Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 6x18: A Frosty Morning - Let's Not Meet

Episode Date: August 2, 2021

Stories in this episode:  -Intruder - Renee.  -Untitled - Kimberly Kehr.  -Terrifying Encounter With A Client's Unhinged Son - Teri.  -2 Lagunitas - Holly McKee Clark.  -A Frosty Morning - Benedicta.  -Step Daddy Dearest - TLady.   Extended Patreon Content:  -Creepy Girl With The Metal Bar -  Christine Davies.  -Untitled - Mario.  -He Told People We Were Dating - Ghosthorse.  -Green River Killer - Anon.  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 extended, ad-free episodes of Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast with bonus stories every week along with 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! Check out NativeDeo.com/meet, or use promo code MEET at checkout, and get 25% off your first order of Native Deodorant. Native aluminum free deodorant is a great addition to your 2021 routine. Now’s the time to get the latest and greatest from Raycon. Get 15% off your order of Raycon at Buyraycon.com/meet. Stop wasting time going to the Post office and go to Stamps.com instead. There’s NO risk. And with my promo code, MEET, you get a special offer that includes a 4-week trial PLUS free postage and a digital scale. No long-term commitments or contracts. Just go to Stamps.com, click on the Microphone at the TOP of the homepage and type in MEET. - 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/andrewtatelive  

You know it, your wife knows it, your friends know it. Yep, there's no getting away from the fact that there's an outdoor kitchen shaped hole in your life. And it's time to put things right. Thankfully, bull outdoor products are ready with everything you need to create a world-class outdoor cooking space. Bull outdoor kitchens and accessories add value to your property and extra fun to your world. If you're gonna do it, do it right. Turn a bull loosen your backyard. BullBBQ.com to 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 Tade in the season six episode 18 of Let's Not Meet a True Horror Podcast. This took place when I was in college.

Back when I was in my second year of undergraduate school, I did a lot of moving out and then going back home to live with my parents. This particular time I had moved out with a boyfriend and I went back home when we broke up. I did not particularly like the idea of going home after my newfound independence, so when I had a friend who split up with her boyfriend, I quickly moved in. I soon found that living with a friend was much different than living with a boyfriend. For the most part, my ex and I had respected one another's schedules.

Whether it be our jobs, my schooling, our social lives, etc. My new roommate, however, was very different. She did not care if I had to study, be up early the next day for work or school, or if I just wasn't in the mood to have a raging house party, or have her weird ex-boyfriend in the house for no reason. Almost daily when I would get home and have schoolwork to do, her ex would be there, trying to talk to me about nothing for hours on end. I had been friends with him when they were together, so I didn't really mind other than that it was irritating to my strict schedule.

My roommate, no longer having feelings for her ex, had no problem telling him to let me get my schoolwork done, and the problem quickly resolved itself. The issue was more that they were having house parties, and who my roommate was inviting. The parties were occurring so often I was back to spending nights at my parents' house regularly so that I could study and be up early for the next day. I figured it was her way of coping with her recent breakup and took the annoyance and stride. One night while I was at work, my roommate called me. She asked if I was coming home that night.

I told her I was, in fact, and I felt I needed to make it a point to let her know that my sister would be meeting me there to have a study night with me. I, of course, thought she was asking so that she could advise me of her plan to throw a huge house party. But she didn't. What she told me was that she was scared. She was lying in the bathtub, and her foot steps on the porch. For context to the bathroom window was in the wall of the shower. If you were standing to shower, you could see onto the porch. She then heard the footsteps walk over to the sliding glass door, and she heard someone try to open it.

She could hear her dogs at the door, jumping and barking. The door was locked, so no one got in. My arrived home later that night and checked on her. She revealed that this was not the first time something had scared her. She told me there was one guy in particular who had been attending her parties. He was a newly single parent at the preschool that she worked at. She said he seemed to be into her, but that it quickly turned creepy. She said there were numerous nights he would text and call her at three in the morning saying that he was outside of her bedroom window, or even at the door. She said one night she knew for sure he was not messing around

and was at her door in the middle of the night while we were sleeping. He had woken her up and she somehow got him to leave without coming inside. I urged her to call the police next time something like this happened and started to become concerned about two young women with generally opposing schedules, navigating this stalker situation. One week later, I was coming home from work. My roommate was at our mutual friend's house, so no one was home. The first thing I noticed was that our front door light was out. We always left this on when one of us was leaving, and no one was going to be home. I approached the door anyway, and had to get closer

than usual, because of the darkness, it was making it hard to see the door knob. The key was in my left hand, parallel from the lock, and the right side of my head and body was close to the door. That's when I heard it. Someone clearly inside. It sounded like something large was being dragged across the floor. I ran to my car and called my roommate to warn her. I drove as quickly as I could to my parent's house.

