Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 11x02: Stay Out of the Cottage

Episode Date: July 3, 2023

Stories in this episode: - Ransom From a Dark Past, by Dream_Rat - Light Rail Woes, by Anonymous - Go, by Anonymous - He Followed Me on the Bus, by Alanna - Escape From a Carnaval After-Party, by Girl From the Middle of the World - The Bracelets, by Adrian - The Patient That Wanted to Kill Me First, by Anonymous - The Man in the Cottage, by Red Extended Patreon Content: - "Please, Don't Be Angry With Me", by Heidi - He Drugged My Margarita, by Anonymous - A Lesson About Gaslighting, by CJ  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. - 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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This podcast contains adult language and content. Listener discretion is advised. If you have a story to share, send it to Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com. Enjoy the show! My family and I lived in a very small and old pink trailer in the middle of nowhere, Texas. Growing up near the border, I heard stories about people getting into the country when they're not supposed to, cartel stories, as well as ghost stories. All often told in Spanish, English is my first language, and my Spanish sucks, but I can understand people speaking to me in Spanish. I just can't respond

to them. My grandparents lived 30 minutes away. My grandparents on my mom's side and my dad's side have known each other for the longest time. They even lived on the same street for many years. My dad worked as a truck driver at the time so he was barely ever around, but he would be around during the weekends occasionally. We lived on the outskirts of town, literally in the desert. This meant that there were always dust storms, cactuses, thorny bushes, and venomous snakes. My younger sister and I stayed inside all of the time due to this environment. The trailer that we were living in was small. It had a living room, kitchen, and two rooms.

One of the rooms was a playroom for me and my sister to keep the cheap toys that we found at the flea markets and thrift stores. The other room was our bedroom where we all slept. Our bedroom had a king-size mattress for my dad and a few small kids' mattresses where we all slept. The bedroom didn't have a door or doorway leading into it. There was just a large opening that we all walked through to get to the living room in kitchen. We had this opening covered with a thick Mexican blanket to separate the space from the rest of the trailer. There were two ways to pull into our small,

perpetually dusty trailer. There was an entry at the front of the trailer that had a big dip. It was a big decline that my sister and I slid down whenever we wanted to feel like we were on a roller coaster. The other point of entry opened up to a big dirt road with a rocky curve. My dad built some wobbly stairs that led to a patio that creaked constantly out of old two-by-four's in plywood. All of this is relevant to the story. It was the middle of an afternoon on a weekend. I was in my mom's car and my sister was in my dad's truck.

We had very few neighbors and the dirt roads leading to our trailer were always empty. So my parents had this game where we would race to see who could get to the trailer to open the door first. My mom was flooring it, going over 80 miles per hour on this long stretch of road. My dad's truck was close behind us and trying to pass. I remember clearly seeing my sister laughing her head off and gesturing for my dad to go faster in the rearview mirror. As we were getting closer to the curved dirt road, I took off my seatbelt as my mom handed me her key so that I would be ready to hop out of the car and run to the door. My dad opted for the entrance with the dip, which was slightly quicker.

My dad stopped his truck first, but I jumped out of my mom's car before it even stopped. My sister and I were both running towards the door with our parents yelling, go, go! I got up the stairs and onto the patio first, but my sister came up behind me and pushed me off the patio. So she won. I landed on the dirt ground when she pushed me, so I was kind of sour, but it was fun. This was the last time I remember feeling like a kid, though. Since it was a weekend, my mom let us stay up later. And after Bible study, my sister and I were watching

criminal minds on the I.O.N. channel on this 24-inch TV with money ears. This was truly our only source for news and entertainment. The 24-inch TV with the rabbit ears was in the bedroom, which is where my sister and I were when we were watching Spencer as he was figuring out stuff about the killer. Suddenly, we heard our mom dropping what sounded like pans.

We peaked out from behind the blanket door to try and listen to what my mom was saying. We couldn't hear her since it sounded like she was whispering in between cries. We were worried, so we went over to her. Then she turned everything off, the patio light, any lights inside the TV, everything. She looked out of the small sliding door that was in front of the bedroom with the blanket door. Being scared kids, my sister and I kept asking her what was wrong, but my mom was just crying, and she kept repeating.

