Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 6x21: Live Season 6 Finale - Let's Not Meet

Episode Date: August 23, 2021

Stories in this episode: -The Treehouse - Potts.  -Dr. Horton - Anon.  -The Space Alien Killer - monsterocket.  -Untitled - Jocelyn Lance.  -The Foggy Schoolyard - mtlguy00.  -Can I Help You? - Madison.  -The Night I Almost Got Killed - Natascha.  Extended Patreon Content:  -Untitled - Shoshana.  -Robert - Cienna the rat lover.  -Dangers At The Tanning Salon - Alex K.  -Untitled - Clarity.  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!  Thanks to Sapphire Sandalo (Stories with Sapphire), Soren Narnia (Knifepoint Horror), Shelby Scott (Scare You To Sleep), Amanda Goodness/Cassidy Liston (Drinking The Kool Aid), and Jasika Nicole (Alice Isn't Dead) for appearing on the live stream season finale! Check out their shows wherever you get your podcasts!  I’ve really stepped up my wine game thanks to Vivino! Give them a try and I know you’re going to love it. Go to Vivino.com/meet and use code MEET at checkout to save 20% on your first order of up to $200.  Start feeling better with Feals CBD! Become a member today by going to Feals.com/meet and you'll get 50% off your first order with free shipping.  Learn your dog’s inner secrets with Embark, the highest-rated dog DNA test. Right now, Embark has an offer on their Breed and Health Kit for our listeners! Go to https://shop.embarkvet.com/discount/MEET to get free shipping and save $50 off your Embark Breed and Health Kit with Promo code 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  

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 the season six finale of Let's Not Meet, a true horror podcast. Thanks to those of you that joined us for the live stream on Saturday, it was a blast,

but as promised, I've captured the audio from our video performances and compiled one of the scariest episodes in quite some time. Our lineup this time around consists of Sorenornia, Sapphire Sendala, Shelby Scott, Jessica Nicole, Amanda Goodness, and Cassidy Liston. The audio quality will vary in each performance as we did record these all separately on video format, so it will have a very live read feel to it. What a bit different than your typical narration, but I would say even creepier in some aspects. I also wanna note that there's no break in between seasons. It's just an excuse for us to do this live show

and make an event of it. We'll be back next week with episode one of season seven. But let's jump right in. Enjoy the show. My name is Chris. Back in 98, my family and I moved into an older home located in Washington. I was 13 at the time. Having been raised in Texas up till that point, the change of scenery was a bit jarring,

but I quickly learned to love it. The weather was cool and damp, no more what I have to do with those fiery hot summers that plague so-derners year after year. My dad was an architect that affirmed the drip plans for low-income housing developments. He was one of the few that were chosen to head up the Pacific Northwest Projects.

This meant a better salary, free housing for our family, for relocating, and a chance to leave behind the tragedy that had haunted us back at home. My parents hadn't been able to cope very well with the passing of my younger sister, Lila, just the year prior. Honestly, I don't know how I was able to handle it so well myself. Maybe I was don't know how I was able to handle it so well myself.

Maybe I was in shock, but I was somehow capable of dealing with my grief in a very mature fashion. I'd always been very independent and kind of closed off to the rest of the world around me back then. It was hard to find other boys my age or into, Hitchcock, comic books, and a word working. To be fair, they probably didn't have a dad as cool as mine. He was solely responsible for my refined taste

and entertainment and my obsession with the carpentry. Prior to becoming an architect, my dad spent a decade working as a carpenter. But he never really gave up the craft. One of my most treasured memories from before the accident was when my dad let Lyle and I help him build the deck in the backyard. It was the first of many projects we planned to do together. Sadly, my dad lost interest such as my sister passed. Just a couple of weeks before the move, my dad was notified that the house we were supposed to be

moving into wasn't quite ready yet. There were a number of inspections and repairs that had been delayed due to weather. It was originally built in the 1950s. My dad was a bit stubborn about his decision to go with an older home that just needed some finishing touches instead of a newer move in ready home. This meant that we would be staying with my aunt Judy. She lived about 45 minutes from our new house. My dad's sister was quite a bit older than my parents, but she was a joy to be around. She lived alone on five acres of property.