Later that night, my roommate arrived at the house, with one of our male friends. She called me and asked if I had left the front door open. I didn't even touch the door before hearing the strange sound and running. It was so dark in and outside of the house when she got home, she walked into the house without even knowing it. Thinking she was approaching a closed front door until she was suddenly in the foyer. She offered to change the locks, but I decided at that point to just move out. She told me later she continued to be creeped out while sleeping in this house alone, but nothing seemed to happen after that. She would text me and tell me, there

were still some strange noises that she was explaining away. She moved out when her let's not meet. These events happened in the late 70s when I was 12 years old. I'm now 53. I grew up in a rural area outside of a small city in Central Pennsylvania. In those days, I was considered a latchkey kid, so I was frequently left alone by my parents because they worked a lot, which meant that I was responsible for getting myself home after school or after school activities. I was on a girls softball team and one day after school, we had practice. The softball field where the team practiced was about a half of a mile from my house.

The walk wasn't too far or difficult because I walked through a housing development. At that time of day, there were always kids outside playing, people coming home from work, etc. So it was typically safe to walk home after practice. But that day, practice ran a little later than usual. I chose to walk with a friend home to her house instead of going straight home. My friend, who I'll call Christy, lived in the opposite direction of my house, and the way to her home was a little bit further.

You needed to walk a very windy, dangerous road to get there, so instead we decided to take a shortcut. The shortcut was a walk through a couple of fields. But I was warned not to walk those fields because they're a place where people ride many motorcycles and off-road-type vehicles. People also do drugs and have sex out there, etc. My mom would say it's not a place for young girls. Being 12 and very trusting in naive and wanting to get home before dark, I went against my mom's advice and took the shortcut with Christie. We started walking and as we entered the first field, it was quiet. We made our way through

it okay. Then as we entered the second field, two men on motorcycles exited the area as we were walking. They rode past us. They looked at us and smiled. I glared at them because for some reason I got a very uneasy feeling about them. I didn't want to alarm my friends, so I kept my thoughts to myself. We continued to walk for a little bit when I heard the sound of motorcycles behind us. My friend didn't seem alarmed, though.

I was. And the voice inside me told me that these two men were coming back to get us. I said to my friend, we have to run and hide, but she wouldn't. And as the motorcycle noises got closer to us by sense of danger grew. I grabbed her hand and pulled her. We started to run on the path in which we were walking, and before we knew it, they were right behind us. I just knew in my mind that it was the two men we saw earlier. So I pulled her into an area off of the path where the grass was much higher

and we dove down into the tall grass and laid on our stomachs to hide. I heard the men stop their bikes. I was shaking with fear. Christy started to whimper, then cry. I rolled her closer to me and put my hand over her mouth to muffle her cries. I closed my eyes and held my breath. I heard the men approach. One man said, they're gone. Let's just go." The other one said, No, they're here and I'm going to find them.

I stayed quiet. I kept my hand over my friend's mouth and I cried silently. As I looked around us, there was nothing to help us fight back if they were to try and grab us. There were no cell phones back then to call for help. And we were lying down surrounded by grass and trash left from kids that would party. I could hear the footsteps rustling through the tall grass. But luckily, where we were hiding, the grass was so high and filled with gross trash

that the men actually turned around and gave up. I heard them get back onto their motorcycles and drive away. Once I heard their motorcycles get further away, I pulled my friend up and we ran as fast as we could the rest of the way to our house. When we got to our house, we caught our breath. Then we went to sit on her porch. Christie's house happens to face the road just outside of the fields that we ran through. As we sat there catching our breath and thanking God for not being abducted or whatever else those men had in mind to do to us, we heard the sound of the motorcycles again. This time they were on the road. They were still looking for us.

