Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 6x05: Mr. Smith - Let's Not Meet (Feat. Drinking The Koolaid)

Episode Date: May 3, 2021

Stories in this episode: -Untitled - Anonymous (1:30). -My Dad's Girlfriend - Hannah (21:28). -Mr. Smith - Kay (35:35). -Don't Get Out Of The Car - Shelby L (44:08). Check out Cassidy and Amanda's podcast Drinking The Koolaid wherever you get your podcasts today! 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! Upstart is the fast and easy way to pay off your debt with a personal loan–all online. Find out how Upstart can lower your monthly payments today when you go to upstart.com/meet. Visit betterhelp.com/meet to get 10% off your first month! Join the over 1,000,000 people in taking charge of their mental health with the help of an experienced professional today.  Head over to chilisleep.com/meet for ChiliSleep’s best deal, available to my listeners today! ChiliSleep makes customizable, climate-controlled sleep solutions that help you not only get a better night’s sleep after an especially eerie episode, but can also improved my entire well-being. - 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 at home, 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. 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 name is Andrew Tate and this is season six episode five of Let's Not Meet a True Horror Podcast. My guests this week are Cassidy and Amanda of one of my favorite new podcasts, Drinking the Cool Aid.

They cover everything mysterious from conspiracies to true crime, to even the paranormal, all of that weird stuff that weirdos like me just can't get enough of. Check out Drinking the Cool Aid wherever you get your podcasts. Enjoy the show. I may have some trouble remembering the story because my coping mechanism is blacking out everything traumatic that I experience. However, this has haunted me for about five years now and I think that getting it out there could help. So here goes. This story happened to me back when I was 13 years old. I was a boy

who lived in a pretty big town in Germany. I was in a French school, so that meant that we were always in small groups and that everybody knew each other. Because of that, we always got really excited when someone knew would come in. Everyone would just start asking questions and befriend them. That's exactly what I did on my first day at school after summer when I saw Noah the new kid. Noah was pretty tall and he was very pale, almost abnormally pale. He always wore black clothing and mostly hoodies and

shorts. He had a buzz cut and big dark eyes that really stuck out on his pale face. Even though his appearance didn't seem that appealing to me, I started talking to him since he was on his own, and he didn't talk to anyone. At first he seemed pretty nice and normal for a 14-year-old kid, but I remember having weird awkward moments in our conversations. I could tell that he didn't really have any social skills and was kind of a loner. Me being really naive and too nice for my own good, I decided to keep talking to him and integrate him into my friend group. After a few weeks, he was still often on his own and I was pretty much the only guy he talked to.

One weekend, he asked if I wanted to sleep over at his house. That was also a weekend where my parents and my brother were out of town, although it wasn't new to me because they were always traveling. I did get lonely and scared sometimes, and I thought that having some company could be a good thing, so I agreed. I thought that it was going to be like any other sleepover. Eat candy, play video games, maybe watch a movie, then fall asleep on some shitty mattress. However, that night things did not go as planned. I got to his house at around seven. Germany has a very good train system that basically allows you to go wherever you want,

very easily. His house wasn't in your mind, maybe a 15-minute train ride. I knocked on the door and waited for him to come. As soon as he opened, and I entered, I remember that it suddenly felt very quiet. The air was heavy, almost like there wasn't enough of it in the house. It was dark, too. There were only two yellowish lights that didn't really lighten up the room. I asked if his parents were here because I was surprised at how quiet the house was. He answered no. He said that they left on a weekend together. I knew that he was an only child and therefore we were alone in his house.

To lighten up the mood, I brushed my bad failing off and did as I always do when I'm in an uncomfortable situation. Be as enthusiastic as I can. I was trying to make some jokes and have some conversation, but I remember him being very quiet, even more than usual. Something just didn't sit right with me. He was avoiding eye contact and being very cold with me. It got to the point where I started to feel very uneasy. The silence all of a sudden felt very loud. I was getting very uncomfortable. He started hitting me. At first it was like play fighting, but then he was doing it more and more, and always a little harder

and a little harder. It was also for no valid reason at all, like me not agreeing with him or when I didn't want to do something that he asked me. He was also laughing hysterically the entire time that he hit me, almost like it was the only thing that brought him joy for the whole time I was there At that point it was around one in the morning. I remember thinking okay, this is weird But I'll just try to sleep through it and leave as early as I can in the morning

