Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 11x06: Don't Go In The Basement (feat. Trevin Bartee)

Episode Date: July 31, 2023

Stories in this episode: - The Sinister Realtor, by Alec (0:38) - Untitled Story, by Trevin Bartee (14:33) - Laughing Woman at the Waterpark, by depressedandimmature (25:06) - My Neighbor Was Inside My House, by gotchills (30:31) - Followed on a Dark Country Road, by natural-edged (35:37) - Eric in the Basement, by Kirby (39:59) Extended Patreon Content: - Carlos, Shelby - Late Night Ride, Rayan - A Tale of Teenage Stupidity, Zoe Due to periodic changes in ad placement, time-stamps are estimates and are not always accurate. Check out Trevin's podcast at https://www.livelaughlarceny.com/ 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/andytatelive

This podcast contains adult language and content. Listen to discretion is advised. If you have a story to share, send it to Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com. Enjoy the show. This story took place just two years ago in 2021. At the time, I was 25 years old and my boyfriend Tyler and I were on the hunt for our first apartment together in Fairfield County, Connecticut. Back then, we were both living with our parents in New Hampshire, and a job change sparked an exciting relocation opportunity to the greater New York City area. I had recently come out as gay, so the prospect of our first apartment felt like the start of

a beautiful new chapter for both of us. Since Tyler's new job was slated to begin in just three weeks, we had very little time to organize a list of potential rentals for viewing. The easiest solution was to drive from New Hampshire to Connecticut for a full day of viewings after gathering a preferred list of rental properties on the market. As the big day approached, we were both giddy with joy, often joking that we felt like a couple of cliché house hunters arguing about our non-essential likes and dislikes. Although we had four beautiful apartments to tour that day,

we were most excited about the final property. It was a spacious two-bedroom, two-bath multi-family style apartment. The apartment was listed on Trulia for a slightly below-average price and included our favorite qualities like hardwood floors, stainless steel appliances, and even views of the long island sound. Looking back, I can't help but feel naive, considering the price versus what was being offered. This should have been our first true red flag. Although I had found the property listing, Tyler organized the details of the showing with the Realtor, who will call Sam for the sake of our safety. Tyler never mentioned anything out of the ordinary when it came to selecting a time to view the

property. He only mentioned that the email interaction was brief, but for who we presumed was a busy Reelter, nothing seemed unusual there. The strange saga of events began as we were driving in our car to view the dream property. My boyfriend's phone began to ring in the car while we were on route. We looked at the dashboard, we saw an unknown number appear on the screen, figuring that it was Sam the Reelter, my boyfriend quickly answered the phone. Before we could say anything, a flat, monotone voice came through the car's Bluetooth speaker.

Hey, hi, is this Sam? Tyler asked apprehensively. Yes, are you guys still coming? Replied the flat expressionless voice. Oh, yes, we're on our way now. We'll be there in about five minutes. Can't wait to see the place. Answered Tyler. Okay, I'll be there in about 15 minutes. Click. Before we could say another word, Sam hung up on us.

Tyler and I looked at each other with a mutual bewildered expression. We both found this brief and extremely unenthusiastic phone call to be rather awkward and unprofessional for a realtor. We were expecting the typical cheery, energetic approach that we had been met with from all of the other listing agents throughout the first part of our day. But this didn't deter us. We were still excited to see the property, and we figured Sam was probably just extremely

busy. As we pulled up to the property, our feelings of excitement turned into confusion. We'll call the address that was listed 1, 2, 3 mainstreet. Now the exterior of the place that we arrived at, also 1, 2, 3 mainstreet, looked abandoned and dilapidated. The stone pathway leading to the front of the unit was covered in moss. Overgrown grass stretched across the property and the stairs that wrapped around the unit were caving in with wood rot and damage.

The windows were shattered as well, so it was evident that nobody had lived there for quite some time. After coming face to face with this instead of our dream apartment, we were sure that this was a bait and switch scenario. What the heck? Tyler muttered as we got out of the car. This has to be a mistake. Let me go check the listing again, I responded.

