Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 6x10: Stalker Students - Let's Not Meet

Episode Date: June 7, 2021

Stories in this episode: -Stalker Student - Debra (00:56). -Sliding Doors - Jude (19:43). -Sometimes tips aren't the only things you get when delivering pizzas - thecloser1989. 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! Find out how Upstart can lower your monthly payments today when you go to upstart.com/meet. Stay fresh, stay clean with Native by going to NativeDeo.com/meet, or use promo code meet at checkout, and get 20% off your first order. Join the over 1,000,000 people who have taken charge of their mental health with the help of an experienced professional and visit betterhelp.com/meet. You'll get 10% off your first month. - Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/groups/433173970399259/  - Twitter - https://twitter.com/letsnotmeetcast  - Website - https://letsnotmeetpodcast.com - Patreon - https://patreon.com/letsnotmeetpodcast - Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/letsnotmeetcast/ - Twitch - https://twitch.tv/retroxpizza/ 

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All designed to last a lifetime. Start customizing now at bullbibikewcom. That's bullbibq.com. And turn a bull loose in your backyard. Due to unforeseen circumstances, one of the stories from this episode was retroactively removed, resulting in a shorter than usual episode. The remaining stories have been untouched. Enjoy the show. I'm now 50 years old. But when I was in my mid-20s, only two years out of college, I was teaching high school theater and directing after school productions. One of the students in the drama club who had taken classes with me caused a commotion

one evening after a play. He had been serving as an usher that night. I was in my office when two students ran in from the parking lot to tell me that Jim had frightened them by saying he was considering suicide. They had a piece of crumbled notebook paper on which he had written this threat. I asked if he was still outside but they said he had driven away, so I immediately grabbed my contact list and phoned his home to alert his parents. His mother answered, and I told her what had happened. While we were speaking, Jim actually came home and went straight into his bedroom.

His mother thanked me for the call and said that she would speak to him. The next morning, Jim showed up at my large double classroom space, which, by the way, was by itself in the basement of the school, with only the football team's locker room across the hall and a seldom used weight room nearby. In between, before and after classes, I was often alone with no other staff or students in the area. Jim came in to thank me for checking on him and told me that he was fine. He seemed fairly cheery even. He said he had just been angry

and didn't mean any of the threats. He said his feelings had been hurt over something else and he just wanted the attention and for the other students to feel bad for him. He also told me that it had meant a lot to him that I cared enough to call his mother. I told him that I was glad he was feeling more positive and to always let someone know when he needed help. Then he left. We had a resource team at school to whom we would submit the names of students we felt needed extra attention or might be in crisis. In retrospect, I should have submitted his name right then, but given all that came after, I later did submit his name, I'm not sure

if it would have even helped. Jim had always been socially awkward as a student and struggled in his interactions with others. He had an IEP or individualized education program that specifically addressed several behavior issues and already received supervision and special education services. I should have recognized this event as something more than the norm for him, but I didn't at the time. What I did not realize then was that my call to his mother had a rationally convinced Jim that I was in love with him, things escalated quickly. A very short time later, it just so happened that the drama club had a two-day one-night week-in trip

planned to the state's Thespian conference. I and three adults, who were parents, served as chaperones to the small group of students attending. Jim was one of the students who had signed up for the trip. Once on the road, things immediately became odd. So odd that shortly after we arrived at the conference, I spoke to the male chaperone in our group about my concerns. He agreed to shadow Jim and keep a specific eye on him. Jim seemed to be overly concerned with my activities, rather than being where

he should have been at any given time he kept sneaking away and following me. He tried to ditch his chaperone or tell the chaperone that it was important he'd be able to speak to me alone. There was one particularly disturbing instance where we were all eating lunch in a large cafeteria that was lined along one side with windows. One of the female chaperones touched my arm and directed my attention to the windows. Jim stood outside with his face near the glass. He was very still. Just staring across the room at me. Even when we looked at him, he didn't look away.

I should mention that I'm about 5'2", at the time I only weighed 105 pounds. Jim was a tall student with a large build. He was larger than many of the other students and our male chaperone. The chaperones and I discussed the situation because of Jim's IEP requirements and his general social issues. We honestly were not sure if his behavior was too far out of the norm. I mean, we'd be going home the next day anyway. So we all just agreed to keep a close watch on him and report the behaviors once we returned.

