Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 5x07: Trail of Wax - Let's Not Meet (Feat. Amanda Jacobson)

Episode Date: December 21, 2020

Stories in this episode: - Mysterious Trail of Candle Wax - Elliott. - An Inmate Was Convinced I Was His Estranged Wife - Kate. - Mr. C - Ashley. - They Gave Me The Creeps From The Moment I Saw Them - Jaimie. - Creepy Man Tried To Kill Me and My Friend - Anarchistswordfish. - Untitled - Jen. - I'm Not Going To Hurt You - A.B. 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]. Check out Amanda Jacobson's podcast Wine & Crime at winandcrimepodcast.com or wherever you get your podcasts. Care/of is a wellness brand that makes it easy to maintain your health goals with a customized vitamin plan that helps you feel your best today and supports you long-term. For 50% off your first Care/of order, go to TakeCareOf.com and enter code meet50. Get fresh, pre-measured ingredients and mouthwatering seasonal recipes delivered right to your door with HelloFresh, America’s #1 meal kit. Go to HelloFresh.com/lnm80 and use code lnm80 to get $80 off including free shipping! Visit betterhelp.com/Meet to join the over 1,000,000 people who have taken charge of their mental health with the help of an experienced professional and get 10% off your first month. - Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/groups/433173970399259/  - Twitter - https://twitter.com/letsnotmeetcast  - Website - https://letsnotmeetpodcast.com  - Patreon - https://patreon.com/letsnotmeetpodcast  - Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/letsnotmeetcast/ 

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All designed to last a lifetime. Start customizing now at bullbibikewcom. That's bullbbq.com. And turn a bull loose in your backyard. This podcast contains adult language and content. The stories in this show can be frightening and disturbing for some. Listener discretion is advised. If you have a story to share, send it to Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com. Enjoy the show. … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … My guest this week is Amanda Jacobson of the podcast, Wine & Crime. Check him out at Wine & Crime Podcasts.com, but more on that later, for now, enjoy the show.

This story is from 1985. My two best friends were Bob and Greg. We were all college students. Bob rented a room in a house owned by an old lady. We'll call her Mrs. R. She had a daughter and two granddaughters who lived out of town. Mrs. R was going to visit them over Christmas because her daughter's marriage was breaking up and they, the daughters and granddaughters, were all moving back into Mrs. R's house. Or Bob rented a single room. Bob asked Mrs. R, if, well, she was away, it would be okay for a couple of friends, myself and Greg, to stay over one weekend and Mrs. R. consented. So that Friday morning, Bob left for work, and a bit later Greg and I left the house to go run some errands in a neighboring city, some distance away, which turned out to be in all day

affair. It was January and it was an overcast day, and the house was not well lit even in the day time. When Greg and I returned late that afternoon, Bob was already home from work. Gradually, we all noticed, separately at first, strange trails of red candle wax throughout the upstairs of the house, where we were staying. I remember wondering what the heck it was, and thinking that I was pretty sure it hadn't been there earlier. Bob later told us that he noticed right away and thought that we had been playing some sort of weird prank on him, but we weren't. The wax wasn't from anything Greg nor I had done.

Big clumps of wax were concentrated and a couple of spots in particular, including nearest spot and Bob's room, where he kept his loose change in a big jar. Penny's and Nichols were scattered all about, but the quarters and dimes had been taken. Again, initially Bob thought that we had done it as some sort of prank. But then we compared the notes, and we realized that, no, none of us had done it, and thus there had clearly been an intruder in the house while we were away. Looking around, we noticed that a similar change jar in Mrs. R's room had also been rummaged through.

And eventually we even found the much-burned red candlestick downstairs that the person had used. We called the police and the police officer came and filed a report, and we didn't really think much more about it, although it was obviously very strange and kind of creepy to think that some dude had been there while we were gone. Our weekend ended, Mrs. R came home, and a while later I remember Bob telling me that she had summoned him downstairs at some point showed him some bottles of liquor that had been partially drunk and told him to come clean. She thought that the three of us had just been playing a prank, that we had

gotten drunk and made a mess with the candle wax playing around, and then we're looking for some way of explaining it. I was furious when Bob told me this because it was absolutely untrue. Our friend Greg didn't drink a drop, and I didn't drink much either. Only the occasional beer. Neither did Bob. We had not done anything, and I was very upset that Mrs. R. Falsley accused us of this. There was no way to prove our innocence, which was frustrating.

