Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 1x02: Lucky - Let's Not Meet (Feat. Liz Sower)

Episode Date: January 28, 2019

Stories in this episode: Apparently, I “got lucky” - FrappeInMyStache The guy in the blue truck - ohshitokayfuck Creepy Massage Client - thedankone10 I've never felt so terrified of someone I once called a friend in my life. - je0njungkook Listener Story - Cory BONUS STORY: The Whistler - bingbong1234 Check out Liz Sower's podcast Ghosts In the Burbs at http://ghostsintheburbs.com Send in your stories: [e-mail] Follow Let's Not Meet: Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/groups/433173970399259/  Twitter - https://twitter.com/letsnotmeetcast  Website - http://letsnotmeetpodcast.com   Twitch - https://www.twitch.tv/crypticcounty  

AT&T Fiber presents a straightforward moment. Your wine? Thanks. I'll pretend I know what I'm doing before saying it's good. And I'll pretend I don't know you're pretending. Are you a Gagillionaire? Yeah, I have AT&T Fiber. The straightforward pricing has inspired me to be more straightforward.

Me too. Ugh, this wine. I'll fetch you a better one. Straight forward is better. No equipment fees, no data caps, no price increase at 12 months. Live like a Gagillionaire with AT&T Fiber, limited availability and select areas, visit ATT.com slash Hypergate for details. My name is Andrew Tate, and this is season 1 episode 2 of Let's Not Meet, a true horror

podcast. This week I have a guest narrator by the name of Liz Sauer. You may know her as either the host of Ghost in the Burbs, an incredibly entertaining and eerie podcast, or by her past performances during the first run of Let's Not Meet in 2018. We will be taking turns performing these true horror stories this week. Also, many of you may not have had a chance to go through the archives of stories recorded during 2017, as well as 2018. So I've decided for those new listeners, as well as the long-time fans of the show, to include a bonus story from that era at the end of each episode, in addition to the

weekly 30 minute episodes. So enjoy. I was a teenager in the 90s and on this particular night I found myself stuck downtown. It was around midnight when I finally found a semi-well lit bus stop. I looked at the bus schedule and realized I may have missed the last bus of the night, unless it was late. I decided to wait on the bench. Moments later, a tall man walked up and set right next to me. There was plenty of space to sit elsewhere for him, but he huddled up nice and close. He was wearing all black, including a black leather jacket.

He started making smooth conversation with me and I finally looked over at him. He was very tan, had shiny, wavy black hair and orange eyes, like bright hazel orange, snake-like looking eyes, which contrasted with his dark features and clothes. He really looked like the devil in person. He took off his leather jacket and laid it across my lap to quote unquote, keep me warm. I took it off and handed it back to him and said no thanks. He kept draping it back on my lap. I looked around for other people and only saw a passed out homeless person sleeping on a bench.

He was trying to coerce me into getting a ride with him because it's too late, and he is worried about me. Plus, my bus isn't coming, and I'm not safe. I said no, my bus should be here any minute, and my mind I didn't know if the bus would be here at all. The streets were dead and dark, and I was scared to leave the only spot that was well lit. After what seemed like an eternity, my bus finally came. It was the most beautiful bus I had ever seen. I quickly got up and said, my bus is here. He sneered at the bus. And he said, under his breath, you got lucky. I got on the bus and saw out

the window that he was walking to his car in the parking lot across the street from where the bus was. He stood next to his car waving at me to come to him as if that would change my mind. It did not. I was a wild teen that partied a lot and would stay downtown all hours of the night and I thought I was invisible. But after that incident, I'll never stay out that late again,, 2016. I'm a 21-year-old Canadian girl. I was 19 at the time. At this time in my life, I was pretty desperate for attention. And so I went on a lot of bad dates and put myself in a lot of bad situations. So when this cute guy started hitting on me, I was pretty flattered. And I agreed to go do some mushrooms at his place and get to know each other better. I'm not going to go into details, but let's just say that was a really bad idea. So I ended up leaving his place around midnight.

High as fuck with a long cold walk to the train station ahead of me. It didn't really bother me, though, to be honest. I was just happy to be out of that situation and on my way home. I'd done mushrooms many times by that point, and I was really enjoying the cold walk. It was a straight route to the train of mostly residential streets, until you came to a busier street that led to downtown. It separated the residential streets from the mall where I worked at the time, and a Wendy's that was closer to the lights where I had to cross.