I told him I was tired and wanted to go to bed He didn't say anything, but as soon as I started sleeping, he woke me up by punching me in the head. Like I said, at that point, he was hitting me with his full strength. After a few punches and slaps, I began to ask myself, what is keeping me here? There are still trains until about 2 a.m. I can just go and sleep at home. So I stood up and said, I'm fucking leaving. I started packing my bags, and I remember getting so angry

that I stopped watching what he was doing. He also hadn't said anything back, so I didn't really know what he was up to. After putting my stuff in my bag and closing it up, I looked up, and there he was, standing in front of the bedroom door, looking down at me with the coldest gaze I've ever seen. I looked down at his hand where I saw a light reflecting on a key he was holding. Before I could even realize what he was about to do, he said, no one leaves this house. He walked out of the room, shut the door, and I heard the click of the key locking the door. the door and I heard the click of the key locking the door. At first, utter disbelief. I couldn't compute the fact that he had just locked me in. I stood up and told him to open the door, but he

would not listen. I started getting angry and shouting at him to open the fucking door. But he didn't even acknowledge me. I screamed, banged, and kicked on that door. But there was no response. At that point, it was maybe 1.40 or 1.50 am. I thought I could call someone that would still be up. I called my brother, but as I said in the beginning, he was in Paris and had to go through some tests, so it wouldn't be normal for him to be up. I called my friends from school, but no one was answering. Now, I thought about calling the police, but I figured that no one would take me seriously because of our young age, or that he could easily change the story by making it seem as though it was all just fun and games.

story by making it seem as though it was all just fun and games. I also didn't want to get our parents involved since I knew that they were very far away. That's when I started freaking out. The long rings of my calls that weren't getting answered started to make me very anxious. At every unanswered call my breathing started getting faster and I could feel all of the thoughts rushing through my head. I also had hyperventilation when I was younger and was worried that this would cause another attack. I knew that he had to let me out eventually, but it was the feeling of helplessness that was torturing me.

I was always someone that really valued their freedom. I hated being forced into things or having my choices taken away from me. And the situation really triggered all of that. So I started crying hysterically. I broke down on the floor and I couldn't stop crying. All of that accumulated stress came out and I cried for maybe half an hour. Then I turned to the window. His room was on the third floor, but I hadn't really looked at how high it was. I got up to the window, and it was about a seven-meter fall from his room. I could barely see the ground because there weren't many street lamps where he lived, and a huge tree

was covering his window from the rest of the neighborhood. I considered doing it. I opened the window, stood up on the fine line that separated the cold air from his room and looked down. It was windy that night. I could hear the wind brushing through the leaves, and I felt the fresh air against my teary eyes and warm cheeks. This made me come back to my senses. I took long breaths while still literally standing on the edge, and I knew that I wasn't going

to jump. I wasn't about to suffer serious injuries or worse because of some fucking prick that locked me in the bedroom. So I came down from the window and decided that I was going to escape this fucking room. It was about 2.30 in the morning at that point. I figured that he had gone to sleep somewhere else in the house because I hadn't heard from him since he locked me up. I began searching the room. I didn't really know what I was looking for, but it was the only thing that I could think of doing. There was a lot of furniture in the room.

He had a closet with a mirror sliding door that was very big, even though he didn't have a lot of clothes. He also had a desk with a cupboard underneath. I cut the lights so that he thought I was sleeping, in case he was still awake, and I started thoroughly searching everything with the flashlight on my phone. I went through everything. I even opened up books and checked if there was something in them. Maybe after two hours of searching, I got to the last compartment of his closet. It was just a couple of bags and some tennis shoes. I had left this section for last because I thought that there wouldn't be anything there. I was also starting to freak out again because I hadn't found anything good except for a Swiss army knife

that I thought could come in handy in case he did return and would want to hurt me. I started searching the grey Nike bag when I heard a small jingling sound coming from the bag. I stopped moving and started feeling the adrenaline kicking in. I opened the bag and found that there were a ton of keys in the pocket. I stopped moving and started feeling the adrenaline kicking in. I opened the bag and found that there were a ton of keys in the pocket. I took them out, and there were maybe six or seven of them. I recognized that a few were keys for bike padlocks, so that left me with four keys left. I took one and pushed it into the door lock.

I turned it. I heard a satisfying click, then opened the door as quietly as I could. That's when it occurred to me that I hadn't thought about what I was going to do once I got out of the room. I sneaked into the bathroom and locked the door for two reasons. One, I really had to go. And two, I didn't know where he was, so I didn't feel safe going directly to the front door. After using the bathroom, I found the courage to finally open the door and try to find him before he found me. I looked into his parents room, all I saw were pictures of his family, the three of them looking back at me with some innocent smiles on their face. I cursed them in my head. I continued to search. There

wasn't anything on the guest bedroom in the second floor, so I knew that he had to be on the first floor. I walked down as quietly as I could and I saw him. He was lying on the sofa, curled up in his blanket, and facing the wall. I felt so much anger just looking at him. Never before had I felt this kind of hatred towards someone. I didn't do anything, though. I just wanted to leave that fucking house as soon as possible. I went up to the front door, and with no surprise, it was locked. When I was pushing the door, the sweat on my hand made the handle slip, and it sprung back with a loud cling.