And then I saw them driving right in front of her house. He slowed down and waved, but kept going. It was a terrifying experience. To the child predators on the motorcycles, let's not meet. Don't let the summer heat bake in, road-grime any longer, hand to your nearby Zips Car Wash to clean up and cool off. And listen to this, now when you buy your next car wash online at zipscarwash.com, you pay even less. That's right, we save

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That's managementconcepts.com. I'm a housekeeper. I went to clean a beautiful home for a very sweet gal with two grown children. They no longer reside there. I was there working for about half an hour when a male voice startled me. I turned around to see the woman's son standing in the kitchen. I had met him once before in passing. He seemed nice enough. He followed me around, talking my ear off. It began innocently enough, music, dungeons, and dragons Lord of the Rings. He seemed a little out there though, but still harmless.

The conversation became increasingly strange. He told me he is a self-trained, martial arts instructor. He teaches free self-defense classes to women. He kindly offered his services, but told me he was often very mean and rough with his students, beating them physically. Hard pass. He brought up BDSM repeatedly, asking if I had ever tried it. I told him it doesn't sound like my cup of tea. He angrily told me that if I haven't tried it, I can't say it's not for me. He then moved on to belittling me because I'm grossly unprepared for imminent, zombie apocalypse. He then pulls a knife from his bag.

He flicked it open, and faked stabbed in my direction. He told me that if anyone tried to take his knife, he'd use it to slit their wrist. He asked me to try and grab it so that he could demonstrate. I politely declined. I excused myself and said to 911 text asking my husband, my mom, or my sister to come and help me. I'd sort of assessed him to be harmless. Maybe there was something wrong. Maybe he's completely unaware he's behaving inappropriately. Then, as I was vacuuming, he started talking about chokeholds. He pulled the vacuum from my hand, grabbed my arm, pinned it behind my own neck, and threw the vacuum from my other arm and pulled me against

him. To my great relief, he did let me go, but I was terrified. He then whacked the back of my knee with his hand to show how easily he could knock me off my feet. Thank God my mom showed up when she did, because this conversation had moved to very perverse territory, and I'll spare you the details. I was so afraid I was shaking, trying to figure out how to lead without angering him. My mom helped me defuse the situation and pack my things up.

His tone changed immediately when she got there. Then the police arrived. My sister was smart enough to call them. I afraid I was in real danger. I talked to the officer and told him everything. I told him I just wanted to get out of there without upsetting or angering the young man. I told him I suspected there might be some kind of mental illness, and he doesn't understand how uncomfortable he made me. The officer waited while I packed my things and left.

He planned to discuss the situation with the young man and his mother. When I was leaving, I saw that my husband was outside as well. He had seen my covert, text, and race there. I called his mom, my client, and told her the whole story. She was extremely apologetic. But the thing that she told me next sent chills down my spine. She said, I told him you were coming there today and I asked him not to drop by while you would coming there today and I asked him not to drop by while you would be there.

This creep knew that I was there alone. I should have just left my stuff behind and got out of there before things became as scary as they did. Looking back, I was overly concerned about upsetting this guy or hurting his feelings since he seemed not all there. I would definitely have handled this situation differently in hindsight, but I'm thankful for my family whom I can always count on to keep me safe. I'll start with the fact that my then boyfriend now fiancé, Rob, has a habit of cleaning up the empties. Quickly for context, we went away on a weekend trip with some friends in the desert. In the morning, my girlfriends and I woke up, cracked some morning beers like you do when you're on vacation, and climbed a small outcropment near our rental house for the view. We saw Rob approaching

from the house with a coffee in his hand and waved. As he drew nearer, we lost him from sight for a moment, due to the rocks that we had climbed. Then he reappeared next to us and said, did any of you leave a beer at the bottom of the rocks? We all lifted our beers and answer. My friend asked, did you drink that old beer in the sand? He nodded, spitting. So that became a running joke. Rob will drink anything he finds. That friend group will still text him pictures anytime they find a half-empty party foul lying around.

Now, secondly, I have a terrible dog. His name is Davy. David James when he's naughty, which he always is. He's just awful, but I still love him. For reasons, no and only to me, I guess. I got him from the shelter when he was seven and had clearly already been abused. I went in while in the midst of a lopsided relationship thinking, all I want is a dog that will love me above all else.

And that is what I got. He bites my friend's shoes, almost all of them. He hates all other dogs, and he grows when he hears babies crying, or even the sound of children laughing. But he worships me. Beware of what you wish for, I guess. So, about two years ago, I come home to find two unopened bottles of lognitas, beer, sitting upright on the curb in front of our house. All I see is a joke.

