Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 5x20: Lost Stories - Let's Not Meet

Episode Date: March 22, 2021

Stories in this episode: -Follow your gut, don't stop the car - PainttheDead. -My childhood pen pal - PepeFromHR. -My uncle and his skeezy friend - Spookyredd. -Flirty stranger on the subway turns out to be a violent attacker - StubblesTheClown. -My Mum's Boyfriend - Clutsy_Naive. -The time my paranoia possibly saved my life - JWard027. -The neighbor I didn't know I had - tomwesley4644. -To the stalker who fabricated a relationship with me for a whole year - caseycatlady. 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]. Get access to weekly bonus episodes of Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast, ad-free versions of the free shows and a bunch of other great exclusive material and merch at patreon.com/letsnotmeetpodcast. This podcast would not be possible to continue at this rate without the help of the support of the legendary LNM Patrons. Come join the family! While you’re gearing up for spring cleaning, don’t forget to dust off your home and auto insurance policies Policygenius.com today! Make the switch to PrettyLitter today by visiting PrettyLitter.com and use promo code meet for 20% off your first order! Design like a pro with Canva Pro! Right now, you can get a FREE 45-day extended trial when you go to Canva.me/meet today! - 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/ - Twitch - https://twitch.tv/retroxpizza/  

Amplify your career through training and development solutions specifically designed for federal government professionals. From courses to help you attain or retain certification to individualized 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. Learn more at managementconcepts.com. That's managementconcepts.com. This podcast contains adult language and content.

The stories in this show can be disturbing and frightening 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 name is Andrew Tate and this is season 5 episode 20 of Let's Not Meet a True Horror Podcast. … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … Hey y'all and welcome to this very special episode of Let's Not Meet, a true horror podcast. I've been in and out of urgent care in the ER for the last 5 days or so due to some

bad reactions to some medications and some other complications. I'm back home and I'm feeling a bit better now, however I didn't have time to make it into the studio, but this left me with the perfect opportunity to bring you a collection of some of the lost stories from the previous run of Let's Not Meet that haven't been online or available for some time now. Many of you, if not most of you, have never heard these stories. And for those long-time, die-hard listeners that have, if you're anything like me, you'll have a blast hearing them again. These are older recordings from the Reddit days, so the audio may sound a bit different

from story to story, but I did my best to iron everything out for you just in time. I may end up doing one or two of these per season in the near future as I had a really great time going back and listening to these episodes. One other thing, before I let you go, don't forget to head over to my Twitch channel at twitch.tv forward slash pizza-tate at 7pm Pacific Standard Time this Saturday, March 27th, to catch the live stream season finale episode of Let's Not Meet a True Horror Podcast with some of our favorite returning guests. For now, enjoy the show.

This happened about 10 years ago when I was a freshman in college and I had just started dating my boyfriend. He lived a few towns away from me at the time. Actually, we now live in a cute apartment, not far from there, where the story takes place, and I was taking some of the back roads towards the parkway to get home. I had fallen asleep at his house while watching a movie, so it was about 3 a.m., and I was exhausted. I knew the way to the parkway, well enough, but I was still not that familiar with this particular part of town. As you get closer to the parkway,

you have to actually cut through a park just to get to the entrance ramp. That being said, there were very few lights and the nearest house wasn't that far, but it was totally out of sight. I pull onto the short road and see a gold sedan stopped in the middle of the road. It was actually stopped in a way that it didn't matter which way you were traveling, it was going to be a squeeze to get around him. And just for a little background, I am very small. And at the time, I might have weighed 100 pounds,

and I only stand five feet tall. I slow down my car, and I'm trying to see if I can see headlights coming from the other direction so I can pull around him. But before I could make a move, this tall man runs around from the front of this stopped car and starts waving his arms to get my attention. As I mentioned, I'm small, young, alone, and it's 3am. He didn't look worried.

He didn't even look that scary. But an alarm went off in my head that something wasn't right. I tried to end up so that I could pass him, but he stands in front of my car and is not going to let me pass. I quickly locked my doors, which became a habit after this, and stopped. He starts trying to talk to me, and he's now making his way over to my window. My hearing isn't very good, but he was so close to me that I could read his lips. He was asking me for help. He wanted my cell phone to call someone.

I said that I was very sorry, but no. He has his hand on my window. Please. I said no again and didn't care if I ran his foot over. I just left. I was starting to get scared. I was able to just barely pass, but I had to do so in the oncoming traffic lane. I look in my mirror and he's just standing in the middle of the road staring at me.

I could see the anger on his face and my break lights. I pulled back into the right lane, and as I did, my headlights catch three men climbing out of the bushes. They were all dressed in the same black shirts and jeans, and they are all glaring at me. shirts and jeans and they are all glaring at me. I could almost feel the anger radiating off of them. I gunned it and flew up the road and onto the parkway. I could feel my whole body shaking. What had just happened? What were they going to do if I had stopped? I pulled out my phone and called the police. They had to transfer me a few times because no one could figure out if I should be talking to the county police or the highway patrol. It was basically at the parkway entrance and no one wanted to deal with me, I guess. I was finally able to tell someone what had happened. They sent a car over to check it out.