Just give me a moment in Spanish. So we waited. After a minute or two, she instructed us to grab anything that we could to meet her by the door. We immediately grabbed our pillows and blankets. After a minute or two, she told us quietly, but clearly as she was holding back from crying. When I opened the door, we all need to run to the car as fast as possible. We have to leave now. She then opened the door and we ran. I have never run so fast in my life. We left the trailer door wide open behind us. My sister got into the car first and dove into the back seat. I got into the passenger seat. My mom got in and started the car, and that's when we saw a black SUV turn their lights on. It was parked right outside of the wire gate that we had. I didn't notice it when we were running.

My mom was screaming as she hit the gas like she had five stars on Grand Theft Auto. She rammed into the old aluminum gate at the curved entrance since she refused to ease on the gas pedal even when rounding the curves or making turns. We then took off to my dad's parents' house. One thing to know about my dad's parents' place is that everyone lived there. It was a large one-acre lot with four houses on it. Two of those houses were side by side and one of the houses had two stories. The majority of my aunts and uncles lived there. My dad's parents had a total of 10 kids,

meaning that I had four aunts and five uncles. One of the uncles is mentally handicapped. He moaned a lot and spent a lot of his time tearing newspapers into strips, resembling Pinyata's stuffing while he walked around in his underwear. He didn't seem functional, and we had to be careful not to scare him, otherwise his moaning would get louder. Needless to say, this was a stressful place to go. And honestly, I never liked going to this place because it's also legitimately haunted. Once we got to my dad's parents' place, my mom got us inside as quickly as she could. She peeled away to talk to my grandma about something. Then my grandma made calls to the

rest of the family who started showing up. After everybody arrived, they huddled up in the living room to talk. My sister and I were in my aunts room while the adults were conferring. Eventually, my mom walked in and explained that my dad and his friend were kidnapped and being held hostage with guns to their heads. Their captors made my dad call my mom and explained that they wanted some outrageous amount of money, $70,000, or he would be killed. I was panicking and crying because I didn't know if I was going to lose my dad or not. My sister was really calm, which isn't surprising since she has always been

emotionally sturdier than me, even though I'm the oldest. My aunts and uncles were making beelines to wherever they had money hidden away. Another thing to note is that my dad's family doesn't trust each other with money. I've never found out why. They just don't. I saw my grandma pull out a thick stack of $20 bills rubber banded together. It was about the size of a red masonry brick. My aunt went into her room and moved to the bed which exposed a hole in the wall. She reached her arm into that hole and pulled out clumps of cash.

My aunts were counting the money together by the handfuls as my uncles gathered their share of the ransom. They had so much money. This was shocking since everybody was poor. Some time passed and the phone rang. My mom picked it up, and now the captor wanted more money. I don't know how much they were asking for. I only remember my mom yelling that she didn't have that much. Then they hung up on her. They scrambled around for more money, and after all of the money was on the table,

they were still shy by five grand. My grandma chirped, stopped crying. this will just have to be enough. Pray to Jehovah that this will be enough. She then ordered my uncle to accompany my mom to the meeting point to exchange the money for my dad and his friend. The rest of us waited for what seemed like forever. My sister and I were still in my aunt's bedroom when we heard cries and cheers. We went out into the hallway where we were still in my aunt's bedroom when we heard cries and cheers. We went out into the hallway where we were greeted by my dad. He held us tightly and we felt him shaking.

We stayed at my dad's parents' house that night and went home in the morning only to find that our pink trailer had been ransacked. My mom understandably didn't want to live there anymore, so we packed up and moved to San Antonio that very day. We went to live with my mom's sister, who has been like a second mom to me ever since she introduced me to vintage anime. Since then, we've been moving from place to place in San Antonio, and we were always switching schools. I never understood why until years later. It turns out it was all about my dad's past.

He was a troublemaker and did things that I don't really want to know for people I cannot and will not mention. My dad's entire family was involved in shady dealings with transporting people who were on vacation. It's all very dark, and my dad never mentions any of it, unless it needs to be mentioned for our family's sake. He and his family left the shady stuff behind, but that didn't stop his old colleagues from finding him

and putting his family through all of this. This has changed my whole life, and my dad implemented a rule for us to follow if we ever visit Mexico. He told us, if you ever hear anyone call out my name, keep walking. Pretend you don't know me and pretend that you didn't hear. Walk into a store until I can come get you. I'm still not sure if I can call this a change for the better or for the worse, since messed up things have continued to happen in my life even up to this point. But I can't imagine what life would be like if we still lived in that small, old pink