I felt a knot in my stomach. However, he didn't wake up, or even butch. But this made me fear that if I made another mistake, I might not be as lucky. I decided to go back to the bathroom until I had found a way to get out of this situation. I couldn't jump out of the window because the only ones that were big enough and led to the streets or in the living room where he was sleeping. So I had to go out that front door. And I had to find the keys to do so. I thought

that the only place the keys could be was on him. I would have to wake him up in order to get them. I was wondering how on earth I was going to retrieve them from his body without waking him up. I waited about 10 minutes and found a screwdriver that was lying in the kitchen. I held it in my left hand and I got close to him. I sat down on a red carpet in front of him. I had to figure out how his body was positioned under the blanket so that I could search him. I slowly lifted the blanket and I saw him curled up. I stared stared nearing my hand to his pajama shorts pocket. I had stopped breathing. Never before had I been so focused on something. I put my hand in his pocket and pushed my fingers in a little bit further.

He wasn't moving, but I wasn't feeling anything either. I took my hand out and thought that maybe he was sleeping on them. I pushed my hand beneath his back and started moving it very slowly. Nothing. Then he started to move. He grabbed the blanket and turned even closer to the wall. He didn't notice me. However, his movements had revealed the places where I had been looking and there were

no keys in sight. I hadn't heard a jangling either, so I knew that they weren't in his other pocket. I remember sighing internally. I lied down on the floor out of the spare. But when I turned my head sideways, I was looking underneath the sofa. I remember seeing a square-shaped shadow. The room was only lit up by the moon.

I wondered what it might be. And why was it under the sofa? I slid closer to the couch and stretched my legs towards it. I touched it with my foot and it was soft. Just a cushion. I still pushed it back towards me though, just out of curiosity. And that's when I heard it, the metal sound, the fucking metal sound. He hid the keys to the front door inside of a cushion.

Beneath the sofa. I couldn't believe it. I opened the cushion with the zipper on the side of it. In it, I saw a tiny shimmer of the reflection of light on those fucking keys. It was around 5.30 in the morning at this point, and the sun was going to be out in a few minutes, so I had to get out now. I grabbed them as silently as I could, and I slowly went back up, because I still had to get my bag. I was repeating to myself, don't fuck this up, you're almost out. I took the bag and went back down. I decided to put my shoes on outside because I couldn't waste another second. I opened the bag and went back down. I decided to put my shoes on outside because I couldn't waste another second. I opened the door as silently as I could. I stepped out into the cold stairs

in front of his house and I remember feeling a mix of happiness, anger, and satisfaction. I slammed the door as hard as I could and bolted out of his house. I wanted him to know that I had escaped. I wanted him to know that I had won, that he didn't have shit on me. I was a fighter, and I won the fight. I had never felt so invincible in my entire life. I ran to a nearby alley when I saw some morning joggers, people going to work, and everything just felt surreal. I put on my shoes and walked back home. After all of the adrenaline washed off, I was exhausted. I had been up all night and had gone through so many emotions in such a short period of time. I came home and collapsed onto my bed. I slept for about 20 hours that day.

I never told my parents what happened. I made some dumb excuses to why I called my brother so late at night. However, I did tell my friends what had happened. Of course, 13-year-old kids just didn't realize how bad it actually was. They thought it was weird, but they obviously weren't as mad as I was. But they obviously weren't as mad as I was. No, it didn't go to school after that. I only saw him a day or two the following week, and I completely ignored him. I didn't want to have anything to do with him, and apparently him too, because he didn't acknowledge me either.

Two weeks later, he moved to Switzerland, and I never saw him again. However, I now have claustrophobia and trust issues, and I probably will for the rest of my life. So to Noah who locked me up in his house for no reason, let's not meet 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 at home, 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

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wash code. Find your nearest location at zipscarwash.com then drive and shine today. There are too many layers and sub stories to this story to add. But all of my friends have told me that my life is like a horror movie. This is my best attempt in explaining the hell I endured at the hands of my dad's girlfriend. My junior year of high school. My mom left my dad because she found text messages on his phone spanning the past two years of their relationship. I wasn't too upset.