I had asked the officer to call me back and let me know if they found them since I drive over there a lot. He later told me that by the time they got there the men and the car were gone. But not even five minutes after they spoke to me, another woman called in. They had the same stories as I did, in that same location. I was advised not to drive over by the park at night anymore. I had no idea that it wasn't safe at the time and have never taken that exit at night since. When I told my parents, my mom cried, and my dad was very angry,

but they were both proud of me, we're not stopping. There was also a new rule instituted in our family. Boyfriend included that we had to text someone when we were on our way home. So scary guys at the park, let's not meet. our way home. So scary guys at the park, let's not meet. I'm not sure if this was the trendy thing for anyone else in the early to mid-2000s, but when I was a child during this time, it appeared that many characters and books, films and TV shows had pen pals, distant figures, with whom they were best friends, and to whom

they scraped whatever was going on in their lives. One of these TV shows actually featured an episode where a girl met up with her pin-pal, who turned out not to be a French boy her age, but a creepy middle-aged man who shoved her in the back of his van. Apparently, I didn't let this sway me from seeking out a pin-pow of my own. Anyway, I searched pin-powls in Google and clicked on the first few sites. The one that I settled on already had a list of children's names, ages, locations, small bios, and email addresses. I scoured the page, but I couldn't find anyone my age.

The youngest girl was Lottie, aged 12 from Amsterdam. So I clicked on her email address and typed out a cheerful message, telling her that I was from the UK and I was only 8 but I was really mature from my age and please be my friend online. I remember she responded very quickly. I remember she told me that it didn't matter that I was eight. She liked younger girls better anyway. Retrospectively, that's creepy as hell to say, but I was eight in naïve.

We struck up a friendship and we would email back and forth. I told her everything about my annoying friends at school, my parents fighting, my love for Jacqueline Wilson books and Doctor Who. Like the idiot I was, I told her the county that I lived in and the town. I didn't give her my address, but I was stupid enough to send her a picture of me. She didn't send anything back, and I didn't think to ask, because once again, I was an idiot. She told me I was really pretty. Things are still a bit fuzzy to remember, but one thing I do remember is that she said she liked my eyes. Bleh. A few weeks of this goes on. My older sister was the only person who knew, and she told me one day that she wasn't

comfortable with this. Because she's only older by a year, I thought I knew better and brushed her off. But she asked me to tell our mom. I didn't want to, but I had a feeling in my gut that I should. That evening, I told her, putting on my most persuasive voice. I tried to convince her that Lottie was really cool and nice, but my mom is protective and she knew something was wrong. She asked to see the emails and told me, Ladi isn't a girl.

She's a man praying on you. My mom pointed at the typing style and the email address. She doesn't even talk like a little girl, she says. See, Ladi's email address wasn't simply like at hotmail.com, Gmail or even Yahoo. It was at something that, according to my mom, looked like a business name. Not something that a little girl would have an email with. A writing style had also changed over the weeks that we had been talking. It had gone from normal to typing with weird capitalizations where they shouldn't be. This didn't give my mom a good feeling. She told me to stop emailing Loddy. I lied and

said I would. Naturally, I carried on. But I was still a little unnerved. I emailed Ladi a few days later, saying that my mom wanted her mom's email address. She started questioning me why when she replied, but eventually she gave it. I was relieved. In hindsight, I should have wondered why she didn't want to give me the email address straight away. Maybe I realized this is a little subconsciously, but I asked her for a photo of her mom and another with her mom. Again, she questioned why and asked if something was wrong.

I just told her that my mom wanted to know what she looked like. There was no reply for a few days, but then finally I get an email from her, attached to her two pictures, one of her, and one with her mom. They didn't look right. They didn't look like normal photographs. If you know what I mean, they looked really polished and professional. I think by this point, the unsettling feeling was too much for me to handle. I'm not good at shutting things down with someone. Even to this day, I can't calmly and slowly into relationship or a friendship. So I replied to the email with the pictures and wrote that I never wanted to speak to her again.

Lottie didn't take it very well. Not well at all, actually. She told me she hated me and that I was ugly. She said a few other nasty things, but what freaked me out was when she told me she would make me as miserable as I made her. You can guarantee that if I wasn't scared before I was shitting myself then. I cried until my mom, who was pissed about me lying, but worried as well. So I guess when she banned me from using the internet for a few weeks,

it was actually a protective measure as well as a punishment. Nothing happened. This made me think that maybe I had freaked out on Lottie for no reason. Maybe she hadn't lied. It was only a year and a bit later when I stumbled upon a new show and found out that those pictures were not Lottie at all. Does anyone remember an Australian show called Mordified? The photos she had sent were actually headshots of the lead actress, Marny Kennedy. So Lottie, I'm glad we never met. And let's hope we never meet. Get ready to roll this summer with 4 Wheel Parts Summer Rollout Sale.

