Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 10x17: The Best of Season 1 - Let's Not Meet

Episode Date: June 5, 2023

Stories in this episode: - Florida Woman Crawled Out of my Hotel Mirror, tbug411 - The Whistler, bingbong1234 - Monkeytown Horror Story, tantanmeeks94 - He Was Living in Our Crawlspace, scaredsprout - Dr. Ramsey, sweetmercy - The Man on my Patio, Pesfi678 - I Almost Got Carjacked or Worse, user_327 - The Laughing Bicyclist, colourevolt - Caterer Goes Ballistic, FranticSledder - They Wanted to Make Me the African Queen, eloisebella - The Girl Who Mutilated a Dead Deer, IceBear48 - The Singing Lady, AskMeAboutMyTie - What Was She Planning to Do?, kennyc5576 - Carol, wynkenblnkennod Extended Patreon Content: - Unfortunate Ending for My Young, Opportunistic Neighbor, by Greg's Wife - The Phone Call, by J. Toniato  - She Wailed on Me in the Elevator, by Jenny Jem 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! You’ll be amazed at what you can do with GrammarlyGO. Go to grammarly.com/GO to download. PDS DEBT is offering free debt analysis to our listeners just for completing the quick and easy debt assessment at www.PDSDebt.com/meet. Try Stitch Fix today at StitchFix.com/MEET and you’ll get 25% off when you keep everything in your Fix. Join me at twitch.tv/crypticcounty if you dare! - Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/groups/433173970399259/ - Website - https://letsnotmeetpodcast.com - Patreon - https://patreon.com/letsnotmeetpodcast - Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/letsnotmeetcast/ 

Hey you sexy f***ing looking for hot saucy fun that'll have you all f***ing stop censoring me. That's a Planned Baseburger loaded with vegan bacon vegan cheese caramelized onion lettuce tomato and signature sluts sauce. It's so f***ing good. Okay. That one was fair. Get slottedified at sluddyvegan. sluddyveganatl.com. Leave me awesome, Virgil! Woo! This podcast contains adult language and content.

If you have a story to share, send it to Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com. Enjoy the show. email.com. Enjoy the show. My name is Andrew Tate and this is season 10 episode 17 of Let's Not Meet, we'll be sharing the very best of season one. These stories were hand-picked with maximum creepiness as our top priority.

So sit back, relax, and prepare yourself for Let's Not Meet the very best of season one. Enjoy! This past Monday, my co-workers and I returned to our hotel room from a day of working out in the field. Rebecca and I walked to our rooms, and as we stood outside of them, I opened mine, and I saw someone in the bathroom. I said, hello. Nobody answered. My first instinct was that it was the cleaning lady in there for some reason. And then I saw my bag with my clothes in her hands. I said to my coworker, there's a woman in my room. Then I asked the woman, what are you doing with my stuff? It gets a little fuzzy here because I can't remember everything I said or what she said,

but she kept mumbling about how her key still worked, and that's how she got in. I was in shock, and she was obviously very flustered having been caught mid-robery. She dropped my bags, and fumbled around with her purse, and a white plastic bag. By this time, my coworker was behind me watching all of this insanity unfold. This woman was scrambling and walking towards the door and I said, what's in the bag? Thinking it could probably be my stuff. And she said, no, no, it's just my things, it's just my things, I'll show you. And so she did.

I looked and I didn't see anything of mine, and so since I'm obviously in shock at this time, I let her leave. I went into my room, and it's been ransacked. I did a quick look around to see if anything had been taken. All of my electronics were still here. Then I went into the bathroom, and I saw my underwear, my bikini, and my clothes shoved into my own bags randomly. Even my passport was shoved in there.

Then I looked on the counter, and I saw that she got into my medication. I'm not sure what was going through my head at the moment other than I wanted it back. So I ran out the door to go find her. I ran to the laundry room downstairs and out to the sides of the hotel, but I didn't see her. I realized I was never going to find her. So my coworker and I went down to the lobby to tell them what had happened. And then we called the police.

We went back up to my room to wait, and I noticed that there was a metal bat on my bed. A little larger than one of those novelty wooden bats you can get at a baseball game. But there's also a flashlight on the end. She must have left it behind a hurry. She also left behind a necklace that must have fallen out of her bag when she was scrambling with mine. I was mostly freaking out at this point because I thought that she had gone away with my medication that I needed. The police got there and took our statements and looked around the room as well.

One thing that I noticed was that there were bits of drywall in the sink and I pointed that out to the cops but none of us really knew where it came from. We started looking at the door and the other windows to see if she pried her way in somehow, but there was nothing. So we kind of just went with the idea that she had a spare key or something. Even though the hotel front desk was adamant that there was no way that could be. The officer that came brought two more officers is back up because they thought that the woman might still be in the vicinity.

But after our statements were taken, there was nothing else that they could do, really, so they left. I sat down, finally, to make some calls to tell people, and as I'm on the phone, I'm thinking about the drywall in his sink, and it still doesn't make sense to me. So I'm on the phone and looking at the drywall and the mirror on the wall right above it, then it hit me. I got my coworker and asked her to help me pull at this mirror on the wall and we took the mirror down. There was a hole just big enough for a desperate junkie to squeeze through. I asked Brian and Rebecca if I should call the cops again to let them know that I found

this, and my boss said, there's still two cop cars in the parking lot. So I went down to tell them, and the female cop kind of rolled her eyes, but the young lady said, I'll come check it out. They both came back up, looked in the hole and found a pillow, blankets, cigarettes, clothes, and toothbrushes. This woman had been living in the wall behind my mirror for God knows how long. She had access to me in my room at all times. I know it might be hard to picture, but there was a crawl space about two feet wide in between the two rows of rooms. One of the officers called the original officer to come back and take pictures of it. She explained to him what was going on. And all I hear over the radio is, no fucking way.

He comes back, takes pictures, and is just as mind-blown as the rest of us. Obviously, we packed up and left immediately. What's even crazier is that she has probably been there a long time. The last time we stayed at this hotel, I would randomly smell cigarette smoke and I assumed someone was smoking in their bathroom

and it was traveling through the vents. But no, a junkie was smoking just on the other side of my mirror. She had access to the other rooms. The holes in the walls were from a renovation and the hotel hadn't properly patched them. It was just covered up with mirrors. She could have been hanging out in people's rooms when they were gone. Anyway, this was insane, and I'm taking my dog for a walk through the neighborhood

with my mom. It was maybe 11 p.m. We lived next to a swampy wooded area on the edge of our neighborhood in Lansing, Michigan. I remember it being very silent and slightly windy. From down in the swamp we heard somebody whistling at us. It sounded sort of like a bird, but each whistle was different enough where the lack of consistency made it human-like. The whistle sounded higher, then lower.

I can't really describe it. My mom had a concerned, slightly terrified look on her face and grabbed my hand and said that we should go inside quickly. I didn't understand because I was too young, but seeing my mom freak out made me freak out too. After a while though, I kind of forgot about it. Two years later I was taking my dog out again late at night. There is a large bush that could easily obscure a person behind it just next to the front door.

As I was finishing the walk, the whistling noise, that same whistling noise started again. Same pitches, same inconsistent human-like tones. As soon as I heard it, a chill went down my spine, as I remembered exactly that feeling of seeing my mom terrified, looking down into the swamp at something I couldn't see. Maybe she couldn't either. I ran inside as fast as possible. Years went by, and I thought less and less about it. I told only a handful of people and eventually it slipped from my mind. Fast forward to last summer. I'm 24. I started dating my girl Sarah.

We moved to South Dakota for work. For Independence Day, we decided to go to Pierre, South Dakota, and watch the fireworks along the bank of the Missouri River. There was a free camping spot behind a hospital where you could pinch your tent, hang out, and see fireworks up the river. We were near the end of the campground

and there were very few people around us. As it was getting dark, the fireworks began. They were pretty far away, so the illumination they brought was very little. Thus, we had to sit right at the edge of the river to be able to see them. A huge thunderhead was moving in and a storm was imminent. So the air seemed electric and the wind was picking up. The atmosphere was eerie, to say the least. The police boats heard all of the other boats off of the river and had left our area to do that elsewhere. Most of the other campers walked up the river to have a better view of the fireworks.

