for granted. That's where stamps.com comes in. For the last 25 years, they've been helping businesses like yours save time and money

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No long-term commitments or contracts, just go to stamps.com, click the microphone at the top of the page and enter the code Meet, M-E-E-T. Now back to the show. The following incident happened last year while I was working for the summer season on Perros Island. I worked as an agent at a rental company and my role was to deliver vehicles and make

rental agreements. One day, a production company requested via email to reserve a car for a scene that they were filming on a well-known beach. The show's context was about a guy who lived as a nomad traveling from place to place. Once I acknowledged the email, I got very excited because I loved watching this movie as a teen and the filmmakers were about to launch a sequel. So I accepted the job, hoping to watch a bit of the filming. The shooting was scheduled for noon, and my colleague John and I were in charge of providing the car.

Initially, we were surprised about the time of day that they wanted the car, as we approached to the filming location, and eerie feeling came over me, because the area appeared quite dark from a distance, and nobody was nearby. The next moments were about to be the most chilling moments I've ever experienced. Out of the blue, three men appeared on the street, out of the bushes wearing animal masks. We were startled, staring at them as they were blocking the way. I could see that two of them were carrying knives.

One had a baton. We panicked, and we were confused, not knowing how to react. What do you want? Joe was brave enough to yell at them. One of the disguised men marched up to the vehicles left side. Rapidly and instinctively, I started to reverse the car to get out of there. As I was about to head back, two more men emerged. Even though I was afraid, I revved the

engine ready to pass them. John looked at me and said, do it. The additional men took out guns and aimed them at our car. Immediately I locked the doors, and we were frozen. You have ten seconds to get out of the car, one of them in shouted. The first five seconds passed, with us looking at one another, and then he started to count. Six, seven. We rushed to open the doors and got out. Now, stand 10 feet from the car, he instructed. We obeyed as we had guns pointed at our heads. Remove all of your belongings and throw them behind you. Without a second thought, we threw our wallets.

And the cell phones quickly, a man with a baseball bat yelled. We grabbed our phones out of our pockets and handed them over. John yelled that they wouldn't get away with it. Shut your mouth, kid, or we'll make you strip down your clothes, too. After that, the thieves hopped in the car and dashed out of there in seconds. We were in shock with a sense of tension,

but relief that we didn't get hurt. The next day, we filed a report of the crime to the police mentioning the stolen car's license plate. We hoped that the thugs would be caught before escaping the island. The following three days, we hadn't heard any news from the police. On the fourth, one local villager identified the car in an abandoned hotel on the south part of the island and the police were informed.

As soon as the police officers arrived at the location, they ploughed through the area looking for the perps, but they were nowhere to be found. Fortunately, the car wasn't damaged and was returned to the rental company in one piece. A national awareness was raised for the gangsters in order to apprehend them, but they haven't been caught yet. Meanwhile, I'm hoping such an ominous incident never occurs again. I want you to pay attention to your surroundings and never trust a source, such as a production company without investigating the request thoroughly.

As for the five cowardly muggers, let's not meet. This happened a year ago. For some backstory, I moved into my first department in 2018. Five months after that, I purchased the light of my life, a doberman puppy. We lived in the first department together, happily, for three years. Our apartment was located in an old Victorian house that was converted into four separate apartment units. We lived on the third story in the tiniest apartment. We saw a lot of tenants come and go, most of them were crazy, but the worst was Mark, the resident deadbeat. Mark lived on the first

floor of the building and had lived there long before my time. He was involved romantically with the owner of the building years before, and out of the kindness of his own heart, the owner let Mark live on the premises for free in exchange for managing the building and handling the lawn care after their relationship ended. Mark and I got along well, and we would smoke together in the yard. He'd give me his extra baked goods, and our dogs played together. We bonded over the crazy neighbors, and found Solis in each other. I drove him to Doctor's appointments on numerous occasions.