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That's managementconcepts.com. That's managementconcepts.com. My mom used to date sketchy guys when I was a teenager. I didn't live with her as much because she was a horrible role model. So my grandmother raised me for a big chunk of my life. I'm thankful for that because she taught me so many values and how to be a lady. I later moved in with my dad and stepmom and half siblings when I was 15 and had a wonderful life with them. Now this story isn't about my blood uncle, he was my biological aunt's brother-in-law.

Anyway, when I was 14 I lived with my mother and her skeezy boyfriend Dale for a year in the upper half of a duplex. Our boyfriend had this friend that would come over very occasionally that looked just like the white guy from the jerky boys. Same hair too. He creeps me out because he would always stare at me, and I would always catch him creepily staring at my ass and my breasts. My aunt lived down the block and I would visit quite frequently

because she was the cool aunt. She was in her 20s, super fun, and really pretty. And she had a 1969 firebird convertible that we would drive around and blast Aerosmith in. And this was the 90s. So with that said, I saw her brother-in-law Jeff quite a bit because he was renting out her basement. I thought he was kind of a weird guy, but an okay guy.

So one night at about 11.30 or midnight, I was home alone and I get a knock on the door. Our door had a square glass panel towards the top that was painted over with a little people scratched in the paint. I looked through and it's my aunt B's in law. I opened the door and I say, hey, what's up? He asks me if my mom or Dale, my mom's boyfriend,

are home. I said no. Mom was at work and God knows where Dale is. Then he asked me to come downstairs because he wanted to talk to me. I trusted him because I considered him family, and I was also pretty timid and didn't like saying no to people. So I follow him downstairs to the front porch, as he is car parked, and still running on the street with the headlights on.

And I, sitting in the passenger seat with the window rolled down, was the jerky boy looking dude that hung out with my mom's boyfriend. I paused and was like, um, and Jeff was like, hey, we want to talk to you. We want to ask you about something. And he started to gently guide me to the car. My adrenaline started pumping and all of a sudden felt that something was not right. I stopped and pulled back a little and tried my best not to look scared. Jeff kept talking sweetly, running his finger at my shoulder to fix my spaghetti strap,

and saying, it's okay, it just come closer to me. And I pulled away politely and said it was okay. He can ask me right here. He kept sweetly trying to convince me just to come to the car so we could just talk. And he said that if I was so scared, I could come in stand in front of the headlights. The second he said stand in front of the headlights. My stomach did a leap and my whole body started to feel electrically charged because I knew if I was to stand in front of the headlights,

I would not be able to see, and it would distract me, thus making it easy for one of them to grab me. I knew right at that moment, I was in a very dangerous situation, so I started acting ditty and dumb, because I was afraid that if they thought I was thinking that they were trying to do something that they would end up in prison, he would just grab me right there and cover my mouth and drag me to the car so I wouldn't tell on him. So I started to playfully joke around and said that I wasn't wearing shoes and I didn't want to step in dog poop. said that I wasn't wearing shoes and I didn't want to step in dog poop. Then I see Jerkyboy start to come out of the car and then I just sprinted into the house

so fucking fast and ran up the stairs, then locked the door. I was shaking so bad that the Jerkyboy knocks him the door, like a minute later, and he's looking through the makeshift people. He starts saying that he needs to talk to my mom's boyfriend. I say that he wasn't home, so he goes away from the door, but I don't hear him go down the stairs. 30 seconds later, go down the stairs. 30 seconds later, Jeff comes up and knocks. And he's talking through the door saying that he needed to talk to my mom's boyfriend. And he tries to open the door, but it's locked. I said that he wasn't home again. So Jeff starts saying things like, I'm sorry we scared you honey, we just wanted to talk to you and ask about your mom and Dale and other bullshit excuses. I was scared

that they were going to try to kick the door in. So I decided that I was going to try and sneak out the back. I walked towards the back door and thank God I looked at the back window first because I saw jerky boys standing downstairs at the back door. So Jeff was at the front door sweet talking me and his friend was waiting by the back door. I know what you're probably thinking right now. Call the cops. Just call the cops. I don't know why I didn't. I think it was because I was so naive and timid in this guy was my uncle. I was always

questioning myself and my judgment because Jeff kept reassuring me at the front door. So I go to the front door and Jeff is still there talking to me, telling me that he felt bad for scaring me. And I tell him through the door, trying my best to disguise any hint of fear that it was okay, that I was sorry that I got spooked and it wasn't his fault. And I just tried my best to convince him that I believed him. They eventually left. And once the coast was clear, I snuck out and ran to my friend's house next door. I didn't tell them anything, just said that I was scared and wanted to stay there until my mom came home.

I did tell my mom, though, but nothing really happened. And I thankfully moved to my dad's house 45 miles away three months later. I never saw him again. Back in the winter, I had returned home to New York City and was getting used to the usual schlep on the subway to get to and from work around the city in general. I hate the subway as an overarching sentiment towards the MTA. I had always called it the bane of my existence because it challenged me in all the areas I am sensitive about, close proximity to strangers, claustrophobic spaces, temperature extremes, mysteriously foul smells, pests, and vermin.