Of all unfortunate coincidences, the big finale of the conference, the All-State musical that year was a production of Stephen Sonheim's assassins. This occurred as the last event of the final evening. I'm a big sonheim fan and a fan of that musical, but after this conference it took on a new significance for me personally. For those unfamiliar, it follows famous assassins throughout history as they work through their reasoning for doing what they did. Jim stood and abruptly left the auditorium before the production had ended, and the male chaperone signaled to me that he'd follow and make sure that he was okay. Later that evening, after Jim was safe in his room, the chaperone explained to me that Jim had mentioned learning much from the musical, and that maybe he had to do something to get

the attention he deserved from me. Attention must be paid, as a message Sahnheim uses within the musical to question society's influence on an individual's extreme action. It was more than a bit disturbing to realize that Jim was taking this message to heart and associating it with me. Once we returned to school the next day, and the last parent had picked up their child, I left a message on the voicemail of my school's crisis team, and the next day they interviewed me and asked for a written statement. They also requested written statements from the Trips' shop around as well.

The principal and Jim's counselor and special ed team were all informed. I assume Jim and his parents were all in the loop the next day as well because Jim showed up again in my basement classroom when I was alone to tell me that he loved me and that I didn't need to be afraid of him. I'm grateful that the administration of the school was 100% supportive of me and took the steps to assure my safety. Where we ran into trouble was with Jim's pre-existing IEP, which outlined behavior disorders that the school had committed to making concessions for and working on with Jim.

I was only a teacher for five years total, so it's been a while. I don't know how things may have changed since then, but at the time, the school had to go through the special Ed department when discussing consequences for Jim's actions. The protections he received in lieu of his IEP and the fear that his parents might sue tied the school's hands for quite a while. All total, it took the better part of a semester and continued disturbing activity for the school to finally be able to expel Jim from stalking me.

But even then, he wasn't expelled from the district, just sent to another school in the same district. The school's security officer and a local police officer assigned to the high school were both alerted to keep an eye on things and also helped counsel on legal issues. What we learned is that legally, the police could not be brought in unless Jim expressed a threat directly to me personally. Jim seemed to understand this well, though. He started drawing cartoons and writing stories, scripts, or journal entries about what he wanted to do to me, usually involving rape in various forms of violence and murder.

He would then leave these sheets of paper where students or other teachers would find them, so I'd of course find out about it. But because he had not handed them to me personally, it was not illegal. Basically, an individual can write whatever they want in their own journals. His story would always be that he had accidentally dropped the paper and hadn't realized it. I still lived at home during these first years out of college, and my mother was the unfortunate recipient of some very graphic and disturbing phone calls. I'm not sure how he even got the number given that her last name and mine are different, but he called a couple of times when I wasn't

home and gave my mother a name very similar to, but not exactly his own. When she said I wasn't home, he'd tell her that I must be out on a date, then get graphic with his thoughts on what I might be doing at the moment. After this happened twice, I told her to just let everything go to voicemail. So that if you call it again, we'd have his voice recorded. Those were the days of answering machines that used cassette tapes. I had to be walked to and from my car.

During the day, I had to keep my classroom door locked from the inside and open it between classes only to allow students in. I ate lunch in my classroom or office area to avoid being in the halls at all. He was given strict instructions not to go to my classroom, although he tried a few more times. We also had an incident during the next school play of him sneaking into the backstage dressing room one evening. A friend of his was working backstage, so he claimed that he was there just to say hello to his friend. So many things happened.

It's hard to remember all of them now so many years later. One of my other drama students also worked with him at a McDonald's. An issue arose there because he decided that she looked like me. She showed up in some of his threatening writings as well. All in all, it was a very scary time where, with hands tied illegally by his IEP, we were on high alert all the time for what he might do next, but we couldn't take action to have him removed. There would be periods of quiet. And then he'd start up again. for what he might do next, but we couldn't take action to have him removed.