But Sarah and I stayed back, and we're drinking PBR tall boys and kicking it. Suddenly, we heard the sound of a paddle methodically dipping into the water. We saw a figure staring a canoe about 20 meters offshore. Sarah decided to get more beers from the car leaving me alone to stare at this mystery person. And then, of course, they whistled at me. My entire body was frozen and covered in goosebumps. It was the exact same whistler from my childhood.

More than a decade earlier, I looked at the figure, but it was much too dark to discern who it could be. They were wearing a hat. When they were perpendicular to the shore from me, they stopped paddling. Turned to the canoe to face directly at me, and whistled, right at me. I was so frightened that I stood up and shouted at them, Who are you? They didn't say anything.

Just whistled a couple more times, turned the canoe 180 degrees and paddled out of sight. I'm a videographer, so I already had my camera by my side and was taking videos of the fireworks. As the canoe was almost out of sight, it grabbed my camera and got a shot of them whistling as they went away. When Sarah came back from getting beers, she was very confused as to why I was so freaked out. When I explained she was freaking out a bit too, I was convinced we would both be murdered that night. How did this whistling person follow me? After 14 years, all the way to South Dakota, was it a coincidence?

Why was it that same whistling noise? Who was that person and where did they go? Still so many unanswered questions. To this day, I'm more afraid of being outside in the dark, where I might hear the whistling again. You with me? See you. Stop it. I am a 24-year-old male who was born and raised in Northern New England. I grew up hearing all the scary stories and urban legends that haunted my dreams, but there was one local legend that everyone in my high school knew about, Monkey Town. Monkey Town was supposed to be a Christian retreat camp. You'd have to take this road

in between a funeral home and a cemetery down this big hill, and you'd enter what looks like the set from the movie The Village from 2004. It was a big circle of old-style houses with a big white church in the middle. I'll describe it more later in the story, but it was always a dare to see how far you could walk down into the camp without chickening out. I remember a couple of times in middle school, a few friends and I made it halfway down the hill, then bitched out. The year was 2011, junior year.

I had just gotten my license in my first car, a classic Chevy Blazer. One night I was driving around with two friends, one who went to the same high school as I did, let's call her Bessie, and one who didn't, we'll call him Kale. Bessie and I thought it might be funny to take Kale down to Monkey Town to see what happens. So the three of us hopped into my Blazer, and there we went. what happens. So the three of us hopped into my blazer and there we went. I remember putting on some of the instrumental music from the movie Halloween to set the mood and how dumb that was. As we got down the hill, mind you, we are in the car the entire time. We made our way around the circle, mesmerized by this entire community

separated by society. One thing that stuck out was this red light at the top of the church's steeple. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw movement. That's when I remember thinking, no way. I quickly turned my head to the left, and I see a giant man in overalls running at full speed towards my car. The most fucked-up part about this man is that he was carrying a bat or a tool of some sort. I didn't even think. I slammed on the gas and we got the hell out of there. The three of us couldn't believe what the fuck just happened. I'm pretty sure we just went back to the house to recover from the scare. We passed out, all was well.

The next day I was chilling with another friend, James, and his girlfriend, Sadie. I had just told them about last night's events, and they sure as shit didn't buy it. Me, a 17-year-old teenage boy, wanted to prove them wrong, so we all jumped into my blazer and headed back to Monkey Town. This time, my blazer was full. We had picked up two other girls who coincidentally had the same name and another buddy of my name Joe. I made James drive my blazer and I sat shotgun, as we all headed down the tension rose. We got halfway around the circle until one of the girls started screaming.

This time, there were at least five men running at my car, and three of them definitely had weapons. James didn't know what to do. It's like he froze. The men were all yelling, get the fuck out of the car! They were legitimately shaking my car back and forth. I remember being crouched down so far in the seat as if that did anything. Finally, James slammed on the gas and pealed out of there. As we began taking all my friends home, I got a call from my mom, apparently two police officers were in my kitchen. One of the monkey town civilians had called the police and told them that we were

trying to run them over. What bullshit! I was furious. We raced to my house to explain to the officers what actually happened. All in all, the cops didn't seem too interested. No crime was committed. To this day I can't help but think what would have happened if we had gotten out of that car.

What kind of Christian retreat camp was that? I have a phobia that goes by the name Scopophobia, the fear of being watched. I have this weird compulsion. Whenever I see a doorway, a window, or virtually any surface that I believe someone could hide behind, I imagine a face peering out at me, staring. I imagine what I would do. What could I do? Well, you'll soon find out why I have this phobia. I'll try my best to remember all of the details, but my mind has repressed a lot of it. Around June of 2016, my mother and I were living in a small apartment. There was no basement

or attic, obviously, but there was one tiny crawl space in the closet floor of my bedroom. I never looked in it. I suppose some people would have been overwhelmed with curiosity, but my mind had already imagined all of the worst scenarios. I decided to leave whatever dead bodies and ghosts were down there for whoever rented after us. It was a nice apartment, small but perfect for the two of us. We lived there for a few peaceful months until the noises started. It was nothing extreme, just the odd bump in the night,

and particularly the scratching. My mom just brushed it off as rats in the walls as long as they stayed in there. I had no reason to get rid of them. A week or two later, I had already grown used to the noise. It became almost comforting in the way. After all, I never really liked silence. That is until I woke up one night to a different noise, a rolling sound, eerily similar to the sound that my closet made when it opened. I peaked my eyes open and looked over, but I couldn't make out anything in the dark. I thought maybe I saw something move, but I was well aware of how the mind placed tricks on you in the dark.

There was only one way to find out. I turned on my lamp. I feel like crying, just writing this out. It's been almost a year since I've had to recall this night. When I turn on the light, I expected to just see a closet full of coats, but what I saw was much, much worse. It was an eye, not just an eye, but the entire half of someone's face, barely visible in the tiny crack that they had opened. They didn't even react to being caught, no smile, no fear, just watching. My heart has never beat faster than that night. I wish I would have screamed or maced him or anything,

but I just stared back, frozen in time until I couldn't hold it in anymore. That began sobbing, loudly. I think I tried to say something along the lines of, what do you want? But it was garbled, am I crying? He opened the door more. I could now see his entire body, which I don't care to describe as I've been spending the last two years trying to forget that face. Then he shished me.

Shhh. I lost my breath at that. Hearing him made it real. I couldn't pretend that this was some fucked up hallucination anymore. At this, I sat up and pressed my back against the wall. It's okay," he said. Then he called me by my name. So cheerfully, gives me chills remembering it. This is when I finally had the courage to run out of the room. This creep knew my name, my fucking name. My mom still had to sleep while she called the police, thought I had imagined it. Of course, by the time the

police got there, he was already long gone. All that was left of him was that damned crawlspace. I still never looked inside. Though writing this now, I kind of wish I did, having some sort of proof of this would, I don't know, maybe comfort me. Because at least you would all know that I'm not crazy. The apparently hid been living in there. For how long I don't know, but the officers who first arrived on the scene said that there were tally marks inside the crawl space.

I don't want to know how many, and I don't know whether he was marking days or weeks. I just wanted to leave that fucking apartment. And we did. The police never found him and offer certain. They thought they found a homeless man who matched his description, but he was apparently unresponsive. I always thought they didn't take it all that seriously. They just thought he was a squatter. Even after I told them that he knew my name, they thought that given how long he had seemingly

been squatting, he had probably just heard my name through the floorboards. Since that night, he has been the face I always see when there's an open door or closet. It's grown voters-storted. His time goes on, but I can always make out part of his Perst lips as if he's still shushing me even now It's gotten easier with time, but I don't think I'll Ever get over it and it'll never leave me completely

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Now back to the show. A week or so before my tenth birthday, I walked to the corner store with the $5 bill and picked up a jar of ragu for my mom. On the way home, a man I'd never seen before fell in in step with me, and began talking. Hi, he said cheerfully. My name is Dr. Ramsey. I'm a pediatrician. Do you know what a pediatrician is? I walked along silently, not replying, and fervently hoping he would take that as a sign that he should leave me alone. Suttleties were not his strong suit, though. He kept right on chattering. Are your parents looking for a pediatrician for you? Of course, you're almost a big girl now.