We drove the entire way from Texas to Washington with very few stops along the way. When we arrived at my aunt Judy's house, we were greeted with a massive amount of rain and wind. It seemed to storm nearly our entire two-week stay with her. My parents stayed in her guest room while I slept on the couch, buried under a mountain of cozy blankets. The first night was rather unaventful. It stormed me with weather, only added to our fatigue from the drive, and we all passed out almost as soon as we got there. The next day was a blast. My aunt had this homemade jelly

that she smeared on just about everything she prepared for us. Tons of movies to watch, and a tree house, my dad had built out back when he was young. This was exciting because the tree that house was built in was situated rather far from my aunt's house, buried in a massive, overgrown weeds and other trees. It was like a little hideout that I could have all to myself. When the rain finally lit up that first day, I grabbed a bunch of my dads over comic books that Aunt Judy had kept from when he used to live with her back in the 70s and I took them up to the tree house. It was small but very well built. It didn't have a rope or a ladder,

but it was situated conveniently in the trees that you could gain access by climbing up its branches with ease. I spent hours up there reading through all those old X-Men books. It was one of the happiest days I can remember from childhood. When it came time to get a bed, I was surprised at how exhausted I was, the rain coupled with all the fun I had that day really zapped my energy. I was out as soon as my head hit the pillow. I don't have any idea what time it was but I was awoken in the middle of the night by sound in the kitchen. Assuming it was either one of my parents or

and Judy getting a midnight snack, I rolled over onto my side to face the back of the couch and quickly fell back to sleep thanks to the sound of the rain outside, drowning out the clanking of dishes coming from the kitchen. I was somewhere between a sleep and awake, the foggy state where you're just about to enter a dream, when I was jostled awake again. However, this time it wasn't a sound that woke me up. An unfamiliar hand had gripped my arm and begun to squeeze tightly. At first I thought it was dreaming that the pain in my arm confirmed that I definitely was not. I couldn't move though. I was frozen there on that couch, terrified to turn and see who had

ahold of me. That's when he spoke. It was the raspy voice of the man I did not know. So it was the raspy voice of the man I did not know. Do you want to pin up butter and jelly sandwich the voice croaked? I tried to stay still and pretend I was asleep, scared of having to look at this person. I didn't even want to see the face of this man who had his calloused hand now squeezing even tighter around my tiny arm. Then the smell hit me, sweat, and body odor, I felt a wave of nausea. Do you want to say a word or not?" he asked again with an irritated tone in his voice. Who in the hell breaks into someone's home, makes themselves at home in the kitchen, then wakes up a 13 year old boy to ask them if

they want a sandwich. Still panicked but trying to stay calm, I kept up the illusion of being asleep. I hope that he would disappear like a bad dream or if it wasn't a dream. He'd at least forget about me and leave the house. I hope that he would disappear like a bad dream or if it wasn't a dream, he'd at least forget about me and leave the house. I even know where this guy came from. This place is out in the middle of nowhere, in anchors of lands surrounded by nothing but trees. There was absolutely no one else staying in this house. It only had two bedrooms, both being occupied by my aunt and my parents. Entry, I hadn't mentioned anything about any other guests. This all happened within a matter of seconds, but I was able to make the assumption

of my childhood mind that this had to be some kind of a psychotic wild man who'd been roaming the woods nearby and he'd stumbled into my aunt's house. But that couldn't be. No, because the next thing he said is he let go of my arm would have been impossible if that were true. He said, I'll see you later, Chris. He knew my name.

How did he know my God, damn me? At this point, tears were streaming down my cheeks to begin to shake. I listened as the stranger who somehow knew me, casually walked through the living room and right out the front door. I waited there, unable to move for at least a half hour, covered in a cold sweat under the mountain of blankets.