trailer. My parents have since divorced and my sister has started a family of her own. My dad lives with me, and I'm dirt poor, trying to turn things around ever since everything started that night. To the old colleagues of my dad, you're the reason I'll never feel safe in that town. Even though my family still lives there. Let's never meet. I'm a big fan of the podcast and I've been a listener since 2021. I've only submitted one other story and much to my luck haven't had another story to share until now. This happened recently when I took my friend out for some sushi for

her birthday. For context, we're both 22 years old and we're fairly attractive women, or so we've been told. It's important for me to explain the public transportation system that we have here in Denver. We use something similar to a train. It's called a light rail. If you've taken a light rail before, then you understand that the light rail isn't the safest or cleanest mode of transportation out there. This is largely due to many passengers being able to just get on for free.

Passengers are expected to purchase tickets, but there's really no one checking for tickets when you get on. It's easy to ride for free, if you keep an eye out for Metro cops that randomly board trains to check for tickets. I'd also like to mention that my friend and I were taking the light rail from the suburbs to downtown Denver. We decided not to drive for two reasons. The first was that parking in downtown Denver is expensive and spending

that much on parking during a two-hour meal is unnecessary. The second reason is that there was a ton of construction happening downtown, which makes maneuvering around downtown more of a nightmare than it already is. Now, on to the story. My friend and I drove separately in Meta Battle Light Rail station that's in between where each of us live. Before I got out of the car, I decided to grab the pepper spray I keep in the glove box out of pure intuition. I usually don't carry pepper spray since I work in aviation. TSA never hesitates to confiscate it if I have it in my purse, so now I just keep it in my car. But on this day, I had this gut so now I just keep it in my car.

But on this day, I had this gut feeling I needed to bring it with me. I tested it out in the parking lot on the concrete, and sure enough, it worked. My friend and I found each other at the station and boarded the light rail together. We were excited about how empty it was. We didn't even have to struggle to find a seat or anything. Since there were only three other people on the light rail with us, both of us sat on our own benches. After a stop or two, a man got on and sat at a nearby bench that was facing us. My friend and I were passing the time, talking about life, when he started yelling loudly and claiming to be Jesus. I can't

remember what he was yelling about since I was so focused on my conversation with my friend, trying to ignore him. This is common on the light rail. I've been in situations like this before, and it tends to be better not to acknowledge or engage, so that's what we tried to do. It was fine at first, but then the guy started to get agitated with us specifically. He was mad that we weren't listening to him and said something about slapping one of us. I faced my friend and stared at her with wide eyes. We were both feeling pretty fearful of this guy. Then he got up and walked around the light rail car, talking about Jesus.

He got really close to me and my friend, so I immediately took out my pepper spray and concealed it under my jacket. I decided we would be better off getting off at the next stop. So my friend and I stood up and approached the door. This made the guy explode for some reason. He started fighting another guy who was near us. While they were fighting, we quickly got off the train and tried hiding behind one of the walls of the station.

The guy who was upset about me and my friend getting off the train had followed us. I should have pepper sprayed him at that moment, but I didn't. Instead, I quickly turned us around and got us back on the train. I loudly exclaimed profanities since I knew that other people on the light rail were watching all of this happen. I was hoping that this would draw attention from someone to help us out. Luckily the guy who fought the guy who was following us blocked the door. The guy following us was furious about this and he was yelling insults at the guy who was

trying to save us. I screamed at the driver to get us moving. Luckily the guy that followed us was no match for the guy that was helping us, so he threw a cup at the doors as they were closing, and the train started moving again. He couldn't let go without banging on the window that I was sitting next to and glaring at me first. I flipped him off as the train left the platform. I don't know what

that guy was capable of, but at least he didn't initiate any physical contact with me or my friend. This whole encounter still scared me and I'm not sure I'll ever ride the light rail again. My friend and I went and did our best to enjoy dinner after that incident, and we were hyper vigilant during the ride back, just in case this guy decided to wait around for us. When we got back to the station where we parked, I practically rejoiced when I saw that there were multiple cop cars with their lights on at the station. I figured if the guy was at this station and tried to follow us, we would have police

onsite to help us. It wasn't until I got home safely that I learned about a shootout that had happened at the station my car was parked at. Apparently somebody tried to steal a car and ended up shooting at the cops that showed up at the scene. Now this wasn't connected to the guy that followed us, but it was eerie to learn that we had so narrowly avoided two very dangerous situations. So, to everybody listening, my advice is about the same as the advice that you would hear

on all the other stories in this podcast. Trust your gut. Also, carry some sort of protection, remain vigilant, and be ready to act at all times. To the guy that helped us, I'm sorry I didn't get to say it to your face, but thank you for protecting me and my friend from that maniac and to the guy that followed us. Let's not meet again because next time I won't hesitate to expand an entire can of pepper spray into your face. Are you tired of feeling stuck when it comes to writing? We've all been there, struggling to come up with fresh ideas or rewriting sentences over and over again, only to end up feeling frustrated.