I grab them and I put them in the fridge just waiting for Rob to come home, but I fell asleep before he did that night. I woke up to my terrible, awful, somehow still lovable dog, losing his shit as the door of our bedroom opened up just a crack to let the light in. Grogly, I see the shadow of a man in our doorway. I practically punch Rob awake saying, there's a man in our fucking room. We jump out of bed and I flip the light switch on, which is right next to the doorway. As I do, the man closes the door behind him, putting himself into our room. At this point, Davey is in full-on Tasmanian

devil mode, and almost foaming at the mouth attacking this guy's shoes. I pick him up, thinking he's going to get his head kicked in. He's 15 pounds soaking wet. And I put him under my arm, where he continues to try and lunge at the man. The man has backed himself into the corner away from us, holding his hands up, like Davey is a gun that I'm pointing at him. He starts speaking rapid-fire Spanish. Rob and I have also been yelling non-stop, who the fuck are you? Get the hell out of our goddamn house.

But I look in his eyes, and they are high as a kite. I tell Rob to be quiet so we can try and understand what he's saying, but we barely speak Spanish. We can basically order tacos. All I catch is something about him hearing music. Everyone in our house had been fast asleep. So that's bunk. We listen to him for the longest 30 seconds until I understand him say $1 million. Rob and I exchange looks that say, Rob and I exchange looks that say, there is a very unhinged man in my room at night, and this needs to end now.

We both go into full force, yelling again, get the fuck out of our house. I open the door and we shoot him outside. At the time, end up until that night, we always left the back door to the stairs up to our apartment open. See, I moved into Rob's apartment after we had been dating for a year, and that was just what he had always been doing, so I didn't question it.

So frankly, this was our fault. We live in LA, how dumb could we be? Well, we were that dumb. We kept it locked religiously after that. It wasn't until after we'd gotten the man out, and our three other roommates woke up in the process that I realized that the man had been holding something in each of his hands. And when he held them up, well, you guessed it, two logonitas. Now, I feel really badly about this encounter, looking back.

Homelessness is a huge social failing in LA and elsewhere. He most likely has some kind of mental illness and no net, personal or societal to fall back on. I mean, I guess I don't feel too badly. He did enter our house uninvited. I mean, I guess I don't feel too badly. He did enter our house uninvited. Lord knows what would have happened if I was without Rob and Davy. This is one of those very few times that I can count myself lucky for having a maniac dog. But I am still the one who started it, I guess. I stole this man's beers.

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I was living at my parents' place at the time, in a raised granny flat in the backyard that we affectionately dubbed the studio, as I am a pretty creative individual. I spent a lot of time in school playing the piano and acting. The studio was my safe haven, even my parents knocked on the glass sliding door before coming in as to emphasize the safety of my own space. Before I explain this morning, I need to backtrack. There was a guy Max, who I had been in bit of a fling with for about a year prior to the morning in which this story takes place. He was tall around 6 foot 5. Pretty good looking and quite funny. I'd known him since I was 15 because I had worked with

him at his dad's cafe, and one day when we were 18 things just kind of evolved, and you know how it is. Despite this, I did break it off, whatever it was, as I got a pretty weird vibe from him during one sexual encounter that I had with him. Nothing non-consensual or anything like that, but just something that made me not want to initiate or accept any experiences like this with him again. I told him I didn't want to see him anymore in that way, and he responded kindly, grateful for my open communication. I thought, great, sorted that out. Now we can just be friends. I don't remember

any major events, positive or negative, in between when I broke it off with him and this morning that will always hunt me. So a little while before the morning in the question, I was at a bar with my best friend Josh. It was summer and late at night. We were a bit drunk, dancing, laughing, and having a great time. I live in the southern part of Australia, where the winters aren't too unbearable, and neither are the summers. It's a temperate place.

On this summer night, the warm air lingered. I remember wearing a top and a skirt, and being grateful that I didn't bring an extra layer. While Josh and I danced, I saw Max. He was standing a couple of meters away from me alone, like he was looking for someone. He was also wearing a beanie, which I thought was odd, since it was the middle of summer, and an undeniably hot night. I walked over to him. I jumped a little so that I could grab the beanie off of his head and said something like, what are you doing?