Well, we may have gotten some vindication a few weeks later, after Mrs. R's daughter and grand daughters moved in with her. One night, they were all awoken by a terrible scream coming from one of the grand daughter's rooms, a teenager of about fourteen years old. They rushed out of their rooms just in time to see some guy rushing down the stairs and out the door. The teenager had awoken to find a guy standing over her bed staring down at her. Apparently this man, who was never caught, had found the family's hide-a-key spot outside their house. Bob even warned them about keeping it in a very obvious place, but they ignored his warning.

Who knows how many times the dude had been in their house. Thank goodness no harm came of any of this. I don't know if Mrs. R realized then that we were innocent after all of this, but it wouldn't take too much to put two and two together and realize that it was the same intruder guilty of both instances. To the guy who broke into the house, we were staying in, took our shit, got us in trouble, and later stood creepily over a teenage girl. Let's not meet ever. I was living in Baltimore and working at a school just outside the city limits.

The school building was old and falling apart, and at that time a new campus was being built where the athletic fields had been. Directly next to the school, overlooking the school's parking lot, was the county jail. Because the athletic fields had been reduced to rubble by the construction, we had athletic practices off campus. I coached Field Hockey. After Field Hockey practice, we'd be bust back to the campus. I'd wait for the girls to get picked up.

And then I'd head to my car, which was often the last one in the faculty parking lot by that point. Now for a couple of weeks that fall, I'd hear a woodpecker-like tapping noise nearby when I was getting into my car. I chalked it up to the construction, although it didn't sound particularly mechanical. It wasn't very loud and didn't bug me very much either. One morning, well, driving to work, I noticed something under my windshield wiper. I don't know how long it had been there. When I pulled

it off, it turned out to be a small corner of printer paper, which had been torn off of a full sheet. And black ballpoint pen, it said, Hey, how's Jaila? Jason loves you. John Henry will be contacting you soon. I thought it was a funny case of mistaken identity and laughed at the name of the folk hero John Henry showing up. I assumed that because I had parked on the street at home someone had placed

a note for a friend on the wrong car. About a week later I came back from field hockey practice and I could see something else on my windshield as I approached my car. It was a letter sized envelope this time. It was thick And it had an illustration of a sun, a moon, and a heart and colored pencil on the front. It also said, and purple colored pencil. I love you. My first thought was that it was some kind of prank. I didn't understand.

Working with teenagers can make you paranoid. I made sure not to react to it in any visible way. I tossed it into the passenger seat and started driving. But I was absolutely burning to know what was in that envelope. So I pulled over after a few blocks to open it. Inside were three things. The first was an eight-page letter written in purple ballpoint pen on loose leaf paper. The handwriting was not the same as the small note that I had gotten about Jala and John

Henry. The letter was written to Aang from a man named Jason Matthew Gross, the fact that it was signed with his full name ended up being a boon for me. He was writing to tell her that he loved her. He was sorry for what he had done in the past, that he loved the children, Austin and Jela, as if they were his own, and that he desperately needed her help at his upcoming hearing. He shared some memories of their time together, and some of the reflecting that he had been doing while locked up.

This was when I understood this letter was from someone jailed next door to the school. He referred to seeing Aang every day in being able to recognize her anywhere, despite her new job, new car, and new haircut. He said he had been trying to get her attention, and that his lawyer, John Henry, would be in touch with her about the hearing. The second thing in the envelope was a sheet of printer paper with another colored pencil illustration of purple roses. The final thing in the envelope was the torn-off corner of the envelope, which had been clearly torn off and shoved in after the envelope was sealed. The small corner of paper had the original handwriting from the J. Lennode on it, squeezed in as small as possible," it said.

Jason is trying to get you not to testify against him. John Henry is going to be contacting you. He is the second set of Windows down. Second window from the left. He will knock on the window. He sees you. I realized that that noise I had been hearing was this man, knocking on the window of his cell, in gel, which meant that he had been watching me in particular. which meant that he had been watching me in particular. And it seemed he believed I was this woman, Aing. And whoever had delivered the note to my car had done just what Jason asked. But was warning me not to trust him.