I would rather my mom be happy and single, and my dad just be with his mystery woman he seemingly longed for. Oddly enough, my parents remained friends, and decided to put their differences aside to maintain a healthy relationship for their children. They still communicate platonically daily, and I'm entirely grateful for that. A few months after the separation, my mom sat me down with tears in her eyes and said she needed to talk to me about my dad's girlfriend. We'll call her Linda. For the past three to four months my mom explained, Linda had been harassing, stalking, and threatening my mom, my little brother, and me.

Shortly after my parents split, my mom had noticed a car slowly circling our coldest sack daily. This was strange because we lived on a dead end street in the country. Next, threatening anonymous letters were found in our mailbox weekly. My mom had finally caught on when her office, her elderly parents, and her boss were all flooded with phone calls talking about how much this color loved my dad and how my mom was a worthless whore. Little to my knowledge, she'd been stalking my younger brother and I as well.

She knew my daily schedule and my friends, which is information I knew she didn't get from my dad. My mom was sent a picture of my brother and I at the mall from an anonymous number. Have you ever realized you were being watched? Remember, have you ever realized you were being watched? It's the most frightening thing to know that you were being stalked in public without your knowledge. My mom decided that she had crossed the line. One day, my mom left our house on her way to church when she noticed she was behind Linda's car.

My mom ran her off the road and into a vacant lot and threatened this woman's life for bringing my brother and I into this. As it turns out, Linda was furious that my dad was still friends with my mom because he still wanted to be a good dad to his kids. Of course, my mom told my dad everything and they both promptly filed a restraining order

on Linda. This is where things get wild, in case you thought this story was too mild so far. Linda bought the exact same car as my mother. Then she befriended our housekeeper, who took liberties in telling Linda what our house looked like and even sent her pictures. Linda bought the exact same headboard and duvet cover my mom had and posted it on social media. I only saw this because I created a fake account. My personal account and my friends and my mom, we were all blocked. The next week at church, my brother and I took my dad's truck because my card broken down.

It was the kind of truck that you could leave the key in and then use the keypad to unlock it. When we left the church to head home, we unlocked the truck with the keypad to find that the key we had left in the holder was gone. The only other person with the keypad combination was Linda. She had known we were using my dad's truck, driven to the church, and stole the key. A week later, my dad's house got broken into. Mirrors and pictures were shattered. Furniture had been upturned. Photographs of my dad and Linda were on fire in his garage, and the only thing missing from his house was his wedding ring, which he still kept in his bedside table from his

marriage with my mom. Because there was no proof it was actually her, and my dad knew there was only one person who could have done it, he opted not to call the police. Instead, he called Linda and asked to speak with her in person. As it turns out, my dad had lied about filing a restraining order. I'm not sure why, but I think he just didn't want to upset her further. Cheater or not, he's a great guy. Either way, they met up to talk in person, which was cut short after she punched him in

the face and left immediately after. Again, he did not call the police or file anything against her. By this point, it had been a year and a half since the harassment started. My dad was no longer with Linda, but for some reason she still resented my family, and aimed to make our lives a living hell. Before I begin this final story, I want to preface it with the fact that both of Linda's sons had been convicted and sentenced for physical assault, and were released while her and my dad were still together. They were both in their mid-twenties, and I would find out later, one of them was the person and the anonymous number that took a picture of my brother

and I at the mall. Linda had also threatened my mom in the past that she would, quote, send her sons after her to have a chat, unquote, if my mom continued communicating with my dad. Fast forward to my freshman year of college. Linda had continued to stock both of my parents and tried to manipulate her way back into my dad's life, but he refused. I should also mention that at this point she has befriended my elderly grandmother, my dad's mom, and used her to learn information about my parents, and about my brother and

I's whereabouts, what our plans were and what our relationship statuses were. Anyway, my dad was out of town on business and my mom went to a wedding five hours away, leaving me to babysit my 16 year old brother. This wasn't new or scary to me, as we lived pretty far out in the country, as I mentioned before. And we'd never had any trouble for the 20 years my parents had lived out there. Another thing to add is because we didn't have neighbors,

the entire backside of my house and living room was a wall of giant glass windows from Florida ceiling. For some reason that night, I decided to sleep in the living room. By 10 o'clock, my brother was in his bed asleep, and I called my mom to tell her good night. I learned that she was still at the wedding, but she should be back around 3 a.m. I locked the doors and went to sleep. I woke up to knocking and jiggling at the back door. Oh, Mom's home, I thought to myself. Still groggy, I picked up my phone to see it was 1am.