I also helped him break into his apartment multiple times because he had locked himself out. It was all just friendly, neighborly stuff. Things continued like that until November of 2021, when I left my dog at home to go to a friend's giving gathering. My dog has separation anxiety as most dobermans do, so when I leave her she paces and barks. The dog barking had never been an issue for the four years I had lived in that apartment. I would often buy Mark a pack of cigarettes for putting up with her, and would always warn him before I left.

So this time like any other, I told Mark that I would be leaving my dog alone and apologized in advance if he heard her. The following evening, Mark chased me down while I was walking my dog in the yard and was irate about her barking. He claimed he had visitors that had to leave because my dog was so loud. Now in the years that I had lived there, Mark never had any company, so I thought that the whole interaction was a bit odd. It was especially odd because I knew the barking could barely be heard from the first floor since the house was so large. As a piece offering, I bought him some Mike's hard lemonade and left them on his porch, hoping that that would be the end of it.

Well he continued to harass me every time I left the apartment without my dog, even when she wasn't barking. I could tell if she was barking while I was gone due to the security cameras I had installed inside my apartment to watch her. He claimed that he had called the cops because of the noise. I knew that that was a lie because they never showed up. I dealt with life being like that for quite some time, I was always anxious when leaving my apartment and dreading returning home in fear of the guaranteed confrontation. Then things got very bad when I saw a coyote in the shared yard. My dog is 80 pounds, so I wasn't worried about her. Mark had a little dog that would easily make a good snack for a coyote, so I warned him.

The solution that he presented to me the following morning was to put any freeze in the yard and hopes that the coyote would drink it and die. As a vet tech, I know how horrible any freeze is when it's ingested. Since it smells and tastes so sweet, animals unknowingly lap it up and die, a slow painful death, I told Mark under no circumstances was he to put poison in the yard. Mark's solution made me concerned about the health of my own dog. Worried that he wouldn't heed my warning, I called the owner of the building and let them in on Mark's hideous plan.

The owner immediately sided with me and said that he would handle the situation. On my way home from work that evening, I got a call from the owner of the building warning me that his talk with Mark did not go well. He said that it got physical and he couldn't guarantee what I would be coming home to. I wasn't even off the phone with the owner before Mark flew out of his apartment, demanding that I return some dishes of his that I had. I complied, I put his dishes in a bag, and then I hooked them to his door handle. He again flew out of his apartment, shouting all sorts of obscenities.

He called me a fucking liar, among other names. He kept harassing me until I threatened to call the cops. The next few days were a living hell. I feared going outside for any reason because he deliberately left his door open so that he could call me a bitch. He went out of his way to walk his dog outside on the street to call me names through the fence. to walk his dog outside on the street, to call me names through the fence. It eventually got so bad that I only went outside if I was wearing noise-canceling headphones because I couldn't stand his hateful, verbal harassment. Things were not letting up, so I told my landlord he had to do something, otherwise I, the

only paying tenet in the building at the time, would be moving. Moving a large, loud, anxious dog in the city is difficult, and I really loved my apartment and the yard, so I didn't actually want to move. I wanted Mark to get lost. Determined not to lose my business, the owner had another fruitless talk with Mark and demoted him to the basement. For whatever reason, being homeless appealed better to Mark than living there in the basement. Mark's move out day finally came and I watched him get into a white SUV with his dog from

my kitchen window, then I never saw him again. My dog and I continued to live there for another year, but eventually moved into a beautiful house with the perfect man. This experience still leaves me with anxiety, though. But Mark, for your sake, let's not meet. As a content creator, I know how frustrating it can be to struggle to find the right words to convey my message. That's why I'm excited to talk about Grammarly Go, the new communication assistant powered by Generative AI.