Just beyond the mall is the train station, and you have to walk either through the mall parking lot or through a field where the old high school used to be to get to it. So I got to the lights and was waiting to cross. However, it was quite late, and the light was taking what felt like forever to change. That's when a big blue pickup truck came driving down the road, away from downtown.

It slowed down as it passed me before speeding off. I probably should have sent some danger, but my high-ass logic made me more worried that he'd slowed down to let me pass, and when I didn't, he left, making me think that the light wasn't down to let me pass, and when I didn't, he left, making me think that the light wasn't going to change. I then noticed that the same blue truck had pulled around the block, and was now sitting in the parking lot of a closed Wendy's. That's when I realized that something was wrong. The light finally changed, and I walked across the street. I planned on hurrying past the truck, and going through the mall parking lot to get to the train.

I kept my head down as I walked. The man in the truck yelled something at me as I walked past. I looked up and in my state I thought it was a regular customer of mine from the mall. I raised my arms up in the air like, fuck, you got me. But as I approached the truck truck I realized how wrong I was This was a completely different person and I was now at the side of his truck in an abandoned Wendy's parking lot I just stared at him I Could feel someone staring at me from the back seat right behind the driver, but there was no one in the front passenger seat.

The driver smiled and asked me things straight out of a PSA, like what part of the city do you live in and do you live alone? I was being polite and actually answering his questions truthfully because for some reason, I thought he was a cop. I mean, that had to be why his questions were so forward, right? He obviously knew I was high and was trying to make sure I got home safe, right? Wrong. And a matter of maybe five minutes, he knew what part of the city I lived in, that I lived with my dad, and that I planned on taking the train home. It wasn't until he straight up asked for directions to my house

that I played dumb and said that I didn't know. He raised his eyebrows at me and said, so you don't know where you live? I kind of laughed and was like, nope, I guess not, and walked around the back of his truck headed for the field to get to the train station. He pulled away. I had to cross a small street to get to the field, and I saw further down the street that the truck was parked facing me. As I looked, it inched forward a little to make it seem like he was leaving. I turned around and kept walking, but I turned around again a few seconds later, and the truck was still there. I put my arms in the air and yelled, I fucking see you!

He then drove off as if he was going to circle around the mall. I ran into the fields and I pulled up my phone. I dial 911 and pause before pressing call. I was clearly high on drugs drugs and there was a good chance that I wouldn't be taken seriously. I was also worried the cops would make me bring them to that guy's house where I'd been hanging out as it had been there where I'd gotten the drugs. So instead, I called my dad. By the time he picked up the phone, I was crying. I explained to him what was happening and he said to get somewhere safe and call a cab.

If I'd been smart, I would have taken the train a couple stops in the wrong direction, and then called the cab. But I didn't. I instead went to the train station, where the truck guy knew I was going to be, to call for a ride. I waited there for 20 minutes. I kept peeking out to see if he was there, but I didn't see the truck. My cab arrived and I got in and told the driver where to go. I was looking behind us the

whole time. Just before we made it downtown, I noticed a large truck behind us. I couldn't see the color until we turned. It was, of course, blue. I started freaking out and I begged for the cab driver to pull over. He did so reluctantly, and the blue truck slowly rolled by, and then turned the corner like he was going to drive back around the block. I yelled at the driver to start going again, and he did so, though he was very annoyed. I finally did make it home, and clats on my bed, and tears. I didn't leave the house for two days. Terrified that the guy with the blue truck was driving around my neighborhood looking for me.

Please be safe. There were so many things I could have done to prevent this from happening, but I was too high and dumb to think straight. So, creepy blue truck guy, what's not me? Being a young female massage therapist, I have had my share of creepy clients. The other day something happened that has been bothering me. Six months ago, I started my own massage business. I'm renting a room if I'm a physical therapist and I share the room with another massage therapist so I don't have to pay as much rent.

She and I started to use an app called Thumbtack to help us get clients. About a month ago, the other therapist got a client on Thumbtack named Jim. Jim was apparently very creepy. He wanted to just have a small towel covering his region. My coworker knew this was weird, but she just did it anyway. He then wanted his root chakra to be massaged. If you don't know what that is, it's your quote, energy field of the sex organs. Basically saying he wanted his private

massaged. This made my coworker uncomfortable. And she asked him to leave early, but pay full price. She also told me that at the end of the massage, he made her put on his shoes for him and tie them. She said it made her feel gross like he was trying to live out some weird slave fantasy. Two weeks later I got a call to my business number and answer. The guy says his name is Jim and he's looking for massage. This is how the conversation went. Hi, I'm looking for a massage, but I only like to be massaged with a towel covering me.