You'll be needing another kind of doctor soon, won't you? That's okay. They can still bring you to me until then. What's your name? You have beautiful hair. I was just on my way to get some suckers for the candy jar in my office. Do you like suckers? Thankfully, we were nearing my house, so I ran forward up the steps and into the kitchen door.

I didn't know it then, but that was the beginning of a very long, very scary ordeal. It didn't take long after that for Dr. Ramsey to begin showing up. At first it seemed to benign enough, at least to a kid. He would drive by nearly every day, smiling and waving. I told my mom who said, maybe it was on his way home from work. But then the phone calls began. My dad called me into the living room and sat me down. He asked me about the day that Dr. Ramsey followed me home, and if I had talked to him. He said I wasn't in trouble, but that I needed to tell him the truth. I told him, no, and he asked if I was sure.

Could I be forgetting something? I told him again. He frowned, then asked, and how does he know your name? I didn't know. It turns out that's not all that he knew. He knew my sister's name as well. Pretty soon, neither my sister nor I were allowed to answer the phone, because he called several times a day. At first, neither of us knew what he was saying. Then one night, one of my brothers told us that he was telling my parents that he was going to hurt me.

And later, my sister. Well, things got complicated after that. My dad had called the police, but as this was before there were any kind of stalking laws, there wasn't a lot that they could do. It told my parents to call back if he, quote unquote, tried anything. My dad then called a friend from back in the day, who happened to be a cop. For the next month, my dad's friend

would escort me to and from school. Suddenly, life as I knew it, came screeching to a halt. I couldn't walk to school alone, I couldn't play outside, I couldn't walk to the super-America, which is sort of like a 7-11 for those who don't know. When access to me was completely denied, things escalated. It was around this time that he began threatening my sister as well. It was around this time that he began threatening my sister as well. In one afternoon my sister, two of my brothers, my mom and I, were in the kitchen. One of my brothers saw a glimpse of someone in the garage.

They'd seen him too. Dr. Ramsey came bolting out of the garage. My brother's chasing after him. They ran all the way down to Cherokee Park where they lost him of the garage. My brother's chasing after him. They ran all the way down to Cherokee Park where they lost him in the trees. My parents called the police again but nothing came of it. The only information they had was a description and a name that was almost certainly fake. Well a couple of weeks later we woke to find our dog hanging from the side porch.

She was a gorgeous, saddle-back German shepherd, born the same day I was. We were all devastated. The cop said that there was no evidence that it was him and ruled it accidental, but none of us believed that. His phone calls became more informative in the meantime. He would talk to us about who was home and who wasn't. If my brother would say my dad was home, he would tell him who was really in the house. He also would talk about the house itself, about the window and the kitchen that he could

easily open with a knife from the outside, even when it was locked, and about the window in the kitchen that he could easily open with a knife from the outside, even when it was locked. Then about the French doors that connected the living room to the side porch, and how the lock could be finangled from the outside if he jiggled it just right. That night, my dad put in some carpenter nails at the bottom of the French doors until he could get a new lock order. My parents had to go to a company event for my dad's work. My older brothers were at St. West Roller Skating Rink. My sister was on the phone with her best friend.

My little brother was on the floor of sleep. I was watching Devo on the midnight special with Wolfman Jack. It was late. Suddenly, the top of the French doors swung open. And in the few milliseconds before the nails at the bottom caused them to snap back, I could see his silhouette. My sister whipped the phone at the television, and we ran upstairs. About half way up we realized our little brother was still asleep on the living room floor.

As quietly as we could, we slipped back down the stairs to get him. We all went into our bedroom and didn't turn on the light. This way we could see outside. We watched out the window for a while, and when we didn't find him, we crept down the hall to our brother's room to look. We looked down, and could see someone standing at the back door. He knocked loudly. What do you want?

My sister asked out the window. He stepped back and said, Is this the mercy residence? I have a pizza for delivery. Can you come to the door?" She scoffed at him, declaring she was not stupid. She could see he didn't have a pizza, and that she was calling the cops. He left.

A short while later, my brothers returned home. We told them what had happened, and they walked around the yard watching for him. They came back in, and things settled down. By now, we'd pretty much given up calling the cops because it never helped. So we just went back in. Each of us except my youngest brother, still asleep, carrying a knife from the kitchen just in case. Eventually, one of my brothers wanted the kitchen to get a bowl of cereal as a snack. You know, that sensation you get when you can just feel someone watching

you. Yeah, he had that in spades. He kept looking around the kitchen through the doorway into the dining room at the windows. He didn't see anything, but he could still feel eyes on him, so he went closer to the door to try and see better. The kitchen lights were reflecting on the windows of the door that had the re-rose of windows. So he still couldn't see. He stepped closer, then closer again, until he was right up to the door, then cupped his hands on either side of his head so that he could see. On the other side of the window pane was Dr. Ramsay smiling back. He turned to yell for my old and brothers, and when he looked back again, he was gone. They went out again to look for him, but they didn't find him.

The next night, we were at the table playing crazy eights, and my brother was restless. My sister asked him what was wrong, and he said he always felt like any minute now there would be a boom, boom, boom, at the door or the window. Almost immediately after he finished this sentence, it happened. Three booms at the window right behind him. In the chaos, the two eldest ran outside, but he was already gone. A couple of weeks later, I was at school when we were outside on the playground during recess. I was swinging upside down when I saw that now familiar blue Ford Galaxy cruising by, moving slowly. There he was, smiling and waving.

He called my name and I ran to the teacher and told her. The school had been told all about him and she took me inside right away and called my mom. That same day, my mom had gotten a call from the office asking her to verify that my dad was picking me up, as he'd called to say that he was on his way. He wasn't. Not long after that, I woke up one night, thirsty, and went down to the kitchen for a drink, sitting there alone in the dark, was my dad. On the table, a gun. He was tired of the police waiting until Dr. Ramsay tried

something. He was tired of his children being terrorized. He was tired of being afraid every time he left for work that something would happen to us while he was gone. I sat with him for a time watching before he sent me back to bed. These events in many more took place over a period of around 18 months. Then as suddenly as it began, it was over. He had vanished from our lives. The phone calls, the drive-by is with the creepy waves, everything. For a long time, during and after the Dr. Ramsey days, I would have reoccurring nightmares,

in which I would wake up to find him standing over me as I slept. It took a long time before I felt like a kid again. I found out years later that when he was calling Dr. Ramsey would tell my parents that he was going to rape and kill me and later my sister, and that there was nothing that they could do about it. I don't know what happened to him when he disappeared. I don't know if he was in a car wreck or locked in prison, maybe in a coma, but sometimes I wonder if the weight ended for my dad when he was sitting in the dark and kitchen one night. I don't know.

I'm not sure I want to. This happened when I was around nine years old. I live in a terrace house, which is four houses combined, and my neighbors and I each have our own patio. There's a small road, ten meters from my yard, where people do their Sunday walks and so on. Only a small fence separates my small yard and the patio from the road. I live in a pretty crowded area, with several of these terrorist houses spread around my neighborhood, so seeing people walking on that road is pretty normal for me. Seeing random people standing on my patio is not. When I was nine, I usually got home from school about an hour before my mom got home from

work. I live maybe 50 meters away from school, so my mom figured I was mature enough to be home alone for around an hour before she got home. This one day I got home from school, I did the usual thing which was make sure that I locked the front door and double checked that the back door leading to the patio was also locked. That was nine, being alone was a little scary even though it was in the middle of the day, and only for an hour. I would then rush to my room upstairs and play as much playstation as possible before

my mom came home and made me do homework. While playing, I heard this noise coming from outside my window. My room was located one floor over the patio, with the view to the road that I told you about before. It was kind of like... the sound of a cat. But my cat had been missing for over three months. Hope sparked.