When I was sure that he had gone and was not coming back, I darted up the stairs to the guest room where my parents were sleeping. They were understandably angry and concerned on a Hicks plane, but it happened. All while still trying to catch my breath and bawling my eyes out, my aunt joined us in the guest room which she had in the commotion. My parents told her that someone had broken in the house and to call the police immediately. My mother consoled me as my dad went to search

the property for the man, but he turned up with nothing besides the mess in the kitchen. The police arrived at for about a half an hour, which was in a surprise considering how far out in the country my aunt's house was. However, to our surprise, they had apprehended a man on the side of the road just outside my aunt's property. He had absolutely no explanation as to why he was out there in the middle of the night

during the storm. There wasn't another house from miles from Chibi's house. My aunt gasped and put her face in her hands when she clearly recognized the man they picked up from the road. I'm so sorry, she said. We were all speechless when the hell was going on. She explained that the man who had broken into the house that night was her former gardener, Larry. Apparently she'd fired him over a month prior to our arrival for stealing from the house and other odd behavior.

However, this still didn't explain how we knew my name and why it was out there in the middle of the night during a crazy storm. Well, we got our answers when the officers searched the property and finished questioning Larry. He said that he fled the property when he saw my dad out there searching for him. They found a dirty blanket in a backpack searching for them. They found a dirty blanket in a backpack in the tree house where I had just been playing hours earlier that day. Ever since he was fired he'd been camping out in her treehouse and stealing from her kitchen at night. They said he knew my name because we were friends They said he knew my name because we were friends and we played together in the tree house. This sent a shiver down my spine because I had never seen this man before in my life. We most definitely did not play together in the tree house.

This meant that he had to have been out there when I assumed I was alone in the treehouse reading comic books hiding somewhere nearby and watching me Upon further inspection of the house They found that he had a second hideout in Judy's attic Where they found more remnants of his occupancy, including more blankets, food, and a collection of kitchen knives. He had been spying on us in the house. He had to have been able to hear us talking amongst ourselves somehow to be able to learn my name.

The part that truly left a scar on me was how he fabricated a relationship with me to the police and he really believed it. Otherwise, why would he have been so brave to have woken me up in the middle of the night? To ask if I wanted a sandwich. He was arrested and I spent the remainder of our visit sleeping in the guest room with my parents until our new house was finally completed. My aunt felt so bad about the whole thing. It truly wasn't her fault. She would often forget things and she was a bit absent-minded.

It's no wonder she never caught on to him hiding out there. She later developed dementia and passed away, but we were able to spend many summers with her in the house. So, to Larry, the man who fabricated a friendship with me, hit out at my end's house and kept knives in the attic. Let's um, let's not meet. Oh, and I, I don't eat jelly anymore. Amplify your career through training and development solutions specifically designed for federal government professionals, from courses to help you attain or retain certification to individualize coaching services, to programs that hone your leadership skills and business acumen. Management concepts optimizes your professional development, online in-person, individually, or groups.

It's training that's measurably better. Learn more at managementconcepts.com. That's managementconcepts.com. 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 you money off our amazing washes plus you also get to skip the line

and use our express lane service. When you're ready to shine, skip the line and save time and money with your online washcode. Find your nearest location at zipscarwash.com. Then drive and shine today. I'm a 32-year-old female. However, this story happened when I was around 14. My family was always really into their religion. I mean, we would go to church a minimum of five times per week. This included regular services, prayer meetings, choir practice. It was our whole life. It was all I knew growing up. We had this outreach program,

but it ended up just being a way to get all of the young people to go out knocking on doors every single week to try and get people to come to church. I think they assumed this would keep us out of trouble, but it really just felt like they had us doing all of the legwork. On these outreach days, we would agree on times to meet up at the church. Then the youth leader would drop us off in different neighborhoods and groups of two throughout town to bother everyone with our poorly designed flyers. Then finally agree on a place to meet

and be picked up again by the church van. After the day was done, we would get pizza and hang out back at the church rec hall. I actually kind of liked these outreach days. It was fun to get out and meet people, at least the ones that were kind enough to give us the time of day. And pizza afterwards was a pretty cool bonus.

We didn't get to hang out or meet a lot of people in my town. Most of the kids in our church group went to a private Christian school. We're at church almost every day, and pretty much just kept to our own click. This kind of sucked, and it seemed a little counterintuitive to what I considered to be living a Christ-like lifestyle. But I'm not here to talk about religion. On the day that this took place, I was paired up with my usual buddy, Sarah. She was a year younger than me, but we got along really well and she was mature for her age.

