Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 3x06: Country Roads - Let's Not Meet

Episode Date: December 16, 2019

Stories in this episode:  Country Roads - lucientvalkyrie42 I should have realized something was off - Primrosem ex-best friend’s dad’s a peeping tom on preteen me - tyla-loved  The one time I saved a girl from being taken. - ohnocamie  I couldn't make this shit up if I tried - Fox Mulder Visiting Home - Whit Check out the new podcast by Wondery and The Los Angeles Times titled Detective Trapp at https://wondery.com/shows/detective-trapp/  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 Merch - https://www.teepublic.com/user/letsnotmeet

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by the brand new podcast from Wondery and the Los Angeles Times titled, Detective Trap. Listen to Detective Trap on Apple podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you're listening to this podcast, or simply click the link in the show notes. My name is Andrew Tate and this is season 3 episode 6 of Let's Not Meet, a true horror podcast. This was a strange encounter and it was very scary at the time, but when I tell people this story, they usually don't think it was something to freak out about.

Last Thanksgiving, I was driving home from college with my friend. We were both 21 at the time. I live in a very isolated part of Arkansas that requires driving through an hour of hairpin turns in the mountains. There are a lot of blind turns and the whole time that you're driving, you're on the edge of these huge drop-ops with no barriers. I'm usually pretty confident driving through the mountains, but we were in my friend's car so I was going slower than usual, driving about 5 over the speed limit. Almost as soon as we started through the roughest part of the drive, another car was tailgating us, pretty close. This was stressing me out, and as soon as I saw somewhere that I could pull over,

I did. I pulled into a church parking lot, and my friend as I saw somewhere that I could pull over, I did. I pulled into a church parking lot, and my friend offered to drive the rest of the way, but I declined as it was completely dark, and she had never driven this route before. We get back on our way, and a few minutes later I have to come to a screeching halt, as there's a car stopped in the middle of the road. It wasn't on the shoulder at all, it was just stopped dead in the middle of the road. My friend is saying that they must have broken down, but can't call a toe because there's no service in this area.

I immediately have a bad feeling and lock the doors. I tell my friend to stay in the car no matter what. She's starting to get scared at this point. It's parked right before a hairpin turn, so I can't pass. My friend starts frantically telling me to go ahead and pass it, but I don't want to get hit by a Mack truck or fall off the mountain. I honk the horn. Nothing happens. No chance of calling for help as there was no cell service. We wait for a while doing nothing. My friend is crying and freaking out, but I'm too scared to try and pass them. I hunk a couple of times and eventually a guy gets out of the car and comes around the back and leans against his car, just staring at us. My friend is freaking out even more, and I'm frozen.

I tell her not to make eye contact. I'm ready to floor it if he does something, but he just stands there. He's not checking his car or anything. I try to stay calm and pray that another car will come along soon. This goes on for what seems like forever, but it was probably just 15 minutes or so. He's just casually leaning against his car looking at us. Eventually, we see car lights in our rear view,

and then the guy jogs to his door and gets back in his car. He speeds off dangerously fast, so there was nothing wrong with his car. He speeds off dangerously fast. So there was nothing wrong with his car. I start driving, not wanting to cause a wreck. We don't see anything else for a while, but we pass the same car parked along the highway. And a while later, it pulls back on and starts tailing us again. I try to speed up and get rid of them, but he keeps following. We have cell service at this point, but I don't know if we should call the cops because nothing technically has happened yet. I call home and tell my brothers what was going

on and tell them to wait on the front porch for us. The car follows me, all the way home down this very long drive. I get to my house, and my two brothers are waiting on the porch holding their dear rifles. I pull in, and the car just goes to the end of the drive, loops around, and speeds off back the way it came. We tried to see its plates, but we couldn't make them out. Me and my friend were very freaked out. When I told my friends about what happened, they didn't think it was a big deal. I'm a big lurker on this subreddit, at least for two years now, but only recently made an account to share this story.