I was a little confused, so I called my mom to ask if she forgot her keys and couldn't get in. What do you mean, she answered. I'm driving home now. I'm about two hours away. Shit. Panic took over my body and I instantly started shaking. Someone is at the back door. I whispered to my mom.

She instantly started screaming orders at me, but I couldn't hear a word, because I saw two male bodies in my backyard dressed in all black through the glass windows. Linda's sons. I hung up the phone and army crawled to my brother's room shaking him awake and telling him someone is trying to get in. My phone started ringing and it was my mom telling me the police were on their way, and that she was calling trying to wake up my nearest neighbor. At this point, there was constant banging on the doors, living room windows and bedroom

windows. The male voices were screaming, shit, shit, shit! I'd never been so scared! My body shut down, and I started shaking and bawling. My brother scooped me up and barricaded us in his room with a gun. We were just waiting to hear the glass shatter and the men break into the room. I got another call from my mom. The police are at the front door, she tells me.

I rushed to the door and I opened it, bawling hysterically. Then they grabbed me and my brother who still had a gun in his hand. I can't stop crying in fear and relief, and I don't even register what's going on until an officer forces me into a chair and starts screaming at me. Nadia, calm down, Nadia. Nadia? My name is Hannah, I tell them. They don't believe me. They ask me for my date of birth. I'm so hysterical and out of it that my brother has to answer for me. Suddenly, I don't even know my own birthday.

As it turns out, they had received a call to do an urgent welfare check on a girl named Nadia. Nadia West, who lived at that address. They had been told that Nadia had a gun and was threatening to take her life, and to use all force necessary to enter the house. The description that they were given was my exact unmistakable features. Red, curly hair, five feet tall, 18 years old, and brown eyes. The police got my ID realized I was not Nadia and left.

When my mom finally did get home at 3am, the sheriff came back to our house to talk with us. As it turns out, there was nobody named Naudio West anywhere close to here. Nobody named Naudio West enrolled at my local high school, and no other call for a Naudio West was called into dispatch that night. It was likely a fake call. Those men I saw couldn't have been police because their actions were not a wellness check protocol. And their body cameras later proved that to be true.

The men in my backyard and at the back door were not the police at all because a code was needed to open the garage for access to that door and the backyard gate. The code was the same code on my dad's truck. The truck that Linda broke into with ease. Linda, with two grown male sons, the Linda who knew that my parents were gone, that my brother and I were home alone, knew my address, and certainly knew my features. They assumed the prank call was orchestrated by her, and that the two men might have been

her sons. I'm not sure if they ever found enough proof to talk to her or anything like that, but I know in my gut that it was her. And I know I've never been so scared in my life. And a year later, I still get a pit in my stomach and I feel a sense of dread when I hear knocking or banging. My dad felt horrible and he still apologizes to me to this day. Thankfully, he's now with the sweetest woman that I have ever met, and I've grown to

love her. I pray that Linda doesn't target her next. But part of me does wish she would find someone else to become obsessed with. So to the crazy ass woman who terrorized my family. Let's never meet. 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 at home, your leadership skills, and business acumen. Management concepts optimizes your professional development. Online, in-person, individually, or groups.

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So skip the coffee and grab a pint of Bluebell Java Jolt. Look for Bluebell ice cream at your favorite grocer if you can't find it, ask for it. I was around 9 or 10 at the time. Very social, but still soft-spoken, and polite and very much a people-pleaser. Young naive me found it very hard to speak up for myself and say no to people, and that was something that probably attracted Mr. Smith. I lived in an apartment complex at the time. It was around eight stories high. To the right of the building was a large parking area. On to the left was a small playground, and next

to the small playground was a bigger one, which the older kids used. I also would like to mention that I hung out with a small group at the time. If I was ever outside, I was either with my parents or with my friends. My friend group consisted of three more people, Sarah, who was a bold, strong, and tomboyish girl, also the oldest, 12 at the time probably. She was the leader of the group. I always looked up to her. She was my idol. Then there was Annie, who was soft-spoken, just like me, but she was tall almost lanky

in a way. But also the same age as me. Then there was Penny, very childish, talkative, six to seven years old at the time. And that was our main group, though we did hang around with other kids at the park. Every kid in the building knew who Mr. Smith was. He was a 40-ish married man whose wife, no one had ever seen, even his neighbors. He was famous for being overly friendly to young kids, especially girls. Every kid was told to stay a bit away from him,

but at the same time, we were all supposed to be nice to him. I remember how it all started. My mom, who had recently started learning dress making as a hobby, promised me a princess dress, and I had mentioned it to my friends. Penny, being the talkative little girl that she was, had told this to whoever she met, and the word spread. Our community was small and tight-knit,

