Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 14x22: The Knock at the Back Door

Episode Date: May 26, 2025

Stories in this episode: Snowstorm Car Crash | Mark (0:40) Could This Have Been a Trafficking Tactic? | angel <3 (4:13) Bare Footprints in the Ice | BoobeusHagrid (8:05) Knock at the Back Door | mallcopsarebastards (13:25) Followed Home | Altruistic_Pepper736 (17:44) It Wasn't My Boyfriend | heartx3jess (23:22) Stalker?| Dove (29:03) The Magic Potion | Kat C. (35:08) Close Call in Ocean City | skunkybeerz (43:10) Extended Patreon Content: Ted | Brittany Playground Creep/Dollar Store Weirdo | Sam Creepy Gym Guy | Alli My Scary Walk Home | Anonymous The Man with the Off-Leash Dogs | Ashton Due to periodic changes in ad placement, time stamps are estimates and are not always accurate.  Want Bonus Weekly Stories? Hate Ads? Join our Patreon for only $5 a month for over 100 hours of bonus content, and it's all ad-free! Join the Discord: https://discord.gg/84WXQud4gE Follow: - Twitch - https://twitch.tv/crypticcounty - Website - https://letsnotmeetpodcast.com/ - Patreon - https://patreon.com/letsnotmeetpodcast - Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/letsnotmeetcast/ - TikTok - https://www.tiktok.com/@crypticcounty Let Grammarly take the busywork off your plate so you can focus on high-impact work. Download Grammarly for free at Grammarly.com/podcast. 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].    

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From tires to auto repair, we're always there. Treadxperts.ca. This podcast contains adult language and content. Listener discretion is advised. If you have a story to share, send it to letsnotmeetstories at gmail.com. Enjoy the show. Many years ago, I was out with some friends at a bar. I didn't drink, but they did. It was snowing out, and it was the heavy blizzard type of snow, which was very typical during

a New England winter. We were having fun at the bar, chatting, and having some laughs. Eventually, we figured it was time to go, so our designated driver was going to take each of us home. We were in a rural area, and as the car climbed a hill next to a ravine, I saw red lights flashing from the bottom of it. I told my friend who was driving, Stop the car, there's been an accident. Someone else in the car said,

I'm sure they're fine. I want to get home. But I demanded that the driver stop and turn around, which he did. There were five of us in the car, but no one wanted to come with me to see what happened. I told them to go find the police or an ambulance, as we would have to do since this story predates cell phones, the internet, and social media. One of my friends stayed with me, but didn't want to attempt to make it down the steep embankment, so I went down there alone.

When I got to the car, it was an ugly scene. The front of the car was smashed, and a large tree had fallen on the hood and roof. The only light was from the moon, and the car's red flashing taillights. It was so quiet that the only sound I could hear was the car's flashers blinking on and off. As I approached the front of the car, the passenger side door was open so I looked inside. I saw two people, well dressed, as if they had been in a party. The male driver was unable to move as his door was blocked by the tree.

His left arm was pinned up behind his back and he was trapped in his seat due to the front end of the car being crushed. He was yelling in pain and cussing. He seemed very drunk. The woman in the passenger seat was leaning forward, holding her bloody hand on top of her head, and the windshield was smashed. She was silent. It was sort of creepy.

When I asked her to move her hand so that I could see her injury, she did, and I saw that a small chunk of her scalp was gone. I said, hey, it's all right, I think both of you are going to be okay. But inside I was thinking, holy crap. I stood there for about fifteen minutes alone, wondering if an ambulance was going to arrive, and after almost thirty minutes, one finally came. I ran back up the embankment, and I told the paramedics what was going on down below. One of them said to me, as he was unloading a stretcher,

Young man, you and your friends saved two lives tonight. While it's never good to have to meet a drunk driver, I'm glad to have met these two, as I'm uncertain if they would have gotten help otherwise. To this day, it feels like some sort of David Lynchian nightmare. I'm a 21-year-old female. I live with my boyfriend, a 20-year-old male, and we both work weird hours. He leaves for work at 10.30 p.m. and I leave at around 4 a.m. Temperatures in my area were starting to get cold and since I drive a 30-year-old Honda,

it took a while to warm up under these conditions. One morning I went outside around 3.45 a.m. to start my car so that it would be warmed up by the time I needed to leave for work. When I went outside to start my car so that it would be warmed up by the time I needed to leave for work. When I went outside to start my car, there was nobody else out there, and no other cars that I could see besides the ones parked in my neighbor's driveways. There was no car parked in front of my house.

Then, at 4 a.m., it was about time for me to leave, so I grabbed all of my stuff and I started walking out to my car. As I was doing so, I heard a man yell, Hey! I ignored it because it was 4am and dark outside, plus I was a lone female, so I wasn't about to stop for some unfamiliar man. But then I noticed his car was parked directly in front of the house. This was honestly weird to me, in and of itself, since, as I said, there wasn't a car in front of my house before.