There would be periods of quiet, and then he'd start up again. The school called a meeting with his parents, counselors, special ed team, and me early on. The school's district offered to pay for Jim to see a professional psychiatrist or psychologist, but the parents refused this. I remember very specifically that his father would not look at me. I was seated a couple of places to his left, and if he had to address me, he'd look straight ahead

and speak to the air. His father said at the meeting that I was to blame for all of Jim's behavior issues, because I was young and unexperienced as a teacher. He said that if I had been teaching longer, I'd have been more mature in my communications with Jim and none of this would have ever happened. I reminded him it started after Jim made a suicide threat and I called his mother. What other choice could I have made but to check on his welfare that evening?

The incident that finally seemed enough for the school to expel Jim occurred one day when I had just released a class prior to my free lunch period. The students had been working in small groups throughout the classroom, and in the hallway outside of my classroom on acting scenes. So I had unlocked my door during class to allow them and myself to come and go from the hall as needed. Stupidly, after the students all left, I paused to straighten some of the items that had been left on the floor rather than going straight to lock the door from the inside. Jim entered the room. I was completely alone in the basement of the school with my stalker.

I kept my voice and face calm and attempted to act as if I wasn't worried at all by this predicament, but instead was disappointed with him for not following rules that would ultimately get him in trouble. What followed was nearly 10 minutes of cat-and-mouse conversation with me trying to get him to leave, and him staying between me and the door. I was terrified and doing my best to act as if I wasn't. At one point during this conversation, he told me he was now seeing a counselor, and that the counselor told him the best way for him to get over me is if I'd go on a date with him, so he could get it all out of his system. At one point I calmly told him that I knew he was lying because regardless of all else, I was an adult and he was under age.

No counselor in their right mind would suggest that he and I date. He then told me that I was clever and laughed it off like I was amusing him. Luckily for me, another student walked in to talk to me about something related to the after-school drama program. Had it not been for that, I don't like to think about what might have happened. Once Jim was finally expelled for the remainder of that year, and all of the next until I left to teach at another school, I would occasionally get long voicemails on the drama office line. He'd usually be crying and telling me that he'd given up everything for me, that I'd ruined his life, and that he hated the new school, or that I just needed to give him another chance. He was convinced we would be together. A full ten years passed after all of this when I was no longer a teacher and my space was

all of the rage. I had connected to some former students through that social media platform. I learned very quickly how blocking worked when Jim also tried to contact me. A friend looked at Jim's profile for me to see where he was. I was glad to see that he was now living in another state. Creepily, he seemed to mostly be connected on my space to profiles displaying photos of Bucksome women who didn't look quite real. A short time later, one of the former students messaged to say that his older brother had been looking on Craigslist and had seen an ad placed about me.

He sent me a copy. Jim had placed a Craigslist ad, asking for everyone who might know where I was. I called my local police department and was directed to the cybercrime's division. When an officer called me back, I explained the situation, told him that I knew that Jim had not yet done anything illegal. But that given the contact through my space and the Craigslist ad, I was worried the stalking might begin again. I told him I wanted to understand how and what to document, and at what point I

could make an official complaint. Should I need to in the future? I kid you not. The officer spoke to me like I was crazy and told me that if I was worried about some guy who now lived in another state, that maybe I should see someone about my paranoia. I was so shocked and angry and even embarrassed. I'd like to think that in today's world, my concerns might be treated with a little more respect. If an officer spoke to me like that now, I'd be reporting him and making it very public because fuck politeness. Anyway, at 50 years old and over 30 years past the stalking incident, still, the first thing I do when I join any social media app is search to see if Jim has a profile and block him, as well as anyone else with his first and last name, just in case.

For subsequent jobs, I've requested that employers don't put my contact info into website profiles, in case he does a Google search on my name. I truly worry for any women encountering him as a grown adult. Stocker student, let's not meet again. You're a hustler. You get things done, but you don't always do things for yourself. With J-Lo Beauty, it takes just a few minutes a day to look like facials or a regular part of your routine. That J-Lo Deluxe kit includes five skincare products that work as hard as you do. They'll hustle to brighten, firm, and hydrate your complexion. Morning and night!