I went home and looked up the county arrest and court records. Jason had a lengthy rap sheet, including a divorce from Angela Gross, following numerous charges brought against him by her for domestic assault. He also had two-fourth-degree sex offenses. Because he had not gone to trial, his most recent arrest was not on the public records. So I googled his name. He was in jail awaiting trial for kidnapping and murdering a 16-year-old girl named

Rochelle Battle. I looked up Angela's name as well, and I found some social media profiles of a woman who I did not resemble at all. The next day I brought the notes and letter to the officer who worked at the school. And I asked him for help. He worked with the warden at the jail to figure out which work release recipient had been placing these notes on my car. And that person was taken off the work release. At the behest of the warden, he asked my permission to show Jason my yearbook picture, to disabuse him of the idea that I was his wife.

I gave him the go ahead, and a few days later he asked to speak to me. He asked if I was being totally honest and I told him of course I was. He said he believed me, but just had to check because when Jason had been shown my picture, he simply said, yeah, that's her. That's my wife. I checked up on the case periodically to make sure that I had known the outcome of the trial and if Jason were ever released. He was eventually convicted of the murder despite the absence of a body and was sentenced to 40 years. I no longer live in Baltimore, so I'm pretty sure I'm safe, but I'll never know what made

this man believe that I was his estranged wife. And I hope we never meet. You're already there, hero. But if you want to take it to the next level, turn a bull loose in your backyard. Bull outdoor can help you design, build, then deliver the outdoor kitchen of your dreams. Think of all the fun you'll have. Grills, pizza ovens, sinks, ice chests, refrigerators and more. All designed to last a lifetime. Start customizing now at bullbibikiu.com That's bullbibikiu.com and turn a bull loose in your backyard.

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Learn more at managementconcepts.com. That's managementconcepts.com. This happened during my transition from high school to a local community college in my town. During my high school years, I was mostly known only because of the boy I was dating at the time. He was much more popular than me, so all my friends were made through him. Meaning when we broke up, I found myself very lonely in my school days. Luckily, I had made good friends with a teacher of mine.

Let's call him Mr. C. Mr. C was in his mid-50s, he was tall and square-shaped and walked a little bit like Frankenstein's monster. He taught English one through three and some extra curricular classes like mythology and creative writing. Because of this, I had him in all four years of high school. We had become very close and I would sometimes eat lunch in his classroom with him. He loved Stephen King and horror movies like me, so we always had something to talk about. Near the end of my senior year, we had become so close we were even in the running for teacher and teacher's pet in the yearbook.

The thought of how that now makes me sick to my stomach. Fast forward, I graduated high school and began going to a community college in the same town. The way the community college was set up was a little strange. There were main hallways and classrooms branching off of them, but the wall that the main hallway in the classroom shared was made of glass, so you could sit in class and watch students shuffling by. It's hard not to feel exposed in a setting like that, but I grew used to it. So in my first year at the college, I had a public speaking class on the bottom level and

across the hall was a gym, so I would often watch people working out while I was in my class. On one of the first days of class, I had to give a speech alone to introduce myself. I was already so anxious, but I walked up and began stuttering through my four minutes of required speech time, until there was a knock on the glass. The entire class looked over and there standing at the glass wall in the hallways was Mr. C. I was shocked, but somewhat relieved that the eyes in the class were no longer on me. Mr. C then comes into the classroom and asks the teacher if he can speak with me while I was mid-speech.

comes into the classroom and asks the teacher if he can speak with me while I was mid-speech. She asked who he was and he said he was a teacher at the school and that it was important. She allowed it, even if she was as confused as I was. I sheepishly walked into the hallway to see Mr. C. He was in a tan jacket, button up shirt, dress pants, and had a small bag. Hi Ashley, it's so nice to see you," he said. His breath was hot, and he was standing too close to me. Hi Mr. C, I didn't know you worked here. What happened to the high school I asked? He then continued to explain that he got offered a better pay at the college teaching

English. This seemed very plausible and reasonable to me, so we had small chit chat, and then I went back into my classroom. The next time I had that class, I was bored and zoned out watching the students in the hall and in the gym across the hall when someone caught my eye. It was Mr. C again. He was working out and watching me with a heavy eye. At this point, I was uncomfortable, but tried to just ignore it. This happened every time I had that class.