He yelled hey again, but it was a bit louder this time. I still refused to even look in that direction and just pretended not to hear him. Then he repeatedly yelled, Hey, can I get a jump? He kept getting louder each time, and he was starting to get frustrated. At this point, all that I was thinking was that this guy was not out here having car trouble 15 minutes ago. How did he suddenly pull up and have his car coincidentally die

right in front of my house within 15 minutes? So I continued to pretend not to hear him. I got in my car and immediately locked my doors, then left for work. As I was driving away, I kept my eyes on my rearview mirror. When I was about a block and a half away, I saw him start his car up, and he drove away perfectly fine. It didn't look like he needed a jump at all, so why was he asking me for a jump if his car was working perfectly fine?

What would have happened if I actually tried to go help him? The whole situation seemed suspicious. My grandma has always said a man would never ask a woman for help, especially with a car. Also, my boyfriend once told me that he would never even think about approaching a woman at night just for the simple fact that it might make them uncomfortable. And after I told him what happened, he said that he thought it was weird as well. When I shared this story with my friends,

one of them joked that someone could be watching my house. I get that they were trying to be funny and lighten up the mood, but that's definitely scary to think about after you've had an experience like this. If someone were watching my house, they would know I'm generally completely alone for a few hours at night.

I'm still trying to wrap my head around this. I've been kind of scared to go out to my car or be alone at night ever since this happened. I'm not sure if this was some kind of kidnapping tactic, but it was very strange. A few years back, winter was brutally cold. The snow had frozen into ice and covered everything. It was pitch black in the backyard when I went to let the dogs outside one last time before going to bed that evening. As we exited the house from the sliding door of the walkout basement and onto the lower deck, I felt that something was off.

My house backs up to some woods, so I was accustomed to hearing noises from wildlife at night, but this night was different. Nothing made a sound except the cold arctic wind, but I had the feeling I was being watched. The entire time my dog was in the backyard, I looked around nervously, expecting a coyote or some other predator to pop out of the treeline. My dog did his business, but afterward stopped and stared at a corner of the woods. The linger of my dog's gaze creeped me out so much that I called him back inside. I then quickly locked the sliding door and shut the curtains, unable to shake the uneasy

feeling I had outside. After double and triple checking all of the locks in the house, I went to bed. Around three in the morning, I heard the muffled sound of my dog barking from the basement two floors below. So I got up, stumbled down the three flights of stairs, and found him standing at the sliding door in the basement. He was peeking his head through the closed curtains, barking his head off with all of his hair standing on end along his

back. I tried calling him away from the door, but he wouldn't let up. I dreaded peeking out the curtain to see what he was barking at after the uneasy feeling I had earlier that night. But finally, I held my breath and swiped the curtain to the side. I peered into the inky blackness, but I saw nothing that caused any alarm. So a wave of relief washed over me. I figured it must have been a deer or a raccoon in the yard that set him off. He whined at the door for a few more minutes until I bribed him upstairs with a dog cookie. I went back to bed and wasn't disturbed again. That is, until the morning when I went down to the basement to let the dog out again.

I opened the sliding door and walked out onto the deck as he bounded into the snow. My blood ran as cold as the sub-zero morning temperatures when I looked down. There frozen into the ice on the deck was a set of bare human footprints. They were very clear. I could make out each toe on the person's foot. The prints were very large and appeared to be from an adult male. I looked around and I noticed that they started at the base of the deck, went to the sliding door, and then to the window of the basement living room.

After that, the prints seemed to disappear off to the side of the deck. I had my snow boots on, so I walked around the yard, but I couldn't find any trace of the footprints in the snow once they left the deck. Keep in mind, the daily temperatures that winter barely made it above 0 degrees Fahrenheit, and the wind chill made it feel closer to 20 below. Frostbite would have set in within a matter of minutes for anyone walking around barefoot, especially in the dead of night. I never experienced anything like that again, but I did adopt a second dog shortly thereafter.

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And that's because you're equipped with the best tools to do your job with their AI support. Grammarly works across over 500,000 apps and websites. So it's there wherever I'm writing. It helps me simplify complex ideas, find the right words, and get it all done faster. Let Grammarly take the busy work off your plate so you can focus on high-impact work. Download Grammarly for free at Grammarly.com slash podcast. That's Grammarly dot com slash podcast. If it's a flat or a squeal, a wobble or peel, your dread's worn down or you need a new

wheel. Wherever you go, you can get it from Tread Experts. Conquer rugged terrain with on-road comfort. Until June 15th, receive up to $60 on a prepaid MasterCard when you purchase Kumo Road Venture AT52 tires. Find a Kumo Tread Experts dealer near you at treadexperts.ca slash locations. This happened a couple of years ago, and I never figured out what the hell was going on. I was staying with my mom for two months over summer break, helping her get settled after

my dad passed away. She had moved out of the house that I grew up in and into a new suburb. It seemed like a really safe neighborhood with normal houses and normal people who mostly kept to themselves. One night I was watching TV in the living room. My mom had already gone to bed when I heard a knock at the back door. Not the front door. Definitely the back.