As I pulled out my phone and reviewed the photos online, it became clear the listing included an exterior shot of a neighboring apartment unit that was almost identical. The neighboring unit was in a far superior condition than this rotting, menacing rental unit in front of us. Conveniently, the nicer of the two units was missing a street number on the front, which made us think the incorrect photo inclusion was intentional. The units shared a narrow driveway which was situated between them, leading to a shared parking area for tenants to park their cars behind the buildings. Suddenly we heard the sound of hammering and sawing, coming from the back of the nicer unit. Tyler and I felt uneasy. But we made our way down

the driveway to the back and we found a contractor working with the door open to the nicer apartment. Excuse me, can we ask you a question? I asked. The man who appeared to be in his mid-50s looked up, but didn't answer. Which of these units is the real number one, two, three? A question, matter, effectively. The man responded in what sounded like a Portuguese accent as he pointed to the dilapidated apartment on the right. That one. Tyler and I looked at each other, both feeling concerned and cheated, as we started

walking back to our car. I don't like this. Something's not right here," Tyler said. I know, I don't understand it. Why would Sam agree to meet us if he was actively trying to scam us? Wouldn't he just request money from us without scheduling a viewing, like all the other con artists do?" I asked. As Tyler was processing, I added, maybe we should wait for Sam and try to clear this up. I don't know. I think we need to get the heck out of here," Tyler said. Just as we were contemplating leaving, a small sedan came whipping down Main Street with a man driving the car. Nearly as fast as he came down the suburban street, his car bolted up the driveway between the two

units and vanished from sight. All right, that's gotta be him," Tyler said. After a few moments, a tall, slender man with slickicked back black hair dressed in business casual attire appeared. He was flailing his arms from the back end of the driveway, ushering us to come to the back of the apartment building, no greeting, no hello, just frantic arm flailing as he spoke on his cell phone. Tyler being the forever eagle scout that he is decided to prepare a getaway strategy in case things went south. Okay, here's what we're going to do. I'm moving the car to the driveway.

In the back, just in case, we need to bolt out of here. And we're going to go ask him what's going on here," Tyler said. As Tyler quickly moved the car, we approached the shared lot behind the apartment units. We noticed, as we made our way to the back, that Sam had actually walked into the nicer of the two units and was now loudly shouting to someone on the other end of the cell phone. Sam noticed us standing outside the back door of the nicer apartment, which was still open as the contractor continued working on cutting some wood with an electric saw. Sam paused his loud discussion and aggressively

back-end us to come into the apartment, with the same flailing motion that he used to usher us toward the back entrance. He was still not saying much other than, guys, come in, have a look around, but with an angry tone. As we gazed into the apartment, we noticed that it wasn't finished yet. Remodeling was maybe only halfway complete, with new amenities still being installed. Uninstalled granite countertop slabs and cabinets were scattered across the wooden floors of the open concept main floor. At this moment, I looked to Tyler and quietly whispered my theory that I didn't feel Sam was talking to anyone on the other line. Tyler worked in professional theater, and we both knew overacting when we saw it.

While we were still observing him, his frantic movements and phone shouting increased. Although I've always considered myself the more passive one in the relationship, I mustered up all of the courage that I could to interrupt Sam's phone call. Excuse me. Excuse me, I call about. Fully getting his attention. The look in his eyes went from aggravated to downright sinister, and he appeared to be a man holding back a fury of violent rage because I raised my voice to him. Before we come in, can you tell us why this apartment doesn't match the number on the listing?

Your ad lists 1-2-3 Main Street. That's clearly the unit next door, I said, with a sense of composure. The look of pure rage never left Sam's eyes, and he raised his voice even higher, practically screaming. Didn't you see the photos on the listing look around? This is the same apartment. At that same moment, the electric saw stopped in the background, and as we looked back, we noticed the contractor was locking eyes with Sam.

Did these two know each other? Were they in on the same plot? In an instant, the fury in Sam's eyes disappeared. His fury was maniacally replaced with a creepy sinister smile that I'll never forget. It was as if he were catching himself from exploding into a fit of rage and violence. So come in, have a look for yourselves. You'll see that it's the same apartment. He said with a cool, chilling tone. A sudden sense of adrenaline kicked in for both of us, as time seemed to slow. Sam's arm now justured out, beckoning us to step inside the apartment.

Even as I write this story on paper, it's difficult to explain the gut feeling of danger that permeated the room. Looking back, we both agreed that we've never felt as unsafe as we did in that moment. As we stood just inches away from the doorway, an inner, spidey sense kicked in, telling us to get out. Tyler and I looked at each other, trusted our gut, and ran from the doorway, an inner, spidey sense kicked in, telling us to get out. Tyler and I looked at each other, trusted our gut, and ran from the back door to our car as quickly as we could. After starting the engine, we sped out of the back lot, catching a glimpse of the mysterious

contractor who had a blank expression on his face. We saw Sam, who had followed and pursued on foot. He stopped in the middle of the driveway as we sped off. Later that night, we left the voicemail describing the incident to the police department's non-emergency number for that area. Unfortunately, the police didn't get back to us, so we just blocked Sam on all of our devices, fearing that he would try to contact us again. It's been two years since that happened, and we've lived safely and happily in that same city without any further encounters. We often pass Main Street while making our way to our favorite ice cream shop.