Overall, it's convenient and tolerable on a good day, but I still had my fair share of unfortunate encounters over the years that led me to regard the subway as a less than ideal mode of transportation around the city. This one early evening on a Sunday solidified my thinking. I had just left a breast cancer fundraiser event around 7pm and was only going a few stops over to where my house was on the in train. My little sister and I sat chatting quietly as the train began to move, the medium-build man, with a grey pea coat and a beanie made eye contact with me and hurried over.

He bent down close to my face, extending his arm out for a handshake and said, Hello there, you're very beautiful, how you doing? What's your name? I sort of just recoiled back, giving him a confused, what are you doing in my personal space kind of look, shaking my head and clear disinterest to make his acquaintance? Well of a sudden, it was like a switch flipped, and his previously sweet tone turned to an ugly rage.

You fucking bitch, you think you're better than everybody? You ain't shit, ugly bitch, clown assass bitch, get the fuck out of here! He screamed at the top of his lungs, and I noticed everyone turning and staring in our direction. Fuck you anyway," he said. He made a waving off gesture while I kind of just sat there staring at him, wide eyed wondering what he was going to do next. His entire stance was very aggressive.

He then stopped screaming, and to my surprise, he made a direct pass to try the same exact thing on my sister who was right next to me. Wow, you're beautiful too. Can I shake your hand? And he reached directly next to me to touch her, the fucking nerve. Like stinted in my arm and said firmly, hey, leave my sister alone and back up out of our space. The guy smacks my hand out of the way. Now he's fully pushed my buttons. I stand up and realize I am about I level with him, so he must have been around 5'9",

maybe 5'11 at most. Don't fucking touch my sister, I said, and I was officially heated. This next part is a blur as I don't remember what he said when he pushed me and we began to scuffle, but I landed a very sweet uppercut on his jaw. However, this enraged him, and he had me on my back within seconds, kicking me and screaming. I will fucking kill you, bitch." After what felt like an eternity, two good people of the subway had to run up behind him and pull him off of me.

I heard one guy say, leave her alone, dude, what the fuck? And when I looked up, I saw several horrified passengers staring at us as we engaged in a full-on brawl. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins, so everything was bright and my vision was pinpoint. I felt numb. The conductor said something over the speaker about holding the train at the platform.

And I stood there shaking as the guys threw him onto the platform and made a barrier between the platform and door as he attempted to get back into the car, clawing at the air and sputtering curses at me, staring me dead in the eye. The subway door is finally closed, locking him out. He pounded on the doors, as though possessed by a demon, screaming so loud you could see every sinew in his neck as he pounded on the glass. His eyes were so bloodshot. They almost glowed red, and his voice was so loud it pierced through the entire car. I will kill you, bitch!" Then the subway car pulled away from the station. Someone pointed to the ground.

He had dropped his cell phone in the alteration. It was unlocked. I found out everything I could about this crazed stranger. His name, his social media handles saw all his selfies and the fact that he had been trying very hard and unsuccessful at getting laid. His text messages revealed that he was a drug dealer of some sort. I suspected crack because of the prices, increments, and wording of the tax, which would

kind of also explain his violent outburst. I had seen my fair share of crazy New York City, but never this up close in personal, not in years. I was shook and emotional following the attack. I went to the police station with my aunt and uncle soon after, and I was feeling a report when one of the cops at the station said, if it turns out you stole that phone from that guy. You're gonna be in a lot of trouble. Straight to my face. He implies that I stole this phone from a complete stranger on the subway and was now spinning some elaborate web

that included turning myself in at a police station. When I was feeling out a report of an assault, I wasn't wrong in thinking that guide wasn't kind of be much help. I digress. I gave them his full name and they said they had a lot of people in the system with the same name. I said, well, I have all specific info that I got off of the phone. They said they couldn't use anything off of the phone without a warrant. They ended up taking a cell phone from me, and nothing ever came of it.

Except for the ginormous bruise I had from getting a blunt kick to the thigh. An officer came by my house a few months later, with some photos of extremely similar looking men, none of which I could confidently identify as my silent. I haven't heard a single thing since I filed a report, and I couldn't find the guy on social media again. So this lunatic is probably out there riding the subway somewhere, waiting for the next girl to reject his handshake so he can go absolutely batshit crazy. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened, had it been late at night with nobody around to help me. That guy was screaming that he was going to kill me, and I'm sure he would have,

given the chance. Brawling subway, Casanova, let's not meet again. When you download the Kroger app, you have easy access to savings every day. Shop weekly sales and get personalized coupons to get the most value out of every trip every time, whether you shop in-store or online. Download the Croger app now to save big. Croger, fresh for everyone, must have a digital account to redeem offers. Restrictions may apply, see site for details. Save big on your favorites with the Buy, 5, or more save a dollar each sale.

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That's managementconcepts.com. When I was a little around seven, I lived with my mom and my sister. We have different dads, but the same mom. My mother and father had separated a couple years before and lived apart, and my dad lives about two hours away. I saw him every other weekend. Since the separation, my mom had gone on various dates with different men, but they never really worked out.