I hope you enjoy. So this is pretty anticlimactic, but it still just gives me the creeps. At the time of writing this, I'm 16, female, and this happened from the time I was 9 to about 14. When I was in primary school, 4 years old, till 11 years old, I had a best friend named Marie. Marie's parents were split up, and her father lives on the same street as I do, whilst her mother lived in a town over. She spent the rest of her week with her mom and the weekends with her father with her mom and the weekends with her father. I would often go to his house and play with Marie. We played hide and seek

and pretend and other games like that. Marie wasn't exactly the best child and her play fights left me with scratches and bruises. Her father spoiled her and always had sweets and money in the house. He was always on dating sites or Facebook and was an avid arsenal fan watching every single game. In the summer, if I was playing in my garden I could hear him shouting at the TV because of a match outcome or a goal. He would take me and Marie out and would bias McDonald's and once a pillow pet because

I wanted one so badly. I remember my mom being kind of weirded out when I said that Marie's dad bought it for me. He would take a swimming too, but I don't remember much of those trips. Marie's father was around 5'11, stocky with a bald head and ears that stuck out. was around 5'11, stocky, with a bald head and ears that stuck out. He had a very kind smile, and was very soft-spoken, with a deep voice. I used to walk home from school, and he would often wave out of an upstairs bedroom window down at me. I would wave back and smile and say hi, and he'd return it, the summer that I was 10 years old, I was over at their house almost every weekend. When I was 11, Marie moved with her mother to

a seaside town and we went to different secondary schools. I lost touch with Marie and we never really hung out again. I need to lay out how my root home is for the next bit to make sense. And I'm really sorry if this is confusing. My road is like an L, and the longer part being a shitty tarmac road while the shorter part is uphill. I could walk up this road to my house, that was at the top of the hill. The houses are like a T, with a row of terrace houses along the top of the hill, and another row going down the hill houses along the top of the hill and another row going

down the hill along the road. The backs of the houses face a road and an alleyway leads around to the front of the houses and I could also go walking along this alley to get to my house. Whichever way I took to my house, Marie's father would see me as he lived halfway up the hill in a row of terraced houses that went down the hill next to the road. When I'm in my room at home with the blinds up, I can see Marie's father's house. Let's call Marie's father Ken. Ken would open his window, lean out, and watch me from his window. It would take me a few minutes to notice him watching me. And as my bed was right next to the window, I would often be in pajamas or minimal clothing. I would wave or smile and he would cheerly wave back. I would close my blinds and wait

a couple of minutes before opening it. And he would be gone. This happened a couple of times. My mother put in a net curtain for me so that nobody could see into my window. I changed my sheets at night and do it often in my underwear, as my bed is in a weird position and changing sheets required a lot of effort. Now I would have to sit on my window sill, so I would often have to remove the net curtain. I have no idea how many times he had watched me, contorted, and struggled to change my sheets, bearing in mind that I was around 13 or 14 when I began noticing these things. I walk home from my bus stop the same way I'd walk home from primary school, and every single way I would take to walk home, Ken would always see me.

He would always wave hello and smile like he was expecting me or something. It really creeped me out. I began to get scared to see him. My heart would race, and I began to completely ignore him as I sped-walked home. Earphones in my ears blasting music. I thought he was watching me. Waiting for me every day. One day, when I was 14, I tested my theory.

There were two ways that I could walk past Ken's house. Both would leave me home. The first way was the way that I usually walked along that tarmac road and up to my back garden. It passed the back of his house, however, from the bottom of the hill, I would be able to see his window and see if he was there waiting for me. And I could divert my route and go around the front of the house along the alley, up the hill, and to my front door instead of the back. the front of the house along the alley, up the hill, into my front door instead of the back. One day I saw him in the window at the back of his house,

and I tried not to give off that I knew that he was watching me. Without stopping on my route, I diverted to walk up the alley in front of his house. He had crossed along the top floor of his house, front of his house. He had crossed along the top floor of his house, and when I reached his house, some way up the hill, he was looking down at me from the window at the front of the house. He was definitely watching me. I power walked home and immediately dug up Marie's contact info. I told her to tell Ken to stop watching me walk home, and that I thought it was creepy. She did so and told me that Ken was only waiting for his girlfriend to get home and that he always watched for her. I can hear her car on my street pull up from my house and I never heard

any the hour after I got home. I know Ken's girlfriend drives a BMW and I know what it sounds like. Luckily, he stopped watching me after that, and I've never really seen him again, so Ken, 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?