On one of those occasions, we felt compelled to revisit the site of our creepy encounter with Sam and the contractor. The actual one to three Main Street still appears broken and vacant, while a yellow, no trespassing tape wraps all around the neighboring unit that we fled away from that day. It appears that whatever con Sam was trying to pull on us, was stopped short. To the sinister, realtor that so desperately wanted to lure us into an apartment that's still vacant today, let's not meet again. Grammarly is the leading expert in AI-powered writing. With Grammarly Go, their latest product, you can harness personalized AI to customize your writing according to your preferred voice and goals, making it easier to tackle

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That's g-r-a-m-m-a-r-l-y.com slash Go. Now back to the show. In the summer of 2009, I decided to make a huge change. I was in a relationship that wasn't going anywhere. I was extremely depressed, and the only thing that brought me joy was writing and recording music. Around this time, I had caught word that an old high school classmate was moving to Phoenix to attend audio school. I reached out and in no time, we decided to go together to make it more affordable. With a new beginning in sight, my girlfriend and I decided to end our relationship. I quit my job, sold my car, and had no major ties holding me back to Kansas City.

My roommate and I both enrolled with a start date of October 23rd, and we moved down a week before classes to get settled in. During our first week, another old high school classmate, Larry, texts my roommate and asks if he can stay with us on his way back from California. Larry and I used to be best friends in school, so I was pretty excited to catch up. We had all talked about the possibility of Larry living with us if he can find a job here in Phoenix. On the first night Larry shows up, we immediately pick up where our childhood relationship was. There was no awkward first meeting or anything. Since he had been driving all day,

we decided that we wanted to get out of the apartment and explore our surroundings a little bit. My roommate stayed back and played video games. Now let me explain where we lived. We moved into a gated apartment complex in Mesa, Arizona, a suburb of Phoenix. From my experience with parts of Kansas City, I found this to be a pretty nice place. It was very much the retirement spot of the city.

Everywhere you looked, there was beige, sandstone walls, and upscale gated trailer parks. The main roads going through this area were very wide and had a lot of lanes. This was something I was not used to in Missouri. We decided to walk to the Walmart about half a mile from our apartment. There, we each got one of those to-go sub-samwiches,

and I bought a two-liter of orange soda, planning on saving the rest for later. After we finished eating, we decided to take the long way home, just to familiarize ourselves with the area. It's around 6 or 7 pm, so it's still well lit outside. To the right of my sidewalk is about six lanes of active traffic, and I'm surrounded by businesses or nicer apartment buildings.

I want to stress that I did not feel unsafe in any way. Although I was far from home for the first time, nothing about this setting had me on edge, or like I felt the need to have my guard up. Larry and I walked back towards the apartment. The traffic is to my right and to my left is one of those solid sandstone walls. Between the walls on the sidewalk is a single line of these skinny decorative shrubs. Quite a ways ahead, I can see where the sidewalk breaks, making an entrance to a parking lot inside the walls.

I believe it was a golf course, but I'm not entirely sure. As we are walking towards the entrance to the business, a man walks out from behind the wall, onto the sidewalk, and right towards us. I instantly had a bad feeling about this guy. There had been a clearing in all of the traffic, and I had considered crossing to the other sidewalk, but I ultimately stayed.

In my head, I felt that would have been a weird thing to do, and I was probably just being paranoid. As the man got closer to us, I noticed something else out of the corner of my eye. At the same entrance that the man came from, a second man was peeking around and watching. He slowly inched around and began walking between the sandstone wall and the shrubbery. More alarms are going off in my head. I've got two guys walking towards me, one on the sidewalk and the other and conspicuously behind shrubs.

At this point, I can't logic my way into believing that this is all on my head. By the time I was confident that my fear aligned perfectly with my reality, it was too late. We were right to the guy on the sidewalk. Larry and I didn't communicate or even signal to each other during this time. I don't believe he was aware of either man.

So when we got to the man on the sidewalk, Larry casually split out wide and allowed the man to pass through us. The man really didn't look at us. He just kept walking. I held my sigh of relief a little longer as I continued to watch my back. Sure enough, the man makes it about three steps past us

before he pulls a 180 and comes walking up behind us. He quickly approaches from behind and quietly says, if you know what's good for you, you'll both empty your pockets. In most tense situations, I do this thing where I try to be funny. It probably makes people think I'm not scared. I definitely am, but I always try to comfort everyone in these situations. Even though I was very uncomfortable, I gave a bit of a laugh and just said, okay, thanks, and kept walking. After Larry and I dismissed the man on the sidewalk, the man from behind the shrubbery popped out and cut us off going forward.