It's summer. Before I knew it, he was screaming in my face that I was a bitch, that I was a liar over and over again. I think that because there were so many people at the bar and our position was right next to a speaker for the dance floor, not even a security guard noticed. I don't remember doing it, but I remember crouching and putting my hands over my head to protect myself from him. I'm 5'9", so pretty tall for a girl, but still, Max was 6'5", and screaming right into

my face. Josh didn't feel comfortable getting into a physical altercation on my behalf. Instead, he wedged himself between Max and I and started to dance. Eventually, Max left, but I still get panic attacks if a tall man points at me or yells. So the morning of this story, I woke up in my granny flat, at my parents' place. It was now heading into autumn. It wasn't exactly cold. I got out of bed with the intention of going down to the house to say good morning to my parents and probably make a coffee. I was a few steps away from the glass sliding door when I froze. The entirety of the door was covered

in frost. I remember thinking it's still warm and then it hit me. The glass door was not frosted. It was shattered. Still in the door frame, but shattered nonetheless. I gingerly, ever so carefully, slid the door open. The glass didn't tumble out as I had feared, so I slipped through the crack that I had made and sprinted to the house. My dad wasn't home, so mom and I went back up there together so that she could have a look. I thought that something to do with the temperature change had caused the door to crack. Mom, however, with her eagle eye, noticed two very scary things. The first was that the cracks in the door all led

to one place, a small depression in the shattered glass that had a curved shape. A steel-toed boot tried to kick this door down. Look, he kicked the same place over and over again to get in, my mom said. I stared at her, the color draining from my face, and the sense of safety I'd always felt in the studio slipping away. The second thing she noticed was that on the large plastic door handle, the kind about a hand-length long with a keyhole near the top of it had scratch marks on it, all around the keyhole, as well as where the door met the door frame.

The scratch marks seemed to be made by keys. It looks like he tried to break his way into my studio, my bedroom, my safe haven, with both a key to try and open the lock and the still-toed boot. He wanted to get in badly, and I can only assume with intentions that would have ended horribly for me. On the phone with the police station, we were informed that there had been a small spree of both attempted and successful break-ins of homes in our area. When we explained that I was in the studio tucked away in the backyard, the officer said,

is it visible from the street? I said, no, it's not. Ah, well, get the door replaced and just let us know if anything else happens. This was the response. I also reported a verbal assault that Max inflicted on me at the bar, but I was basically being told to get a grip. I lost faith in the police. If this was one of those attempted break-ins that had been happening locally, why hadn't they gone from my parents' front door? It was visible from the street, but not my studio. You had to know where it was by being shown or know the address and look it up on Google Maps. And you can see the extra roof in the garden. My mom later told me that when her and my dad had built the studio around 2003,

they debated on what kind of glass to get for the sliding door. Regular or safety. They decided on safety, despite it costing extra. As a salesperson told them that if something accidentally fell on the door and is shattered, the glass would stay inside the frame for as long as physics would allow, rather than fall straight out of the frame like regular glass. What seemed like a small and uneventful decision back in the early 2000s probably saved my life. To this day, I'm sure that the person who tried to smash that door down with the steel-toed boot and Jimmy the lock with a key was Max. He had the strength, the cockiness, and the motivation,

as well as the lust to do this. There's no other candidate in my personal life at that time, or sense for that matter that could fit the bill of the door smasher. So to Max or if I'm wrong and some cracked out lunatic stumbled across my studio and decided to do everything possible to break in. Instead of using the front door of the house, let's not meet. 18T Fiber presents A Straight Forward Moment You're wine?

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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. This happened over a period of time when I was 16 to 17 years old, but I believe the start of it actually time when I was 16 to 17 years old, but I believed the start of it actually began when I was only 14.

That year was a tough one for my family as my 22-year-old sister tragically passed away in a car accident. At the time we lived in a very rural town with acres of land and neighbors that we had never even met, though we lived in the same home for over 10 years. I was in 8th grade, a skinny, teenage girl, trying to find my way in this world, so when my older sister suddenly passed away, my whole life changed dramatically. After she passed, my home only consisted of me, my mom, our dog Jack, and my stepdad, my stepdad, who we'll call Andy, had been in our lives for many years.