He would then rush out of the gym to talk to me after my class let out. I even noticed him leaving campus at the same time as me and following me in his car. I had definitely had enough, but didn't know what to do. After all, he was a friend. It finally reached a point that my public speaking teacher pulled me aside. She told me she felt weird about the situation and noticed him watching me every day

and advised that I went to security. I agreed and moved into a full panic attack. I excused myself from the class and went straight to security to tell them the situation. I told the man in security that I had a teacher that was making me uncomfortable. He asked me the teacher's name, and I told him. The security guard began typing into his computer and then looked up at me white as a ghost. And he said,

We don't have a Mr. C that works here, and he's not a student either. My blood ran cold as I started to realize what had been happening. This man was dressing up for work, driving to a college campus, watching me in class, following me in the parking lot, and following me home almost every day. I was quickly escorted to my car by security and was advised to call the local police department. When I got to my car, I noticed Mr. C in his car a few rows behind me. My anxiety turned to adrenaline and I raced home. When I got home, I told my mom and we called the police who said that they couldn't do

anything since he hadn't touched me and the school had a public library so we could technically be there. I was hopeless. I lived with just me and my mother. We're both under five one and a hundred pounds and had no guns in the house. I finally broke and called my dad. I should say I never speak to my dad so this was really my last resort. My dad ended up sending me a link. Mr. C had been arrested for stalking and was fired from the high school the year I graduated. With this knowledge, my dad found Mr. C's address and went to pay him a stop

fucking with my daughter visit. My dad said he knocked on Mr. C's door and when he only cracked the door, my dad was so mad he pushed his way inside. Mr. C fell on the floor and my dad began looking around at the walls from the doorway. The walls were covered in pictures of me, pictures of me in class, walking to my car, and even in my own house, taken through my bedroom window. These pictures were hung with thumbtacks and covered every wall in the house. My dad wouldn't tell me what he did to Mr. C, but I now have a restraining order and a hefty load of trust issues. So Mr. C, let's not meet again.

This happened to me about two years ago. I worked at a winery and one evening I was closing up the tasting room. At that time we closed at 9 p.m. and the last of my co-workers had already left at 8 p.m. so it was just me to help any late purchasers while I did closing side work duties. At about 830, the door opened and a couple walked in. I greeted them from a distance as I had been doing dishes in the back. As I came out to the front, the immediately gave me pause. The man was walking with a cane quite clumsily. And the woman had this wild black hair and dark eye makeup smudged all over her eyes. Now, I love a witchy vibe. But this was not witchy, it was just creepy. I shook off my weird feeling and started walking them through what I hoped would be a quick wine tasting.

The whole time, they were talking about how they had bill collectors calling them and their credit cards were maxed out. Really strange things just to be openly telling me, the total stranger who had not brought this up in the least. They both stared at me with what I considered to be a bit too much intensity for a regular wine tasting. After what ended up being way too long of a wine tasting, they paid their bill and left. Or so I thought.

I went back to doing my closing sidewalk, now running half an hour behind. The building I work in is also very creepy at night because of the lighting and the total lack of light outside. The vineyard views are stunning during the day, but very dark at night. That night it felt different. I even recall texting my husband, and I felt especially creeped out that night because of the strange interaction with the couple. The more I thought about it, and the way that the man walked with the cane, it reminded

me of how Ted Bundy would wear his arm or leg in a cast to appear less able and get his victims to load things into the vehicle, only to strike when their guard was down. As I sat at the cash register that faces the set of double doors, I got the intense feeling that I was being watched. I looked at the door, expecting to see only my reflection, as I had many times before, only to actually see the woman with the dark makeup, and her wild hair, pressed against the thankfully locked door, with her hands cupped around her eyes trying to see inside. I immediately called my husband and put the phone in my pocket so I could hear what was