I just sat there for a second, wondering, did I actually hear that? Because honestly, who knocks at the back door? The porch light was off, so I couldn't see anything, and whoever this was didn't knock again, so it was dead quiet. Eventually I got up and went to check the back door. When I flipped the light on, there was this guy standing there, on the back patio. He appeared to be in his mid-forties. He was average-looking, and he was wearing a gray hoodie and some jeans.

He had his hands in his pockets, but he was just standing there, staring at the ground. Without opening the door, I said, "'Um, can I help you?' He then suddenly had this creepy demeanor. He took far too long to respond to the question, and when he finally looked up, he was moving his head slowly. When I saw his expression, it was off. Very blank, but like he was trying hard to look normal, if that makes any sense.

He smiled at me through the patio door and said, Sorry, man, I think I left my jacket here. With a confused look on my face, I replied, You've got the wrong house. He was still smiling, but didn't react to what I said. He just kept standing there. After an eternity, which was probably only a few seconds, he said, Oh yeah, okay, my bad. And then he turned and walked away.

This was when I made a huge mistake. I immediately turned off the back light. It didn't click for me right away, but this house had one of those old wooden gates that creaks, and it has a latch that makes a really loud noise. In the middle of the night, I snapped awake and woke up in a sweat because I realized I didn't hear the gate at all. I went to the back door, and I could see that the gate was still closed. This meant that he would have had to open it and shut it without me hearing, and I just didn't think that that was possible. I tried to turn on the porch light to see if anyone was out there, but it wasn't turning

on. So I sat in the kitchen until the sun came up, waiting for something to happen. Once it was light out, I went outside and checked the porch light, only to find that it had been unscrewed just enough so that it wouldn't come on. We called the cops who came by and looked around. They found that the wood on the front door was chipped up right around where the deadbolt

is as if someone were trying to pry the door open. They also found out from a neighbor that someone had been snooping around the backyard earlier in the day when my mom and I were out shopping. The worst part about this story is that there was no resolution, the guy never came back and nothing weird ever happened again. At least nothing that we ever noticed. My mom still lives in that house all by herself. I was in middle school when this story took place. It was a hot, humid summer in the Midwest, and I lived in one of those true crime story

towns. You know the type. Nothing bad ever happens here. Everyone knows everyone. The sun had just started to set when my softball game ended. Everyone was packing up to head home, and my father had left to drive my little sister home. My coach offered me a ride, but I felt embarrassed to accept his help, so for some reason I turned

him down. In my head, my home was just across town which didn't seem that far as I had my bike with me. If I accepted a ride, I'd have to leave my bike behind, and I was already on thin ice when it came to leaving it at other people's houses. So once most of the people had left, I packed up my gear and began riding home. About two blocks into the journey, as I rounded a corner, I noticed a beat-up car right behind me.

At first I didn't think anything of this since it wasn't like the car was barreling toward me. But after another block, the car was still following closely, so something told me that I should take a second look. When I glanced back, alarm bells started ringing. In the car behind me were two college-aged guys that I didn't recognize. This was out of the ordinary because, when I say this town was tiny, I mean it. The population was only 500, and I was certain I had never seen these guys before.

Not even once. Plus, the nearest college was a 40-minute drive away. In an attempt to be friendly, I forced a smile as I looked at them, but neither of them smiled back. They didn't even look annoyed at me for being in front of them. They just stared at me, dead-eyed, as if they were fixated. At the time, I was a big fan of true crime media, and I had heard that if you think someone is following you, try circling the block. If they are still there, chances are, they're following you.

I didn't have a phone back then, so I couldn't call anyone. But circling the block to calm my nerves seemed like the best option. I tried to rationalize it in my head. I remember telling myself, they're just trying to get home and you're just being paranoid. That's all. So I started circling the block by taking two left turns while maintaining a steady pace and not looking back. I figured if I didn't look back, they wouldn't know that I was on to them, so they might not do anything.

But even as I did this, I could feel my body shaking. My mind was racing as I thought about anyone nearby whose house I could go to. They kept pacing behind me. They never sped up to get ahead of me, and never honked or tried to push me out of the way. As we rounded the third corner, panic started to sink in. So I threw subtlety out the window and started pedaling as fast as I could, trying to complete the circle. As soon as I sped up, they did too. I had spotted a house I recognized, but wondered what the chances were of someone being home

and answering. It was slim to none. It was a block away, and to this day, I don't think I've ever pedaled that fast in my life. As soon as I reached the yard, I practically jumped off of my bike, leaving it in the grass. I glanced back at them one last time, and just as I feared, they stopped in the same exact spot where I left my bike. Both of them were staring at me. They seemed to be waiting for something.