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Limited availability in select areas. Visit AT&T.com slash hypergate for details. This is not my story, but instead my sisters who will be using my account to share it with all of you. When I was in high school, I was good friends with a girl named Emma. Emma was kind of quiet and shy, but was always there if you needed her.

When I finished high school, I lost touch with Emma, and this happens to a lot of friendships after school. Two years later in college, I started dating a guy named Ben, and Ben's best friend Gary was Emma's boyfriend. After discovering that we all knew each other, we started to hang out again. One of the nights we planned to hang out in Gary's house. We wanted to have a few drinks and play a few games.

Myself and Ben showed up about 8 p.m. to Gary's house, and Gary said that Emma would be over soon. That was fine. We opened their beers and started drinking. It was nearly 9 p.m. and Emma still wasn't here, so we decided to ring her. Emma answered and apologized for being late. She said she was just finishing getting ready, then should be here soon. At 9.30 pm, there was still no sign of Emma, so he called again. This time her younger brother picked up the phone. Her brother was 15 years old at the time. He told us that Emma was not filling that well, and she was in the bathroom. Gary was worried and asked if he could head over and check on her, but

her brother was adamant that he was looking after Emma, and she was alright, and just to enjoy our night. We didn't go home, instead we kept drinking and hanging out because we all thought that Emma just had a simple flu. Well, just after 10 pm, we decided to call one last time to check on Emma. Her brother answered, and calmly told us that Emma had gone to bed and she'll call us in the morning. We left it at that, believing that she was safe at home in bed and didn't want to annoy her brother by calling non-stop. That night Emma's mom returned home at 12 a.m. to find Emma, dead

on the kitchen floor. Emma had been bludgeoned to death by her younger brother a couple of hours earlier. We later found out that when Emma was leaving to come to us, she and her brother got into a fight about something ridiculous and he beat her with the baseball bat and then stabbed her over 51 times. Since her brother was a minor, he was not going to be sent to prison. Instead her brother pleaded insanity and was sent to an institution. A lot of this information was not leaked as the accused was a minor. I do not know if his parents stuck by him, but he was released after four years. This happened when I was 19 or 20. I'm 31 now.

My rarely drink or go out anymore, but last weekend, a friend of mine who I hadn't seen a couple of years asked me out and we ended up going to a club on the same street where the story takes place, and it reminded me of it. The legal drinking age in Brazil is 18, so people here start partying pretty early, and let's face it, no one really knows their limits when they start drinking. My friends and I had gone to this club. I honestly can't remember the name right now, but I know it closed down a couple of years back.

We had a great time. The sun was coming up as we were leaving. Most clubs here give you a credit card when you walk in, where you either put in money that you planned on spinning, or they work as a personal digital tab, where the bartender adds up what you've been drinking, and then you pay for it on the way out. I pay for my stuff, and sit outside to wait for my friends, who were taking a long time to get out, probably due to being drunk. As I'm there, I notice a car across the street. There's two men in the front seat, and one out of the car trying to make this clearly drunk out of her mind girl get inside.

She's mumbling, stumbling, and struggling to keep her eyes open. She's saying no, I don't want to go over and over, shaking her head, clinging onto the car door. As the guy keeps telling her to let go and get inside. He said, they're just going to a friend's apartment to drink some more. It'll be fun. Come on. I watched wondering if I should do something, if no one else is seeing this happen. I look at the club's security guard, and he looks at me in shrugs, like it's not his responsibility. I look back at the girl, and I'm really uncomfortable, but also scared. My friends are still nowhere to be seen. I'm really uncomfortable but also scared.