Empty or fucking pockets, the man from behind us yelled, getting more agitated. Still, my demeanor did not rise to the occasion. I very calmly looked at him and tried to de-escalate by telling him that the orange soda was the only thing I could afford and that he could have it if he wanted. Neither of the guys had really reacted to what I had said, as Larry's fight or flight had been activated. He immediately brought his fists up near his face and continuously started yelling, don't fuck with me, don't fuck with me. Again, neither of the men really reacted.

The man from behind the shrubbery looked at Larry and calmly said, Are you sure you want to do that before motioning to his hip? As our eyes slowly panned down to see what the man was referring to, he moved his hand and revealed his weapon. From behind his leg, the man had pulled out a full-size katana. Fearing to see a gun, I was out of loss for how to handle this situation. Halloween was in a couple of weeks, so it very well could have been a fake from a nearby party store. Even if it was real, the situation was too bizarre for me to register that sword as a weapon.

I shot them both at a judgmental look and began to walk away. Larry did not follow my lead, however. Already full of adrenaline, Larry kept his guard up and prepared to fight the swordsman. As Larry was looking directly at the man holding the sword, the other man reared back and punched him directly on the side of the face. Larry's body went limp and dropped straight to the sidewalk. Larry slowly propped himself up to his knees in a day. I'm still trying not to be reactionary. At this point, it feels like there's a lot of different ways this could go wrong, but a decision needs to be made fast. I look off to my left to see the busy traffic

driving past, as I try to signal anyone who will stop. Everyone just continues driving. While we are all on a bit of a standoff, Larry looks up at me in a very helpless way. It was that kind of look that said, please do something. The guilt I felt for my inactivity was exactly what I needed to start taking the situation more seriously. It was no longer a matter of if I was going to act, but I was now figuring how I was going to do it. While I was calculating the smartest and safest outcome for Larry and I, the man holding

the sword planted his feet firmly into the ground, looked in Larry's direction, and began to draw his sword back. If I didn't make some kind of move soon, I was going to watch two men execute my friend. To this day, 14 years later, I can still remember every thought I had in that moment. I thought about going for the sword and getting stabbed. I thought about failing and watching my friend die, and I even had the foresight to think of what my trial would be like if I somehow killed one of these men in self-defense and still want to jail for it.

Having what felt like a million thoughts in a few short seconds, I made the decision with myself that I would not live a lifetime of guilt if I accidentally killed one of these men. This was the only time in my life where I thought like this felt like a possibility, and it still scares me. As I was not much of a fighter, my plan was to wrap my arms around the man with the sword, throw him into oncoming traffic, and just take my chances with the unarmed guy. With my decision being made, I saw the man with the sword begin to lunge forward in

a stabbing motion. I sprung forward reaching for the man and then completely blacked out. The next thing I remember, I'm picking myself off the ground and trying to figure out what's going on. I look around and before I even realize where I am, I'm getting punched across the face. The same man that hit Larry had just taken a cheap shot on me while I was dazed. That punch finally brought out the anger that I had been suppressing this whole time. I began to chase after them, screaming,

and saying anything I could to get them to turn around. They had retreated back to the parking lot they came from where a running vehicle was already waiting for them. Not knowing what other weapons or people may be in the car. I decided to stay back. I yelled back to Larry, saying something along the lines of, can you believe those fucking guys? But as I turned around to look at him, that's when I saw the pool of blood he was laying in. I immediately dropped my anger and rushed to Larry. He just kept holding

his hands close to his chest and breathing quickly. He opened up his hands and showed me two giant gashes going across both his palms. Making a blood trail from the scene to the gas station, Larry had filled me in on what had happened. As the man lunched forward to stab Larry out of desperation to save his own life, he grabbed and squeezed the blade to stop it from reaching its chest. At the same time that he had done that, I had jumped forward but slipped off the curb, causing me to tackle and just fall on the man with the sword. While I was tackling the man, Larry stole the sword by the blade and threw it in the middle of the busy traffic, without their weapon the two men ran. We ended up getting to the gas station, where Larry

bald up a bunch of paper towels and held them tightly in his fists until my roommate showed up to drive us to the hospital. We were at the hospital for over 12 hours, and once Larry saw the doctor, they told him that had the blade gone any deeper, he would have severed the tendons on every single one of his fingers. A police officer ended up meeting us at the emergency room. He went back to the scene and recovered the katana in the road, as well as finding some footprints in the space between the walls and the shrubbery.

We never heard any word back on the investigations, or if anyone was ever caught. For the next month, Larry stayed with us out of necessity, because his stitches and wraps did not allow him much use of his hands. I was his driver and cook for the time, and once his hands were healed up enough to drive, he got out of Phoenix and went home. I finished audio school, but decided not to find a job within walking distance during that time. Instead, I didn't work and chose to stretch my savings as far as I could. Larry made a full recovery and just has two faint scars and a tattoo of a pair of hands holding a blade to remember the whole ordeal by. I still think back to how things that Knight could have gone. A lot can be said for following your gut and doing what you have to do for survival, but the bizarre weapon choice had the whole situation feel pretty unbelievable.