I'm sorry, sir, I don't do that. You will have to at least have a sheet covering you at all times. Okay, I'm fine with maybe a couple of towels. Would that work? No, sir. You will be massaged with a sheet. Not just towels. Okay, fine.

How much is a session? $69 for the first session. He laughs. That's an interesting number. I'm much more excited for this massage now. Okay, I'll see you at 3.30. I then called my coworker to ask if the towel guy was named Jim. She then started to beg me not to massage him. I told her I was desperate for just one client that day. So I could go get groceries.

She then told me that she would pay me not to do the massage. He was too creepy, and she had a really bad feeling about him. During the massage, she didn't feel safe, and that's why she ended it, and got a mail from the gym to come while she checked him out. I told her I didn't know what else to do. So she told me to call him back with a lie. Any random lie telling him I couldn't do the massage and then block his number afterwards.

I agreed and called Jim back to cancel the appointment. This is how that conversation went. Hi, this is blah, blah, blah. I'm very sorry, but I'm having some car issues and I'm going to have to cancel my appointments this evening. Hopefully you understand. Oh, I see. Well, where do you live? Maybe I can pick you up or we can do the massage at your house. No, thank you. I already have someone coming for me. And thank you, though. Oh, please, I really, really need this massage. I really need you to meet me. I'm sorry. Call me back tomorrow for another appointment. But I just… and I heard some other desperate plea and just hung up.

The next day, the physical therapist at the office is blown up with missed calls from Jim's number. He left messages saying that he needs to speak with me, etc. I told my physical therapist that he was an inappropriate client and he needs to be blocked or removed. I guess the only thing that really scares me about this guy is that he could show up at my work any time. And I'm generally at the office by myself when I don't have clients.

Creepy towel guy lets not meet. I've never felt so terrified of someone I once called a friend in my life. I once met up with an old friend of mine. A friend I'd known a few years prior to our meet-up in November 2017. I'd actually met this person on a dating site. However, as time went on, the relationship between us became strictly platonic. There were no red flags. My gut did not warn me, so I completely trusted this person. We met up in town behind a bus station, on a grassy hill surrounded by trees and a tall wall. We planned to have a smoke, get a little high, and have a small catch-up.

The meet-up was fine. I'd actually started smoking weed a few months before, so I was still relatively new to it. He'd brought something new for me to try. Purple haze. I wasn't at all anxious about trying it, as I completely trusted this person, and would never believe that he would lie to me. He had packed a full blunt for me, but I only managed to smoke a quarter of it. We chatted for a while about work, our previous relationships, and random stuff. About a half an hour later, I started to feel extremely light-headed and anxious. I suddenly had this strange feeling where I did not feel comfortable at all

and I really wanted to go home. When I asked him if I could go home, he offered to take me, but I said no, it's okay. He offered again. Please, let me take you home. You'll be safe with me. I wouldn't hurt you. I shook my head and said, no, thank you. I can take myself home. When I started to walk away, I felt like I was walking on a cloud. My head became dizzy and my eyesight was a little blurry. I'd never felt like this before, and in time I started to panic.

We made our way down the hill toward the bus station I was relieved as there were a lot of people around, so if anything happened, someone would step in. I became extremely terrified of him. I had this horrible feeling of my gut that told me to get away from him, and when I got to the bus station, I told him I'd call a taxi and go home. His tone was no longer nice, but very stern. I'm going to take you home now. And he began to pull on my jacket. I told him no, and then I was going to go home on my own. He pulled my jacket harder, and I fell against him. He pulled me into him and told me I didn't need to be scared of him. But I was so, so terrified. At this point, I started to feel very paranoid and I couldn't see properly.

I pushed him away from me and rub my eyes and called for a taxi. He tried to pull my phone for me and yelled in my face. Do you ever listen? I'm taking you home. I noticed a few people had stopped and asked if I was okay. All I remember was telling them that I wanted to go home. So a lady kindly called a ride for me and waited with me. She made sure I was okay and helped me into the taxi. The whole time I was waiting for the taxi, he kept trying to get me to come to his car with him. But luckily the lady that looked after me lied and told him to go home and that she

was going to take me home instead. So he left. When I finally got home, I gave the taxi driver money and told him to keep the change. I didn't want to wait around. I just wanted to get into my bed. Because at that time, it was the only place I would feel and be safe from harm. That evening, I laid in bed for like five hours straight staring at the ceiling. I don't remember if I thought about anything or if my mom came in at any time. I just remember lying in bed doing nothing until the paranoia and sickly feeling began to wear off.