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Y Beauty has no expiration date. My best friend and I decided to go on a girls trip to Mexico. We found a beautiful spot and booked it. Our Airbnb was a part of a small condo complex. The condo was behind a gated wall and was supposed to have a security guard watching the premises. We felt safe because the spot had a ton of great reviews and my friends spoke fluent Spanish, which allowed us to communicate well with the locals. To provide better context for the story, I'll describe how the apartment was laid out. It was

a loft located on the first floor. The apartment walls facing the outdoors were a combination of giant windows and sliding doors. Near the main entryway there was a kitchen and a lounge area, a laundry area, and some seating. Being aloft, the sleeping area was exposed but the owner installed an accordion style separation wall. You could pull it in and out to give you a bedroom feel. Beside our bed was one of the sliding doors which opened up to our own miniature pool and we were thrilled. I was super stressed out with my job and my friend was working full time in finishing her master's program.

We were both emotionally exhausted. The idea of splashing around in some water and drinking cocktails was like a dream. We arrived in the evening on our first night there, so we grabbed some food and stayed in. My friend noted that during the night, she felt like someone was watching us sleep outside the bedroom sliding doors. We both chalked it up to stress. And it would be silly, right?

It would mean someone would be standing ankle deep in a pool of water, watching us through the tiny openings of the vertical blinds. Plus our paranoia was triggered because the first words that came out of my mouth when we arrived were, oh, sliding doors. We need to lock these so someone doesn't kill us. The next day we were excited to explore the town. Mostly excited about the beach. We spent most of the day outside of the apartment.

We went back to the Airbnb for a short period of time to wash up. Our host messaged us that someone would come by and give us some fresh water. I suspect this had something to do with our story. We got ready and went out. We arrived back around 2 a.m. I want to note that I'm a little messy and most of my items were strewn around the loft, a bag here, some shorts there. I sat down in the seating area and began to doze off. My friend asked me if I planned to sleep in a weird sitting position, and I begrudgingly moved to our bedroom around 2.30 a.m.

I fell asleep but was woken up by my friend screaming. She was trembling and told me she felt someone watching her this time, but this time they were in the loft. I'm tearing up just writing this now. She said she opened her eyes and saw the figure of a man in this space that our accordion wall separator didn't reach. At first, I didn't understand what was going on,

but then my fight or flight instincts kicked in. Apparently mine was a fight because I grabbed a pillow. Yes, a pillow, and ran into the other room to confront. Whoever was there. Thankfully, there was no one. I found the sliding door was open, though. And the wind was blowing through the blinds. We had a few drinks that night, and I was super tired. It was probably close to 3.30 a.m. by now. I closed the door and went back to bed. I told my friend that maybe the wind blew the door open.

I didn't want to believe that someone was there. We messaged our hosts that the doors were faulty and we wanted to be moved. It took a bit to process what happened. I'm pretty blind, so I went back into our living room after I put on my glasses and noticed everything was gone. My masterpiece of a disaster had been cleaned up. Someone had taken my beach bag, my bra, our flip flops, and a bunch of other personal items.

I had placed a bottle of sunscreen and lotion near a table by our bed. It was over by the accordion divider. It was all knocked down. We were calling Airbnb and every resource we could reach to get out there. Our host's boyfriend, not our host, got back to us and offered to move us.

We told them that we were just going to leave. The moment we got more confrontational, they began making more excuses as to why she, the host, couldn't come. We think that the hosts and the security guard had to be in on it. There was no way they left those doors unlocked. Maybe the man who brought the water opened them somehow. What scares me the most is that we were out most of the day. The person came in literally 30 minutes after we fell asleep. When they could have came

in and stolen more when we were gone. Was my friend right when she said she felt watched that first night? I have no idea what would have happened if she hadn't woken up or if I actually fell asleep in that seating area. The knock-down bottles were very close to our bed. But what if they had come closer? When I was telling my sister the story, she told me it was good they had something to steal. At least they laughed with something that could be replaced. So creepy man that probably stood in an ankle deep water outside our door watching us, let's not ever meet. I've already received a number of requests for another Lost Stories episode. However, I have a lot of newer submissions queued up for the rest of the season that I do

need to get to, so I decided to include a bonus story at the end of this episode. This is from 3 or 4 years back, during a time when I was experimenting with background music and theatrics. But listening back now, it was surprisingly effective and frightening. This one was called, sometimes tips aren't the only thing you get when delivering pizzas by. The Cl closer 1989. You're a hustler. You get things done, but you don't always do things for yourself.

