Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 2x09: I'm Outside - Let's Not Meet

Episode Date: August 12, 2019

Stories in this episode: Home Invasion - Rachel Glennis "I'm outside." - rvm4488 The murderer down the hall - recoiledconsciousnes Crazy Neighbors (He had a gun to his head) - GothBaby93 Follow Let's Not Meet: Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/groups/433173970399259/  Twitter - https://twitter.com/letsnotmeetcast  Website - http://letsnotmeetpodcast.com  Patreon - http://patreon.com/letsnotmeetpodcast  Twitch - https://www.twitch.tv/crypticcounty   

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My name is Andrew Tate and this is season 2 episode 9 of Let's Not Meet a True Horror Podcast. It took me quite some time to muster this strength to write this. I'm still dealing with the mental trauma from this chapter in my life, but I think sharing the story may be therapeutic for me. Ten years ago, when I was 19 years old, I worked at a local Taco Burrito joint in my tourist-laden beach-side hometown. I was fresh out of Bible College, and I had never even touched any form of drugs. One of the cooks, where I worked, was a real nice guy, and eventually invited me over to his apartment to hang out with him and some of his friends. My brother who also worked with us lived there as well.

I knew they smoked weed, and I wanted to try it, so they offered to smoke me out. Eventually started dating this guy, then moved into his apartment. His brothers still lived there along with a close friend of theirs who was crashing on the couch. All three of them sold drugs. Name a drug and they had it. Or could find it in a matter of minutes. What this meant for me, and experienced and curious, was free drugs any time I wanted

them. I was mesmerized by the constant party. I felt like I finally had my own group of friends. Looking back on everything now, I realized that the friendships were all centered around drug-induced fun. They were hollow, meaningless. Without partying, we didn't even need each other. Back then, I didn't fully understand the extreme danger of selling to people in your own home.

They always asked their customers, who were also their friends, to come to the apartment instead of meeting somewhere else. Because of this, too many details about their operation were known. This carelessness almost cost us our lives. One night, around 8.30pm, the four of us were hanging out at the apartment as usual, probably smoking weed and goofing around. Our downstairs neighbor, a friend of ours, had just left our apartment going back to his. My boyfriend and I went to our room immediately after. We were laying on our bed fully clothed, just talking. In one second, a lanky hooded male walked quickly and purposefully into the room. He looked so much like another friend of ours that we

thought it was him attempting to scare us. But then we saw his eyes. They were hateful and dark. But I thought I caught a glimmer of worry behind his stare. He kept the hood on and immediately demanded that we stay on the bed. I couldn't see a weapon, but I believe he would have hurt me if I moved. He kept his hand out over me as if I were threatening to stand up, but I did nothing. He began to ransack our dresser drawers, my underwear drawer first, yelling at us to tell him where the weed was. Then it hit me. He knew. He knew that my boyfriend had just received three pounds of weed that same day. What he didn't know was that it was already gone, passed off to whoever they did business

with at the time. He grew increasingly angry, not believing us as we repeated that we had nothing hidden. At that point, another man entered the room. He was pointing a gun at our heads, still resting on our pillows. I will never forget the feeling that washed over me in that moment. The disappointment that this was it. The end. There was nothing that I could do. But I had so much left to do. Outer hopelessness. The armed man ran back out of the room, and the both of us quickly exchanged the same expression. horror. What was happening

to his brother in our room mate? There had been no gunshots yet, but that didn't mean that they weren't hurt. The only thing I remember, the unarmed man saying to us was, you don't want to know what's going on out there. The unarmed man ran out of our room a moment later, and we heard nothing for a long time after that. My boyfriend and I were frozen to the bed, not knowing if it was safe to get up. My heart leaped out of my chest as his brother slammed through our door, holding the shotgun that he had tucked away in his room, and not accessible the one time

that he needed it. I've never seen a face that pale sense. He checked the living room and confirmed that they were gone. He told us that the men had just walked in. We had left our front door unlocked after our downstairs neighbor left. There were three of them, but I never saw the third. The men had used their guns to hit my boyfriend's brother and our roommate repeatedly in the head when they tried to explain the weed was gone. Instead, the men took two thousand dollars in cash and a pack of gum. We never found out who

they were, how they knew, or if the entire thing was a setup. Considering the quality of people that we surrounded ourselves with, any of our friends could have been responsible. I don't understand why them in didn't wear masks, but I wish they had. I would love nothing more than to erase the image of that rough face, his dark eye is staring at me. 10 years later, I'm absolutely obsessive about locking doors, I tend to triple check that I or my current boyfriend have locked our door. I don't think I'll ever kick that habit.