I do remember looking at my phone and seeing I had 32 missed calls from him. 10 voicemails and over 50 text messages. The texts were weird. He'd sent around 20 messages just asking where I was and when I got home. And in one of the voicemails, he told me how he'd had this fantasy of taking me home while drugged up and tying me up. He wanted to blindfold me and he wanted me to submit myself to him. I freaked out and blocked him on all social media, Instagram, Snapchat, Discord, and I blocked

his number. But before the blocking, I told him if he ever contacted me again, then I'd call the police. I told him if he ever contacted me again, then I'd call the police. I heard nothing from him for a month, until I received a text message from an unknown number, asking me how I was. I hadn't given my number to anyone, so I ignored it. I then received another message a few minutes later, saying they missed me, and that they would see me soon. I asked who they were. No reply. Nothing. I've spoken to some friends with regards to my story, and all of them have explained that weed would never make anyone feel this way, and a lot of them think I was given

spice, not weed. Spice looks a lot like weed, but the effects are a lot stronger and more dangerous. So creepy guy who pretended to be my friend, let's never meet again. To preface this story, my parents and I live out in the country, down a county black top road, followed by a gravel road that's roughly one-quarter of a mile in length. We rarely have visitors, and if someone we don't know, pulls in and comes to the door we usually do the hideout of sight and pretend that we aren't home routine. It's a bit uncomfortable answering the door to someone you don't know when you're miles away from civilization, especially when you're the only one home.

Which brings me to earlier today. My parents had just left to go somewhere for the day, and I decided I was going to go into town for something to do and also to go through McDonald's. As I was leaving, I met a truck going the opposite way of our blacktop road and initially thought it was my parents who had maybe forgotten something at home. But as it got closer, I realized it wasn't their truck and saw two men inside. I didn't think anything of it and continued on to town. On my way back, as I was turning onto our black top, I saw the same truck, sitting at the stop sign, apparently leaving. The driver gave me the typical Midwestern two-finger wave from his steering wheel, and I gave the

wave back as I turned and drove past. The truck was beat up and rusted a bit, and both men looked somewhat rough and had scruffy beards. I happened to look back and check the bed of their truck after I drove past to see if maybe they had snooped around our place while I was gone, and it stole in something, but it was empty. I continued down the road to our gravel drive, and as I was about to turn into our driveway, I looked in my rear view and saw a truck coming up the road behind me. Again, my first thought was, oh, I guess my parents decided to come back early. But then as I was pulling my car into the garage,

the truck came close enough for me to see. And it was the same truck that I had just met again. This obviously spooked me so I hurried into the garage and to my house locking the door behind me. I began trying to call my parents and within a few moments, one of them in began knocking on the door. I wasn't able to get a hold of either my mom or dad, and based on the way I had seen the truck on my way into town, and then 45

to 50 minutes later on my way back, before being followed home, I was really starting to get freaked out. I quickly and somewhat frantically went back to my parents' bedroom, where my dad keeps a shotgun, and some shells in the corner beside his dresser. As I went to reach around and grab it, I hit my head on a wall decoration, instinctively jerked back, then smacked the other side of my face on the corner of the dresser right above my left eye. They hurt pretty bad, but I didn't have time to worry about it. I loaded the gun and walked down the hallway, and waited.

After a minute or so, I heard a truck door shut, peaked around the corner to see them leaving back down the road. I went to look at my face and the mirror right away and saw that it had been busted open and was already swollen around my eye. It looked pretty nasty. This scared me because I wasn't sure of how bad it was, and also pissed me off because I knew how it happened. I went back and got an ice pack and finally got a hold of my dad, just as I

heard a vehicle again. As I was explaining what had happened to him, I heard the knocking again. This time harder. Mixed with repeating dings of the doorbell. Also it had only been maybe two to three minutes since I saw them go down that road. I'm guessing maybe they saw me peek out as they left and then reversed back up into the drive. I kept my dad on the phone and shut myself in their bedroom. Shotgun beside me fully prepared to pull the trigger if it door got kicked in. I waited for what felt like an eternity, but it was actually

probably just another few minutes before I saw them finally leave and pull back onto the blacktop, going back the way they came. I'm still a bit shaken up about what could have been, especially with all the recent stories of sex trafficking and break-ins, etc. What happened may not sound like something to be that worried about, but with living where I do and being followed home like that, it definitely shook me, not to mention how pissed I am. My clumsy ass managed to injure myself in the process. I just hope I don't need stitches.