And I thought, oh my god, he did finally come back. And I ran downstairs to check if it was my cat, but the sight that met me gives me goosebumps just writing this. There was a guy standing on my patio, a tall guy, with black hair covering half his eyes, making him look like a male version of the woman from the ring or something like that. I could hear him making high-pitched sounds, almost like a cat mowing. A brown liquid was running down from his mouth, and I could see him spitting out my dad's stomped cigarettes. He was actually eating from

the astray. I was frozen observing this, eventually snapped out of it and screamed so loud that the man must have heard it. He didn't react, though. He kept on eating from the astray. I ran upstairs to my room, locked the door, and called my mom, who then called the cops. I'd never been more terrified in my life, laying in bed under my sheets shivering with fear, as I hear these creepy, high-pitched noises from the guy eating cigarettes from the ash tray on my patio. I kind of blacked out for a moment because the next thing I remember is the police arriving on the road by my yard. I hear them yelling to the guy saying stuff like what are you doing? Get over here or we'll come down and arrest you and so on.

He didn't respond, but the high pitched sounds were more frequent and louder. I decided to look through the window, feeling safe now that the cops were there. I could see two police officers standing by my fence, one man and one woman. I didn't see the creepy man, however, because he was standing directly under me, away from my field of view. The police jumped the fence, and I remember hearing the creepy guy screaming louder than anything I had heard before. He charged the female police officer with full force, and he fucking knocked her out cold. The male officer then immediately tased the guy, leaving him shaking on the ground, screaming still. The male police officer struggled to keep him down on the ground while putting handcuffs

on him, but eventually he made it. After a while he managed to wake up, the female officer who seemed to be badly hurt. He called for backup and an ambulance, and then he sees me standing there in the window above him. The expression on my face must have been something else because he just looked at me and said, I sure as hell hope you didn't see all that. I started to cry. But at this time, neighbors started to arrive wondering what the hell was going on.

One of my neighbors, an elderly woman, made me come down and she took care of me until my mom came back home. The police took the creepy guy with them and the car and left. Before they left, they promised to come back and talk to us about what had happened. This is where the story takes an unexpected turn. The male police officer came back later that night and sat down with my mom and I to talk. He explained that the guy on the patio was actually diagnosed with severe autism. He had escaped a facility where mentally challenged people live, located around 5 kilometers from where I live.

He explained that the guy had actually been living in my house five years ago, but he had been forced to move when his mom, his only caretaker, died. The poor guy probably thought he would find his mom in my house. He missed the routines and he missed living there with his mom. The police had to move him from my house that time five years ago, because he was extremely strong. From what I heard, he had extreme tensions in the body because of the autism, making his muscles grow stronger and stronger throughout the years.

This was the reason he reacted the way he did when the police came this day. Still frightened, I told the police officer that he needed to make sure that this would never happen again. He promised it wouldn't. After a few sleepless nights, my life got back to normal. The years went by, and the guy didn't come back, until one year ago. At this time, my mom and dad had moved out. I bought the house from them, and I'm still living there today.

I was enjoying my morning coffee on the patio when I see this random guy stopping in the road by my fence. He just stands there, looking at me. I look at him and give him a nod. I then hear the high-pitched noises. Only shit. It's him. His hair turned gray, but the high-pitched sounds made me realize.

My heart started racing, and I instantly remembered the reason why he was back. I realized that he must have managed to escape again. Because I kept my cool a bit longer when I was nine, I started to realize how sorry I felt for this guy. 16 years later, and he was back to the fence. I started to think he would knock me out like he did to that police officer. He didn't though. He smiled. He looked at me and just smiled. I offered for him to sit down. He didn't respond. I offered for him to come inside.

He started laughing. So we went inside. His face lit up, pure joy. He was home in it and reminded him of the life that he had with his mom. It almost made me tear up. All of a sudden, he sat down in my couch, turned on my TV, and switch directly to the cartoons.

I observed him for a while. He was completely focused on the cartoons. I just wanted him to enjoy the moment, so I didn't say anything to him. I realized I had to call the facility to let them know. The caretakers arrived ten minutes later. After a lot of convincing, he got back up, crying, and they went back to the facility. I called the facility two days later. We made a deal. His name is Tom, and now consider Tom, my friend. Every Sunday, from the day he returned Tom and his caretakers visit

me to watch cartoons. They say it's the highlight of the week. Makes my heart warm. Now for several years, my thoughts were, let's not meet. Guy on the patio eating from the ash tray, but now my thoughts are, let's meet every Sunday and watch cartoons. My friend Tom. I've been dating my girlfriend for about 2 and a half years. She's a small blonde with a positive attitude about everything. We go to college, so we only get to see each other so much. Her school is in New Hampshire and mine is in Massachusetts. Since she doesn't have a car, I'll usually drive up in my little red car that I got from my grandmother.

I'm not a huge fan of the car, but I got it basically for free, so I can't complain. I never had an issue making this hour and a half drive, but a few weeks ago, I got more than my fill. I was visiting my girlfriend and it was already becoming sort of a rough day. We wanted the dorm room to ourselves, but her bitchy room mate wouldn't leave, so we hung out in the common room. After spending most of the day together, we finally decided that it was time for me to head back to my own school. I said goodbye and that I would text her when I got back. It was 6 o'clock anyways, so it was getting pretty

dark outside given that it was winter. I normally take the new hamster backroads for more scenic grout and also to avoid traffic. This doesn't affect the time of traveling at all, so that's also a plus. Most people who live in or visit New Hampshire know that most of the backroads are not well lit with street lights. Some don't even have any lighting at all. This isn't much of a problem because we can just put on the high beams. About 30 minutes of driving went by. When I turned down a road that looked as if it were just a wide path, the GPS said it would be going straight

for about seven miles. And due to knowing about the way New Hampshire roads could be, I didn't think anything of it. The street was just how I had mentioned before, and was narrow enough for my car, and maybe one half of a car to fit on. It was surrounded by woods and wasn't well lit by any kind of street lights. I got about three or four miles in and I saw a man in my high beams standing in the middle

of the road. He was waving my car down asking for help. The road wasn't big enough for me to pass around him, so I had to stop. The man then came around to my driver's side window and gestured for me to roll it down. I wasn't fully thinking straight. So I rolled my window about halfway down.

He looked to be an average 40 to 45 yearold male, but he gave off a disturbing presence. He told me he was having car trouble and asked for me to get out of the car and help him. Now I'm a 19-year-old guy that has an average build with brown surface-styled hair. None of the physical qualities hint to me knowing anything about cars. I told him that I knew nothing about cars and that if he really needed help, I could call him a mechanic or a tow truck. He kept gesturing to his black rusted pickup truck and insisted that I get out to help him. This started to give me chills, and I didn't know what to do.

That's when I noticed there was someone crouching behind his truck. The man couldn't tell that I began to internally panic. My fighter flight senses, kicked into gear, and I chose to try something risky. I then told the guy that I would pull over on the side of the road up ahead and get out to see what I could do to help him. This seemed to work, but the guy began to smile. He backed off of my car, and I stepped as hard as I could on my gas pedal. I sped off looking into my rearview mirror to see both men run out into the middle of the road and just stand there.

I kept driving as fast as I could until I got off of the road to a nearby gas station where I stopped to call the police. I told the dispatch my experience and then asked if I needed to stick around for questioning. They told me that they would send some officers to check out the street, and that I was fine to continue on driving. They then called my girlfriend and told her what had happened, and she was just happy that I was safe. They have no idea what those guys' intentions were.

They don't know if they were actually having car troubles or if I was going to get car jacked or worse. Needless to say that after that night I will not be driving the backwards alone at night anymore. Also to the men that were having car troubles, let's not meet again. I'm a 21 year old male and I recently moved into a new house. The other night around 2.30 am, I was at my house alone when I decided to take a break from playing a tar and have a smoke before bed, so I grabbed a smoke and started out my front door. About three minutes or so into my cigarette, I noticed this faint noise of what sounds like an old creaky metal object that needs to get oiled. But the sound has a cadence, which makes it repeat every two to three seconds.