My friends are still nowhere to be seen. I'm alone. The security guard is clearly not doing anything and there's three of the guys. What if they decide to try and get me too? The girl says one more time that she doesn't want to go with them. And before I realize what I'm doing, I'm getting to my feet and shouting. Hey! The guy stops trying to push the girl into the car for a moment and looks at me.

She said she doesn't want to go, dude, I said, starting to make my way across the street, even though my hands are shaking and my voice is probably not the most convincing. She's our friend. She's just drunk and being cranky. It's all good. We're just going to take her home," he says. He seems a bit nervous and not exactly angry, which makes me feel a bit better or at least less scared. Do you know them? I ask her. And she just shakes her head now. Using the door of support to keep herself on her feet. Creep number one, the one who is trying to push her into the car, looks at me, then looks

at his friends, who seem to be frustrated. But start saying, come on man, let's go, just leave it. Creep number one, now looking a bit pissed, grabs the girl and pushes her towards me before getting into the car and they all leave. The girl nearly falls on her face, but I grab her and we walk back to the front of the club. My heart slowly goes back to its normal rate. Only then I realize my friends had come out and were watching everything from across the

street with confused faces. We all meet random people at clubs, at the door, walking down the street, so they probably thought I'd met someone. I start asking her what happened, if she's alone. Where all her stuff is, and she's an incoherent mess mumbling about losing track of her friends, her purse, and she doesn't even know how that she paid her tab to leave. I asked for some help from the security guard, but he says that he can't leave his spot. He can't do anything.

I explain what happened to my friends, and they talked to the hostess about it, who begrudgingly goes in, checks the lost and found. Her purse is thankfully there, minus money that she had in her wallet, and we manage to call her parents. I talk to her mom because the girl can't explain anything and promise to stay there until the mom comes to get her. 30 minutes later, mom arrives, and I've never seen someone look so relieved and terrified at the same time.

She thanks me and my friends profusely, and offers us a ride home, but as we live in a town over, she just drives us to the subway station. In the middle of all the craziness, I forgot to exchange numbers with any of them, so I've never heard of that girl or her mom again, but I hope she's learned to be more careful with how much she drinks and who she talks to in the clubs. Also, shame on her friends for not looking out for her or trying to find her when they realized that she was missing, though they were probably all drunk as she was, who knows. I know that what I did was a bit reckless, but I wouldn't be able to watch that car drive

away and live with myself. Please be safe when going out people, and creeps at night clubs who try to take advantage of intoxicated people that's never meet again. I was 18 and living in Colorado at the base of the foothills. I had recently graduated from high school and was out on my own, going to college full time during the day, working nights at a waffle house and generally doing whatever 18-year-olds do in small towns. I was always a bit of an impulsive person, so when the perfect guy walked into the waffle house one night and asked me out, I agreed.

What can I say? I'm a sucker for patch covered leather jackets and blinding blonde, fashionably messy hair. I always had a nagging intuition that I often ignored as a teen, though it was usually accurate. This guy was soft-spoken sweet and very much gentleman, but before our date, something told me to call my best friend and let her know where I was going and who I was going to be with. I had no discernible reason for this, but I'm glad I did. This guy will call him Jay was a night trucker and wanted to take me to his favorite trucker spot for pancakes. I love pancakes. So I met him there. We had a decent conversation over food and black coffee.

At some point I had mentioned that I told my friend about our date. After dinner, Jay asked me if I wanted to take a drive. And there it was. That nagging again. You barely know this guy. Are you really going to hop into his car? Of course I am, I answered myself. This guy is so nice. You're being dumb and there's nothing to worry about. We paid for our pancakes and drove off towards the foothills. Jay was driving north out of town and into a desolate, hilly darkness. There was no moon that night, and I remember the sky turning from a deep blue in the evening to a foreboding black.