So two rough looking men in a beat up old truck, let's not meet. When I was about eight years old, I was taking my dog for a walk through the neighborhood with my mom. It was maybe 11 p.m. We lived next to a swampy wooded area on the edge of our neighborhood in Lansing, Michigan. I remember it being very silent and slightly windy. From down in the swamp we heard somebody whistling at us. It sounded sort of like a bird, but each whistle was different enough, or the lack of consistency made it human-like. The whistle sounded higher, then lower. I can't really describe it.

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

it just next to the front door. As I was finishing the walk, the whistling noise, that same whistling noise started again. Same pitches, same inconsistent human-like tones. As soon as I heard it, a chill went down my spine, as I remembered exactly that feeling of seeing my mom terrified, looking down into the swamp at something I couldn't see. Maybe she couldn't either. I ran inside as fast as possible. couldn't either. I ran inside as fast as possible. Years went by and I thought less and less about it. I told only a handful of people and eventually it slipped from my mind. Fast forward to last summer. I'm 24. I started dating my girl Sarah. We moved to South Dakota for work. For Independence Day, we decided to go to Pierre, South Dakota, and watch the fireworks along the bank of the Missouri River.

There was a free camping spot behind a hospital where you could pinch your tent, hang out, and see fireworks up the river. We were near the end of the campground, and there were very few people around us. As it was getting dark, the fireworks began. They were pretty far away, so the illumination they brought was very little. Thus, we had to sit right at the edge of the river to be able to see them. A huge thunderhead was moving in and a storm was imminent. So the air seemed electric and the wind was picking up. The atmosphere was eerie to say the least. The police boats heard all of the other boats off of the river and had left our

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

More than a decade earlier, I looked at the figure, but it was much too dark to discern who it could be. They were wearing a hat. When they were perpendicular to the shore from me, they stopped paddling. Turned to the canoe to face directly at me and whistled, right at me. I was so frightened that I stood up and shouted at them. Who are you?" They didn't say anything. Just whistled a couple more times, turned the canoe 180 degrees and paddled out of sight. I'm a videographer, so I already had my camera by my side and was taking videos of the fireworks. As the canoe was almost out of sight,

it grabbed my camera and got a shot of them whistling as they went away. When Sarah came back from getting beers, she was very confused as to why I was so freaked out. When I explained she was freaking out a bit too, I was convinced we would both be murdered that night. she was freaking out a bit too. I was convinced we would both be murdered that night. How did this whistling person follow me? After 14 years, all the way to South Dakota, was it a coincidence? Why was it that same whistling noise? Who was that person and where did they go? Still so many unanswered questions. To this day, I'm more afraid of being outside in the dark where I might hear The whistling again Are you with me? Yes.

See you. Stop it. See you. Thank you for listening to Season 1 Episode 2 of Let's Not Meet, the True Horror podcast, and this week you have heard, apparently I got lucky, by Frappe and my mustache, the guy in the blue truck, by O shit, okay fuck, creepy massage client by the dank one, one zero. I've never felt so terrified of someone I once called a friend in my life by Yiyong Young-Kook. A featured listener story by Corey from the Facebook group.

And finally, a retelling of The Whistler by Reddit user BingBong1234. I'd like to thank Liz Sauer for joining me again and coming back to the podcast to tell a few stories. If you'd like to check out her podcast, visit ghosts in the burbs.com. It's a fantastic show. Right now, they're in the middle of telling a story of Lilith. It's a tale of demonic possession told in several chapters at a time, and I highly

recommend it. For now, I'll see you next week for a brand new episode of Let's Not Meet. 18T Fiber Presents A Straight Forward Moment You're wine? Thanks. I'll pretend I know what I'm doing before saying it's good. And I'll pretend I don't know you're pretending. Are you a Gigillionaire? Yeah, I have 18T Fiber. The straightforward pricing has inspired me to be more straightforward.

Me too. Ugh, this one. I'll fetch you a better one. Straight forward is better. No equipment fees, no data caps, no price increase at 12 months. Live like a Gillionaire with AT&T Fiber. Limited availability in select areas. Visit AT&T.com slash Hypergate for details.