After this happens for about ten seconds, I notice they can hear tires gripping the road as well. Then out of nowhere, a seaman, who looks to be in his mid-forties, writing this horribly beaten down bike that emitted a very intense ear piercing high-pitched squeak every time he peddled. As I stood in my driveway and he passed me, he kept moving forward, but his head slowly rotated left, and he locked eyes with me. I'm not kidding when I say that this guy looked identical to Hannibal Lecter from the movies, but that's not what made my heart drop, as I'm locking eyes with him, and he's moving past my driveway. He suddenly gives me the scariest wildest jagged tooth smile that I've ever seen in my life. He continues to lock eyes with me. And this wasn't an ordinary smile. I'm talking when the Grinch Stole Christmas eared a year smile. Within 15 seconds, he continues peddling in his out of sight. I can just faintly

hear the bicycle gears squeaking. At this point, I'm wondering whether or not he is going around my rectangular block of the neighborhood, and whether or not I can chief this cigarette fast enough and get inside before he comes around again. As I'm doing this, I begin to hear the middle creaking noise, but I also hear something different. I hear the man laughing like a fucking maniac. As I'm stumbling for my door, because of the adrenaline rush, he begins around the turn where my door is almost in view.

At the exact moment where I would have become visible, I got my door opened, ran in, and slammed it shut, and locked it. No sooner does my door close. Do I hear the man from outside? Say loudly. Where'd you go? And begin laughing. At this point, I went into full battle mode. Ran around my house and turned all of the lights off. Battle crawled into my bedroom and waited. As I lay in my bed for the next 30 minutes, I would hear the squeaking of the bike for about 30 seconds every 3-4 minutes. About 30-45 minutes later it finally stopped and the man was gone. I've actually quit smoking since then and haven't been outside that late.

But every now and then around 2.30 am I can still hear the squeaking of the bicycle from outside of my room window. How many of you wish there was a better solution for paying off your debt? PDS debt has customized 0% interest options for anybody struggling with credit cards, personal loans, collections, or medical bills. With rising interest rates and the cost of living at an all-time high, now is the time to finally take initiative with your debt, stop waiting, and start saving with your own custom debt savings options at PDS debt.

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We were expecting 25 friends and family, so it was more than the kitchenette of our single story ranch house could handle. We'd only just moved in so we didn't have a lot of cooking staples. The caterer said he'd bring everything 75% done, but he needed to finish off some dishes in our kitchen. I told him that that was fine as long as he was finished by five, because the kitchen is centrally located, and we'd prefer that everything be done before the guests arrive due to the intimate nature of the occasion.

He said that that would be fine. He arrives as scheduled at 12 p.m. We gave him until five, and the guests aren't even arriving till 6, so it's plenty of time. He smelled like actual dog shit. It was more than just a sweat smell. It smelled like a sun-baked diaper. That made me uneasy because he was going to be preparing food for prior sick people, and young kids.

I just made sure he washed his hands and then left him to his own devices, worrying that I was being presumptuous. Throughout the entire process, he keeps pulling me aside to ask me questions and have me taste things. Now, it was super busy because my husband had to work during the day and pick up the surprise guest right after, so setting up the deck, decorating,

putting things together for the slideshow equipment, coordinating the surprise guest, it was a million little details that we had to take care of. But every ten minutes, being asked things like, do you prefer this with paprika or without? With is fine, whatever you think. Taste it to be sure. This was getting old. When he was still there at 545, after two gentle reminders,

I flat out told him, I needed him completely out by six, no matter what. He apologized and said that there had been a delay because our oven wouldn't stay up to temperature. I'd never had a problem with our oven, but I figured he's a professional. Maybe it was a subtle problem. A little before six rolls around, and a few of our friends

start trickling in. I decided to tell him whatever is done is done, and whatever isn't, he should just put in the fridge. But he's nowhere to be found. I go out on the deck to ask my friends if they had seen him, and he's out there. Alcoholic beverage in hand, out of his white chef hat, and now in a t-shirt and jeans, mingling with my friends. I walked out just in time for him to introduce himself to my cousin-in-law, who was a good friend of mine. This is too weird for me.

I met him in person for the first time, barely six hours ago. I told him he needed to leave now. So he goes inside and gets his bag and then he makes a beeline for my bedroom. I'm taking it back. I say, excuse me, where are you going? And he says, to change.

So first of all, we have a guest bathroom, clearly visible. Second, why can't he wear a t-shirt in Jean's home? I tell him I'm not comfortable with him going into my room, but he insists it'll only be a second, goes in, shuts, and locks the door. I couldn't even get a word out before he went in, and I felt helpless. I was going outside to ask my friends for help to usher him out, but at that point my fiancee got there. My head explained the situation to him nearly in tears at that point.

So he pounded on the door and the caterer came out, still in a t-shirt and jeans. My fiancee said, you shouldn't be in there, you need to leave." And the caterer said, excuse me, but this is not your house. It's not up to you to decide. So my six foot four two hundred sixty pound fiance tells him, yes, actually it is his house and puts his hand on his back and guides him to the door. The caterer says, I thought you lived here, to me. My fiance says, yes, my fiancee lives here with me.

And the caterer goes nuts. He turns to me in screams, you lied to me, you bitch! I have no clue what he's talking about. He starts yelling about how I led him on and calling me a bitch. I don't know who he thought the man in the pictures with me around my house was. So my fiancee says, oh no, you won't talk to her that way in my house. Find the door. And the caterer goes into the kitchen and starts throwing the trays of food out of the

refrigerator and onto the floor. At that point, my fiance realized two of his brothers, both currently offensive linemen at a college level, had come in and were on the deck. He signaled to them, and they came inside. And he basically said, this guy's harassing my fiancee. Since their family and all boys, and my fiancee was the first to get married, they don't get to flex their protective muscles too often, and jumped at the chance to toss this guy out. The party then went on his plan, but I insisted that we just order pizza and throw out all of the food that

he made. My fiance and friends kept saying, isn't that a bit much? But I insisted. We went out late, drinking with his brothers and got home around 3.30 a.m. and passed out in our room. Around 5 a.m. I was woken up to a sound of the door opening. I figure we forgot to lock the door and our drunken stupor and a blue open or one of his family members forgot their keys or something in the house and didn't want to wake us. However, his parents never let themselves in

when they knew that we were home, and his brother had had it even more than we did, and was definitely not waking up and driving around 5 a.m. So I wake up my fiancee and whisper, someone just came into the house. And he said the same thing. Probably my brother left his wallet or something. I figure I'm being paranoid and try to put it to rest when I hear a loud crash sound. With that, my fiance was up and on his feet in one movement. He told me to lock myself in the closet and call 911 while he went and looked around.

As I was pulling out my phone, we hear that distinct accent of the caterer. He calls my name. Hello? And I realize it is the insane caterer. I'm not too worried about this caterer physically overpowering my fiancee or me for that matter, so I charge right out there. The caterer is shirtless and is clearly on something. He's taking pictures that are of just me off of the wall and holding several in his arms already. He lunges towards me when he sees me. My fiance gets between me and him and I call 911.

My fiance tells him cops have been called and then it's in his best interest that he get off the property. The caterer says, no, I have to make sure that she is okay. And then I say, what? Why wouldn't I be okay? And my fiancee rightfully says not to engage with him and feed into it. My fiancee stays between me and him while I climb out the window.