At this point, I want to mention that my mom drank a lot of alcohol. She had a hard life and alcohol had been her way to cope with it. I have made my peace with it, and she's a lot better today. One morning, I remember waking up and going into my mom's room and seeing a strange man in bed with her. Nothing unusual. Just another date that I would probably never see again. However, since then, the date, John, never really left our lives and my mom ended up dating him. John was nice at first. He would let me and my sister, who was six years older than me, stay at his house when my mom did, and he would give us sweets. However, eventually, and I can't really remember when, but John began to become abusive. Honestly, I was so young and it feels like a blur now. I can only recall bits and pieces of information,

but I remember him and my mom getting into arguments, and he would break stuff around the house, and at points, even hit my mom. Later on, I learned he did stuff like ripped my mom's earrings out, and hold a samurai sword to her throat. Every time they would get into a fight, he would leave at stupid times like 3am, and my

mom would leave a little bit later to go after him, I assume. Which would leave my sister, then 13, to look after me and get me ready for school. After school, I would walk to see both John and Mom in the car waiting for me, then I would feel dread because he would still be in our lives. You would think that would be the crazy part, but it's not. You see, John was in an organization or club for men. I don't want to say the name of it here because of anonymity, but it was all very secretive.

He was never allowed to talk about what happened at their meetings to my mom or us. Women were not allowed to join either. The only time a woman could join events was at the annual ladies event that they often held, which my mom would go to. Around the time, my man who lived very close to us got into a relationship with a man named Kenny. Kenny was also part of the organization, and he and John were very friendly with each other. My mom strongly believes that Kenny and John knew each other before they knew my man and

my mom. Kenny was also very abusive towards my man. To the point that he knocked her tooth out. Kenny and John's relationship, her friendship, all came to an end one night when my mom and John were visiting my nann and Kenny, whilst me and my sister were visiting our dads. My mom remembered that she was offering to make Kenny a roast dinner for tomorrow. She then went to the toilet, and when she came back, she heard the conversation between Kenny and John became heated. Before she could even turn around to see what was going on, she felt two punches to her neck. John pushed

her and yelled at her to run. When she turned around, she saw Kenny stabbing John, stabbed him eight times. Somehow they escaped out the front door with my nann, and it was only then that my mom realized she had been stabbed in the back of the neck twice. Eventually, the police showed up and Kenny was arrested while my mom and John were taken to the hospital. Luckily, they both survived. We never did find out the reason why Kenny suddenly became hostile and stabbed my mom and John, but I wouldn't be surprised if it were something to do with the organization

they shared. We never saw Kenny again after the court case ended, but we believe that he got into his psychiatric hospital. Apparently, he pleaded that a mental illness had pushed him to stab them. After Kenny was gone, my man, who had schizophrenia, came to stay with us for a while until she felt safe and mentally sound to go back home. I really think Kenny did a number on her and she was never quite right after that. Now despite Creeper Kenny being gone, John was still around which didn't make my life any easier.

He made life hell for us, constantly getting angry, hitting my mom, getting angry at me and my sister. Once I dropped and broke a pot of mustard on the floor, and I remembered my mom and I just froze because we were so terrified at how John would react. My sister being older, she remembered a lot of the creepy things she caught him doing, such as sitting on my bed one night when I was at my dad's. When she asked him what he was doing, he said, where else would I be? My sister walked in on my mom crying. She asked what was wrong, and John literally said to a 16-year-old girl, your mom was raped." He made me and my mom go for walks at midnight, around the neighborhood, if we made him angry.

My sister cannot remember why, but she once was so terrified and upset at John that she ran out of the house barefoot and ran all the way to her dad's house, which was a 10-minute walk away. When she arrived at her dad's house, John was already there waiting. He said, I wanted to make sure you got here okay. That fucked my sister up because she left the house before John did, and she sprinted to her dad's. The only way he would have made it there before her was if he ran as well. My mom became very strange and weird during her time with John, doing things that she had never done before, as if she were having a mental breakdown. At the time we believed it was just because John was abusive and because of the alcohol,

however in recent years she has admitted to us that she believed that John was drugging her. She even ended up marrying him overnight, with only two witnesses, both from that secret organization. She looked drugged up at the wedding and in the wedding photos, and we only found out that they were married a week later. She never felt right in her time with him. She told us that whenever she went to the ladies' nights, she would not remember the night

and the slightest. One night John made the creepiest comment towards my sister when she was around 13. They were talking about the lady's night. He said, Now that you're old enough, we will buy you a pretty dress and you can come to lady's night with us. My sister told me that when he said that she felt so uncomfortable and hated the idea of it and completely refused outright. He made the same comment about me when I was 10, saying that when I was a bit older, I could go. I remembered being really excited about buying a dress and being able to go to the secret club that my mom often went to. After learning about how my mom