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siblings. Stepping back a little bit, my mom and I never had the best relationship, which is pertinent info. She left me when I was young, and she has bobbed in and out of my life for as long as I can remember. She pretty much only bobs back in whenever it's convenient for her. But sometimes she bobs back in when she feels like trying to be in my life again and trying to have a relationship with me. When she's in this mode, she text me every day, and almost

always answers my calls. She essentially treats me the way a mom is supposed to treat her daughter. When this happened, she was in the middle of this mode and kept it up for a bit, managing to build up a little bit of trust in me. I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and visit her for two weeks. This was a nice visit. Her boyfriend was even giving me driving lessons. Everything was going well until I told her that I needed to go home. One thing I need to note is that I was always apprehensive about visiting my

mom because when I did, she would keep me for way longer than I intended to visit. I intentionally made an appointment back at home for something, and I assumed that she would take me home so that I could go, but she wouldn't. She just laughed and said, oh no, you're not going home. After that, I contacted my aunt via messenger and asked her to come get me. Internally, I made a plan to leave and never come back since my mom never let me leave when I was supposed to. The next day, my mom's boyfriend went to a funeral. He decided to party afterwards, so he returned later that night.

I had been sleeping in the living room during my visit. I could see and hear everything happening on the porch since the porch was like a small sunroom that was attached to the living room. About two hours after my mom's boyfriend came home, I heard knocking on the door. I thought it was just my imagination, but the knocking continued. I opened the door, and it was the police. They were looking for my mom's boyfriend. They tried to drag me outside by my arm, so I screamed for my mom. I had a panic attack as everything happened. He was arrested for first degree murder.

The day after that my aunt tried to come and get me, but my mom found out I was trying to leave, so she was livid. I couldn't go home after that, even though all I wanted was my dad and my pets. I couldn't sleep at all that night. My mom started receiving death threats from somebody involved with the person, her boyfriend murdered. So, my grandfather came to get my mom, my siblings, and me. We stayed with him, and my grandma and I cried myself to sleep every night we were there. The first day we were there, I cried to my grandma after my mom sternly told me,

you could try everything you want, but you're not going anywhere. My dad came over to my grandma after my mom sternly told me, you could try everything you want, but you're not going anywhere. My dad came over to my grandparents house to talk to me and had the cops behind him. I talked to them and told them everything that was going on. I told them I wanted to go home to my dad where my dogs and cats were. I told them that my mental health was declining rapidly. I told them about how my dad's girlfriend was pregnant, and I was supposed to be in the delivery room. I love my dad's girlfriend dearly, and I now consider her my mom.

My dad wanted to take me with him, but I was told I had to stay. Later that night, my mom was arrested. She had a warrant out for her arrest, and with all this going on, law enforcement was finally able to find her. After this went down, I slept better than I had for the past month. When my mom was released, she soiled my name and my siblings name. She told everybody it was my fault that she got arrested. She still wasn't letting me go home to my dad dad so I begged to be put into a psych ward,

which she also refused. We left our grandparents' house after her release, and my mom ended up getting kicked out of her house, so we were living in a hotel. My mom took my phone for a while but gave it back to me after I had been behaving. I immediately reached out to my aunt, and I told her where I was. My aunt came with my dad after talking to the police. When my aunt called the police and explained the situation, the officer literally told her, go! My aunt arrived and told me to come out to her. But my mom was at the grocery store and left

me with my baby siblings. I told my aunt that I wasn't going to leave him alone. While waiting for my mom to return, I stuffed everything I possibly could fit into my bra, including my phone and toothbrush. When my mom came back, I told her I needed to get my books out of the truck. I texted my aunt. Let's go. As I went down the stairs and then bolted to her car, I