Since I was only three, and my sister was 11. We had always seen him as our father, even though we had a relationship with our biological father. Therefore we called Andy Dad. Although this drove our biological father nuts, we didn't care. We spent much more time with Andy than we did with our biological father. Andy was very attentive. He seemed very happy to have children as he didn't have any biological kids of his own, so he really took my sister and I under his wing. He would set up basketball hoops and other things in the yard so

we could play together. We had a swimming pool, we would often splash around in. He always kept the lawn well manicured and would always greet us joyfully when he came home from work. I remember him tickling us until we could barely breathe and introducing us to movies that he'd like as a kid. He was also very willing to take us to the movies for the newest movie craze. He was a good stepdad by all accounts. However, when my sister passed, something changed in Andy.

It's like he morphed into a different person over the next two years as I moved from middle school to high school. He always acted strange when I would have friends over. I remember them commenting on him being weird or awkward, as he wouldn't say anything to them, not even hello. He would just walk by us and act as though we weren't even there. I didn't care because I liked that he left us alone.

Nobody wants parents butting in when friends are over, so I saw it as more of a positive thing. I got my license and a job at 16, so I was running around making my own money and freely spending it, as most teenagers do without having bills or too many responsibilities yet. When I started getting interested in boys though, specifically one boy, he really started to get possessive of me. Oddly, the day after this boy asked me to be his girlfriend, Andy was fired from his long time job.

Supposedly he snapped at a customer and was fired on the spot. Now that he didn't have a normal schedule, and instead worked multiple part-time jobs, he became obsessed with knowing my whereabouts. Whenever I had a free moment, he would suggest that we do something together instead of running off to be with my boyfriend. Of course at 16, I didn't want to hang out with my stepdad. I wanted to go to the movies with my friends and hold hands with my boyfriend while sneaking long kisses under the streetlights of town. I would always go to my biological dad's house on the weekends, and he was very lax, so it gave me a break from my overbearing stepdad. He didn't have any control over my whereabouts while I was with my real father who basically

let me do as I pleased. My boyfriend and I were completely in love and everyone was aware of this fact, including Andy. The start of this very odd behavior began when I would be talking on the landline with my boyfriend. This was before cell phones were popular. And I would hear someone pick up the other phone in the house. It was a pretty distinct click that you could audibly hear when you were speaking to someone. So I'd always chime into our conversation with, I'm on the phone, and then I would hear

the click of the other phone being put back on the hook. This began happening all the time and it really started to piss me off. So I mentioned it to my mom and she said that she would speak to Andy about it. For a while, it stopped. So I thought that that was the end of it. The next thing I started to notice was that every day, although I would pull my window shade all the way down on the one window in my bedroom, whenever I came back home, it would be up at least two to three inches from the bottom of the window. We lived in a ranch-style home with a basement so you could see into my room from the yard outside. Although it was very rural, I still pulled my window shade down because I always changed in there and wanted privacy. Our yard was used

regularly and I didn't want anyone spotting me while I was doing whatever in my room. I found myself constantly pulling the window shade back down. Next, it was the bathroom window shade. It always had to be pulled up a couple of inches from the window base. Just enough for someone to see into our bathroom. This window didn't concern me as much, though, because it was much higher up, and for anyone to see in, they would have to have a ladder. Plus, the bathroom was used by all of us since it was the only one, so shade movement in there made sense. In my bedroom, though, not so much. I kept ignoring the shade movements as a fluke, as

I didn't want to overreact to something that seemed so minor. That is until I was in the bathroom one day getting ready to take a shower. Not yet out of my clothes, but headed that way, when I spotted Andy bobbing around outside the bathroom window. I quickly pulled the shade down and began to wonder what the hell he was doing. I walked through the house and out back to confront him, and he was taking the pole skimmer down from the side of the house, which is where we kept it, anchored to the house with some hooks, as the pole was right outside of the bathroom window.

This made sense that he needed to get the ladder down, and he was cleaning the pool. I didn't even confront him about peeking through the window since I wasn't able to verify that it was not a fluke. Soon after the incident, I was in my room getting ready for bed. Remember, I'm a teenage girl in the early 2000s, so I'm jamming out to a Taylor Swift CD in my underwear. It's getting late, and my mom is working until around 10 p.m. that night. So it was just Andy and I until she arrived home. He was in the living room watching TV.

While dancing around, I noticed the glint of a camera lens outside of my window. The fucking shade is up about two to three inches, and although it's dark outside, my room lights are on, which catch on the silver of the camera. I freak out as I'm topless and I slam myself down on the bed, covering up quickly with my blanket. I remember scrambling to get a t-shirt on in shorts while yanking the shades down and running into the living room at the other end of the house when I got there. Andy was sitting in his recliner watching TV. He didn't seem out of breath.