He watches as the caterer throws photos of us on the floor. My fiance didn't want to subdue or touch him in any way, so the caterer couldn't make any kind of assault claims. He's begun to destroy our kitchen at this point, and when the cops come in, he has a butcher knife. My fiance considers going for the gun safe when he first got the knife, since we live in a standard ground state,

but he decided that the situation was hectic enough without introducing firearms. Nikatorer doesn't obey the police's orders to drop his weapon and he says, he isn't leaving without me. So they taste him. It's looking for him, he only got taste, and he didn't antagonize my husband into squashing him. As he's let out in cuffs, he's shouting how he and I are in love, and it figures that I chose a

macho thug over a sweet sensitive artist like him, and all women are horrors, etc. He continues on this tirade. The entire time the police are reading him his rights. The police ask us to do an inventory of the house to see if anything's missing or damaged besides what we witnessed him doing. We go around and there's nothing, but then I remember he was in our room yesterday and go through out the room. All my panties from the dirty laundry hamper were gone, and my vibrator had been moved from where I kept it. We were so freaked out in the aftermath that we replaced all of our kitchenware, toothbrushes,

sent our sheets to be professionally cleaned and had a cleaning crew do a deep clean of the whole house. He sent me a letter from prison that thankfully my husband intercepted because I was still recovering from the whole house. He sent me a letter from prison that thankfully my husband intercepted because I was still recovering from the whole thing. We gave it to the police who helped this issue in no contact order. He was sentenced to three years in prison five years ago, so he's out by now, but thankfully we did not meet. This happened six or so years ago when I was 16 years old. I didn't even realize how unnerving this all was until recently. When I was fifteen or sixteen, I went through a phase where I would constantly get hair extensions

put in. I had a favorite salon that I always went to. The two ladies were lovely and would always compliment me on my appearance. Stuff like, you are so pretty girl, do you have a boyfriend? I can't believe you're only fifteen, in which I felt absolutely flattered. During the appointment, they started chatting with me about being single, again. This time, one of the ladies started talking about her brother. She said that he lives in Africa, but he would absolutely love me, and that I should meet him one day. I asked her how old he was, and

she said that he was in his early 20s. I was 15. Due to the age gap, and the fact that my older brother would have killed me for even talking to a guy a year above me, I politely told her that I was not interested in meeting her brother, but thanks for the offer. She got visibly upset and said, Why? Come on! He'll look after you. Let him take you back to Africa. He'll make you the African Queen.

I just shook it off because they were always nice and they just assumed that they were joking around. I remember telling a few friends about it and having a laugh. They said that I should have taken the offer. It was soon forgotten. Fast forward two years. I was around seventeen years old at this point, and I had just gotten my driver's license. It had been a while since I had hair extensions put in, and I thought that I would treat myself to change up my look and of course see my stylus for a ketchup. I went to the salon and it went smoothly.

I went from short hair to long hair in a matter of two hours, and I was on my way out. Before I left, one of the ladies asked if I wanted to come back tomorrow to try out their new hair oil serum for free. So I said yes. Nothing is free in this life, sadly. I was a moth to a bright light. I went in the next day, super keen for this oil because my real hair was super damaged. When I arrived, there was a man in the salon too. I assumed it was their friend. I didn't know too much about it, and sat down to get my free serum. The whole time this man just stared at me. And when I say staring,

I mean staring. He didn't say a word the entire time. He just stared and did a strange giggle every time I said something. His vibes were not sitting well with me. After they finished, I wanted to leave. So I gathered at my things. It said, thank you very much. Good day, ladies, and sir. One of them stopped me on the way out and said, this is my brother I was telling you about. Let him walk you to your car. Unfortunately my car was parked literally 10 minutes away, and I did not want the stranger walking with me for 10 minutes, so I politely declined. They kept insisting in which I kept declining. I said, no, no, no, thank you.

I do not need nor want your brother to walk me to my car. Thank you for offering. And thank you for the free oil. Bye. I left the salon and started walking. However, I was not alone. The brother was walking two meters behind me, and where the salon was located was practically like in an alleyway leading into a car park, leading into back streets. I turned around and told him again, I did not need him to walk me to my car. I was very capable. Thank you. Bye."

His reply was short and to the point. No, I come with you. So I walked briskly all the way to where my car was, and not a word was said. He just walked two meters behind me. Sometimes he caught up and would walk next to me. This went on for the whole 10 minutes. I felt so terribly awkward and uncomfortable and scared as it was getting dark and I couldn't see anyone else. When I was near my car, I had had enough of this grown-ass man, so I turned around and said, I do not need you to follow me anymore. Thank you for walking to my car.

So this is my car. I finally started talking. Where is your boyfriend? I don't have a boyfriend. What he said and did next, I will never forget. There was an elevator right where we were standing that went to the upper-level car park. He summoned the elevator which I thought was strange. When it reached us, he looked at me straight in the eye and said, you need to come

with me where I will make you my African queen. He grabbed my arm and started trying to drag me into the elevator. Obviously, I started screaming and fight mode kicked in. He was a lot stronger than me, as he was a male in his late 20s, and I was a small 17-year-old girl with a fresh weave. But boy, you better believe this girl can scream. My heart was in my throat. It felt like I was in a movie and I genuinely started bracing for assault in this elevator. An amazing gentleman who must have been in the car park somewhere heard me, ran over,

which made the salon lady's brother let go of me, and absolutely run as quickly as possible. Thank you to the kind man who saved me that day. I do not know what would have happened in that elevator. So to the salon ladies and their brother, let's never meet again and for the 100th time. Thank you, but no, I do not want to be the African Queen. The following story may be a bit graphic, and too much for those of you that are sensitive to stories and involve animals, so listen to discretion is advised. This is the first and only time I ever used my emergency code word with my mom. My dad was in a band, and some of his band members were in a country band that had a performance on the 4th of July.

It was taking place on a ranch near highway. When I got there, I quickly realized that everyone was either 20 years older than me or 10 years younger than me. I was about 17 at the time, and so I realized that I was most likely going to be very bored for three hours. One of the band members wives brought over a girl who looked to be my age. She introduced herself to me and treated her like a friend. The girl, who will call Sarah, started talking with me and asked if I would like to go for a walk around the field. I agreed and we set off. We started talking about school, and it turns out she was a year younger than me, and she was at home-schooled.

I told her I went to an All Girls Catholic school, and she started talking about how she thought most girls were pretty bitchy, and she was Catholic, and practiced witchcraft. I thought it was kind of weird, but I tried to be open-minded, so I wasn't judging her. We finally got to the side of the field that could be seen by the people at the event, but it was right next to the highway. There, we came across the body of a dead deer. She looked at me and said, I really wish I could take its hoof. I wonder if I have any bags on me. Not that she was joking, but she reached into her backpack and pulled out a knife and a brown paper bag. She went over to the dead deer and started

sawing at its foot, but she couldn't get all the way through. She tried to get me to help her, but I said no. So she put down the knife and ripped the hoof off with her bare hands. At this point, I was freaking out because she had been talking about how she liked violence and didn't really care about people being hurt. She grabbed the hoof and put it in the bag, then into her backpack. She was still carrying the knife. I tried texting my mom, but there was no service where we were standing. We kept walking and she was talking about how she would put curses on people that she didn't like and how she was completely desensitized to death and the killing of animals because she had grown up on a farm where she watched her mother cut the heads off of rabbits.

We kept walking and came across a fork in the road and she said we would go one way. Then she told me she wasn't going to chop me into pieces or anything, because that doesn't happen much these days. We finally got to a place where there was cell phone service, and it texted my mom the code word. She told me to get back to the barbecue and we would leave right away. Sarah asked me when I had to leave and I told her that whenever my grandma got to our house we would have to go home and meet her.

I mentioned something about her bringing her dog named Buddy, and Sarah got excited about the name. She said she had a dog named Buddy, who she set free in the wild, and he was eaten alive by codies, but it was okay because he died happy. We finally got back to where everyone else was and my mom said that we needed to go home. Sarah asked for my phone number as she had seen my phone.

I agreed and put a fake number in before my parents and I walked away. As soon as we were out of eyesight, I ran to the car. My parents got into the car and asked me if she had pulled out drugs or something. I wish. I would have known how to handle that. So to the girl who mutilated the deer corpse and was happy about her dog being eaten alive, not meet. This one's for all my fashion enthusiasts.

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That's StitchFix.com slash Meet for 25% off today. StitchFix.com slash meat. Now back to the show. I live in Florida and this incident happened to me about three weeks after Hurricane Irma, so not that long ago. Back in July, the X and I had finalized the divorce and I moved into a gated neighborhood where every house was rented out by the same rental company, Slash Landlords. It was a very small neighborhood with about 15 houses tops.

All 15 houses are bordered around the man-made lake with the back yard facing the lake. No one really has a fenced backyard. When you walk out your back door, you can see the lake right in front of you and your neighbor's backyard on each side of you. Everyone in the neighborhood seemed very close. Someone was always hosting a family, friendly party, or barbecue, or having people over to watch sports. I was, and I'm still depressed about my divorce.