So to the two guys who attempted to rob and possibly execute my friend with a katana, let's not meet again. This happened back when I was 11 or 12 years old. It was the beginning of summer and I begged my mom to go to the water park in a neighboring town. She couldn't drive so she arranged for her friend to drop me off and pick me up to take me home after. I wasn't nervous about going there by myself since I was a decent swimmer and I had already gone to this water park alone a couple of times before.

After setting up my transportation, my mom gave me money for admission and a little extra to get a snack and a drink from the vending machines. When I arrived, I changed my swimsuit, put my bag in a locker, and strapped the key to my lock around my ankle. I couldn't wait to get on the slides. There weren't many people there, as it was the early evening, around 6 p.m. So I was able to get on all of the slides rather quickly. My favorite was the River Rapid Slide. On this slide, you would slide down the small sections of the slide while splashing into small pools and between stretches of the slide.

You were supposed to use the inner tube rings, but most kids, even some adults, didn't follow this rule. No one at the water park tended to the slides, so it was a bit of a free for all. As I went down the River Rapid slide for the fourth or fifth time, I splashed into the first pool. I mucked around there for a bit before waiting toward the next section of the slide. I was completely alone on this slide, or so I thought. The next pool, after this section of the slide, was a dark enclosed pool. I liked to linger in there sometimes to relax before finishing the last part of the slide. However, this time when I reached the enclosed

pool, somebody was already there. It was a woman in her 30s or 40s. She was laying on her stomach with her feet dangling over the last section of the slide. Her head was peeking above the water, and she was cackling loudly. She had this hysterical, guttural laugh. She looked directly into my eyes and pushed herself down the last section of the slide. Her laugh echoed off the slide walls as she slid down. I was thoroughly freaked out so I waited for five minutes as a buffer since I didn't want to encounter her again at the bottom. I reached the bottom, relieved that the laughing woman was nowhere in sight. Presuming it was a random freaky coincidence I

went straight back to the top of the slide to go again. Airing on the side of caution, I took a look around and again, nobody was there. I went down the first section of the slide normally, before apprehensively sliding down the second section that leads to that dark enclosed cave pool. As I was nearing the end of this section of the slide, I heard it again, that creepy, hysterical laughter. Then she came into view again. The same woman from before, she was grinning and laughing, while staring at me intently. After lingering and laughing, she pushed herself down the slide, leaving me alone

in the cave pool. At that moment, I decided I wasn't going to ride the river-rapid slide again that evening. This laughing woman had completely petrified me. I decided to go down a slide named the Black Hole next. It was a single-person slide. People are supposed to wait for the light to go green before sliding. Unlike the inner two-rule, people generally followed this one. I situated myself on the slide and the light turned green, so I figured I would be good to go. I flung myself into the black abyss of the slide. However, I heard a second thud close behind me. Too close, like didn't wait for the green light close. I turned around, and in the darkness my worst fears were confirmed. I saw the shadowy figure of a woman following me down the

slide. And once again, she started laughing, as loud and guttural as ever. It was the same kind of laugh, where you can barely pause for breath. I had never been more terrified in my life. I panicked, and I slammed my hands down on the floor of the slide, pushing myself along in an attempt to make myself go faster. It worked slightly, but she was never too far behind, and she never stopped cackling. When I reached the bottom, I threw myself out on the landing strip, grazing my knee. I sprang to my feet, and I ran to the changing rooms without looking back. I locked myself in a stall and removed the key from my ankle before running to the locker

to grab my stuff. I changed and then bolted to call my mom. She sent her friend to pick me up right away. To the creepy laughing lady who followed me around the water park, let's not meet again. I used to live in a three-story house with my parents, younger siblings, and our dog. My parents and I moved into this house a few months before my younger sibling was born. That was when we first met the neighbors across the street. The oldest child in their family, Lucas, was always a bit strange,

but there were some aspects about his personality that were more than just strange. They were straight up disturbing. It would take hours to cover everything, so I'm just going to get straight to the point. I'm positive that Lucas had been coming inside of our house in the middle of the night. Our house had a primary level, an upstairs level, and a basement. It was built on a hill, so from the outside, it looked like it was only two stories.