happening. Then I opened the door crack, putting my foot firmly down on the side so that it would not open further. The woman explains that they locked their keys in their car and need to come inside to look for something to Jimmy it opened with. I politely tell them that it's against our policy to let guests inside the building after closing, which was a total lie, but that I would find them something. The woman was insistent that I let her in, averting her eyes around behind me, but there was no way in hell she was coming in. I gave her a metal-handed fly swatter to see if that would work on the locked door, and

she begrudgingly walked away. After I finished my closing duties, I called a friend that lived nearby to come pick me up because there was no way I was walking down that winding staircase in the dark by myself passed their car as they watched and waited. They had left over half an hour ago now. So what would they be doing all that time? My theories range from them actually locking their keys in their car to something far more sinister,

maybe waiting for me to leave. It was very obvious that I was the only employee there as the only cars in the very poorly lit parking lot were mine in theirs, possibly trying to get into the building to rob me, or worse. After this night, thankfully, the company instituted a policy that there will always

be two people or more closing in the evenings. In any case, creepy couple from the winery, let's not meet again. This happened when both me and my friend Jay were 15. I was spending the night at his house, as I often did. It was normal enough night, we watched movies, played a couple of video games, and stayed up way too late. It was about 2 a.m. I think when we heard a loud banging coming from the front door. Luckily, at the time, we were in his kitchen at the back of the house, so no one could see us. We were spooked because there shouldn't have been

anyone at the door at this hour, but we figured it was just some drunk person and they'd go away soon enough. After 30 seconds, there was more banging on the door and yelling that neither of us could understand. It sounded like an adult man and he sounded angry so we were both scared. He texted his mom who we thought was upstairs but she said that she'd left a bit before without saying anything. She did that off it enough. She liked to go out to her friends' houses in the middle of the night so we didn't pay any attention or notice when she left.

We didn't know what to do, as we were scared to call the police based off past experiences with cops in our small town being not the best. At this point, we turned off the kitchen light and we ducked down on the ground. We heard the banging and yelling getting louder and I decided to see who it was, if it was anyone we knew. getting louder and I decided to see who it was, if it was anyone we knew. I army crawled through the dining room, which was also dark and peaked through the door to the living room, which is where the front door was. There is also a huge window by the door that you can see right into the dining room through, so I was very careful not to be seen. I couldn't see any details of the man, but he looked to be about six feet tall and had gray hair. I crawled back to Jay and we quietly decided what to do.

We heard the knowing stops, so we decided to wait a bit before seeing if it was safe. We also decided to go under the table in the dining room in case he tried to come around back, which is where the kitchen was. After about ten minutes of silence, we rocked paper scissored for who had to check if he was there, and of course, I lost. So I again, army crawled to the dining room door. I saw the man staring through the window, hands cupped against the glass. I made eye contact with him the moment he saw me, and I loudly said, shit, causing my

friend to panic and crawl behind me. I saw him pull out his phone, he told me later he was texting his mom to come home and save us. The man started yelling again and this time we could make out a bit more of what he said. It was mostly cussing although I definitely heard the phrase, I'm going to kill you in there a couple times. I quickly looked past the man to see if any of the neighbors seemed to notice him, but no luck. I crawled back out of his sight and again discussed what to do with my friend. We decided to go into the basement for safety, which you could get to by moving the fridge, confusing how I know, but it was really old and not meant

for modern-size appliances. We pulled out the fridge and get into the basement, feeling mostly safe but still terrified. I start having a panic attack, although I'm trying to hold it together best I can for Jay who is also on the verge of a panic attack. We hear a gunshot and shattering glass from above us, and I cover my mouse so I don't scream. Jay and I look at each other terrified. We hear loud footsteps and yelling above us, the man asking where we went. We hear him going upstairs and run around up there for a bit. He eventually comes back down and starts turning over furniture.

I'm assuming to find us. After what felt like hours but was probably only minutes Jay's mom pulls into the driveway, which scares the guy as he runs out the back door in the kitchen. Jay and I get out of the basement and run to greet his mom, never happier to see her. She was shocked by the state of the house and hugged us, happy that we were safe and scared by how close we were to being hurt. We were all scared after that. After that night, they had better security installed, and we went over safety protocol

if anything ever happened again. Luckily, it hasn't happened again yet. Although when I go to his house, I'm still scared. We never called the police because we knew there wasn't much they could even do. Just cleaned up and moved on. Amplify your career through training and development solutions specifically designed for federal government professionals, from courses to help you attain or retain certification to individualize coaching services, to programs at home, your leadership skills and business acumen.