then saw my dad. I called my great grandma, and as soon as I heard her voice I started to cry, since I knew I was finally safe. It's been a few months, but I'm back with my family and happier than ever. I haven't spoke to my mother in months. A few years ago in my mid-twenties I found myself in the exciting embrace of San Francisco. I was summoned to house sit for my step-sister and brother-in-law during their vacation. Little did I know, this visit would

plunge me into a nightmarish encounter. Seeking solace from the hustle and bustle, I decided to seek refuge at a local cat cafe, hoping to savor a cup of coffee while finding comfort in the presence of rescue kitties. After my calming experience, I patiently waited for the bus. I dawned my headphones and projected an aura of detachment to dissuade unwanted interactions. My efforts proved futile. A middle-aged man, his gaze piercing and unsettling, directed his attention toward my headphones. He motioned for me to remove them. With a sense of uncertainty, I complied, anticipating an inquiry for directions. His words dripped with an unsettling tone.

Are you out of school?" He questioned. He assumed that I was a minor, a realization that sent shivers down my spine, determined not to reveal my unease. I ignored his unsettling question, feigning ignorance. Finally, the bus arrived, providing a glimmer of hope for escape, yet to my astonishment the man boarded the same bus, persistent for my attention. Desperate to evade his invasive presence, I sought refuge in a solitary seat, yearning for the invisible

barrier to keep him at bay. However, his determination knew no bounds, as he cornered me. His presence quickly became an oppressive weight on me. Undeterred by my unspoken pleas for solitude, he continued his intrusive questioning. What hotel are you staying at? Disgust, coerced through my veins, and I conjured a fictitious response. Oh, I'm from around here, visiting my sister and brother-in-law for dinner. I hoped subtly weaving the presence of a man into my fabricated tale would be a deterrent,

yet he pressed on, disregarding my boundaries. Come get coffee with me." He demanded. His voice was chilling and his command was leased with entitlement. Summoning the courage to maintain my composure, I firmly declined no thank you, mustering a semblance of confidence in my refusal. Unyielding in his pursuit, he whined, attempting to guilt me into submission. Why does no one ever give me a chance? While fear nod at me, I refused to grant him the satisfaction of realizing my vulnerability. I held my ground, projecting an unwavering facade of self-assuredness. I'm late, and my family will worry," I asserted, emphasizing the urgency in my voice, but

his response, callous and dismissive, cut through the air like a chilling gust of wind as he hissed. You're already late, why does it matter? Every attempt to reason with him proved futile, as he persisted in his relentless pursuit, heedless to my discomfort. The bus teamed with passengers, each immersed in their own world. Their indifference was palpable. It was a disheartening realization that their distractions took precedence over the potential distress of a fellow traveler. At that moment, I felt an overwhelming sense of isolation. I felt abandoned, and a sea of detached souls. Summating every ounce of courage, I reached

for my phone to which the man said some unsettling words that still echo in my mind. You better not be calling for help. He sneered as I held the device in my trembling hand. Ignoring his chilling warning, I pressed the call button and studied my voice as I held the device in my trembling hand. Ignoring his chilling warning, I pressed the call button and studied my voice as I spoke into the receiver. Hi, Mom, how are you?" A flicker of uncertainty danced across the man's face, and his facade momentarily shattered. Oh, sorry, he muttered. His retreat veiled in apprehension. Relief surged through me as I stepped off the bus, two stops before my intended destination. I cast a final weary glance over my shoulder to ensure

the man had not followed me. Satisfied that I had successfully eluded him, I exhaled a breath, I hadn't realized I had been holding, so to the man who followed me onto the bus, let's never meet again. I'm Brazilian, and many of you may be familiar with Carnival. It's the time of year when young people and adults like to make very bad decisions. Even though my sister and I live in the capital city, the city itself is still considered small, but you wouldn't think so during Carnival. There are always a ton of block parties and parades,

the streets are overflowing with people for days, the biggest parade of all, takes place on Ash Wednesday, the last official day of festivities, thousands of people gather in the center of the city and walk for miles, drinking and dancing in the street, following an electric trio, which is a truck with a very powerful sound system. This happened to my older sister when she was 15. She's the queen of bad decisions, but I love her anyway. My mother let her go to the big parade.