My boyfriend from this story passed away several years ago from a heroin overdose. I find myself thinking about what could have happened to me if I never removed myself from that environment. Soon after that night we packed up in the middle of the night and moved. I lived at the new place for a while, but something shifted in me one day. I knew I had to go. I moved out and broke up with him a week later. I wish we had chosen to leave that lifestyle behind and just began a new healthy life. He would have been a great husband and a father, and anything that he wanted to be.

But, and shooters who were prepared to kill me over a few pounds of weed, let's never meet again. Because remember, you didn't wear masks. This happened back when I used to get on Grindr, but it always reminds me of how glad I am that I'm no longer doing the online dating thing. There's quite a bit of backstory before the creepy, so if you aren't interested in that, feel free to skip ahead a bit. For those who are unfamiliar with Grindr, it's a gay dating app that shows guys nearby. It makes you use your location while you're using the app, but it doesn't give your exact location unless you send it to the person directly. Anyways, I got a message from a blank profile. No name, no pick, no bio.

The only thing that popped up was how close he was, less than a mile. This happened a lot because there are a lot of closeted guys out there, especially back then. Being an overweight guy in the gay community, I had to take anything I could get because most of the gay guys in my community wouldn't even give me the time of day. He started off nice enough, introduced himself as Hesus, and asked how I was doing, and all of that sort of small talk. He told me he was into chevier guys.

And after exchanging picks, we both agreed that we found one another attractive. He asked me if I'd like to come over to play video games and maybe have some quote-unquote fun. I'd only met a couple of guys off Grindr, and although we had some good times, it ultimately didn't pan out. However, I had met them somewhere public first, so I'd never met anyone at their place, or had anyone come over into my place. I figured it had been long enough and some casual fun might be nice, plus he was really cute and actually my type. He greased to come pick me up since I'm only a few blocks away, apparently he lived in

the nearby trailer park. I decided that I'd like to shower first, and he says that he'll head over. Then he says he's really embarrassed to ask, but wonders if I'd be willing to lend him $20. Supposedly, he lived with his mom, and she had left for the weekend without leaving him any food or money. I know it was really stupid in hindsight, but I felt bad for him. I tell him that I don't have any cash, but he says that's okay. I can send him some money

through an app. I don't remember what it was called, but it was something like Venmo. I go ahead and send it, take my shower, and then let him know I'm ready. He says he's heading out, but he can't find his keys. I say it's okay. I'll just wait outside for him. I hadn't given him my address yet, but I was almost ready to. However, when I asked if he had found them,

he never responded. Minutes went by, then an hour. I messaged him again to ask if he was still coming, and I could see him going on and off line, so I know he read my messages. I finally just accepted that he was ghosting me and probably just wanted money. I messaged him one last time and told him that it was pretty fucked up and explained that if he would have just asked for the money, I would have given it to him without having to go through all of that.

What can I say? I can be a softy sometimes. Well, fast forward a couple of weeks, I never hear bat from him, so I just blocked him. I get another message from someone on Grindr relatively close to me. His profile is also blank, which raises my suspicions. He tells me, he's also into chubby guys which really makes me suspicious because it's highly unlikely to chubby chasers lived so close to me. We trade picks again and it's a different guy. However, he suddenly asks me for money again.

And Grindr, you can create as many accounts as you'd like. All you need is an email address. There were tons of spam accounts on there that are automated. It was really a pain. Anyways, I called him out because I was like 95% sure that it was a sus. At first he acts like he doesn't know what I'm talking about. Caused me crazy and then blocks me. I felt a little bad because I thought maybe I had made a mistake and just chased off a guy for nothing. Then again, his sudden offensive reaction made me

have doubts. Weeks go by and every so often the same guy tries to fool me even though I don't fall for it. Eventually I blow up on him and ask him what the fuck is problem is. We start going at it, and eventually he says, you won't say that shit to my face. I tell him that I would gladly tell him the fuck off in person, not that I expected him to actually show up this time. He responded with, alright, we'll see about that. Be there soon. Now I was a little worried at this point because it crossed my mind that he may not actually