So I said to him, Tariyaide, I think someone was taping me in my room. I saw a camera lens. He hopped up out of his chair and immediately went outside to investigate. I sat in the living room with tears streaming down my face. He was out there with a flashlight for a while until he came back in declaring that he didn't see anyone. He gave me a hug and I went back to my room. While there, I remember trying to figure out how long it actually took for me to get out into the living room to tell him about what I saw. for me to get out into the living room to tell him about what I saw. Could it have been possible? That it was him out there, and he saw me notice the camera and ran back inside,

acting as if he wasn't there the whole time. I reasoned with myself that that couldn't be true. He couldn't do that. He wouldn't do that. I brushed it off yet again. I didn't mention anything to my mom either. We've always been very close and she's a wonderful mom, but dealing with the loss of my sister definitely had taken a toll on her and I didn't want to add any to her sadness, especially if I was overreacting.

The weird activities continued though. And another thing I really started to take notice of was the fact that our family dog, Jack, really didn't like Andy. He didn't growl at him or anything, but he never greeted him, never asked for a pet or gave him any sort of attention or affection. Jack was a black lab beagle mix. He was very friendly and sweet, always trotting over for a pad and asking for a car ride or a long walk around our big yard. Our family would always come into the house via the basement door,

which was a walk out, and then walk up the stairs into the living room and into the kitchen. Jack would always sit at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for our return. When we would arrive, he would joyfully jump off the stairs and truck towards us, tail wagging furiously. When Andy would come home, as soon as Jack saw his truck pull up in the driveway, he would head upstairs and lay on his bed in the living room, no greeting, no bark, nothing. I always thought that was super odd. Jack loved long walks in the yard. He was part beagle, as I said,

so he would always have to be on a leash, otherwise he would wander off of our land and into a nearby farm. We had a long leash for him, and would take him on long walks every day. My mom was usually the one to do it, but I would join her on occasion. On one of those instances, we were doing a normal loop around our yard when we walked around the pool and were headed behind the garage. At this point, Jack notices something and stops to sniff it. Right at the corner of the garage, he sniffs and backs up. We both noticed that he found something on and figure it's a dead bird or something. Once we meet up with Jack and look down at what he stumbled upon,

we looked at each other confused and a little sick. They're sat human feces behind the garage. They're sat human feces behind the garage. We know it's human because there was also toilet paper. We're both thinking, what the fuck? But we walked past it and end our walk. I ask her if she thinks maybe a homeless person stumbled up here to relieve themselves, and she seemed irritated. She says that she thinks it would be weird for an outsider to come all the way up here with toilet paper to do this in our yard.

We leave it at that. And I can tell that she's furious. A couple of days later, I mentioned it to her again. And she said, Andy did it. He said he really had to go and the bathroom was occupied. He supposedly apologized and picked up this mess. But I know my mom's radar is now on high alert. That kind of activity is just abnormal. Plus, neither of us had been in the bathroom or received a knock or request to have it while we were using it, so it just didn't seem plausible.

All these things started to add up and I didn't want to be around Andy. I made excuses every time he suggested that we do an activity together. I went to my biological dad's more when my mom was not around. I worked more shifts at my job, hung out at friends' houses, whatever it took to ensure that I wasn't putting myself into any more weird situations with Andy alone. One day I came home from school a little early. I was a senior now, and I had senior privileges which allowed me to leave school grounds by signing myself out. I decided to head home early, unaware Andy would be there. I came in through the basement, as usual, but Jack wasn't there to

greet me. I thought that this was odd. But I made my way upstairs anyway. As soon as I hit the top step, I turned my head towards my room, and Jack spotted me. Being that I surprised him, he let out a very loud howl and ran towards me to say hello. My room light was on, and Andy came running out of my room with a terrified look on his face. I looked at him, utterly confused and asked, what are you doing in my room? He stated that Jack had scared him half to death with a bark, and that he had noticed that one of my light bulbs was out in the room. He was simply replacing it with one that worked. I looked at him, because I didn't recall the light being out in my room, and even if there was, why

the hell was he checking on that without me asking him to? I let it slide again, as he went back to finish with the light bulb. Now the last straw came shortly after that incident. I was at a point where I was rarely ever alone with Andy anymore. That night my mom was home, but she was exhausted and decided to go to bed early. Since I didn't want to hang out with Andy in the living room, I told her I was too tired and that I was going to go to bed early myself. My biological dad had recently purchased a portable DVD player and let me borrow it.