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You'll be amazed at what you can do with Grammarly Go. Go to Grammarly.com slash Go to Download and learn more about Grammarly Go. That's This happened 20 years ago when I was in sixth grade in Long Beach, California. I was living with my dad. We lived in an area where it was and still is, normal for kids to walk to and from school unaccompanied. I was getting used to walking the long distance to school, but was still a bit apprehensive. I constantly looked over my shoulder and watched out for loose dogs. One day I was making my morning trek and heard something that sounded like someone calling

for a cat. I turned to look down the alley and I saw a large man slowly walking toward me. He was trying to get my attention. Where are you going? He asked sheepishly. Going to school. Bye, I blurred it out, quickening my pace. See you later. He replied, in a very matter-of-fact sort of way. My started running as he reached the edge of the sidewalk. He watched me from the corner

of the building. There were only two schools in my direction, and one was a college. I didn't look like a college-aged student, as my school had a uniform-only dress code policy. It was easy to figure out which school I was headed to, though. Over the next few weeks, I would see this man more often in random alleys and on my way to and from school. I started taking different routes to avoid him, but I always spotted him staring at me.

It became a creepy, wears-wall-do thing in my life. I didn't want to tell my parents because they didn't take anything I did or said seriously. So I knew that they wouldn't even believe me. I purposely made myself late so that my dad or stepmom would have to drive me to school, which ended up causing more problems for me in the end. My stepmom decided to sell her car and had a huge four-sale sign posted on the back window. She dropped me off at school one day. That same day, the alley man was sitting on a bus bench across the street waiting for me

to come out for lunch. He saw me spot him. He waived and gave me the universal gesture indicating that he would call me. At this point, I started becoming friends with some girls, and they saw the horrified look on my face as I tried to hide behind a trash can away from his view. I explained the situation, then these girls and I made arrangements to start walking together since they all lived in my general direction. That afternoon, after safely making it home, I went to my apartment and I set my books down. My dad said, there's

a man here to buy your stepmother's car. My stomach dropped as the alley-man entered the room. He winked at me as he stepped into the kitchen to talk to my parents. After telling my dad that I was going to the library, I stuffed my things behind the couch and bolted out the door. I ran to my new friend's house and I cried telling her what was happening. My friend and her sister tried their best to console me. My friend's sister threatened to call the police. They told me to stay at their house. After an hour or two, their dad told us my father was looking for me. Of course, I got in trouble for not being at the library, but my dad was happy because they sold the car. I considered telling him, but my father wasn't a very good father to me back then. I just swallowed

my feelings and went home. The next day I went to school without incident, and everything went smoothly. I had almost forgotten about the car being sold by the end of the school day. Then I heard a familiar honk. I turned to see my mom's step-car parked facing backward. I started walking towards the car thinking it was my step-mom picking me up to go grocery shopping or something. As I got closer, I saw the alley man's face and the rear-view mirror, and quickly remembered, he purchased that car. I turned on my heel, and I took off running. I made it maybe two blocks away, but the alley man was making his way towards me in my stepmom's old car.

It was a busy after-school afternoon, so the streets were packed with kids and cars. No matter how hard I pushed it, I felt like I was moving at a snail's pace. I rounded the corner and ran into my dad's truck head on. He yelled at me, waved me into the truck, and we drove off. I noticed that the alley-man had parked to the side and stepped out of the car likely to chase me on foot, but I had already made it safely to my dad's truck. Over the weekend some unrelated trauma happened and I caught a bus to my mom who lived in another state.

I never heard from that Allie Man again, but being that that was 2003 in Los Angeles, child abductions were common. I lost many childhood memories due to traumatic experiences, but this one is engraved in my memory. I still get flashbacks of him when I walk my kids to school. To the creepy Allie man that bought my stepmom's car, let's not meet. Hey guys, spring is finally here, and with the new season comes new fashion trends, and I want to share my solution to this ongoing predicament that we always find ourselves in. Let me introduce you to Stitch Fix, the personal styling service that delivers hand-picked clothing and accessories

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slash meat. That's stitchfix.com slash meat or follow the link in the show notes for $20 off today. StitchFix.com slash meat. Now back to the show. There's this guy that I had known about for many years because I worked with his brother. We're going to call him Zeke. Zeke was known for being a bit of a player, so I was never really interested in him. I had just gotten out of a long, toxic relationship.