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This happened in 2006, but I always think about this story even today. Not only about what actually happened, but of all the things that could have happened to a 20-year-old me. I had just gone through a very bad breakup. It was my first real relationship and my first real breakup. I knew it had to end,

but it was one of the hardest decisions I had ever made in my life. It was so hard to make a clean break, and I wanted to make a plan to move forward, a change of scenery, and a new routine instead of wallowing or even worse, and getting back together with him. I was wandering the halls at my university one day, and I saw a flyer for a study abroad program. I decided that this was my perfect way out, and immediately went to the International

Studies Office. I had to work all summer at a local restaurant to save up for the plane ticket and spending money, which was a great distraction. And next thing I knew, I was off to South Africa. This was a place unlike any other I had ever seen. Compared to the tiny Appalachian town that I was from, it was quite literally a breath of fresh air. People had begged me not to go there, though.

A part I had had only ended 12 years prior, and there was still great civil unrest, socio-economic disparities, and a lot of violent crime. I wanted more than anything to be a part of something that seemed real, so this only fueled my desire to go. The day I arrived, I walked into a grocery store, only to realize that men and red jump suits were ransacking the place. There was some kind of national protest going on that day, and I ended up eating gas station food and quickly disappearing into my flat.

I had a flatmate who was Norwegian, and we ended up becoming pretty great friends. To this day, we still write letters to one another, and it's been almost 15 years. I studied political science when I was there, which required reading a lot of human rights reports and detailed descriptions of terrible atrocities committed by unethical governments around the world. The more I learned about South African study, the more I understood why there was so much crime. This didn't stop a net and eye from traveling and exploring together on our breaks, though. We traveled almost the entire coast of South Africa up to Namibia. So, we traveled almost the entire coast of South Africa up to Namibia. It was in one Namibian seaside town where things got very strange.

The setting already felt very surreal, a town built by Imperial Germans in the desert next to the ocean in Africa. One morning we were drinking our coffee and reading our books at a cafe by the beach. At this point, we traveled a lot together, and we felt comfortable going off on our own some days. I should mention now that I opted not to have a self-undering my time studying abroad. Dumb phones were my only option. I hadn't yet been shown the addictive nature of smartphones.

I saw my trip as a chance to unplug, and to not have to constantly deal with calls from my ex or worried family members. I chose email as my main form of communication, and could also make some calls from my laptop when I needed to. So I left a net at the beach side cafe and went off to explore the town a little. I was a good ways away from her at this point when I started feeling ill. Nausea came over me so quickly that I had to vomit in a flower garden outside of a restaurant. I felt feverish and delirious and started walking towards the direction of

our hostel. At some point, I had passed a place that appeared to be a doctor's office. I must have looked terrible because when I walked in, I was immediately taken back to an exam room in front of everyone who filled the waiting room. From this point on, it should be noted that I had a very high fever and was barely functioning. I was examined by a nurse who took my temperature and asked a few questions, and then the doctor came in. After he decided that I had a virus, he sent it, he would give me some anti-nazhi meds. At this point, it was just the two of us in the exam room.

At this point, it was just the two of us in the exam room. He had a rather large syringe. I looked over as he injected it into my arm. At first I thought I was seeing things because there were only a couple millimeters of liquid in the syringe. The rest was filled with air. In my delirious state, and I was frozen as I watched, he injected both the air and the liquid into my vein. I looked up at him and asked, did you just inject air into my arm?