so it spread pretty fast to the point that girls would stop me to ask me about the dress, and how it was going to be. Even other moms discussing about it, as dress designing wasn't very common there at the time. Mr. Smith heard about it as well. It was a hot day, so my friends and I were playing some made up game on the playground,

while enjoying some popsicles. There was no one around, and that's when Mr. Smith approached. He sat down on a bench next to us and started talking. Immediately Annie and I went quiet and shy while Sarah and Penny continued with the conversation. I vividly remember how many times he would try to focus his conversation on me, but me being quiet, I didn't say much and smiled sheepishly. Penny kept blabbering, and we could see Mr. Smith was losing his patience. After some time, he stood up and angerly demanded me to follow him.

I was immediately taken aback by his demands, but me being dumb, I just agreed. He helped me by my arm and started walking me away to the parking area while my friends stood there, shocked. While walking away, he kept asking me questions about my dress, he sounded more happy and relaxed. So I answered him. He asked, when will you wear that princess dress? My mama says that I can wear it on my birthday. What color is the dress going to be? You'll look so pretty. Thank you.

After that, he kept mumbling something along the lines of, pretty, really pretty, like a princess. You'll be like a pretty princess. When we reached the end of the barking lot, he let go of my hand. He then started asking me if I wanted to watch a movie at his house. I agreed. That's when he picked me up.

He literally picked me up in his arms and slumped me over his back and started walking to our building. I was so shocked that I couldn't move or think for a moment. Then I started crying. I don't know why I cried, but I just did. I didn't kick or try to fight back. I just sobbed. Mr. Smith got angry and started screaming at me to shut up.

That made me cry more. By the time we had reached the building, I heard my mom scream. What the hell? Put her down right now. I was hurriedly thrown down onto the cement entryway. I gave me a few scratches on my hands and legs. I was hurriedly thrown down onto the cement entryway. I gave me a few scratches on my hands and legs. Mr. Smith started angrily fast walking away towards the park area. The throw apparently shocked me so much that I fainted.

My mother had scooped me up and took me home and called my father. My father called the cops and it turns out, after a few seconds of standing there, shocked, Sarah ran to fetch my mom. She didn't even wait to use the elevator. She climbed five sets of stairs and rang my mom's doorbell while Tiri hid and had explained everything. My mother's mama bear instinct came over her and she too ran down the sets of stairs with Sarah following suit. When she came down to the ground floor, she heard me crying, and saw Mr. Smith carrying

me. The cops went to look for Mr. Smith while many people gathered downstairs to help wake me up. Statements were taken from my friends and later from me when I had calmed down. The police searched his house. He was charged with not only attempted first degree kidnapping, but also possession of child pornography. He had been sentenced around 60 years in prison.

I don't know if he was given a chance at parole or not, but I don't have any plans to try and search that out. My mom had filled me in on the parts of my story that I didn't remember, because it was such a traumatic thing for me. My mom didn't even let me out of the house for months after that. 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 18&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.

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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 giga-gillionaire with AT&T fiber, limited availability and select areas, visit atc.com slash Hypergate for details. To preface the story, I am a female, and at the time I was 27 years old. This event occurred in the Pacific Northwest. It was the early evening in January 2019. As a new mother, I was having a long refreshing afternoon, getting out and seeing my friends again in a more adult kid-free setting.

It had been an evening of laughs and good spirits. When I looked at the clock, realizing the afternoon had quickly turned into the evening, I decided to depart, knowing I should get home to relieve my husband and jump right back into my mom duties for my three-year-old daughter and one-year-old daughter. I hugged my friends goodbye, feeling a little bummed I had to end our time together, but knew my husband had taken one for the team by letting me go out for such a long stretch of time. I didn't want to take advantage of his selflessness.

Plus, I knew by the time of afternoon it was, he was probably knee deep in that post-dinner pre-bed time routine that is notorious for being quite in ordeal with very young children. As I took off out of my friends driveway, still feeling that twinge of sadness for having to end an amazing visit, I decided to stop at Target on the way home to pick up a couple items. Plus, maybe a small

treat for my husband to extend my gratitude for letting me go out for so long. As I enter into the Target parking lot, I remember running the regular mundane list of items through my mind. Do we need more baby wipes? What about diapers? I was deep in concentration as I tried to remember all those little details in that ever-growing shopping list when I realized how dark it had gotten outside. Like I stated previously, it was gloomy January, so the daylight was non-existent by the time 4.30pm rolled around. I glanced at my dash clock as it was nearing 7pm.