I chose the side door instead of the front, hoping it would be less obvious, but they could still see me. In that last moment of panic, I decided knocking wasn't a good idea. They would realize this wasn't my house and someone might not be home, so instead, I flung the screen door open and tried squeezing myself behind the door a little to make it look like I was entering. Then I yelled, I'm home, hoping they would hear me. I don't know how, but by some miracle, as soon as I said that, the car sped off down the street and I never saw them again.

Once I saw that they had left, I quickly ran around to the back of the house, hiding behind the yard for what felt like an eternity, though it was probably just about fifteen minutes. I left my bike there and walked home, ensuring to duck behind trees and houses every time I heard a car. I made it home safe. I didn't cry, though my heart was pounding a thousand times per minute. I told my father about this when I got home, but he believed it was an elaborate tale that I made up as an excuse as to why I didn't bring my bike home. I never reported this, so I can only hope that this was a town about 15 minutes away by train.

He gets home about the same time every day, give or take an hour or so. I on the other hand, work from home. In late January of this year, we got into a pretty big fight about something trivial. I can't even remember what it was about, but it was one of those fights where we didn't speak to each other, text, call, or anything the entire day. So I was lying in bed getting work done. It was a Tuesday, and I was pretty sure his last class finished at 1 PM on

Tuesdays, meaning he'd surely be home by 2.30. But around 1 PM, I heard the front door open and shut. I remember thinking, I guess he's home an hour early today. It's normal for him to skip his last class occasionally, so I really didn't think anything of this. In fact, I was mostly mentally preparing for the awkward post-fight, hey, how's it going conversation. So I continued to lie in bed and do my work while waiting for him to come in and change his clothes.

The bedroom door was closed and I had earplugs sort of half in, as I usually do when I'm working. I could hear the heavy footsteps of him walking around the apartment, as he always does. If we hadn't been mid-fight and I wasn't so preoccupied with the awkwardness of it all, I might have noticed it was strange how slow the footsteps were or how long he spent walking around the living room. But I was caught up in the middle of the drama of the fight, so I didn't think about it. I was just lying there and waiting for him to come into our room. Finally, the bedroom door started slowly opening, just a few inches. I turned my head towards the door and prepared to give him a sort of awkward,

we've been fighting for 24 hours kind of smile. But the door never opened more than a few inches. I looked and saw a woman's hand with red nail polish clutching the door. Whoever this was proceeded to slowly close the door, just as cautiously as they had opened it, without entering the room. I then jumped out of bed, ripped my earplugs out, and froze just for a few

seconds. My first thought was, that isn't my boyfriend. My next thought was, could that have been his mom? His sister? The landlady? For some reason I concluded that it was surely his mom or sister, so I opened the bedroom door and walked into the living room. There wasn't anyone there, but the room smelled heavily of a woman's fragrance. Then I came to my senses and realized his mom and sister don't have keys, and they had never come over before. Also the landlady has never entered without permission.

This had to be a stranger. I ran back into my bedroom and shut the door, now shaking heavily. There is a balcony connected to the bedroom, so despite the cold January rain, I stood on the balcony and called my boyfriend. He picked up and I asked him if his mom or sister might have come over unannounced. He said, no, don't move. I'm calling the police. The police were there in minutes and searched the whole apartment.

Of course, nobody was there by that point. It was weird though. Nothing was missing from the apartment, even though we kept a jar full of cash right by the front door. Nothing was even touched. It seemed like the intruder came straight to the bedroom, saw my legs on the bed, panicked, and left. For a few days, my boyfriend and I were convinced that it was just the landlady being nosy, so I

began to feel better. Nevertheless, we demanded that the landlady change our locks. When she came to change them with her husband, she made a discovery. There was a square hole by the keyhole that had been scratched by something. The landlady said it appeared that someone used tools to break into the apartment. Then, a day or two later, my boyfriend told me, I have something to tell you, but don't freak out. He told me that the orange kitchen scissors were missing. And I freaked out.

I know he told me not to, but I couldn't help it. I tore the apartment apart, looking for those scissors. It's been six months, and those scissors are still gone. The whole thing is just so creepy and weird. A stranger broke into our nice apartment, but didn't touch or take anything valuable. They just took scissors from the kitchen, went straight to the bedroom, saw someone in the bed, and immediately left. I never got to meet the person who opened the door that day, but I hope I never do. If it's a flat or a squeal, a wobble or peel, your dreads worn down or you need a new wheel,

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iGaming Ontario. If it's a flat or a squeal, a wobble or peel, your dread's worn down or you need a new wheel. Wherever you go, you can get a pro tread experts. Conquer rugged terrain with on-road When this happened in the early 2000s, my family and I lived in Liverpool in northwest England. Where we're from has always been notorious for its substance abuse problems and being one of the more deprived areas in the country. I'm the youngest of four, and my siblings are all a few years older than me. By the time I was in high school, they were already starting their own families, so it was just me and my mom at home.