He said yes. At this point, I was unconcerned with whether it was a mistake or intentional. I just asked, am I going to die? Thinking that my heart may be stopped by this air bubble at any minute." He replied, completely deadpanned and unconcerned. Maybe I looked up at the ceiling and tried to think about the people I cared about, anything meaningful whatsoever, and tried my best not to freak out. I wanted to use my last moment softly. For about ten minutes, maybe longer. We both

waited. I have to be honest and tell you that I wasn't able to focus much. Random thoughts went through my head. There was no recap montage of my life flashing before my eyes like in the movies. I eventually had to throw up again, which broke the silence. I can't even remember how this was decided, but I was instructed to take a taxi to the hospital, which I did. Upon arriving, it became clear that I wouldn't be able to afford the hospital. I deliriously took another taxi to the state hospital, which was an absolute nightmare. There was a language barrier I vaguely remember throwing up into an adult diaper next to a hole in the floor of a tiny room within a place called the Polly

Award, which was written in large Sharpie marker above the entrance. Several times I convinced nurses whose language I did not speak, not to give me more injections of who knows what, with questionable needles. Somehow I managed to get them to call the doctor back. He personally picked me up in his car and took me to the hostel, then set me up with an IV. I honestly wasn't sure if he came back to finish the job or to make up for his grave mistake. At that point, it truly seemed like my only option. I remember waking up in the middle of the night, in the hostel, in a room that wasn't mine just hours later.

At first I had no idea where I was. I had a conversation with another traveler in the bunk opposite mine, a large polite man who claimed to be a rhinoceros trainer. I dozed back off. In the morning, he wasn't there, but his shoes and clothes were neatly placed on the chair next to his bunk bed. I walked with my IV to the bathroom, pulled the needle out of my very sore arm. So, Dr. who is most likely a descendant of German imperialists who committed horrible atrocities

in Namibia and nearly killed me, let's not meat. At Croger, you can find the highest quality products at a great price in every aisle every day with Croger brand. So you can stock up on your household favorites that are tried, tested, and loved by you. Because when you get the products you love at great prices, it feels like winning. Shop now in store or online. Kroger fresh for everyone. Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!

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Learn more at managementconcepts.com. That's managementconcepts.com. I went to college in a small town in the Blue Ridge Mountains. My senior year, I lived in a neighborhood a few minutes from campus. Most of the senior class all lived with a half mile radius of each other in this area. The neighborhood was quiet,

but two main roads ran through it, that both connected to local highways, so there was a fair amount of traffic during the day. Still, we all felt safe in that neighborhood. We took a lot of walks and ran on these roads and groups as well as alone. We would even walk home in the dark from house parties without a second thought. That year, I often took my friend's dog a sweet large yellow lab on walks around the neighborhood. Usually, I just took him down the hill from where I lived and up the hill across the street that exclusively housed other students. One day, I decided

we would take a longer route to enjoy the sunny spring weather. This route took us on one of the main roads that cut through the area on its way into the country highways. It ran alongside a river in my own house and many of my classmates' houses sat between the road and the river. We passed by these familiar houses until the road became only a river on one side and the rocky outcrop on the other. I often had to shift the dog over to this outcrop on the road's edge to make sure there was room for passing traffic. We had turned around and were walking back towards

a neighborhood. About two minutes away from familiar houses, and this is when I saw a truck approaching us. I also heard another truck behind us, so I paused and pulled the dog over to the roadside to give the two trucks room to pass one another. Just like I had done with all of the other cars that passed us, I soon saw that the truck coming up behind us was an electrical maintenance vehicle. It had made its way around the first truck, but when that truck sped away down the road, the maintenance truck only slowed down. Now this maintenance truck came to a stop before slowly reversing toward where I was still standing with the dog. I thought that perhaps maintenance was needed on this part of the road,

and that I was about to be in the way. But I then noticed that there were no electrical poles or boxes nearby. I started feeling uneasy. The truck stopped, and a man got out. I was scared you didn't I? He said with a sort of smile. He began to move towards us with an eerie, bow-legged gate. My stomach churned. No, I said.

My brain felt like it was working at half speed. I regretted that I hadn't kept walking from the beginning, but I always waited for a moment for the cars and trucks to pass when I was walking the dog. Yes, I did. I can see it in your face." He replied. I didn't feel myself make an expression, but maybe my eyes showed my fear anyway, or maybe he was aware that his actions would make any young woman alone on the roadside feel concerned.

In fact, he seemed almost pleased that I was scared, with a smile, he said, I'm not going to hurt you." He made his way past us toward the back of the truck, fiddling with something small in his hands. My brain still felt like it was operating at a slow crawl as I was desperately trying to remember what I had learned in my high school self-defense class. I wished for another car to appear and force his concentration away from me, but the road that had been so busy just a few minutes before was now quiet.