be gay and might be some homophobic looking to bash some gay guys. My mind always goes back to those men who have been murdered after meeting up with some guy on Grindr. However, I realized I never gave him my address. Nice try, but I never gave you my address, I responded. Yes, you did, stupid. You just didn't know it was me. Be ready, I'm on my way. At this point, my anxiety starts setting off

because I did give my address to a guy who had to cancel last minute. But I didn't think anything of it because it was before his sues had messaged me a second time. I tried to think about what to do and I decided to try and document his threats. So I respond. I know I didn't give you my address besides what do you want with me anyway. You'll see. I've got something for your ass. Now the

trailer park is always having police go by there and my neighborhood is separated from there by you. At night I I always heard gunshots out there, so I began to panic. What if he had a gun? What if he brought some friends with him? So I responded again. Oh yeah? And what's that? Something that'll shut you up. I'm outside. I started freaking out because I couldn't tell if he was trying to mess with me or if he was really outside. I had been screenshotting everything and sent it to the Grander admins to report him for credible threats of violence. I wasn't sure if I should call the cops or not because if he was lying I didn't want to look stupid, plus I wasn't sure if it was even enough for them to do anything.

I decided to peek outside from the upstairs window and see if I could spot him. If I could get the make and model of his car, maybe, I could at least have something to give to the cops. I live in the middle of a coldest sack, so when I look out the window, I can see all the way to the end of the street. When I looked out, I saw a car I'd never seen before parked on the side of the road at the end. My heart was pounding because I just knew that this was him, but part of me was hoping that it wasn't.

I decided I'd like to test him and see if he really was out there. He messaged me. I'm waiting. I'm outside already. Where are you? Of course I wasn't, but if that was him, and he didn't know my address, then why would he just park outside my house? Sure enough I was right.

He messaged me. Yeah, I see you. You're gonna get it now. Think of it to me. I'm right here. Just you wait. I knew he couldn't see me from his car because I was peeking out discreetly and our windows have a privacy shade on them where people only see a black screen from the outside. A few more minutes go by and the car takes off. I have a feeling that he used Grindr to triangulate the area of where my neighborhood was, but of course he couldn't find my exact house because it hadn't been him who I'd given my address to.

Grindr later sent me a message saying that he had been banned from the app and they'd contact the local authorities. I never heard anything else after that. I don't know what became of it. The cops never contacted me if they did pay him a visit, and I never heard from him again. Now I'm married, so I don't use Grindr anymore thankfully. Still, it took a while before I was able to sleep soundly after that. I rarely left the house, and when I did I always made sure his car wasn't around anywhere. In hindsight, he was probably just a stupid kid wanting to troll people. Still, creepy grinder guy, let's not meet. Eat. products are ready with everything you need to create a world-class outdoor cooking space.

Bull outdoor kitchens and accessories add value to your property and extra fun to your world. If you're gonna do it, do it right. Turn a bull loosen your backyard. BullBBQ.com When I was 15, I moved to Tulsa, Oklahoma with my sister and mom to live with an uncle that I had never met before. As horrible as he was, he was not the main focus of this story.

My uncle would pick up random men around the city and pay them to work for him. He owned a tree-treaming business, and he treated them all horribly. This one guy he hired, I won't state his real name on here, eventually he moved in and started regularly working for my uncle. Let's call him Sean. He was a major alcoholic, but he seemed like an all around nice, helpful guy. He would always offer to help me with things, or my mom, things that we were working on. I remember a time when he had brought me cookie dough, only for me to end up eating it, and then he asked what happened, and I admitted to him. He responded with,

I don't blame you, it's delicious, and that's what it's meant for. Soon after moving in, he came in drunk to have a conversation with my mom in our living room. She obliged. Again, he came off as a very open-hearted kind person, so it was a pleasure speaking with him. A while into the conversation, he slips in something unnerving. He tells her if there's anyone else around who's harmed her or is making her life hell that he would take care of them. My sister recently rekindled an old flame, and he ended up moving in here to stay with

us. Immediately, upon his arrival, issues occurred between my uncle and him. Nothing too big, mainly just some arguments. Let's call her boyfriend Mike. Right before Mike moved out there to live with us, he was depending on a huge settlement from work accident. Well, he got it, and he kept it all in cash. Over the past couple of weeks, upon his arrival, my sister and him would quickly fade out of love. My uncle proposed a job offered a shan about an apartment downtown.