I saw no other cars the entire trip. We started holding hands and playing with each other's fingers. Jay started talking in sort of a far away dead tone about how fascinating it was to touch another human being. I don't remember how he led into this, but a few minutes later he said something about how fun it was to type people up with duct tape. Before I could catch myself, I whipped my head towards him with wide eyes. I'm just kidding," he said. We drove for a while in tense silence before he said,

I got a pee and pulled off into a sandy spot with scragly bushes and hopped out of the car. He said he was kidding, but something felt very wrong. It was slowly dawning on me that I was in the middle of nowhere in a place with someone I didn't know, and that there was nowhere to run even if I tried. Frantically, I started scanning for something that could function as a weapon, finding nothing but my eyes landed on a large roll of, you guessed it, black duct tape. And it wasn't even in the back seat or anything like that.

It had been under our hands the entire time. I froze, and my anxiety mounted. Jay got back into the car, seeming a little more relaxed and said, let's get out of here. I felt a little better, not much, but at least we were heading back to town. Then things got weird. Jay leaned his head forward, put his hand over his eyes and started massaging his head and face slowly as if he were dealing with something highly distressing.

He started pulling me to the side. And this is hard to explain, but the atmosphere in the car changed. As if something heavy had come down over us. It was like that feeling you get, you know, and someone's behind you, but amplified thousands of times, or like the temperature had simply and inexplicably plummeted. I wish I could better describe it, but I've never had the same experience since and I'm at a loss.

As it changed, I became absolutely terrified. He turned off the car. I thought about running, but there really was nowhere to run. This is it, I thought. I'm stuck with the maniac, and I'm going to die out here. Out of ideas, I said with a shaky voice. Are you okay? For a moment, he just kept massaging in silence. My level of terror in those seconds was indescribable. Then just as suddenly as it had come, that heaviness,

that cold. It lifted. He set up, dropped his hand and said, yeah, just a little bit of a headache. Sorry about that. Relief washed over me as he turned the car back on, and we drove off. As he was pulling out, I remember that I had given my friend his name and wondered if he had remembered that. Very long story short, he dropped me off at my car and I got home in one piece. Years later, I was reading a book on early circumstances that most serial killers have in common. There was one story about a guy in Australia that killed hitchhikers and was actually caught when two hitchhikers escaped from his car and reported him.

The hikers said that he was very friendly, but right before he tried to attack them, the atmosphere in the car changed suddenly as if a cloud had dropped on them. They said that all of the warm feelings during the encounter just dropped. I remembered sitting straight up in bed, horrified that for the first time I was hearing someone describe exactly how it felt that night with Jay. There were other weird things about Jay, including a creepy list of girls that he kept under his bed, but I think I have said enough for now. He's still around.

I checked about a year ago to see if he had killed anyone or was in jail, but not yet. But creepy, cute, trucker guy with a roll of duct tape. Let's never meet again. My best friend and I decided to take a trip to my hometown in Alabama. I've since moved and we both work endless hours and decided to finally take a break and visit where I grew up. The eight-hour road trip was nothing compared to the amount of trauma that we would endure. We arrived at about 3 a.m. to a crummy hotel in a neighboring city to my town.

We planned on sleeping in, waking up and visiting some of my old friends as well as driving around that day, and I would show her all of the milestones. I've got a past there that she hadn't really known about until this trip. I dated a guy for a few months that I had rodeoed with. He was a bull rider. I was a barrel racer. Classic love story. I know. He and I split up a year before I moved, and I learned from recent Facebook stocking that

he was newly engaged. He also lived in a town about 45 minutes away from the hotel that we were in, and that will be important in a moment. The hotel was worn down and gross, but we were two broke teens that could only afford a place like this. As we walked in, I noticed a guy sitting in the lobby with a cowboy hat down, legs crossed on his phone. I was so tired, I didn't give it another thought, and stumbled to the front counter. The grouchy older woman sat there peering at

us as if we'd stolen her children. They gave her my information. We received our key card and we went to our room. The next morning there was a knock at our door. I had the no service needed sign on the handle from the night before, so we wouldn't be woken by the maids. I grumbled as my friends stood up and opened the door. It was a man and a cowboy hat with a scraggly beard and worn out clothes. Yes, my friend replied to the man's gaze. Is she here? He replied. I jumped up and ran to the door hoping it wouldn't be who I thought it was. It was.