Being newly single and heartbroken, I wasn't interested in dating anymore. When Zeke found out about my relationship recently ending, I got a text from my old boss with whom Zeke was working. I was also close friends with her. She told me to give him a chance. I didn't want to date him because I knew about his history and I knew he could be a little crazy, but with pressure from my old boss, Zeke, and some friends, I agreed to be his girlfriend. We went out on our first date to the movies. While the previews were showing, Zeke awkwardly put his arm around me. I didn't think much of it, but it got kind of weird, almost a forceful vibe from him. I brushed it off. We continued with our date.

him. I brushed it off. We continued with our date. A week later, he and I are now talking about sex. I told him I wouldn't sleep with him due to my beliefs, and I wanted to be open and honest. He told me that he was okay with that, and said that when we have sex, it'll be special. I felt very uncomfortable with this statement. I had just told them that I didn't want that. Red flag. I still have a bad gut feeling, but I continued to ignore it. One day Zeke wanted me to come over to his house. I told him that I couldn't. He got mad and flipped out on me. He sent me a picture of flowers and a card that he had for me at his house to manipulate me into feeling bad for not coming.

Another red flag, while I went to his house the next day, and I thanked him for everything, then I read the card. It was a love letter. It said that we were meant to be, and we would be together forever. He even said that I was his angel sent from heaven. We had only been dating for two weeks. Yet another red flag. I could feel my face turning pale as I was internally freaking out. I didn't know what to say or do, so I just said thank you. We moved to the couch and watched TV.

We had been watching a show for a while when we became hyper and started wrestling around and tickling each other. Zeke was a tall, good-looking guy with abs. When I tickled him, I started to tease him. He didn't like this. He got up from the couch and went outside, slamming his back door. I was in shock. I was just joking.

I even told him so, but he was furious. Now, I felt uncomfortable at this point, so I just asked him to take me home. Eventually, I did convince him to. It was raining this day, and Zeke was driving like an absolute madman. He was going 70 miles per hour on curvy backroads, swerving everywhere. I was terrified. He pulled off into a church parking lot and told me that he wasn't going to take me home. Now my brain is going places, thinking, is it going to kill me? What's going on? And I began to panic. We were in the middle of nowhere. I had no signal on my phone. I didn't know what to do. I begged him to take

me home. I had to reassure him that I wasn't going to break up with him. After nearly half an hour of negotiating, I finally convinced him. When we hit my driveway, I jumped out of the car and ran inside, then locked all the doors. I called my dad and told him what happened, and he said that he'd be home soon. I texted Zeke and I told him that I'm done. Things are over. He started to call and text me telling me that he would kill himself. I started answering his calls because I was worried that he would do something. He was slurring his words as if he had taken a bunch of drugs. I hung up and called his brother. I asked him to check on Zeke. His brother located Zeke and discovered that he was perfectly fine, no overdose, no drugs,

nothing. His brother relayed this information to me. I was beyond shocked. I had never dealt with anyone like this in my life. He kept trying to call me, but I blocked him. The PsychoX boyfriend lets not meet again. I was 15 or 16 when this happened. For some context, I was and still am 6'2", with the medium build. It was my junior year of high school and at the time, the pandemic forced my school to transition to an online format. This

allowed me more free time during my days, which was actually very nice. I had so much flexibility that my mom offered to bring me along on one of her business trips to Portland, Oregon. She thought that it would be a good idea for me to get a change of scenery since school had been taking a toll on my mental health, so she made a reservation on VRBO for the weekend. The house that we stayed at was pretty large, however it gave me the creeps right off the bat. After some exploring, I found many locked doors, which seemed odd. It was as though the house was divided into two separate living spaces. I expressed this to my mom. She agreed that it was odd, but said it was