She worked as a nurse, and was sometimes assigned night shifts, so I was often left alone, apart from the neighbors checking in every once in a while, which I didn't mind. While my mom worked, I would complete simple household tasks like cleaning and putting the washing on the line outside. We didn't have a back garden, but we had a garden in front of the house, so during the summer, I'd leave the front door open so that I could go in and out more easily to check on the washing.

Plus, it let some fresh air into the house. It wasn't too uncommon for me to have the front door open in my neighborhood, as most houses had their doors open, so the kids could run in and out of each other's houses all day. Even while trying to monitor the clothes as they dried, I started noticing that some of my clothes would go missing from the line, in particular, my underwear. But I just shrugged it off and assumed that the wind blew it all away. I also thought it was possibly some neighborhood kid's idea of a joke.

But it started to happen every time I put the washing out, even when there weren't any kids playing outside. We didn't own a dryer, so there were no other options for me but to put the clothes outside to dry. So more and more items started going missing. Then more disturbing things started happening. For example, I would go upstairs and return to the front door being wide open when I had left it closed, or the entire washing line would be pulled down

with only certain items being taken from the pile. I'd also find hand smudges on the windows, which I convinced myself were from me opening and closing them. I thought I was just being paranoid, but I was still scared and I didn't want to be alone, especially at night, as my imagination had gotten the better of me. One night I told my brother about the strange things I had noticed and asked if he could pick me up and take me to his house for the night.

The next morning, my brother got a call from our mom asking if I was with him. She asked that I return home to clean up the mess that I had left. My brother came with me so that he could explain everything to my mom as a neutral party. He knew that I was paranoid and anxious while she was stressed out from her long shift and lacked leniency when it came to any messes. Once we got home, I noticed that there were dirty footprints all throughout the house, which were too big to be mine or my mom's, they definitely were not there when I left.

My mom was pacing around the living room in a huff, pointing and shouting about pillows being thrown around and glasses and plates being left lying around unwashed. I had my brother's word back me up that it had not been left this way when he had picked me up. She was confused because who else would have made this mess since I was the last person to be home. She asked me to clean it up as she was going to bed, and she told me to make sure that everything was tidy by the time that she woke up.

And then, when she reached the top of the stairs, she called my brother's name. Every door upstairs was open, and every room had been rifled through. Both mine and my mom's underwear drawers had been flung open, with clothes covering the floor. Both beds had been made untidy as if someone had slept in them with cigarette butts flicked onto the floor. It was obvious that someone else had been in this house and it seemed they had made themselves feel at home. My brother sent me and our mom downstairs to phone the police as he checked the rest of the house. He noticed the bathroom light was on and whoever had been in there had run themselves

a bath, which they had forgotten to drain. They even made themselves a cup of tea. It was resting on the toilet next to multiple pairs of mine and my mom's underwear, which had been soiled by them. By that point, my brother left the bathroom to wait for the police. When the police finally came, they told us it was most likely a houseless person or someone on drugs who just wanted a bed to sleep in for the night. They made this assumption as nothing was taken, not even the ring on my mom's dresser, which

was in plain sight. There was nothing much they could do other than suggest that we make sure all the windows and doors are locked. After that I wasn't allowed to stay home alone at night anymore, just in case something similar were to happen again. But nothing ever did, apart from underwear occasionally going missing off the line. I'm still not sure if this was a stalker situation or if the police were right. Even if all of this happens to be a coincidence, it still freaks me out. This story is from 20 years ago when I was roughly 7 years old. When I was that age, my mother and father had separated, so I would spend summer holidays

with my grandmother while my mother went to work. We didn't have much money. Think about watering down a tin of soup so it would last longer, so my mother wasn't able to take time off of work during the summer. That said, I love my grandmother, so spending six weeks of summer with her was my favorite part of the year. Until Eric showed up. Eric was the son of my grandmother's neighbors, Rodney and Karen. My grandmother has mobility issues, but she lives in a tiny hamlet in England where everyone

knows each other, so she was often able to rely on the kindness of neighbors to get by. For example, Rodney would fetch the paper for her every day, and Karen would cut her hair. In return, when my grandmother cooked, she'd make around ten portions and send me along the street delivering hot dinners to all the neighbors who needed a hot meal. Long story short, we knew everyone, and everyone knew us, and everyone knew when my grandmother had her grandchildren staying with her.