never remembered the ladies' nights, I am so glad that I never got the chance to go. I was 11 when I woke up to the sound of my mom screaming. John had passed away. He was a diabetic, but was terrible at managing his insulin levels. He died from too much fluid in his lungs. That was both the worst and best day of my life. I would never wish anyone dead, but when John passed away, I felt a huge weight off of my chest. That is an awful thing for an 11-year-old to feel. I shiver

whenever I think about what our lives would be like if he were still alive. Once John got beat up so badly, that a couple of his ribs were broken. John got the police involved, but the culprit was never found. Well, a few months later, well, a few months ago, my dad and I were talking. He finally admitted that the person that beat up John was my dad's brother. Apparently, everyone knew. Even John, but no one told the police because they thought he deserved it. the police because they thought he deserved it. So let's never meet again, Kenny and John, not even in the next life. Get ready to roll this summer with four Wheel Parts Summer Rollout Sale. Save up to 50% on select wheel installations. From top brands like Black Rhino, Fuel Wheels and KMC Wheels.

Plus get 25% off select ready-lift, big lift kits. Need a 4x4 vehicle inspection or alignment check? It's free during the summer rollout sale. All this and much more. Don't wait, visit any four wheel parts location from June 5th to June 30th. Go to fourwp.com to find a location near you. Four wheel parts, offering the best brands and best prices guaranteed. 18T fiber presents a straightforward moment.

You're wine? Thanks. I'll pretend I know what I'm doing before saying it's good. And I'll pretend I don't know you're pretending. Are you a gigillionaire? Yeah, I have AT&T fiber. The straightforward pricing has inspired me to be more straightforward. Me too. Ugh, this wine. I'll fetch you a better one. Straight forward is better. No equipment fees, no data caps, no price increase at 12 months. Live like a gigillionaire with AT&T Fiber, limited availability and select areas, visit ATT.com slash Hypergate for details. So today I was staying in a hotel about 270 miles from

home. I've been in the city for a couple of days, but we just switched hotels last night due to the fact that the other one was mold infested and gross. Anyways, we're here to drop my brother off at college. And tonight was his last night with us before we left. We decided to have a silly string fight in the hotel parking lot. Run around the outside of the hotel, you know, just have fun, stupid teenager things. Somebody was standing on top of the stairs that led to the second floor of the motel, watching and staring at us. No big deal though, we were being pretty loud and obnoxious. My brother and my mom left to bring my brother back to his dorm. I

decided to stay behind at the hotel room, as all I had been doing for the past three days was riding in a car and I needed to break, and I was on the phone with my friend Adrian. So I was just talking to Adrian. When all of a sudden, someone knocks on the door, the same exact way my mom does. We have one of those secret knocks. I was about to swing open the door per usual, as I was 99% sure it was my mother. But something told me to look at the people for some reason. The person standing outside my hotel room door was the same person watching us earlier on top of the stairs. I'm very paranoid, so obviously I didn't answer the door.

I started freaking out and talking to Adrian quietly and the person yells, open this fucking door and starts banging harder on the door. I sit there talking quietly to Adrian for about five to ten minutes, and then slowly walk back up to the door and go to look through the people when this person slams their body weight against the door and starts viciously shaking the handle. At this point, I text my brother on Snapchat at least 30 times, please come back to the hotel. He says there are about 10 minutes away and just to sit tight, and that he's coming back. He does, and by the time they get back, the person is gone.

He does. By the time they get back, the person is gone. Definitely not the worst of experiences, but I'm still pretty shaken up by this. Apparently my paranoia paid off because according to the front desk, the same person came and asked for a key to my room. I'm not sure what would have happened if I would have opened the door or if they would have managed to obtain the key to my room. And I don't want to find out. For a bit of context, I grew up in the middle of farmland in a large 1800s Victorian home. Given its history,

there has always been several shacks and barns that once belonged to the builder of this house. There is a highway that sees maybe three cars on it during night and directly across from said highway, about 200 feet inward from a cornfield, is a shack that I have always found creepy. As kids, myself and friends would dare each other to go inside and look, which always ended up with us going as a team. Nothing scary was ever found. Maybe a few broken glasses, metal piles, and miscellaneous items. There wasn't any electricity or any sort of utility that made it homely.

So years go by, and the existence of this shack becomes part of my daily life. However, one particular night, as I was watching TV, I noticed a light go off and on outside of my window. After getting startled, I dismissed it as passing cars, simply more frequent than they typically are. In our passes, it's nearing midnight and the light stays on.

This time I know for sure it's coming from outside. My family was asleep, but being a pansy 16-year-old like I was, I needed confirmation. Too bad for me, no one wants to go check it out. So I go alone. I grabbed my pocket knife in a flashlight, the best thing I could think of with my shaken thoughts, and take off into the night. As I neared the highway, the lights turned off, almost making me choke on air. But I had to figure out what the hell was going on. I make it to the entrance of the shack, which has no door and slowly begin to enter. My flashlight scanning the room for any sign of life.