My uncle was also a carpenter, houses, apartments, et cetera. The job proposal was that shan would move into this apartment to live while he worked on it, so my uncle didn't have to. Again, he picks up guys to work for him so he can give them shit pay because he's an all-around ass hat. Sean happily accepts the offer.

I'm sure because not only does he get paid, but he also gets to live apart from his abusive joke of a boss. After my sister and Mike lose interest in each other, he inquires about moving into Sean's place and a new apartment to live and help work. They both end up moving there. Mike's settlement money came within a month after his moving into the apartment with Sean. We ended up moving into our own house a few minutes away, and my sister lost contact with Mike. One night my sister, mom, and I are all sitting in the living room, and my mom's phone rings, breaking the late night silence.

It's my uncle, only a few seconds into the phone call before her face contorts into that sort of disbelief and horror. I come and sit on the rug in front of her and quizzied. I can tell by looking at her, I can tell by the cold shift in the atmosphere. Something was horribly wrong. She's looking around the house, fretfully, and responds to our collar. Okay, just calm down, tell me exactly what happened. What happened? My uncle went over to Mike and Sean's apartment around 11 p.m. I believe.

When he arrives, he notices the door is slightly ajar. That's obviously a little unnerving. He pushes the door open, and the apartment is pitch black. He brings out his flashlight. There's someone on the couch, but they aren't in any relatively normal position. They're slumped over the arm with the head on the seat. The eagle walks closer, calling out for Mike or Sean. The closer he walks, the more detail is magnified. So really.

There's blood and brain matter all over the man and all over the couch. He's been brutally bludgeoned to death. My uncle runs out of the apartment in pure terror and calls the police. He calls my mom. My sister begins to cry as my uncle is identifying. Yes, I think it was Mike. They aired on the news soon after, but they didn't yet give the identity. By the description of the physical characteristics, it was clearly

her recent ex-boyfriend Mike. So where was Sean? Where was all of Mike's settlement money? Nobody saw or heard of him from him again until three years later, where he was captured and sentenced to jail. And that's the story of the time I lived with a murderer. Dear X-Rummate, let's not meet. When I was 24 after a crazy divorce, I met a guy on Tinder and we ended up dating. The thing was, he lived about four hours away. So whenever I wanted to see him, I had to drive eight hours in total. After a few months, I decided that I wanted to move up there to be closer with him. Now, I had no credit, so he signed the lease under

his name, and we moved into a complex, which was a square of four different duplexes and a courtyard in the center. It was pretty inexpensive, and we were within walking distance to the downtown area. It even had a small backyard for my dog. It was all very exciting. The only thing was I wasn't able to scope out the place before we moved in because I worked four hours away, so my ex had to do it. He said the neighbors seemed really nice and there weren't really any issues with the

apartment. It was actually two bedrooms, which was bigger than I'd expected at that same price. The day that I moved in, I saw our next door neighbor sitting outside on a little outdoor chair and table set. I said hide her, but as I was walking away, I heard her rambling on about something that I wasn't sure if it was directed at me. It was a little strange, but I brushed it off. I also found it a little weird that it was pretty cold outside and that she had super short shorts on. Also a tank top with no bra and was just sitting outside. This woman had to be in our late 50s, heavier set with wild curly hair.

Living there a few days I realized why the apartment was so cheap. There was no heater and only the air conditioning worked. I know we are in the desert, but still it gets pretty cold. There was a cockroach problem, and they were everywhere, even in the fridge. I had to beg the landlord to replace the fridge, and he finally did. I'm pretty laid back, so was my axe. We pretty much just work and come home and play video games with headset, so we didn't make much noise. I felt the floor vibrating one day and saw my dog barking so I took off my headset and

heard insane screaming and someone pounding on the door. It was the lady that I had seen outside sitting in the chair. I opened the door and she started crying and screaming, speaking in tongues and telling me I was making so much noise that her baby couldn't sleep. She started sobbing saying that her baby had cancer and she just wished that the baby could sleep. Not once today here, her baby cry.