This was in Brazil in 2005. Violent cases involving young people in adolescence didn't occur often, so as a result, parents felt comfortable allowing their children to experience some freedom, just as long as they are accompanied by a group of friends, and all parents are aware of the plans. Anyway, off she went, young and fearless, a dangerous combination. She took full advantage of the afternoon and early evening, dancing with friends and flirting with boys. Near the end of the route, one of the boys she interacted with, had invited her to an after party at his house. He was an attractive guy in his early

20s, with a caramel complexion of black eyes and black hair. She said that she didn't feel threatened by him or coerced into accepting the invitation. She was interested in him, so she accepted. As I said, queen of bad decisions. She got onto his motorcycle and simple as that they took off. He ended up taking my sister to a not very safe part of town. She didn't know the area at all. It was really quiet and not very busy. My sister said that before they arrived in this guy's neighborhood, she realized she had made a bad decision. But it was too late. There was no way that she could get off of a moving motorcycle

anyway. She didn't have a chance to escape when the motorcycle stopped moving either because he drove inside the property. He didn't let her leave his side until because he drove inside the property. He didn't let her leave his side until they were fully inside the house. Once they got through the door, he immediately locked it from the inside with a key. She took a look around and the gut feeling that she had told her that she should not have gone. The living room, where she expected to find a couch in furniture, only had it already mattress in the corner on the floor. That was it. There wasn't anything else in there. Facing the front door was a hallway, with two other doors, and one of them was a jarr. She peeked inside and realized it was a bathroom. He told her

to sit on the mattress and wait for him while he went to the bathroom. She started looking for a way out, but as I said before, he locked the door from the inside. The windows were too high for her to reach. Just as she was about to give up and wait for him to come back, the second door in the hallway opened. Inside the room were two unkempt men. They looked to be in their thirties. That's when her instincts took over. She knew nothing good could ever come of a 15-year-old girl locked in a house with three unknown adult men.

To this day, she can't explain exactly how, but she managed to jump out of one of the windows and run away. By a miracle, they didn't chase her or figure out which path she took. She immediately turned onto some random streets, hoping to mislead them. She looked for a main street that she could recognize, or one that was busy, hoping to find her way home from there. But after what seemed like hours of walking, she realized that she had no chance of finding her way home on her own. She decided to take a risk and asked for help

from a man who was using a pay phone. Now I wouldn't have the courage, but I'm glad that she did. He promptly agreed to help, but when she explained what happened through tears and sobs, he said that he didn't have a vehicle or much money to get her home. But he offered to call a motorcycle company that transports people. He said that he would talk to a driver so that he could take her home. And that's what he did. He talked to a driver, paid for the ride, and wished my sister good luck. By 10 pm, she was home, slightly traumatized, but safe.

It wasn't until recently that she shared this story with me. As for the rest of my family, nothing happened, everything was normal. If my mother knew exactly what happened, I think my sister would be grounded to this day. So to the guy who lured my sister back to his house where there were two other men, when she was under age, I'd rather not imagine what your intentions were. Let's not meet. Oh, and to the man who was willing to do whatever he could to help a girl in trouble? Thank you. This took place over 30 years ago in the late 80s in the Pacific Northwest.

To specify, it happened in Bellingham, Washington. I was 6 or 7 years old back then, and I recently turned 40, meaning this was around 1989. Back in the 80s, borders were much less secure than they are now. Given the fact that Bellingham was about an hour away from the Canadian border, there were lots of missing kids and abductions reported. In the midst of these abductions, an employee at the local Y, who was in charge of my after-school program, went missing around Thanksgiving. She was found brutally murdered, so everybody was on high alert.

Silver lining, they recently managed to match the DNA and formally convict someone for it. One day during school, the students were given bracelets with our names on them. Imagine those medical alert bracelets, but it has kids identification and information on them. Imagine those medical alert bracelets, but it has kids identification and information on them. Almost every picture I have seen of myself from this time shows that I was wearing it. Kids were instructed to wear these bracelets at all times and talk to their parents if they had any questions. My life wasn't the greatest at the time. My mom's business was failing. She was doing everything by herself since my father had his own demons that he should have been dealing with, but was not.