What happened next? I'll never forget. Five feet away from me. There's an old, tattered recliner facing the opposite direction that my father had tossed in there for for future disposal. I shine my light on it because I knew I'd seen it rock ever so slightly. As I did that, a man stands up from the recliner, saying absolutely nothing. All I could tell was that he was middle-aged and wearing a jacket of sorts. And before I could process

what was happening, I was already sprinting across the road and praying. He wasn't behind me. It felt like years before I could make it to my door, but as I am about to make it into safety, I decided to look back. He was standing in the road completely still. No words whatsoever. It's been seven years since then. The shack still stands. The recliner remains in place. My dad never believed me. I wish someone could share the dread I had when I realized that the recliner was facing the window. Back in 2013, I was living with my ex at the time who lived near a nice country village. And as I was in between jobs at the time, I picked up a job at a local garden center.

It was casual retail work, fairly decent pay, and easy going enough that I could take coffee breaks frequently and wear basically whatever I liked, as long as I wore my work polo shirt. It was within walking distance from my ex's house, and full of people of all ages who are the most lovely people I've ever met. Most of the regular customers who came into the garden center, were usually sweet old people who would visit the cafe because we had free teas and discounted lunches for OAPs if they had a store card. So you often got to know all of them, and some of them we gave nicknames.

Most of them were sweet, like pink hair lady, a badass 80 year old grandma who wore a tassled leather jacket with bright pink hair. Then there was camper van couple who used to drive a really cool camper van with bright orange flowers painted on it. You get the idea. The creepy artist man though, he gave me and most of the young girls, weird vibes. He wore a straw hat, was in his late 40s, had round gold-rimmed glasses, and would wear strange graphic shirts with naked women on them, or professional pussy patrol, sort of slogans on the back. He always wore ripped jeans, where his knees were always hanging out of them,

which were always dirty, with paint or mud or something. He had this weird half-smile that would never leave his face, and a kind of lear that made people uncomfortable. He would take off his glasses and clean them constantly, which kind of made you feel like he was trying to get a better look at the girls who worked there, especially the younger ones, 16 years old, school leavers usually. Anyways, it was a roasting hot summer day, and I had gratefully accepted the job of watering the hanging baskets outside, where I could avoid the humid, sweaty heat of the greenhouse.

I was wearing black shorts and my red polo, with my tool belt to prune and deadhead plants as we went. With the hose in my hand and sunnies on my face, I was busy but enjoying the solitary job at the quietest part of the garden center. Well hello there. Out of practically nowhere, he slipped out from behind some wooden trellises and looked me up and down smiling with his weird smile. His eyes lingered on me for what felt like an uncomfortable few seconds, and I turned

off my hose and asked him if he needed anything. He shook his head and kind of shrugged, still smirking at my legs. Okay, sir, have a nice day. Let me know if you need anything. I turn to continue. I've never seen you here before. You're a new one. Huh?

Me? Well, I've been here for eight months now. I must have missed the memo that a beauty like you started. You have a nice tan and you look young. Uh, thanks. I'm 23. Anyways, I have to get back to work. Nice to meet you. And he called me by name. I suddenly remembered my name badge and get slightly irritated that he now knew my full name. I suddenly remembered my name badge and get slightly irritated that he now knew my full name. I make a b-line for the smoking area where the tool shed was with an excuse to grab some smaller gardening gloves and by the time I returned to the floor he had left. As the weeks went by, he would come into the store regularly. Usually mid afternoon,

coincidentally, or I thought so, around the time that I started my shift. Most of the time, I was the only cashier, so I would have to serve him. He would buy the most smallest, pointless things, like, floristry wire, or a tiny bag of bird seed. It seemed like he would purposely make purchases with the intention of interacting with me. He would make comments about my appearance, statements mostly like, You have your hair different today, yesterday you had it down.

You have new glasses, or that's a different lip color to yesterday. He would always announce my name loudly and deliberately during every interaction. I felt uncomfortable, but I was 23 and politely shrugged it off. Around Christmas time, I was decorating the artificial trees in a corner to me, and what was pretty much a forest of them in the back of the store. He jumped out from behind one and made me jump, to which I was kind of pissed about him doing, because I dropped my glass ornament and it smashed. He bent down also and tried to, quote unquote, help grabbing my wrist and telling me not to touch the glass. His grip was scarily tight and forceful, and his hands were clammy

and gross. I slipped my hand out of his grip and asked if I could help him with anything. And that's when it got weird. He pulled out a leaflet from his back pocket and told me he was an artist and had a Christmas art show happening in the local church hall, and he wanted me to go with him. He told me that he was a painter, and he thought I would like his work. I had never indicated I was interested in art to him, or anyone else for that matter, which is why I thought it was strange. I asked him if he wanted me to pin the leaflet to the local event board,

and he reached out and touched my arm and said, no, the invitation is specifically for you. He pointed his finger and jabbed it into my breast and said, you. So I'm standing there in a dark corner obscured from view by artificial Christmas trees, just kind of concerned by this guy who was touching me. I cringed away and said, I was busy with my boyfriend that day sorry, and kind of scampered off. I remember feeling very strange after that.