So I never partook in any of these social gatherings. The only person I ever got to know was my next door neighbor, Steve, an active Navy soldier with a huge love for firearms. Steve is the true hero in this nightmare. My daughter Alice is four years old when I get her every weekend. Alice's bedroom window faces the backyard towards the lake. I spoil that crawl to death. She truly is my everything, and I count down the days to every weekend that we can just be together. That's why I was so upset when Irma came, and I had to go almost three weekends without seeing her.

The weekend before the storm, she was with her mom. Then obviously the weekend of the storm, she was with her mom, and then on top of that, the weekend after she had to be with her mom because my power was still out, and no AC in Florida is miserable. The humidity was so bad that week that I slept in my daughter's room the whole week because she has the only room with a window that faced the lake. I opened the window exposing just the window screen, so the wind from the lake could cool the room as much as possible while I slept. Eventually the power comes back, and Alice starts visiting me again like normal. That was when the nightmares started.

My daughter would complain about the singing lady and how she doesn't like her anymore. I thought maybe she was referring to one of my ex's friends or one of the teachers at her school. Maybe there was a teacher at her school that sang to the kids that she didn't like. That Saturday night Alice woke up in the middle of the night, screaming bloody murder. I ran into her room and turned on the light and found her hiding under her covers. I asked her what was wrong and all she could do was point to an empty corner of her room and say, look, look! There was nothing there. She was acting as if she saw a ghost.

After I calmed her down, she started to talk again about the singing lady. Please tell the singing lady not to come back. Please daddy, make her go away. Obviously, she's having the nightmares, right? I showed her there was nothing in the closet, nothing of the bed, and there was nothing to be afraid of. She calmed down and went to sleep. I went back to my room and

quickly fell back to sleep myself. I couldn't have been more than 20 minutes before Alice comes running into my room screaming. She's back. She's back. Alice absolutely refused to go back to her room so I let her sleep with me. The next morning, Sunday morning, I took Alice out to breakfast and we stopped by target to pick up a baby monitor. I haven't used one of these since her mom and I were still married, but I wanted to easily be able to hear if and when she started having these nightmares again, so I could respond quicker.

After I set them up, I showed Alice how they worked, to give her assurance that I could hear her, and she was safe. That night she slept soundly, and didn't make a peep all night. The following weekend, Alice had to stay with her mother again because she caught a stomach virus from one of her little friends at school. It was Saturday night, and I was sound asleep in my bed. Around 2am is when I heard it, a woman's voice humming a soft nursery rhyme through the baby monitor. The humming, the soft singing, got louder

and clearer as the voice got closer to the monitor. I wasn't dreaming. I could hear a woman's voice, softly singing lullabies in my daughter's bedroom. I had never been so scared and dumbfounded in my life. I was feeling a mixture of pure terror and disbelief. Then the voice spoke out. Alice, sweetie, are you awake? A adrenaline shot through my veins. I jumped up out of bed and locked my bedroom door. I picked up my cell and called Steve from next door. He didn't waste a second. As soon as I got off the phone with him, I heard him storm out his back door, screaming, don't

you fucking move! I ran outside and found him aiming his shotgun at a woman, crouched outside my daughter's window. The one I had left open after Irma, and never closed. Steve quickly dropped his guard when he recognized the woman. It was Jean, the neighborhood maintenance woman. Steve's wife came running out after him and confirmed that it was her. Jean played dumb.

She said she was not singing, and didn't even know my daughter's name. She said she was near my daughter's window because she was doing her weekly patrol for gators and thought that she saw one approach her house from the lake. Bull fucking shit. She was singing, and she called out my daughter's name. Yes, it's true that there happened a few gator spottings around the neighborhood, and yes, part of Jean's job was to patrol the lake at night every now and then. But at 2 a.m., I obviously knew it was bullshit, and even though neither Steve or his wife called her out on it, I could tell

from the look on their faces that they didn't believe her either. The next morning, I went over to Steve's house to thank him, and tell him exactly what had happened. He told me Jean and her husband have been known to be a little kuku, but this was by far the craziest thing that has happened. Steve helped me install metal bars on Alice's window that afternoon. This is a story about the time I went to a bar with one of my friends. I had just turned 21 so I hadn't been to too many bars up to that point. My friend was drinking on the way to the bar so he was already pretty drunk when we got

there. When I sat at the bar, a cute girl came and talked to me and my friend. She said her name was Candace, and I noticed that she had really bright, red hair. I assumed that she'd died it. It was pretty, but unnatural. Anyways, this girl was flirting with me and my friend. She could tell my friend was already very drunk. To be honest, I played along like I was already drunk, since it seemed to be working for my

friend. I didn't know if she was trying to get free drinks, so I told her we didn't have much money. She offered to buy us drinks. She kept buying us drinks. I started to get confused as to who she liked between me and my friend. My friend went to the bathroom. Well, before he came back, he was kicked out by the balancers. He was too drunk. Candice and I went outside with him. She kept telling him to

go home with her. He was so out of it he could barely answer her. I told her he was too drunk, and that I couldn't let him go anywhere. I didn't want him to wake up hung over in some random house with no car and no idea what had happened. Candice kept pushing it, saying that she would take care of him, but I told her no because I had to stay with him. I was more sober than him, and he was my responsibility." I told her, the only way he was going anywhere was if I tagged along. I assumed she thought that I was jealous or cock-blocking, as they say, but my friend could barely stand and lost interest in Candice already at that point. She immediately started flirting with me and offered to get my friend a taxi to drive him home and said we could go to her place alone. At this point I had had a few drinks and I was pretty

buzzed, so I agreed. We took my friend to the taxi and walked over to her car. I slightly stumbled on the way to her car. Wow, you're pretty drunk, huh? She said smiling as she held onto my arm. Yeah, I said. I don't know why, but I just felt slightly shy and anxious. Everything was just happening too easy for me, it felt uneasy. We got in her car and we drove down the street. I want to stop at the liquor store and get some more

to drink. I'll buy it so don't worry about paying," she offered. I didn't want to drink anymore than I already did. I was already buzzed and wanted to be able to carry myself throughout the rest of the night. Sometimes I made myself look stupid when I'm drunk. So I didn't want to ruin anything with Candice more than I already did earlier with telling her that my friend was too drunk. I told her I was already drunk enough, but she insisted. I didn't want to seem lame, so

I told her to get me a pint of liquor with some apple juice just to chase it. She went to the store and came out with a lot more than just a pint. I assumed she wanted to drink more also, and that's why she got a fifth instead of a pint. On the car ride, we passed a bottle back and forth, and she took tiny sips. I tried to take tiny sips, but she kept passing the bottle back and telling me to drink. I somehow managed to drink all of my apple juice, and pretend to drink the bottle by spitting the liquor into the apple juice bottle. I tossed the apple juice full of liquor out the window before she saw it. I didn't want her to know that I was acting drunker than I was. She actually believed I was sloppy drunk when I was simply buzzed. I took a

couple more sips of liquor and finished the bottle. Throughout the car ride, I called her the wrong name a couple of times to get her reaction out of her. She didn't react to it. She just kept letting me call her Carla without correcting me. For some reason I thought she lied to me about her name initially. We drove up to her house and I pretended to trip and stumble into her front door. She helped me walk inside by holding me up.

She opened up her front door, which was unlocked. We walked into her house and she closed the front door and locked it. I thought that was strange, but assumed that she didn't want anyone walking in on us. So I told her that I had to use the bathroom. I walked into her bathroom, locked the door, and looked in the mirror. I just felt strange, I felt like something was off. I felt myself becoming more drunk from finishing the bottle earlier. I turned on the sink to make noise and made myself puke up the liquor that I drank. I flushed and went to the sink and started to drink

tap water out of my hands to sober up. I didn't want to be drunk. I turned the sink off and I could hear her talking to someone. He's drunk as hell, he can barely stand up. You do it. Who was she talking to? And do what? I walked out of the bathroom into the living room. The moment I stepped into the living room, I saw her walking into another room. All I could see was the back of her head. That very strange bright red hair going into another room. All I could see was the back of her head. That very strange bright red hair going into another room. I didn't see her face or anything. I just saw her kind of walk fast into the other room. The living room was pretty dark. Hey, where are you going? I slurred like I was drunk. She walked back into the dark living room and up to me and said,

Let's go to my room. I looked at her bright red hair and then into her eyes they were different. Her face was different. She was another girl with the same hair. That's when I realized that it was another girl with the same wig on. It was a wig the whole time. She had changed it with a girl from earlier for whatever reason. My heart felt like it stopped, but I tried to look like I had no idea that it was a different girl. I kind of smiled at her and told her I just needed to use the bathroom one more time. And told her I was sorry I was so drunk.