The basement level was connected to the backyard. The yards of the houses in this neighborhood were much larger than they are in newer housing developments, so it was very easy for someone to enter our backyard undetected. Despite this, my family was terrible about making sure all of the basement doors were locked. My younger sibling and I would always go in and out throughout the day when we were playing in the backyard or someone would go down to let the dog out. Whoever was the last one coming in through that door for the day would always end up forgetting

to lock the door before bedtime. We lived in a pretty safe area, so it was fairly common for people to leave their doors unlocked. However, my family always locked the door, leading down to the basement every night, along with all of the other doors on the primary level of the house. I had a messed up sleeping schedule back then, so I was usually awake at three or four in the morning. There are two specific instances that happened very late at night in which Lucas was inside of our house without our knowledge. One night, I was in my bedroom on the upper level of the house.

It was probably around 2.30 in the morning when I suddenly heard the sound of an angry growl coming from downstairs, thinking that my dog had spotted a cat in the yard. I quickly rushed down the stairs to stop him from barking and waking up my entire family. This kind of thing happened with my dog every now and then, so I really didn't think too much of it at the time. Instead of going downstairs and finding my dog by the front window, though, I found him by the locked door that led down to the basement. His hackles were raised as the fur on the back of his neck stood up, and his nose was pressed to the bottom of the door. I instantly froze when I

realized what was happening. There had to be somebody on the other side of that basement door. I was barely a teenager at the time, so I began to panic and started making my way back upstairs as quietly as possible. I woke both of my parents up, but neither of them took me seriously. My dad just assumed that my dog was hearing random noises coming from outside, but he eventually went down to check things out. He said that everything in the basement looked normal, and he also mentioned that we forgot to lock the basement door, leading out to the backyard that night. There was another time that I was up late in my room, but this time, instead of hearing

my dog growling, I heard a loud bark that echoed throughout the entire house. The sound was sudden and intense, similar to a gunshot, and it almost made me jump out of my chair. Assuming again that my dog had seen a cat outside, I quickly looked out of my bedroom window and tried to spot whatever he was barking at. But my heart suddenly dropped when, instead of seeing a cat, I saw Lucas running through our front yard in the pitch black night. I watched him run across the street, then back towards his own house, as I rushed to close

the curtains and duck out of sight. I remember sitting there, struggling to process what I had just seen. I wondered why Lucas would be running through our yard, away from our house in the middle of the night. I told my mom about it the next morning. She said that she would bring it up to Lucas's mom. When my mom brought this up to her, Lucas denied it. Everyone came to the conclusion that it had to be a random car-prowler since car-prowling

had been an issue in the neighborhood before, but it definitely wasn't a car-prowler that I saw that night. It was Lucas. This happened years ago, and my family no longer lives in that house. Those neighbors that we lived across the street from seem to be doing fine now, but looking back on everything, including the family's dodgy history, I'm realizing just how creepy the situation truly was. I was 18 years old when this happened. Last year I was living in a very rural town in the middle of the mountains. Most small, western towns only have one road that goes into a bigger city.

Our road in particular was about 50 miles of desolate highway, surrounded by cliffs, fields, and the occasional farm. When this road reaches the city, there's a huge truck stop and gas station that's always packed. My mom and I were on our way back home after going to the city for a midnight showing of a movie that we wanted to see. For usual, we stopped to fill up on gas and get a drink before settling in for the long drive back to our town. As we were leaving, I vaguely noticed a dingy, old jeep pull out of the station at the same time. I didn't think too much of it as it wasn't strange that someone else would be leaving at the same time as us. As we started down the pitch black road, the jeep maintained a steady pace behind us. Again, not too strange, but then it came flying up past us, then disappeared behind a hill.

She was driving probably 60, however there are drivers that are familiar with the area and the roads that will drive close to 200 even at night, assuming the Jeep was a savvy driver and a hurry to get around us, my mom and I just kind of scoffed. We continued driving down the road and eventually saw the Jeep again. It was partially pulled over since the back half of the vehicle was still on the road. My mom and I saw what was clearly a man's arm waving from the driver's side window. He was gesturing for us to pull over. Of course, we didn't, and we just passed the Jeep by. The man then pulled back onto the road, flew past us once more and then pulled over again. We passed him, and he did that same thing.

This is when my mom and I became very nervous. After passing him for a third time, instead of him flying past us to pull over, he flew right up to us and then started tailgating us. He was driving so close that we couldn't even see his headlights in our rear-view mirror. He was honking his horn while waving his arms, still gesturing for us to pull over. He carried on like this, for half an hour. I was terrified. My mom was terrified. She was white-nuckling the wheel. I was holding my pocket knife in an attempt to make myself feel better. The stress of the situation caused me to swear at my mom for the very first time that night. I cautioned her not to pull over. The road that we were on was a dead zone for service, so calling the police or anyone else wasn't an option.