Eric's parents both had some form of social or learning disability. I mention this not because it changed my judgment of them, but because I suspect it may have affected the way that Eric grew up. I'm sure it was rough living in a tiny hamlet, with hardly any other children around. He essentially only had his parents to interact with. I suspect he possibly didn't get as much personal interaction growing up as most children probably should. Eric didn't seem to have a concept of what was appropriate or inappropriate in conversations,

and he swore a lot more than my sheltered seven-year-old self was used to at the time. At the time of these events he was fifteen, so he was fairly older than I. I had never felt unsafe with him, but that's mostly because we had never been alone. During the summer, we often hung out under adult supervision, purely because of how close the adults in Hamlet were with one another. That summer, Eric started visiting my grandmother's house without his parents, asking if I could go out and play. My grandmother almost always said yes, under the condition that we stay with inside of

the house. There was a small field outside her front door with a big willow tree, so we would usually just hang out there, playing games like tag or cards, like kids do. I was a rotten cheat at Go Fish, and I still am to this day. Anyways, one day we decided to stay in the house to play, as it was raining. My uncle lived with my grandmother at the time, but was out at work, so my grandmother was happy to let us play in his bedroom, as he had, in my opinion, a lot of cool stuff in there.

He had an alarm clock that played 50's rock and roll songs, the only TV in the house, and some gremlins toys. You get the picture, right? So Eric and I headed up to my uncle's unoccupied room, each with a cup of juice from my nan. One of the first things she will do any time someone enters the house is offer them a cup of tea or juice for kids, so pretty much everyone in the house always has a drink with them. Being still quite young and clumsy, my cup had a lid with a straw coming out of it, so I couldn't drink directly from the mug.

This was pretty much to prevent the drink from spilling. At the time, I had a bunch of value brand Barbie dolls and action figures. I was in that phase most kids go through, where you use them to act things out. Like, the action figure and Barbie were married. But oh no, the action figure slept with Barbie's sister Shelley. You know, that kind of thing. So, when Eric suggested that we play a pretend game, it didn't seem massively unusual to me. He said we were going to pretend that the drinks in our cups were magic potions, and we would take turns drinking.

in our cups were magic potions, and we would take turns drinking. The magic potion would mean we had to do whatever the other person said. Having played truth or dare a few times, I assumed this is what he meant, so I was happy to play along. You go first, he said, so I took a drink. Now you're my servant," he laughed. I nervously giggled because this struck me as weird, but I was sure everything would be fine. It was at this point I realized he had closed the bedroom door and was now sat in front

of it, so I couldn't just walk out of the room. Okay, now lie down next to me and have sex with me, he ordered, in a confident, jovial way that seemed as though he fully expected me to do exactly as he said. Even at seven years old, I knew this was wrong. I was stunned. For a minute, I didn't say anything, but I didn't want to upset my only friend in Hamlet. So I didn't want to be outright rude to him.

Oh no, I said slowly. The potion stopped working. Drink again, he replied. So I did, thinking he would drop it and move on. I was just standing, looking at this 15-year-old, lounging against my only way out of the room, hoping he was kidding. Once again he told me to lie down, and to have sex with him. And once again, I nervously laughed and said,

Oh no, what a shock! The potion, it stopped working again. Then drink again, he said. His voice was low and starting to sound angry. By this time, I was getting quite scared. I had no idea how to get out of this situation, and still, I didn't want to outright say no, and I didn't want to play anymore, Still, I didn't want to outright say no, and I didn't want to play anymore, since I was raised to be polite. So I nervously laughed and said, I think I've run out of potion. He got up to have a look, and the minute that he did, I darted out of the room and ran downstairs to my grandmother.

This was the first of many situations I had over the years with Eric. I remember one in particular where I was being chased by him across a field. He was screaming that he was going to kill me while trying to hit me with a golf club. But I guess that's a story for another day. Eventually his parents separated and he moved away with his mother. I wish I knew his last name so that I could look him up and see where he is now, just to make sure that he's far away. But in the absence of being able to do that, I'll just say, Eric, please, let's never

meet again. And kids, stay away from magic potions. Lastly, for what it's worth, a hamlet is a village in England that's so small that it doesn't even have a church. It's a tiny village with no God. This happened a long time ago, around 2012, but I remember most of this as clear as day. I worked with my girlfriend at a busy restaurant. We worked all the time, and it was a stressful job. We took a few days off and decided to fly somewhere to get away from work,

people, and the town in general. I found decent deals and flights for a two-night trip to Ocean City, Maryland. My girlfriend had never been on a plane, but we loved the beach and couldn't wait to hit up all of the local crab cake spots. So it seemed like the perfect little getaway. We flew into Baltimore and rented a car to drive to Ocean City. Nothing too memorable happened that first day. We just laid there on the beach, went to the local shops, and had a pretty standard meal.