The fact that he grabbed my wrist and jammed his finger into my chest that way. I told a few of my colleagues about it and they all told me they would warn me next time he was in the store so I could maybe hang out at the store room until he was gone. Well, that memo must have missed a few of the temp Christmas staff because one day I got told by one of them, your friend is asking for you at the tills. It wasn't unusual for my friends to stop by as it was a fairly popular place for gifts, etc. So thinking that maybe it was my ex's mom or something, my head to the till, and there

he is. He's holding a piece of paper. I cringed, but he had seen me now, so I walk over and ask what he needed from me. He passed the paper over and asked me to open it. Folded up was a drawing of me, with exaggerated breasts and cartoon-like eyes watering the hanging baskets in a sexual kind of position. I kind of stood there and said thank you, but I couldn't keep it as I thought it was inappropriate to take guests from customers.

I handed it back to him, and he kind of looked at me with this angry stare. I turned around and walked out without another word. By this point, I had had enough. I knocked on my manager's door and told him about the whole scenario that just happened, and all the previous interactions that I had had with him over the past year. He watched the CCTV and agreed that it was so strange the way that he gave me this gross picture, and told me that he would talk to him if he came back. He praised me for my reaction to his advances and said I was doing the right thing and he would try and see him off next time. The next day was a Sunday and I was not doing to work.

My boss calls me and tells me he just received a call from HQ stating that an anonymous caller had called in to report a staff member inappropriately coming onto a customer. The staff member they had described and named was me. The caller said that I had been inappropriate towards him at work, offered to have sex with them, had led them on, and was obviously promiscuous and that I had been pursuing them for over a year.

The jerk even described a fictitious relationship that we had and ranted loudly about how I had been cheating on my boyfriend before hanging up. HQ luckily didn't believe a word as my manager had already mentioned the guy to one of the higher ups, but they thought it was wise to let me know about the crazy guy and suggested that I report it to the police. The next day I did just that. The officer that I spoke to said that he matched the description of a man who was a local pest, somebody who often harasses young girls in the local area. He was also known to stop girls in his car and had attempted to abduct a young girl four years ago.

The police officers assured me that they would file the report and talk to him officially, and that he was not allowed in the garden center or anywhere near me. And if he did, I was to call the police and he would be arrested. Unfortunately though, it never stopped him, sending a ranting letter to my workplace addressed to me saying he would kill himself if I didn't take him back and receive his gift he drew of me. Fortunately for me, the police saw this as unsolicited contact and he was arrested. So creepy artist guy lets not meet ever again. 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 Gagillionaire? Yeah, I have AT&T Fiber. The straightforward pricing has inspired me to be more straightforward. Me too.

Ugh, this one. I'll fetch you a better one. Straightforward is better. No equipment fees, no data caps, no price increase at 12 months. Live like a Gagillionaire with AT&T Fiber. Limited availability in select areas. Visit AT&T.com slash Hypergate for details. Thank you for listening to this week's episode of Let's Not Meet a True Horror Podcast.

This week you have heard, Follow Your Gut, Don't Stop the Car by Paint the Dead. My childhood pin-pow by Pepe from HR, My Uncle and his Skizy Friend, by Spooky Red. Flirty Stranger on the Subway turns out to be a violent attacker by stumbles the clown. My mom's boyfriend by Clotsie Naive. The time my paranoia possibly saved my life by J. Ward 027. The neighbor I didn't know I had by Tom Wesley 4644. And finally, to the stalker who fabricated a relationship with me for a whole year. Let's never meet again by Casey Cat Lady.

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 on the show, as always send it to Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com. Don't forget, head over to my Twitch channel at twitch.tv forward slash pizza tape at 7pm pacific standard time on March 27th this Saturday for the live stream season finale of Let's Not Meet with a bunch of reoccurring special guests. It's gonna be a great time. We'll probably watch a movie afterwards or maybe play some video games or something. I

don't think we'll figure something out. And head over to patreon.com, forward slash, let's not meet podcasts if you wanna support the show and get access to bonus episodes every single week and much, much more bonus content. I'll see you all this weekend for the season five finale of Let's Not Meet the True Horror Podcast. Stay safe. 1.5% 1.5% 1.5% 1.5%

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1.5% 1.5% Thank you. 18T Fiber presents A Straight Forward Moment You're wine? Thanks. I'll pretend I know what I'm doing before saying it's good. And I'll pretend I don't know you're pretending. Are you a Gigillionaire? Yeah, I have 18T Fiber. The straightforward pricing has inspired me to be more straightforward

Me too. Oh this wine. I'll fetch you a better one straight forward is better No equipment fees no data caps no price increase at 12 months live like a gigillionaire with AT&T fiber limited availability and select areas Visit att.com slash hypergig for details AT&T fiber presents a straightforward 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 Gagillionaire? Yeah, I have AT&T Fiber.

The straightforward pricing has inspired me to be more straightforward. Me too. Ugh, this wine. I'll fetch you a better one. Straight forward is better. No equipment fees, no data caps, no price increase at 12 months. Live like a Gigaigillionaire with AT&T Fiber. Limited availability in select areas, visit AT&T.com slash Hypergig for details.