I kept picturing what would happen on the side of this empty road if the man had succeeded in getting us to stop somehow. But then it abruptly ended. The man slammed on his brakes, turned around, and went back to where he came from. The remainder of our ride home was silent, and I slept in my mom's room that night, since I was so scared. The next morning we discussed what happened. We came to the conclusion that when he saw two women traveling alone at night, he decided that we would be easy pickings.

We've shared this story with others who suggested that maybe he had seen a straw money, or a receipt, or something at the gas station and he wanted to be a good Samaritan. I highly doubt anybody, not even good Samaritans, would follow two women home so aggressively on a pitch black road. There was no way that person had good intentions. We moved out of that town a few months later for unrelated reasons, but before we did, the same car was reported following a group of four men on their way to work. Maybe the person who drives this dingy old Jeep enjoys following people aggressively to scare them for fun.

But either way, that was easily one of the scariest nights of my life. I'm a 30-year-old female and this story happened when I was 15. My family had recently moved into a home that formerly belonged to some family friends. My dad was a little down on his luck, and his long-time friend had a vacant house, so she let me, my dad, my sister, his girlfriend, and her three-year-old son move in. The house belonged to her parents. They had passed, and she was still mourning them. But she still allowed us to move in. The house was exactly the same as it was before they had passed. Just for visual purposes I'll explain the layout. The house had a back door and a front door, both of which faced the same direction. It had quite a

few rooms all on one level. In the kitchen, there was a door that looked like a pantry, but it actually led to my sister's room. It was pretty cool, and as jealous as I was, that I didn't get this secret room with its own bathroom and sweet shag carpeting, I'm also thankful that I didn't get it. Across from that door, there was a kitchen wall that opened up to a downstairs basement. Marine used to be a professor at the college campus. She reminded us of a professor from Harry Potter, one with blonde hair but younger. She had several cats and normally kept herself busy with them and building her three-story home, so we never saw much of her.

Eric had long, dark hair, and he usually kept it in a low ponytail. He had broad shoulders and looked strong. My sister and I used to jokingly call him Lumberjack Eric, because he usually wore different shades of plaid, blue jeans, and a t-shirt. Unfortunately, we did see him often. Something I feel I should know about Eric was that he liked to attempt to walk in on my dad's girlfriend when she was home alone. Most of the time, he would happen to drop in while she was changing, which we thought was very odd. It seemed like more than a coincidence since it happened multiple times. My dad's girlfriend confronted Eric about it,

and he just played it off, as if he were checking in on the house. He would just walk right into the house without knocking or any other kind of warning. He always did this when my dad's girlfriend was alone, and my dad was at work. Eric dropped by once when my sister and I were home by ourselves. I was watching TV, and she was on her computer in her room. He said he needed to check something out, and specified that my dad knew he was there. It was kind of strange since my dad wouldn't have given him permission to come over when we were home alone. Not to mention our dad would have texted or called us to let us know and make sure that we were aware somebody was coming over. Anyways,

after we moved in it didn't take long for me to want to check out the creepy secret basement. Down in the basement there was an old pool table and another table where Marines' mother worked on arts and other craft projects. There was also a small room down there with a half barrel of random nuts, bolts, and screws. I noticed this barrel was keeping the door to the small room, propped open. When I tried to move it out of curiosity, I barely could, as I was very pedeat. Most days, if I was bored, I would go down into that basement and try to play pool, or gather art supplies and try to be creative. It wasn't rare that I was left home alone, seeing as my sister had recently got her driver's license,

and she wanted to do what all other 16 year olds wanted to do. One evening, she had my dad's car for the night so I was stuck at home. My dad was uptown with his girlfriend and I believe her son was staying with a babysitter that night. It was nice for me since I usually watched him. I'm honestly glad that her son wasn't with me on this night because I don't know what would have happened if he was home. I found myself getting a little bored, so I headed down into the basement to see which

supplies I could retrieve to create something with. When I got down there, I noticed the door to the small room was closed and the barrel was moved a few inches over. This was odd because almost nobody went into that basement. I was the main one going down there. Since I knew I didn't move the heavy barrel that was propping the door open, I chalked it up to my dad or Eric closing it to avoid a drafter, something logical like that. I grabbed what I needed, and I headed upstairs to watch TV

for a bit. The next thing I knew, it was getting late, so I decided to shower before bed. The main bathroom was right next to my room. Both were off of the conjoining hallway, which was right above the basement stairs. While I was showering, I was very excited to listen to my new Paramore CD. Normally I don't shower with music on, but I had music blaring that night. I was lost in innocent lip-syncing, dancing around, and just being a girl. I was trying to have a main character moment, as I was washing my hair naturally I closed my eyes and then suddenly my CD stopped. As the shower kept running, I opened my eyes. The power was out. I thought that it was weird since I was barely using any lights or anything in the house. There was no way that I

blew a fuse. It crossed my mind that maybe my dad didn't pay the electricity bill. But if that were the case, why would the power just be shut off at night? How random, I thought. Dang it, dad! I wrapped up in my towel and kept the water running. I looked out of the bathroom window and I noticed the neighboring houses had power. And the few streetlights on our road were all illuminated, so I wondered, what in the heck is going on here?