The following day we woke up and went to the most recommended stop for crab cakes, and on the way back, we stopped and got crab cakes to go from two other recommended places to eat later. We stopped by the hotel to drop the food off and went to the hotel bar for a few drinks. Something to note is that my girlfriend was a smoker at the time, and I hated it. She also naturally attracted attention from guys, which was something I wasn't thrilled about, but I dealt with it. So we went to the rooftop bar at the hotel, and the bar itself was a four-sided island in the middle of the patio.

It was the afternoon, probably around 2 p.m., and it was a clear, sunny day. As we took our seats, we noticed there were a few women on the left side of the bar and a male bartender behind the bar. We started with some house margaritas. After our first drinks, my girlfriend felt like she wanted to smoke, but the girls at the bar and the bartender didn't have one to bum to her. We ended up staying put and got some refills as we chatted with the bartender about the

area and things to do. Something about the bartender seemed off. He seemed like he was being fake, and I felt like something was up, but I couldn't put my finger on it. All I knew was that this feeling of not even wanting to quickly run to the restroom and leave my girlfriend at the bar came over me. There was just something about him that I didn't trust. More than a few times he asked us if we were staying at the hotel.

I think I said no, but my girlfriend said yes, which led him to eventually ask what the room number was. My girlfriend then went to use the restroom, and no more than a minute later, I heard some guy's voices. I didn't realize a group of three to four guys had sat at the table directly behind us. They were playing cards and smoking, and they had made some comment to my girlfriend as she was walking back.

Then we finished our drinks and googled what kind of tropical drinks to get next while looking into hot spots in the area to go check out. The guys then approached the bar, and they came up on either side of us. They talked to the bartender and ordered some beers. I could tell from their interaction that they were either friends with the bartender or regulars at the bar. I honestly couldn't tell you when those three guys showed up, but they just had a sketchy vibe.

Another couple came into the bar and sat down. My girlfriend and I ended up talking with them. We were having a great time being away from our day-to-day lives, and it was nice to be away and relax while we made some new friends. I didn't realize it, but one of the guys from the group came up and brushed against my girlfriend and made a muffled comment, which rubbed her the wrong way. So, in her infinite wisdom, she decided to be bothersome to them, and she got up to ask them to bum a smoke since they had been smoking.

She didn't exactly clue me in on this. I just happened to turn around, and there she was, talking to this guy who had his shirt unbuttoned displaying gold chains weaving in and out of his chest hair. I didn't want her to be associating with these guys, but I figured if one of them gave her a smoke, I could give them a beer as a trade-off, as that would mean we wouldn't have to leave the bar to hit up a store to get her some smokes. She came back mad and without a cigarette. The guys were giving her a tough time. They kept asking her, what's in it for us?

They also said, we think your boyfriend wants to fight us, so why would we give you anything? I didn't understand where all this was coming from. I didn't want to fight them. I was on vacation, and I wasn't even paying attention to them. But that wasn't my main concern. I didn't like the implication of the other common at all. Since I wanted to pack in more fun things for us to do on this day, the drink I was having was my last one.

So I asked for the tab, and the guy from the couple we had met gave us his business card. He said that we should meet him and his girlfriend later at this place called Secrets at 8 p.m. The group of guys behind us then swarmed in on all sides around us and slammed down a pack of cigarettes with two smokes left between me and my girlfriend. I found it odd, but I thanked them as they ordered another round, and I offered to buy them a shot. They didn't respond to this, and one of them asked if we were vacationing and if we were staying at the hotel before taking a round of beers back to their table. This gave me a weird feeling. It felt as if they were locals who were annoyed with us since we were visitors.

When I turned back to the bar, my drink was suddenly completely full. I didn't even question it. I didn't want a refill, but figured the bartender must have topped me off when I wasn't paying attention. I took a sip, and the drink was strong. It was disgustingly strong, like rubbing alcohol or maybe even turpentine. My girlfriend then tried the drink. She took a huge sip from the drink and nearly spit it back out.

It was disgusting. So she made a face and said that it shouldn't taste like that. I couldn't even ask the bartender about it because he was gone. I didn't know where he disappeared to, but he was nowhere to be found. I also didn't know if I fully finished that nasty drink or not. Then my girlfriend said something along the lines of, The guys are now staring at us, let's go. Initially I was worried that she was going to chat them up and thank them for the smokes

before we left, but she said she felt weird. She said their whole vibe changed, and she wanted out. I remember spending a minute or two saying goodbye to the couple that we were going to meet later and heading towards the doors into the hotel. When we were finally walking out, the guys weren't at their table. After that, I just remember going through the patio door, getting into the elevator, walking into the hotel room, and then landing on the bed.