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tastes 100% fresh. Or you get a 100% refund. Guaranteed. Crogr, fresh for everyone. Save big on your favorites with the Buy 5 or more Save a Dollar each sale. Simply buy I am a 28 year old male, but when this happened I was about 23. I worked at a mom and pops pizza shop in a small farm town in northern California. I kind of did everything, and since I knew the family, they trusted me, running things while they were gone. This night, though, I was working deliveries and got the weirdest delivery of my life. Everything seemed fine when I took the order from this lady. She ordered anchovies, however, Hunter Pizza, and I always think people who order that are weird as shit.

She made a point to tell me that pizza had to be hot when it got there, or she wouldn't pay for it. So I get the pizza and throw it into the warmer and drive to her house before any of my other deliveries. I'd like to tell you guys that her house was creepy and run down, but it looked like your average one story, new housing development home. I rang the doorbell and put my fake-ass customer service smile on. However, as soon as she opened the door, I knew this was going to be bad. The Hagrid old lady, who looked

like she was a smoker 50 plus years, looked at me dead in the eyes and said, it better be hot or I'm not paying, like I told you over the damn phone. I understand, ma'am. I made sure to stop by your place first, even though it was the last on my list. Bring it in and set it on the table. Now I normally don't go inside customers' homes because I read way too many stories on no sleep

and let's not meet, but at this point I just wanted to kill her with kindness and see where this will go. So I say, no problem. I also brought cheese and ranch for you if you need it. As soon as I opened the bag she grabbed the box and her hand was on the bottom of it, just rubbing it. It's not hot enough.

You fuckers do this every time. And I'm not paying for this shit, not a single dime. One thing I have an issue with is my mouth. I don't know when to just shut up and try to understand where people are coming from. Look lady, your house is a 5 minute drive from our shop and I stopped by your place first. There is no way that our pizza is cold. If you refuse to pay, you're going to be 86th and all notated on your account. She immediately walked into her kitchen and came back out. She had an old pizza from a few weeks prior she had ordered from us and she threw it at me.

Take your fucking pizza and get out of my house! You're the devil! She yelled at me and kept calling me Satan in the devil. Again, my mouth has no filter and I can't control it. I try, but I fail every time. As I'm closing the bag and laughing about how much I hate my job I tell her, alright, ma'am, you will not be able to order pizzas from us again. I hope you have a great day, God bless you and your house.

She kept following me outside to my car screaming, you're the fucking devil! And there are even families out there just watching this all go down, so I get into the car and start driving. Once I'm back I tell my manager what happened, and she told me that the lady had already called in and screamed to her about what had happened. Her story was that I cussed her out and got the wrong order. My manager shut her down and said I'd never do anything like that, but here's the weird part.

She whispered into the phone to my manager and repeated. She called once a day for almost three months just whispering this to whoever answered. She started driving by the restaurant and yelling, the devil works here! You're all going to hell! Now I wasn't scared. I was just pissed and I wanted to retaliate because I can't tell you how many times she tried to following back to my apartment when I got off of work One night I pulled over and got out just for her to stop her car in the road with her lights on yelling The devil is here After this I jumped back into my car and sped off Luckily after six months of dealing with this lady

I find out that she was a schizophrenic and bipolar, and hadn't been on her meds. Her daughter put her in the care of a home, but when she was cleaning out the house, she saw that her mom had pictures of me all over her bedroom wall with the word, yep, you guessed it. Devil, written all over it. She found me and explained everything to me in that that was going to be the end of all of it. So, let's not meet. 18T Fiber presents A Straight Forward Moment

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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. straight forward moment. Straight forward is better. No equipment fees, no data caps, no price increase at 12 months. Live like a GIGGLION AI Air with AT&T Fiber. Limited availability and select areas, visit at 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, Stalker Student by Debra. Slighting Doors by Jude. 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 have a story to share, send it to Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com. And if you're looking to get an ad-free version of this episode, as well as additional stories and bonus episodes head over to patreon.com forward slash let's not meet podcasts or follow all the link in the show notes to support the show today. Thank you everyone I'll see you all next week for a brand new episode of Let's Not Meet. Stay safe 18T Fiber presents A Straight Forward 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 AT&T.com slash Hypergig 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 Giga-Gillionaire with AT&T fiber. Limited availability in select areas, visit att.com slash hypergig for details.