She said, it's fine, just hurry up in there. I went into the bathroom and locked the door. I heard her whisper something to someone again. This time I heard a male voice whisper back to her. I honestly didn't concentrate on listening to exactly what she said, something sketchy was going on, and I had to get out of that house. I opened the bathroom window and jumped straight out of it, and ran faster than I ever ran in my life. I didn't look behind myself or anything. I just ran through the backyard, jumped the fence, and ran through someone else's backyard, jumped the fence, and ran through someone else's backyard. Hit the road, and ran towards the main road.

I kept running down the main road until I saw a star CVS, and ran into the CVS, and stood straight in front of the door, in front of the camera. I called a taxi, and went home. I tried to think, what happened that night? Why did she tell me a fake name? Why was she trying to get my friend and I so drunk? I thought maybe a robbery, but she kept spending money on us. She kept buying us drinks and even paid for my friend's taxi cab.

And mostly, why did she wear that wig that she gave to another girl to wear? Who was she talking to? What did it mean? And what was in that room they tried to lure me into? The next day after the incident, I went back to the house with a couple of friends just to see what was going on. Nobody was there.

No cars, no people, nothing. Just an empty house. I ended up finding out that the house was a summer rental and whoever those people were, they broke into that house and used it for one night and never came back. Two years ago, my significant other and I found the perfect place to rent. It was a small tract of fabricated homes. The neighborhood was nice. It was quiet, which for two college seniors, wanting to get out of the noisy dorms, was heaven. Now, because this was Arizona, and it was pre-Fab houses,

most of the folks that lived in our neighborhood were 60 or older, save a few. To our left, Sandra and David, an awesome couple, and their early 60s both retired postal workers. They spent summers and Maine and winters here. To our right? A 40-something who supposedly owned her own home business named Carol. She looked like she perpetually was sucking on a lemon, and she was just off. At first, she would occasionally join my significant other for a smoke on the porch, or if we barbecued with Dave and Sandy, we would invite her over. To say that she

was awkward was putting it lightly. We suspected maybe. She was on the spectrum or something like that. We would be eating, and she would describe how her mother died a slow, agonizing death when a tumor in her throat burst, or there was the time when she would describe her latest yeast infection in detail. I kid you not. Sometimes I would work out on the porch. I had a small bench with a bar in some weights. One day I'm lifting when I almost dropped the bar on my neck, leaning over was Carol. I could have snapped your neck like a twig," she mumbled.

I sat up. Pardon? I asked. I said you really could have hurt yourself. I doubted what I had heard, chalking it up to not hearing her correctly, but she had this smirk on her face. After that I tried my best to ignore her. However I had not told my significant other of my suspicions that maybe Carol was a bit fucking insane. I come home from class one evening, and my girlfriend and Carol are on the porch. I went inside because I was coming down with something, and I just wanted to go to bed. My girlfriend comes in and tells me that she's going to her job.

She worked nights as the spatcher for the campus police. Now I'm out of it, so she kisses me good night and says that she will lock up the house and see me in the morning. Around 1 a.m., I wake up covered in sweat. I go to get a glass of water and drink it down. I see my girlfriend, or who I assume to be my girlfriend on the couch. I'm so out of it that I crawl back into bed and fall asleep. The next morning I wake up, so my girlfriend comes in the door telling me that work was crazy. Wait, you weren't at work, you were here. She looks at me funny. I get a sick feeling in my gut. Viva or no fever, I know I saw someone on the couch. So she writes it off as a fever dream.

The house was locked up. I forget about it. Life goes on and graduation is approaching. Things with my side of the family, well specifically my egg donor, go badly. Long story. My girlfriend is offered a job in her home state of New York City. So we give notice to our landlord and we let Sandy and Dave know. And one night we tell Carol. She blinks at us and gets up and heads over to her house not saying a word.

And we brush it off as weird Carol. That night we're asleep. We hear a creaking coming from the living area. I sit up. My girlfriend hears it. She grabs my arm and I grab the metal bat from under my bed. Who's there? I ask.

Wack, the door thuds. Thank God, it's locked. My girlfriend dials 911. Meanwhile, I'm watching as someone is recreating the door scene from the shining except whoever was doing it was using a small hatchet. They still were making progress on the door as it was pretty much hollow. The six minutes it took for the police to get there felt like a lifetime. I can now see the hatchet's tip in the door. Suddenly we hear the cops tell

someone to put their weapon down. I had no idea who it was until we were let out of our place. On the couch and cuffs is Carol. We learned after that she had been in and out of jail. Supposedly she went cuckoo for c puffs, from long-term use of meth. She was arrested and charged with breaking and entering, and destruction of property. They tried to get her own attempted assault, but she made a plea deal that included some kind of psychiatric treatment. I could never prove that she was in my place that day.

I was sick, but I'm sure it was her. As we were moving, I was messing around with our storage space, which is really just a crawl space under the home. We had never used it. Curious, I crawled around underneath the house and saw that if you kicked hard enough, you could get the screen that led the door outside off really easily. Who knows how many times she might have been in our place, or under our house listening to us.

We still keep in touch with Sandy and Dave. The unit Carol rented was sold and they haven't seen her since. She was carted off to jail. Thankfully we are thousands of miles away and never have to see her again. 18T Fiber presents A Straight Forward Moment You're wine? Thanks. I'll pretend I know what I'm doing before saying it's good. And I'll pretend I don't know you're pretending.

Are you a Gagillionaire? Yeah, I have AT&T Fiber. The straightforward pricing has inspired me to be more straightforward. Me too. Ugh, this wine. I'll fetch you a better one. Straight forward is better. No equipment fees, no data caps, no price increase at 12 months.

Live like a Gagillionaire with AT&T Fiber. Limited availability in select areas, visit AT&T.com slash Hypergate for details. Don't forget to stick around after the music for your extended ad-free version of this week's episode and some brand new stories. This week you have heard Florida Woman Crawled Out of my hotel mirror by T-Bug 411, the Whistler by Bingbong1234. Monkey Town Horror Story by TantanMix94. He was living in our crawl space by a scared sprout,

Dr. Ramsey by Sweet Mercy. The man on my patio by Pes-Fi678. I almost got Carjack or Worse by user327, the Laughing Bicyclist by Color Revolt, Katerer goes ballistic by Frantic Slutter. They wanted to make me the African Queen by Eloise Bella, the girl who medilated a dead deer by Ice Bear 48, the singing lady by ask me about my tie.

What was she planning to do by Kenny C5576 and finally, Carol by Winkin, Blinkin, and not? 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. As always, if you have a story to share, send it to Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com. And don't forget if you want to get access to that extended ad free version of this week's episode as well as a bunch of content all ad free. Head over to patreon.com forward slash let's not meet podcast to sign up and support the show today. And don't forget to check out the new episodes of my other podcasts, odd trails, my true paranormal

podcast, welcome to Paradise It's Sucks, and the old time Radiocast all at crypticcountypodcasts.com. We'll see you guys next week. Stay safe. It was a rainy, August day in Las Vegas. AT&T Fiber presents a straightforward moment. Your wine? Thanks. I'll pretend I know what I'm doing before saying it's good. And I'll pretend I don't know you're pretending.

Are you a gigillionaire? Yeah, I have AT&T Fiber. The straightforward pricing has inspired me to be more straightforward. Me too. Ugh, this wine. I'll fetch you a better one. Straight forward is better. No equipment fees, no data caps, no price increase at 12 months.

Live like a Gagillionaire with AT&T Fiber. Limited availability in select areas. Visit ATT.com slash hypergig for details.