In addition to my father having some issues, my mother had her own issues and was dealing with some serious alcoholism. Her family lived in Oklahoma, so she had no support. I never asked my mom about the mandatory bracelets, and she never said anything about them except that she wished I had taken mine off during ballet recital. I was a carousel horse in my school's production of Mary Poppins for those wandering. Back to the bracelets. When kids were given these bracelets and told to wear them, they were also told if they walk home from school they had to walk with a buddy. Looking back, this system did not make much sense. Kids were still

being abducted, but kids were still allowed to walk home from school. It was a different time back then I guess. I always walked with a neighbor friend who was the same age as me, but in a different class. One day when we were walking, a car pulled up next to us and asked if we knew where something was. I can't remember what the person was asking about, but we said that we didn't know anything. The driver continued to ask questions and eventually pulled over.

Then they asked if we were hungry, and they said they had a bunch of snacks in the back seat. I wasn't the brightest kid, and I was always hungry, so I was very down to check out the snacks that they had to offer. My friend, on the other hand, was a bit more leery. I can't remember the name of my neighborhood friend at this point, but I was lucky to have them there. My friend grabbed my arm and told me, don't get in the car.

The car continued to drive slowly behind us and even kept asking us questions, but eventually they left and we made it home. I left Washington with my mom not too long after this, so my mom could get the help that she needed. I spent the next few years getting all the love and sugary cereal I could from my grandparents. Life got better, and I moved on without finding out what the deal was with those bracelets. To the person in the vehicle that drove behind two young kids and tempted them with snacks, let's not meet again. And to the neighborhood friend who pulled me away

from that car? Thank you. I'm a 23 year old paramedic. I started my career in medicine at 18 working in an emergency room in a very crime-ridden area. I am no stranger to weirdness or the unhinged as they come with the job. There are way too many stories that I could share, but I'll just start with this one. Back when I started in the ER, we were always slammed with traumas, the mentally ill, and straight up psychopaths, being brought in by law enforcement for evaluation. These patients would range from, I'm off my meds and things are bad again too, I'm going

to kill you. My 18 year old brain was traumatized from the moment we had a particular patient. This patient had homicidal ideations. They were brought in by the police department. We were packed that night, so to stay on track I treated the patient like they were just any other patient being brought in. I had been working in the ER for about four months at this point. I remember the icy stairs that the patient gave everyone. I remember the way that everybody looked at me as if I were prey. I did my best to avoid them. The

patient was walking down a hallway while on telamed, talking to a psychiatrist remotely. I was walking down the hallway behind the patient, restocking some supplies. I was just doing my thing when I felt every hair on my body stand on end. I turned toward the patient's room and they were staring directly at me. I felt like they were staring into my soul. I can honestly say I stopped in my tracks when our eyes met. I'm a female, 5'4", maybe 130 pounds. I looked to be about 15 at the time. I have curly blonde hair and grey blue eyes. The patient held eye contact with me as they muttered. I want to kill them all. I felt like I was looking straight into the eyes of some demon. As if that weren't enough,

they continued with a sick and twisted smile. The little blonde will be my first. To say that I was left shaking is an understatement. My fighter flight kicked in and I took off in a dead sprint toward the nurse's station. I told my charge nurse what had happened. A security officer was placed outside of the patient's room and I no longer had to have any contact with them. This situation made me feel like I was in my own personal Stephen King movie. I continued working that ER for two years. After a while, I had my fill of death threats, sexual harassment, and trauma. I'm not sure if it was because I was the youngest looking one there, or maybe it's because I'm

so small, but I was a constant fixation for challenging patients. My co-workers always joked with me that I attracted people with unusual personalities. There was truth to this, though, because eventually I was no longer allowed in psych rooms or anywhere near psych patients. This was due to being attacked by them. I even had patients block me from leaving their rooms. Anyway, to the homicidal psych patient that wanted to off me first, let's not meet again. This happened when I was 14. My friend who was a year older and I decided to go explore some abandoned houses around

the village. If you're from Finland and live outside of major cities, then you know that there are a lot of old houses and barns that nobody uses anymore. Most of the time, they aren't in the best condition. My friend and I found an old abandoned summer cottage that had most of the windows broken and the yard was pretty trashed. We had walked past this cottage many times, but we had never seen anyone in or around it, so we decided to go inside.