of no concern. The next day, we both had to wake up early as my mom had to go to work, and I had to attend my world history class via Zoom on my laptop. I was all alone in the creepy rental house, so my gut told me to keep my pocket knife close by for some odd reason, and thank God I listened to it. During the Zoom meeting for class, all my classmates and I had our cameras off, as usual. I was wearing only sweats and no shirt, just wanting for this pointless high school lecture to end. That was when I realized I had forgotten to eat breakfast, so I walked over to the kitchen to grab some cereal. While I was grabbing the box on the counter,

one of the locked doors I previously found, slowly creaked open. A grown man in his late 40s walked out. This man said, oh, sorry, I thought you guys were done. I was shocked. I felt like I had been caught with my pants down or something, and all I could say was, no, we're both here. He retreated back through the door, and I could hear him lock it again. Throughout the exchange, I held my pocket knife with a death grip in my sweats, ready to flip it open to defend myself, thankfully it never came to that.

I immediately called my mom and she came rushing back from work. She called the property owner as I surveyed the house again. While outside I was able to peer through one of the windows and I saw a man on a phone. I was able to hear bits and pieces of the conversation. It sounded like he might have been the property owner, and he was on the phone with my mom. This whole situation was so bizarre. When I went back inside to report what I had seen to my mom, she said the property owner was adamant that nobody else was inside the house.

The property owner even said, your son must be seeing things. After that night, we decided to leave and stay at our relatives in the next city over. So to the sketchy VRBO property owner who was creepily living in the sealed part of the house, let's never meet again. You could scrub, dust, wash, shampoo, disinfect,

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I hear it from all of my cat owner friends all the time PrettyLitter can help eliminate cat box stink in your house Make the switch today go to pretty litter comm slash meat or use the code meat to save 20% off your first order That's pretty litter comm slash meat or follow the link in the show notes and use the code meat to save 20% off your first order. Pretty litter dot com slash meat code meat terms and conditions apply seaside for details. Months away from graduating high school in February 93, I was driving from my home in a small rural main town to the university campus 50 miles away. It was about 6.45 on a frigid 20 degrees below zero Monday morning. The roads were covered with inches thick deposits of ice.

The previous weekend brought Freak Weather, a snowstorm on Saturday and a 70-degree day filled with sunshine on Sunday. Town officials responsible for plowing the roads believed that Saturday's snow would be pounded into slush by Sunday's traffic, and the residue would melt, leaving the roads clear for the Monday commute. They were profoundly wrong, the snow turned into deep, slushy wheel-ruts that froze solid as a sub-arctic cold front swept through the area overnight. There were no mandatory seatbelt laws back in 93, so I never wore my seatbelt,

but because of the road's conditions that morning, I paused before backing out of my garage to fasten my seatbelt and crank the radio. It was one of those mornings when the frost hung in the air. I could see my breath and the car as I waited for the engine to warm up. I was about seven miles from home, mentally running through the list of tasks that I needed to accomplish that day when I saw a black pickup truck cresting a knoll on the road ahead. The driver was going too fast for the road conditions and cross-threaded his tires in the icy wheel ruts. The truck was carining out of control and heading directly toward

a 10-year-old girl, bundled up in a winter coat and standing at the end of her driveway waiting for the school bus. My perception of time slowed into microseconds. I was running full scenarios through my head about how to avoid colliding with this reckless driver. I could swear of left and take over the lane the truck was departing. That move might put me in a ditch on the opposite side of the road, though. However, it could also land me in a head-on collision with the school bus that I knew would be arriving any moment. If I happened to make it into the ditch, I might be safe, but what about the kid? The pickup was flying, about to mow down an innocent child, as microseconds ticked by while I made my decision.