I felt my body slowly move forward in the direction of the familiar houses. He gestured to the lab. Does he bite? I wish that I had said, yes, he bites all strangers, but I said no. He tried to ask me about housing in the area attempting to hold a conversation with me. Trying to keep me there, I guess. I began to walk away faster, answering every question with a no. Some of my self-defense training began to come back to me.

And I remember that a stern, strong no was the best answer in this sort of situation. I felt like my voice was about to sputter out from fear. You don't want to talk to me, do you? He asked. No, I don't. Now, almost at a run, I turned away from him. My head pounded from the adrenaline. All I cared about was making it to the houses.

I strained to listen behind me, but I didn't hear footsteps or a vehicle gaining on us. The short walk around the corner to the houses felt like an eternity. This row of houses was separated from the road by a wide driveway. As soon as I saw the driveway, I sprinted off the main road and down the hill onto the dirt, lab still in tow and merely jogging beside me. I saw two male friends on their porch at the farthest house from the driveway. Out of breath and light headed from the adrenaline, I frantically told them all that had happened. As I did, the same truck slowly drove past us on the main road above.

If I could see the truck, the man inside the truck could see me. I waited a few more minutes with my friends before walking back home, trying not to sob on the roadside. My heart would race every time, I heard a vehicle approach from behind me but I never saw the maintenance truck again. Later that day I was able to find the electric company, the maintenance truck, belong to. When I first called and shared my story with a supervisor, he sounded skeptical, telling

me he didn't think any of his employees would do something like this. I didn't expect the call back. I just wanted to feel like I had done something about the experience that had left me so afraid. I was surprised to receive a call back from the supervisor the next day. He told me the man was a contracted worker, and that there had been another incident with him. The supervisor didn't tell me the details

of the incident. Only that it had occurred on the same day, just a couple of miles from the same road. I never walked the dog on that road again, even though I believe he kept me from harm. No, he didn't bite, but I still think that his mere presence helped me to deter the man from doing anything more than speaking to me. In that high school self-defense class, I learned that when someone says they aren't going to do something to you in actuality, they are thinking of doing that very thing. I'm not going to hurt you," he said, with a smile.

Oh, Lagan Man, I don't believe that, so let's not need again. Amplify your career through training and development solutions specifically designed for federal government professionals, from courses to help you attain or retain certification to individualize coaching services, to programs that hone your leadership skills and business acumen. Management concepts optimizes your professional development, online in-person, individually, or groups. It's training that's measurably better. Learn more at managementconcepts.com.

That's managementconcepts.com. You're already there, hero. But if you want to take it to the next level, turn up bull loose in your backyard. Management Concepts.com. That's bullbibikew.com and turn a bull loose in your backyard. If you happen to have sent in a story in the last week or so, I apologize there's going to be a bit of a delay before I can get back to you, and that's simply because I've seen a high volume of submissions in the last week. We have a lot of new listeners that want to hear their stories on the show, but if your story is truly a good fit, you definitely will hear from me.

I just don't know how long it's gonna be. I have to play catch up and we have a lot of episodes to get through. I want to thank Amanda Jacobson for appearing on the show this week. I was really excited when she emailed me because I was a huge fan of her show. Check it out. It's wine and crime. You can listen at wine and crimepodcast.com or wherever you get your podcasts. It's three childhood friends drinking wine, chatting about true crime, it's hilarious and informative, and I'm personally in love with their Minnesota accents. So thanks again Amanda.

And thanks to all the authors, this week you have heard Mysterious Trail of Candle Wax. By listener Elliott, an inmate was convinced I was his estranged wife. By Kate, Mr. C. by listener Ashley. They gave me the creeps from the moment I saw them, by listener Jamie. Creepy man tried to kill me and my friend by anarchist Swordfish, a story from Jin. And finally, I'm not going to hurt you by listener AB. 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. If you want to hear your story in the show, send it to Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com and if you want to get access to weekly bonus episodes of Let's Not Meet a True Horror Podcast, just go to patreon.com forward slash let's not meet podcast or follow the link in the show notes. Thanks for listening, I'll see you 18T fiber presents presents A Straight Forward Moment Your wine? Thanks.

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