The next time I opened my eyes, I turned my head to the right and saw that the alarm clock read 3 a.m. I was face down on the bed, on top of the covers. I pushed myself up, slid off of the bed, and stood up. The sliding glass doors in our room were wide open, as were the screen doors to the balcony. All I felt was the breeze, so for a millisecond I thought, did my girlfriend jump off the balcony?

But then I heard her crying behind me. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a clamshell takeout container containing $40 worth of crab cakes in her lap. She said she couldn't wake me up and she asked me if I remembered what happened. She said she had been sick and throwing up for four hours nonstop. When I bent over to sit down with her,

I was hit with another wave of sickness, so I ran to the bathroom and was in there for hours puking. By the time I came out, my girlfriend was asleep. I was so confused. I didn't know what was going on. I felt like this had to be a bad dream. I remember thinking, we must have gone out to that club to meet up with the other couple. I figured I must have gotten wasted there and blacked out. And eventually I went back to bed. We woke up at 7 a.m. to our alarms.

We had to take our rental car back to Baltimore and catch a flight back home. We both had to be at work at 2 p.m. the day of the return. I was shaking. She looked like hell, and we both felt like death. She said that the walk back to the hotel room from the rooftop bar was scary since she didn't remember anything that happened after. According to her, we walked into the hotel from the bar patio, and one of those guys was on the chair near the elevators. He said something to us, but the elevator doors closed quickly.

Then she said that we got to our floor, and two of the guys were at the end of the hall heading towards us. She said that after we got into our room, they came to our door where they stood for a while, and then they knocked on the door. I laid down on the bed, and it was immediately lights out for me. She tried to wake me up,

but she also ended up passing out until she woke up to violently vomit for hours. My body was shot, I was shaking, and now I was processing that all of these scumbags might have drugged us before following us to our room. Part of me thought that she was exaggerating, but then I started having these weird slow-motion flashbacks. I remember graying out on the way to the hotel room, and I remember seeing one of the guys by the elevator.

We were in the bathroom as we were talking about this, and then my girlfriend started to brush her teeth. That was when I noticed her entire mouth was blue. I looked in the mirror, and so was mine. Both of our mouths were neon blue. We didn't have anything that day before that was blue. This was finally some solid proof indicating that something fishy definitely happened. We didn't know what to do, but we had to get back home and we couldn't stick around.

When we got to the car, I barely felt okay enough to drive, but I wanted to get home. We both felt dirty and disoriented. As we started our journey, we swore that once we were out of Maryland, we would never come back. We missed our flight, but after we explained our situation to the airline, we somehow got put on another flight back home. However, while we waited for the flight, we had to sit

in the airport for hours, dying. Once we were actually on the plane, the flight was pretty painful. We made it back and we even showed up to work, albeit a few hours late, that same day. Nobody believed our story and thought that we made it up to justify being late, and we never brought it up again. I Googled to see if similar situations had happened to other people, but I didn't find anything. Even though this left us with way more questions and answers, I'll be honest, I felt lucky

that we made it out of Ocean City, period. I don't know if we were being targeted for a room invasion or robbery, or maybe these guys wanted to attack or kidnap my girlfriend. This could have turned ugly in a lot of different ways. What if my girlfriend didn't take the huge swig? What if I drank the whole thing by myself?

How close did I come to having an overdose or maybe even dying? In any case, I swear the bartender was in on it. So I called the hotel and asked if there were any reports of people being drugged or experiencing any room robberies. And of course, they said they had zero incidents. So I just let it go. I emailed the hotel from a throwaway email address that I created and I told them to watch

the hotel roof bar and the bartender, but I never got a reply. I think about this anytime anyone brings up Ocean City or Maryland. If you're a patron, be sure to stick around after the music for your extended version of this week's episode. If you'd like to get access, go to patreon.com forward slash let's not meet podcast to sign up and support the show today. You'll get access to ad free versions of all of our episodes at a higher bit rate and bonus content every week with stories you won't hear anywhere else. Be sure to check out the new episodes of my other podcasts

like Odd Trails, Cryptic Encounters, and the Old Time Radio Cast at CrypticCountyPodcasts.com and follow me on Twitch at twitch.tv slash Cryptic County for my live streams. This week you have heard Snowstorm Car Crash by Mark. Could this have been a Trafficking Tactic by Angel? Bare Footprints in the Ice by Boobius Hagrid. Knock at the Back Door by MallCopsAreBastards.

The first time I was ever followed home by AltruisticPepper736. Thought my boyfriend got home from work. It wasn't my boyfriend. By HeartX3Chess. Stalker by Dove, The Magic Potion by Cat C, and finally, Close Call and Ocean City by Skunky Beers. 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. Send your stories in to Let's Not Meet Stories to hear them on the show. We'll see you next week. Everybody, stay safe. In 2021, I was getting sober since it had been a tough year.