Knowing that I was about to die, I accelerated, plowing my car into an icy snowbank at the end of the driveway between the corining truck and the child. Knowing the kid was safe, as my assumed final microseconds ticked away, I relaxed to welcome the blissful peace of death. The crash was deafening. The truck hit me head on, smashing into the driver's side headlight and crushing the entire front of the vehicle into my lap. Being physically limp and prepared to die, the force of the impact propelled me forward. The seat belt held, but my face collided with the windshield, and my chest hit the steering wheel. I was

dazed in pain, but I never lost consciousness. The next moment I realized I wasn't dead, but severely injured, and I was pissed. I released a scream of anger and frustration, but I later learned woken elderly ladies sleeping inside and nearby house. I assessed my physical condition. It was bad. I was trapped, unable to move, and I suspected that both arms were broken when I collided with the steering wheel. And the twenty degree below zero temperature, my right leg and foot, felt like they were on fire. I was convinced that somehow my foot was resting on the engine manifold, and I was being severely

burned. As loud as the crash in my scream were, the morning was now silent, and I learned the worst part of being trapped and injured was how lonely it was. The child, naive and innocent, approached my vehicle, but was scared out of her boots by my scream. She ran into her house, where her parents were now calling the police. As I sat, trapped, and waiting for help, a man suddenly appeared beside my broken-out driver's window. He was in his early thirties with long brown hair, a beard, and a mustache.

He was wearing a flannel shirt with a wool coat. he quietly said, put this under your tongue. Stupidly, I obediently opened my mouth, allowing him to gently place a sweet, brown nugget under my tongue. It's a homeopathic medicine that will help. He explained quickly. The man stepped aside for the police chief. We'll call him Dave, to speak. I grew up and went to school with Dave's daughter, so we knew each other.

The accident was only a quarter of a mile from Dave's house, so he was among the first to arrive on the scene. The sweet, rounded nugget of homeopathic, who knows what, was lodged in a gap between two of my molders. I quickly realized I had allowed a stranger to put an unknown substance into my mouth when I was at my most vulnerable. I could taste a molasses-like sweetness and felt the crystallized substance with my tongue, but I couldn't dislodge it or spit it out. I told Dave a stranger with a beard put something in my tongue. But I couldn't dislodge it or spit it out. I told Dave a stranger with the beard put something in my mouth. He said that it was homeopathic medicine.

Over the next two hours, volunteer first responders, most of whom I knew, worked to extricate me from the car. Dave returned to my side periodically asking me to describe the man again. As the first responders finally removed me from the car, it was discovered that my right leg was badly broken, and my right foot was almost severed. The burning sensation I experienced was the heat of my blood, gushing out of my body, and sub-zero air temperatures. To this day, Dave likes to tell me, I reached into the car to pick up your sneaker and your foot was still in it. As my broken body was placed on the stretcher, and I was wheeled to the ambulance, Dave told me that nobody was on the scene that matched my description of the long-haired,

bearded stranger. Reaching the emergency room, the medical team quizzed me about what I had eaten that morning, what medications I was taking, and if there was a possibility that I was pregnant, all routine questions, I guess, I told them about the stranger putting something in my mouth. I was hospitalized for 10 days undergoing three surgeries to reconstruct and immobilize my right ankle and leg. The doctor told my parents that the fact I survived was a miracle. I should have blood out while trapped in that car, but I lost only three pints of blood for some reason. Even though I wore a seatbelt,

the doctors were convinced that I shouldn't have survived this collision. While my vehicle was fully stopped in the snowbank, police estimated the truck was going over 50 miles per hour when it hit me, meaning I experienced around 25,000 pounds of force in the crash. On day two in the hospital, I was on pain killers, drifting in and out of sleep. I awoke at one point to discover a peculiar couple of dingy, distressed clothes standing at the foot of my bed. The sterile conditions of the hospital made the smell of their unwashed clothes more pronounced. I didn't recognize them, and I told them they had the wrong room. A woman with long dark blonde hair shook

her head and said, don't you remember me? I'm Laura. We were best friends in high school. I explained that I didn't remember her and became increasingly concerned about the severity of my head injury that I had sustained in the accident. Laura was gentle with a sad, concerned look as she continued to insist that we were best friends in high school. She became aware of the accident on the news. Was my head injury so pronounced that I didn't recognize my best friend from high school? What was happening?