Although he was much more worn down than I remembered. It was my ex. After a few moments of catching up, he asked us to dinner that night. We replied yes and closed the door. Then I realized something. I hadn't spoken to this guy since I was 15. I'm now 18. How did he know we were here? I shook it off assuming some people that I had contacted about the trip to hang out with had let him know about our trip and where we were staying and just left it at that. Later that night, we arrived to the barbecue place that he requested and met him at the exact table he said. He sat looking at us with the most aggressive eyes I'd ever seen.

My friend got up to go to the bathroom and he peered at me. This is when I mentioned his fiance. Yes, I realized that by saying that, I'd have to mention the fact that I had stalked him, but I didn't care. He looks at me harshly and replies. She's still around. How about you? You and your boyfriend still a thing? Part of me freaked out that he had stalked me, but I was also a little satisfied at how better looking I had gotten through the years.

Yeah, still a thing I replied shortly. His gaze made me more and more uncomfortable as we sat there. Everything I replied shortly. His gaze made me more and more uncomfortable as we sat there. Following my friends, return I requested to leave. I told him we had another meet-up to get to, and that we'd speak to him later. We left and as soon as we reached the car, he walked out of the door of the restaurant. He stared at the car before hopping into his truck and sitting there. I backed away, freaking out. And that's when I told my friend our history. See, this guy and I had not only dated, but he was abusive. I know you're thinking, then why the hell did you have dinner with him? And the answer to that is simply, I don't know. This guy had done endless, harmful things to me,

as well as stalked me for my final year of living there. I told her everything and she agreed to never want to see him again. Two more nights went on, with fun meetups, with old friends, and everything seemed fine, although mentally I was back into that horrible fear of seeing him again. On our last night, we arrived back at the hotel really late after driving backroads, with some friends and we entered the lobby. It was dark, no one at the counter, almost as if it had been randomly shut down. I ignored it, as I was tired, and I knew

that we had to be up early. My friend grabbed my arm, being the paranoid girl that she is, and we walked to the hallway and into our room. Only to find that all of my stuff had been scattered. Her bed was exactly how she left it. It was as if whoever had done this was simply after me. Among the scattered clothes, and torn up room was a note, a note that read, You got away once. I moved on, but I'll be damned if you get away again. Then it came to me. He hadn't done some normal Facebook stalking on an X like I had. He had creeped on me to all my friends and my family within the state, so he knew everything, even the hotel that we would be in.

He was in the lobby the night we arrived and heard our room number. We packed our bags and left that night without a goodbye to anyone. I later found out that he had come in there during a mental breakdown and scared the receptionist so bad that she ran out, allowing him to run freely throughout the hotel before the cops arrived. The most terrifying part is that he was still there when we left. The cops didn't arrive until another 20 minutes after we had left. God only knows what he could have done to us. The eight-hour trip was silent, as my fear that he would find me again suffocated my mind. I guess time doesn't really heal all the wounds, and he wanted me to know that.

So to my ex that beat me and stalked me for three years, week's episode of Let's Not Meet a True Horror Podcast. This week you have heard, Country Roads by Reddit user Lucient Valkyrie 42. I should have realized something was off by Prem Rose M, ex-best friend's dad, a peeping Tom on pre-teen me by Reddit user Tyler Loved. The one time I saved a girl from being taken by Reddit user Ono Kami, I couldn't make this shit up if I tried. By listener Fox Mulder. And finally, visiting home by listener Whitt. Special thanks to all of my Patreon subscribers over at patreon.com forward slash let's not meet podcast for supporting the show and to wonder where is brand new podcast detective trap.

Don't forget to check out the link in the show notes to listen and subscribe. And don't forget to send your stories into Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com. I'll see you guys next week for a brand new episode of Let's Not Meet. 1 tbc 1 tbc 1 tbc 1 tbc 1 tbc 1 tbc 1 tbc 1 tbc

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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.

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