So I had brought it with me to my mom's and stashed some DVDs in my room for such an occasion. I pulled the DVD player out of my backpack and grabbed a DVD to watch on my bed. I realized that the player wasn't fully charged so I got the bed to plug it into the outlet behind my bed. That way I could lay in bed and watch a movie. When I went to plug the DVD player in, I had to pull my bed out slightly from the wall so that I could reach the outlet. The only thing plugged into the outlet was my fan that I would turn on every night for some white noise. However,

when feeling around for the other outlet, I noticed something else was plugged in. Confused, I followed the cord down the wall, under my throw rug. I had to pull the throw rug back so that I could continue to follow the cord, and then noticed that there was a small hole in the throw rug where the cord continued out from under the rug and led up the leg post of my bed. There was a hole that had been drilled into the leg of my bed and in that hole there was a recording device, including a small camera. I sat on the floor, shocked by my findings. I started to shake with fear, anger, and sadness. I yanked the cord from the wall and finangled the cord out from under the rug and bedpost. I then creeped into my mom's room where she lay sleeping. And he was oblivious

to me entering their bedroom as he was engaged in whatever he was watching that night. I entered the room and went over to my mom. I woke her up. I showed her what I had found. She was filled with all the same emotions, mostly rage. She asked me what I would like her to do. Conffront him now or wait until morning, knowing I wouldn't be home tomorrow after school, as I was headed to my dad's for the weekend. I asked her to wait. I didn't want to be there. I didn't want to hear his reaction.

I didn't want any part of it. She agreed and hugged me tight. Pulled me close. I inched back into my room and shut the door. I didn't sleep much that night. If at all, I woke up early to shower and head off to school. Right as I was headed out the door to my car, I heard their bedroom door creak open. I knew it was Andy. I dashed to my car and avoided him. I never saw him again. My mom confronted him and he made a bunch of excuses about how he's pathetic and needs therapy. My mom contacted

the police and because I wasn't 18 yet, we had to meet with a special investigation unit who was able to search our home. They ended up finding a ton of recordings of my phone conversations with my boyfriend. Luckily, the camera that he had put in my room supposedly didn't work. It was only able to record audio conversations because of that, and he was only charged with voyeurism. I also took out a restraining order on him for five years and my mom divorced him. My mom, Jack, and I lived in that home until I graduated. Then it quickly went onto the market. We had lost too much to stay there between my sister and Andy, as well as all of his family. I think most of his family would have liked to have stayed in contact

with us, but I was young, and so freaked out by the whole thing, I couldn't bring myself to have any kind of relationship that may involve me seeing or hearing about him again. The saddest part for me was leaving my childhood home after everything was packed up. I exited the basement door, closing it behind me, and looked down at the concrete slab that labenied the door. I thought back to our first day in this home as a family of four. I remember pulling up and seeing Andy working on the concrete slab as the one that lay there previously was crumbled. He had laid a nice, new, smooth slab for us, and told my sister and I to go grab a sharp stick.

We both did and ran back over to him. He told us to write our names in the slab so that we could mark this as our new home. My sister gladly obliged, and scrolled her name in the concrete. Me being only three, I couldn't write my name, so he wrapped his big hands around mine and the stick and we wrote it together next to my sisters. Then he wrote his and my mom's name as well. A family of four in our new home together. As I left, I looked down at the concrete, and the names written there, and tears wiled up in my eyes.

So much had changed. So much was lost. So to my stepdad, who had an absolute breakdown of some kind, let's not meet again. If you're a patron subscriber, don't forget to stick around after the music for some great stories like the Green River Killer, which just knocked it out of the park this week. If you want to subscribe, head over to patreon.com forward slash let's not eat podcast to get this ad-free version of this podcast as well as the extended bonus episodes at the end. Thank you so much for listening this week you have heard intruder by Renee. A story by listener Kimberly Care, terrifying encounter with a client's son by Terry.

Two login needa's by Holly McKee Clark, a frosty morning by Benedita, and finally, step daddy dearest by T. 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. As always, if you have a story to share, send it to Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com and I'll see you all next week, for a brand new episode of Let's Not Meet.

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