It was a very stupid idea, but we were curious kids. Exploring places like this isn't out of the ordinary, many people still explore vacant places like this to this day. The cottage had five rooms, and all of them still had furniture. This probably sounds strange, but that's also not uncommon for these abandoned places. Many of them are still fully furnished. We just took a look around to see if there was anything interesting, not that we were planning on taking anything. We didn't destroy anything or take anything with us. One of the rooms, though, had at least three wheelchairs

in it, and the mattress was so moldy. This room also had a huge wooden closet that was left open. It still had some clothes inside. We had been looking around for about 20 minutes when we suddenly heard somebody approach the back door of the cottage. They put the keys into the keyhole, and we started panicking. But we were also confused. We were certain that this cottage had not been

used since we had been living in that area, which had to be five years at that point. We had no idea who could possibly be trying to get into that abandoned cottage. We climbed out of the window that we were closest to, which was at the front of the house. I got out, but when my friend tried to jump out, his sleeve snagged the window frame, so this slowed down our escape. We freed his sleeve and were about to run, when we saw the man running towards us from inside the house. Neither my friend nor I said anything.

We just booked it into the forest nearby. We ran for as long as we could, but stopped to breathe and calm down for a bit. We couldn't stop long since we started to hear footsteps following behind. I told my friend that we needed to keep running, since there wasn't anywhere we could safely hide in the forest. We headed home and didn't talk about it the entire way. When I parted ways with my friend, I started crying. I felt relieved, but also scared.

I thought about how my friend and I could have just talked it out, apologized, and said that we didn't know anybody was living there. But the fact that the man didn't say a word when he was running towards us, or chasing us through the woods, was rather creepy. For the next three days, I was nervous that he somehow knew who I was or where I lived. I was scared that he would tell my parents that my friend and I broke into his cottage. My parents are very strict, so I didn't want them to find out about this. Less than a week later, when I was home alone, I heard a knock at the door.

I was a bit paranoid, but I didn't think too much of it. I assumed it was just one of my neighbors, or possibly my parents forgot their keys or something. I looked through the people, and my heart dropped. It was the man from the abandoned cottage. Everything I had been paranoid about was suddenly happening. He tracked me down. I decided not to open the door, instead I just yelled, Hey, who are you through the door? There was no answer. I waited a minute and then yelled again. Do you need something? No answer again. I stood there and waited, but he started to bang on the door loudly and aggressively. I was scared that the glass on the door was

going to break. He was standing there emotionless. There was no other movement in his body. He was just banging on the door with one hand. I was so scared. I shut my eyes tight and yelled as loud as I could. Please stop. I'm scared. What do you want?

The banging then stopped. I opened my eyes and he was gone. No where to be seen. I was too scared to move because I was worried that he was looking inside the house from one of the windows, so I lingered near that front door for a while until I was sure that he was gone. Later that day when my parents came home, I didn't tell them what happened. I was still too scared of the consequences, so I just stayed quiet. This happened two more times, and both visits were the exact same thing. He showed up when I was home alone. He would then start with normal knocking until it became full on pounding.

Then it would suddenly stop, and he would disappear. The last time he came by by I yelled through the door, please stop, I don't know why you're here, just tell me what you want me to do. I'll never come to your property again, it was a mistake, I didn't think anyone lived there, I'm so sorry. And again, no answer, he just disappeared. Weeks went by and there wasn't any sign from him. I finally talked to my friend about this and he said the same thing was happening to him. It's been many years since this happened and I don't live in that area anymore, but just in case, to the man in the cottage, I'm sorry for coming to your house. I'm sorry for breaking your peace, but also,

let's not meet ever again. Don't forget to stick around after the music for your extended ad-free version of this week's episode of Let's Not Meet, a true horror podcast. And if you'd like to get access, head over to patreon.com forward slash Let's Not Meet podcast to sign up and support the show today, you'll get hours upon hours of bonus ad-free content immediately. This week you have heard Ransom from a dark past by Dream Rat. Light Rail Rose by Anonymous. Go by Anonymous. He followed me on the bus by Alana. Escape from the Carnival Party by the girl in the middle of the world. The bracelets by

Adrian. The patient that wanted to kill me first by Anonymous and finally. The man in the middle of the world. The bracelets by Adrian, the patient that wanted to kill me first by Anonymous and finally, the man in the cottage, by Red. 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. Don't forget to submit your stories to let's not meet stories at gmail.com if you'd like to hear them on the show. And don't forget to check out the new episodes of my other podcasts like Odd Trails,

my True Paranormal podcast. Welcome to Paradise It Sucks and the Old Time Radiocast at crypticcountypodcasts.com, or wherever you get your podcasts. See you all next week. Stay safe. I want to start off by saying that I am General E.E. 18T fiber presents a straightforward moment. You're wine?

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