Laura was around my age, but I still didn't recognize her. The man with her was short and stout with dark hair, dark eyes, and a mustache. He had the face of a garden gnome, and he leared at me with this creepy smile. As I lay in the hospital bed, I realized my hospital gown visibly outlined my chest. I grabbed the bed covers, and I pulled them up and told the couple I wasn't ready to have company. Laura told me that they would return to see me the next day. When my parents arrived to visit me that evening, they told me that the police chief was unable to find anybody at the accident who met the description of this long-haired, bearded stranger. Dave was convinced

that the trauma of the accident caused me to imagine the encounter. Blood tests completed by the hospital showed no foreign substances in my system. It appeared, the man in his medicine, as everyone said, were imaginary. I adamantly refused to accept this answer. There was a man standing by my car window. He put something in my mouth. He had to be there because I had never even used the word homeopathic before this happened. I wasn't even entirely sure what the word meant at the time.

Why would I repeatedly use a word that I didn't know if somebody had not said it to me? I told my parents about the strange couple in the hospital room. I recited the names of all my high school friends and my mother confirmed that it was accurate. She didn't remember Laura. She asked if anyone else had seen the couple when they were in my room. She suspected that, like the man at the accident, there was no Laura. She believed that I had some severe head injury and a sudden mental illness that caused me to imagine interacting with people who didn't exist.

My mother was visiting me the next afternoon when the phone in the hospital room rang. It was Laura calling to see how I was. I handed the phone to my mother to convince her I wasn't crazy. My mother spoke with Laura, telling her I wasn't feeling up to having visitors before hanging up. Then I picked up the phone and called the hospital switchboard, giving them the name, and telling them I was not accepting calls from Laura. I explained, I didn't know her or her boyfriend and I didn't want them near me. After confirming that Laura was not a figment of my imagination, my mother made inquiries

among family members and reported the incident to Dave. She learned that Laura had once dated a cousin of mine. Dave followed up, and in the end, it seemed Laura and her boyfriend heard about the car accident on the news. She recognized my last name, imagining there would be a large monetary settlement. She and her boyfriend allegedly attempted to set up a grift to somehow separate me from that money. Though physically recovered, I'm permanently disabled as a result of the wreck. I didn't lose my foot or leg as the doctor feared. While I have a permanent limp, I can walk. I continue to struggle with PTSD which makes traveling by car difficult and winter

driving nearly impossible. But I survived, and so did the kid who I'm hoping remembers nothing about that day. To the creepy couple who calculatedly attempted to take advantage of a severely injured hospitalized woman, fuck off forever. and also to the uninsured driver of the pickup truck, let's not meet. Don't forget to stick around after the music if you're a patron, but you're extended ad-free version of this week's episode. If you'd like to sign up and support the show today, head over to patreon.com forward slash let's not meet podcast and you'll get access to hours and hours of bonus content. This week you have heard, How Did He Find Me by Anonymous?

Island Vice, by Joe, Mark, by Haley, Alley Man, by Anonymous, Psycho Ex-boyfriend by Camper Girl, he was living in my VRBO rental by John S. and finally, the accident, by Naughty Moose. All of the stories you've heard this week were narrated and produced with the permission of their respective authors. Let's not meet a true horror podcast is not associated with Reddit, or any of the message boards online. As always, if you have a story to share, send it to Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com. Don't forget to check out the new episodes of my other podcasts, Odd Trails, my true

paranormal podcast, the old-time radio cast, and welcome to Paradise, it sucks. All at crypticcountypodcasts.com. And you'll be able to catch me and sometimes brand in my co-host for Odd Trails over at twitch.tv-slash-cryptic-countymostevenings. We'll see you all next week. Please stay safe. When I was newly 21, I began a job.

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