Still repeating the list of items I needed in my head, I found a parking spot near the front of the store, which I thought was really lucky since this particular target always seemed to have about half the city inside of it at any given time of day. As I turn into the parking space, I notice the car I'm parking directly next to on my left is an unkempt maroon-colored sprinter van. You know the type. The utility vans with the chrome ladders on the side. As I parked next to the van, a strange, nervous energy surrounded me.

I have seen enough date line, 48-hour mystery, and ID channel to know to not park next to painter vans, utility vans, or really any kind of van as a solo female. But there was a false sense of security that made it seem not threatening since the van was parked so close to the target's well lit entrance. A false sense of security indeed. I park my car, which is a very quiet and stealthy, fully electric, 2016 Nissan Leaf. The moment I push the button on my gear shift

into park, a voice from within my gut firmly orders, do not get out of the car. You can call this voice intuition, your conscience, your gut, your guardian angel, God or whatever you would like, but it clearly and firmly spoke to me, to knock out of the car and to stay exactly where I was. My body stiffened as the firm voice within finished. I glanced over at my doors. They were locked. I looked out my driver's side window at the van, and within a split second of parking,

the van doors flew open. Five men jumped out of the van. And within a split second of parking, the van doors flew open. Five men jumped out of the van. I quickly shoved my hand into my purse to snatch my mace as my eyes scanned through each window of my car. The men were all strategically surrounding my vehicle. Three men behind my trunk and one on either side of the back passenger doors. They were passing out cigarettes and staring at my car and at me. My eyes were glued on my rearview mirror watching their every move. I can feel the adrenaline in my veins grow as they light each of their cigarettes, continuing to kiss my bumper with their bodies. I start to feel more and more like a trapped animal.

I'm stuck. There are parked cars in front of me, cars parked beside me, the maroon van on my left, and now three grown men practically on top of my trunk. I try to remain calm. I remember that the best thing I can do is study each man for their individual races, clothing items, tattoos, and other unique features. I am burning a hole staring into my rearview mirror at this point, squinting, trying to get a good look at them. They are trim and thin. Each man is around my height at five foot seven. The tallest may be pushing five nine.

They are all wearing average casual clothes, like generic jeans and hoodies. They all have very unhealthy complexions. Their facial skin is heavily riddled with pock marks, like how meth can destroy and deteriorate skin after long-term use. Some of them seem scruffy and dirty, while others seem completely normal. This mental note-taking felt like several minutes when, in reality reality probably lasted 45 seconds. I'm scrambling to try to find a plan of action. For once, there is absolutely no one in front of target walking around.

No security guard, nobody, nada. The men have not moved from their positions and are still surrounding my car. The three of them in the back have now exhausted their cigarettes. They look impatient as they continue to stare into my back window. I can feel their gaze growing in intensity and with anticipation. Suddenly, one man starts speaking with authority. In a language I'm not familiar with. The man speaking is aggravated as he approaches

another from his group. The man on the other end of the verbal assault steps into the proverbial ring with the initial hostile crew member. They exchange an allowed confrontational argument before the instigator points at my car and turns his head to look at it while yelling at his crew member in the same language I don't understand. However, his gesture spoke volumes.

Remember, this is all taking place at my bumper. I can feel the vibrations of their voice, the inflection, the hostility, and every time one of them taps the bumper with their thier behind. I look on in horror and astonishment as the man who was at the receiving end of the verbal attack looks over my car slowly, holds his gaze at my back window, and then looks back at his friend or crew member in subtle submission. Oh my God, I think to myself. Was I about to be the victim of some car-jacking, rape, gang initiation,

abduction? My mind is racing with all of these horrible scenarios. I feel myself start to get increasingly alarmed. I want to go home. I want to see my family." The voice again rings in my chest. Whatever you do, don't get out of the car. The air is palpable with anticipation and dread as I grip my mace in my hands. The man who got tongue lashing from his superior walks to my driver's side window. He makes eye contact with me through the window and yet it was almost as if he was looking through me. He yells something back to his crew and then he drops his hands just during a hell-to-you motion towards the man who had initiated

the conflict. He yells something at him again, and then he proceeds to walk toward the target entrance, not looking back once. My heart is racing. What does that mean, I think, to myself? The instigator looks pissed as he looks onto the man who seemingly disobeyed his instruction. The ringleader is silent, but obviously seething. His stone-cold anger sent the other remaining three men into complete and total silence.

He stomps over to my driver's side window, still staring and loathing, at the man who has now disappeared into target. He leans down to meet my gaze and loudly knocks on my window. Roll down your window, he snares in an uncompromising tone. I was astonished in absolute disbelief. I think to myself, there is absolutely no way I am rolling down this window. Roll down your window, he commands. Every cell in my body was screaming at me.