We hadn't lived in this house long, but we've had instances where every single light in the house was on for a long period of time without a fuse blowing. Why was this happening now? Was it a power surge? What if somebody flipped the breaker and they've come to kill me in the shower like the movie Psycho? In any case, I was expecting to just go down to the basement quickly, flip the breaker, and then go back upstairs to resume my shower. We also had carpet in the bathroom, which is gross, I know, but it was an old house. This caused my

foot steps to be very quiet and light, which I'm thankful for, since I wasn't thinking about the noise I was making. I went into my room and picked up my phone from the bed to call my dad while walking into the hallway. Then I came to an immediate halt. I heard the sound of three thuds. Someone was coming up from the basement stairs. Without further hesitation I called my dad anpanic. He's a pretty big guy, and I'm his baby girl, so God forbid anything happened to me. I'm ordinarily pretty good at being reactionary, but I think I blacked out because I only remember calling my dad. But I don't even know if I said anything to him.

From there, I got in the back of my closet, buried myself under a blanket, grabbed my heavy, bunny-shaped piggy bank, and held my breath while I waited for the footsteps to stop. I heard the sound of the door whipping open, then someone running. And then silence. I couldn't tell you how long I was in that closet before I heard my dad's motorcycle roaring down the blacktop. He pulled up so fast that I don't even think he properly parked it. He just threw it on the ground and yelled for me to stay where I was as he swept through the house. I heard him go down to the basement and seconds later,

I heard. That's what you get. Well, I heard the song, and that's what you get, by Paramore. It started playing on my CD player again in the next room, and I faintly heard rock of love playing on my TV. I emerged from my closet and hugged my dad until I finally caught my breath. I think I was holding my breath the entire time I was hiding. I finished my shower without paramour and made it snappy. When I got out of the shower, my dad told me our back door was wide open, and the kitchen door that led to the basement was wide open as well. We never kept that door open as there was a toddler and small animals living there. My dad went down to flip the breaker, and it was intentionally flipped to turn off our power.

The door with that barrel was now open. I told my dad what I heard, and he 100% believed me because why was our breaker flipped. The next day he called Maureen, and he told her what happened. My dad said that he wasn't pointing any fingers, but he mentioned that nobody else had keys besides her and Eric. Also, nobody in our family would play a prank like this. She was very upset with my dad and tried to defend Eric. A few weeks later, Eric and four of his buddies came over to our house at six in the morning. They dumped us out of our beds and told us that we had to leave.

When I say they dumped us, I literally mean they grabbed the sides of our mattresses and flipped them up so that we would fall out of our beds. Of course my dad wasn't home when this happened, otherwise Eric would have gotten his shit rocked. Eric told Maureen, my sister and I were tearing up the yard with our four wheelers. We never owned ATVs of any kind. Maureen rarely left the house due to her mental health issues, so she took Eric's word

for it and asked him to move us out So she could return the house to its original state My dad went looking for Eric a few different times, but he was conveniently never home I'll never forget our short stay at that house But to Maureen and creepy Eric let's not meet again because if we, I'm not the petite and helpless 15-year-old girl I once was. And I am my father's daughter, so you will get your shit rocked. Thanks to Trevyn Barty for appearing on the show this week, not only is he our audio engineer for Welcome to Paradise, it sucks, another cryptic county podcast you should check out if you haven't, but he's also the co-host of Live Laugh Larsony.

It's a comedy podcast that takes real-life petty crimes and turns them into overly dramatic short stories. It's a fun comedy parody of shows like Let's Not Meet. It's full of cheesy sound effects, overly dramatic reenactments, and light-hearted discussion. Check out Live Laugh Larsony wherever you get your podcasts. This week you have heard The Sinister Reelter by Alec, an untitled story by Trevin Barty. Laughing woman at the water park by depressed and immature, my neighbor was inside my house by Godchills, followed on a dark country road by natural edged, and finally, Eric in the basement by Kirby. 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. It's not associated with Reddit or any of the message boards online. Send your stories in 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, all at crypticcountypodcasts.com or wherever you get your podcasts. Make sure you stick around after the music for your patron for your extended ad free

version of this week's episode. 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 access to hours upon hours of bonus at free content. We'll see you all next week everyone stay safe In the summer of 2018, I moved to Madison, New York. In the summer of 2018, I moved to Madison, Wisconsin.