So I told her that I would keep it down and this was all happening at 3 p.m. For a few weeks, she would repeat this behavior of pounding on my door most times I would try to ignore it, and I hear her outside, just sobbing. Her and her husband would scream at each other all night long and throw plates on the walls. One morning I was trying to leave my house, and the door was locked shut. I looked outside the window, that was adjacent to the door, and I could see that there was a giant couch, placed right up against my door. I had to call the landlord and he came over and moved it, but I missed my shift for work. I told him what's been happening, and he said that he had issues with the neighbor in the past.

I came home from work one day and she was sitting outside again. She was talking to the air and acting insane, speaking in tongues and again, she was barely wearing anything. I asked if she needed help and she said, you dumb bitch, does it look like I need help?" So I went to my apartment and tried to ignore all of the noise coming from outside. A few minutes later, I heard this weird crying noise. It was her, but she was trying to make noises like a crying baby. I called the cops, and as soon as the cops showed up, it was super quiet like nothing ever happened. I finally saw the neighbor's husband one morning coming out of their door.

He was very tall, white, and full of tattoos and was probably in his late 20s. He smiled at me and told me that he had just gotten home from spending a week in jail and asked me how his wife has been. I told him I don't talk to her much, and just left for work. When I came home, my front window was shattered, and when I came inside, there was a giant brick on the couch taped with white paper that said, burn and hell, but it was misspelled. They spelled out, burn and hell. But yeah, I got the message. I called the cops, and my landlord and they showed up around the same time. Again, as soon as they knocked on my neighbor's door, it all went quiet.

I remember having our front window open in one of the cops telling me, through the window how they get calls about them all the time, but whenever they show up, it's like no one else was ever home. The next day around 2pm I heard my female neighbor whaling and crying, saying that she was dying and a call 911. She was speaking in tongues again. Also, this was no language. It literally sounded like baby talk. I called 911 again. The cops knocked, and as soon as they knocked, it seems like there's no one even home. This kept happening for a few

days until finally she starts up again. And before she even says anything, I call the police. This time her door is wide open, and she's screaming. He stabbed me. Oh God, he stabbed me. I'm bleeding, and I'm dying. Good Lord, I'm going to die today. Please call 911. Please save me. Not only did I call, but so did our neighbors from across the courtyard. And we ran near the front door, but the apartment was so full of trash and things piled up on each other that we couldn't see anything. Finally, the cop showed up, and the ambulance took her away, screaming and fighting them off.

Everything died down for a few minutes, and here the cops, loud screams outside my front door. I peep out my window to see my neighbor's husband on his knees with a red dot between his eyes and four cops with a gunpoint to do his head. I guess he was going back to jail. A couple of days go by and the lady is back in the apartment. At this point my landlord finally had an eviction notice taped to the door and they only had 24 hours to vacate.

She kept pulling her old ways of crying and wailing and stopping once the cops showed up. One morning I wake up to pounding on my door and there's eight cops at my doorstep. Do you know where your neighbor is? They asked me. I had no idea, so I shrugged. They follow that by telling me that she has numerous warrants out for her arrest, and they have reason to believe that she's prostituting from her apartment, selling drugs, and was also known for being involved in human trafficking of young boys. Also that they rented the apartment under her cousin's name and that's why they would

never answer the door, let the cops into the apartment. She also didn't have a baby. And that was some kind of sob story that she told everyone to get money from people. Even after they were evicted, they kept breaking back into the apartment and squatting there. They did it on and off for four months until finally a cop caught them, sleeping in the apartment, and they got arrested. By then, me and my ex were already breaking up, so I was long gone. I never want to meet those crazies ever again. Thank you for listening to this week's episode of Let's Not Meet a True Horror Podcast this week you have heard, Home Invasion by listener Rachel Glennis. I'm outside by Reddit user RVM4488,, murder her down the hall by recoiled consciousness,

and finally crazy neighbors by gothbaby93. Don't forget to send in your stories to Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com and for any questions or general inquiries, email Let's Not Meet Podcast at gmail.com. Join me next week when my guests will be David Alt of the No Sleep Podcast. See you guys then! This is the smell of the leftover tuna fish sandwich you left in your lunch box over the weekend in a wimpy trash bag. Wimpy, wimpy, wimpy! Yeah! And this is the smell of that same sandwich in a hefty ultra-strong trash bag.

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