Get out of there! I made direct eye contact with him while slamming down my mace in my lap and yelled, NO! The second after the word no left my mouth, I had put my car into reverse and hit the accelerator so hard and fast the pedal went straight down to the floor. I peeled out of the parking space without any shred of concern for who may have still been behind me blocking my escape.

As the car cleared the space and I was in the parking lot's driving lane, I put it into drive and floored it, knowing the entrance and exit to this target was on my side of the store and within a second's reach. As I got a good amount of distance between us, I yelled at myself aloud, damn it! The license plate! I need their damn license plate number! I made my shaky hands guide the steering wheel back toward their dingy maroon van. I could just get close enough to make out the numbers, I thought.

There, the remaining men were standing in my vacant spot watching my car drive by. They were all smoking again and just staring at my car with steely, stone-cold looks as they took drags off their cigarettes. It took me a moment to realize I hadn't run over any of the men. For a second, I contemplated flooring it in the general direction and taking aim. I was furious now as everything that had just occurred ran through my mind. As I drove closer to look at their plates, I noticed that one of the men was conveniently standing and chain-smoking in front of the back license plate blocking my line of sight. I raced home, which thankfully was only two minutes max away from that target location.

I burst through my back door and was met with a bewildered look on my husband's face. Now that I was not driving and starting to come down from the adrenaline, I hastily called that target to speak with a security guard and a manager to tell them exactly what had just transpired. Thankfully, they took my account very seriously and immediately went to investigate where I had been parked just mere minutes beforehand. There was no Maroon van parked there anymore

and no one in the parking lot with that description. They told me they would watch out for it and warn their employees and other security guards about the suspicious men and their Maroon van. I also called the police, who were very respectful and understanding, but with only a description of the car and without the license plate number, there was not a whole lot they could do except send a couple squad cars down to the target location and have a look. I still kick myself about the license plate to this day. When I look back at this event, a few things stand out in my mind.

First being that this target is immediately off a major freeway off-ramp with two other highways connecting to it. This would be a prime location for an abduction since you could drive in four completely different directions before anyone could blink. I know they were waiting for someone to take that parking spot. They pounced on the opportunity to jump out of the van the moment I was stationary. I now realize that even though the parking spot was in front of the store and in direct view of the entrance, not to mention cameras, it was also the closest parking spot adjacent to the target exit and the freeway on ramp. Perhaps the thought that haunts me the most is that I don't

know what could have happened if I didn't listen to my inner voice. What would have happened if I pushed the feeling down? Didn't take the voice seriously and decided to get out of the car upon parking like normal? I joked with my mother after telling her about this incident, trying to lighten the story as to not scare her by saying, well, I would be hard to kidnap mom. I'm not one of these petite and waif girls. I lift heavy weights and I'm on the taller side. I'm a sturdy weight.

No one could get me into their van without a fight. I said with flippant confidence and a chuckle. She didn't laugh. Instead, she quietly and plainly said, if there were five grown men against you and they wanted you in their van, there would have been no contest. Her statement sobered my reality of the situation. I often think about the what ifs, but can say that I am so thankful for that insistent voice that clearly and swiftly instructed me to not get out of the car.

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

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

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

Ugh, this wine. I'll fetch you a better one. Straight forward is better. No equipment fees, no data caps, no price increase at 12 months. Live like a Gagillionaire with AT&T fiber. Limited availability in select areas, visit ATT.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.

A story by listener that asked to remain anonymous. My dad's girlfriend by Hannah. Mr. Smith, the neighborhood creep by K. And finally, don't get out of the car by Shelby L. 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. It's not associated with Reddit or any other message boards online.

If you have a story to share, make sure you send it over to Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com. Again, I want to thank my guests Cassidy's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com. Again, I want to thank my guests Cassidy and Amanda for coming on the show this week. It was a pleasure to have you. And I highly recommend checking out their show wherever you get your podcasts. Again, that's Drinking the Cool Aid. Check them out.

If you want to get access to ad-free versions of these episodes, as well as bonus episodes, every single week, along with a bunch of other content and exclusive merch, head over to patreon.com forward slash Let's Not Meet Podcasts or follow the link in the show notes. This podcast is not possible without all of the wonderful people over on the Patreon. I'll see you all next week for a brand new episode of Let's Not Meet, a true horror podcast. Stay safe. A-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 Gagillionaire? Yeah, I have AT&T Fiber. The straightforward pricing has inspired me to be more straightforward. Me too.

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

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

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