She even had a boyfriend before I ever did. He was 15 and went to a public school downtown. He had visited the church a few times, but he wasn't a regular and definitely wasn't part of any outreach or other youth programs at the church. She had to keep it a secret because we weren't allowed to date boys that didn't belong to our church. Just writing all this stuff out now makes me realize how sheltered we were and how it really didn't prepare us for adulthood. Anyway, it just so happened that we were going to be dropped off just a few blocks from where her boyfriend lived. So after knocking on a handful

of doors in the hot sun, she came up with a bright idea of going to visit him at his house, since his parents wouldn't be home. This made me extremely nervous. I had never hung out with him outside of church, nor had I ever been to a boy's house without their parents being home. I'd chickened out and begged her to stay with me, coaxing her with the promise of pizza when we were done, hoping she'd give in. But she was stubborn and dead set on getting some unshapourone time with her boyfriend. After some arguing, I finally convinced her that we could stop by just to say hi and use

the opportunity to pass out flyers on his street. If you couldn't tell by now, they really had their claws in deep when I was a child. I was extremely scared of stepping out of line. I know I keep coming back to this topic, but it's important to understand why I was so gullible and behaves the way I did when things started to go very bad. When we arrived at her boyfriend's house, I didn't want to go in. I was too scared of being seen by another church member

or worried about his parents coming home and calling ours to get us in trouble. So I stayed outside in the yard while she went inside with him. After 10 minutes, I started to get a little impatient and worried we wouldn't have time to pass out the rest of our flyers. So being the good kid that I was at the time, I went ahead and started knocking on doors on his street and passing out the flyers. The handful of neighbors that actually

answered the door were quite nice and chatted with me a bit. We never really had to deal with anyone being rude to us. I mean, you were just kids. When I finished up one side of the street, I walked back by Sarah's boyfriend's house and there was still no sight of her. I just rolled my eyes and started working on the other side of the street. The first door I knocked on gave no answer. When I knocked on the second, which was the house directly across from the boyfriend's house, I was greeted by a nice looking, middle-aged man.

He was one of the tallest people I'd ever met. He kind of had to duck his head under the door frame to see me. He smiled and shook my hand. I told him my name was April. He said, he was Dr. Horton, but I could call him John. He was really nice and listened intently as I explained when our services were and gave him the quick spiel about our beliefs. He continued to smile and nod throughout my whole presentation, saving all his questions for

when I'd finished. However, his questions all seemed to be about me. How long have I gone to church? Did my parents go to? How old was I? But it was when he asked me if I was here all alone, that I started feeling a bit funny about the conversation. I told him that my friend was across the road. He looked past my shoulder and said, I don't see anyone with you. I didn't really know how to respond. I felt uncomfortable telling him about what

Sarah was really up to, especially since I was trying to get this guy to come to church with us. Plus, he was so nice and pleasant throughout our entire conversation. I didn't want him to think poorly of me for letting my friend do whatever it was she was currently doing with her boyfriend. If you weren't aware, being a kid in a strict religious upbringing, two of the worst feelings were shame and guilt. And boy, did we get a lot of it. And in that moment, it's all I could think about. I wanted so badly for this guy to come to our church.

I really liked him and he seemed very interested. So I just told him that she was busy at that moment. I mean, it wasn't a lie, so I didn't feel too bad. Well, since you're waiting for her, you might as well come in and make yourself at home, so you can tell me some more about your church, he said. Plus, I'd love to get to know more about you. Did you know that I'm a dentist? I thought this was a weird thing to say, because I don't remember asking him what kind of doctor he was. Out of fear of being rude and this nice man changing his mind about church,

I went inside Dr. Horton's house. Yes, I know how dumb this must seem, but my intuition was most definitely inexperienced at this point. None of this really gave off any red flags for me. His house seemed average, really clean and well decorated. We both sat down on the couch and I handed him one of our church's flyers while I continued to talk about our services and such. He immediately seemed far more disinterested than when we were outside. It's like his demeanor changed from being happy and excited about hearing more about the church

to being bored and almost irritated. When I picked up on this, I decided to ask him a question about himself to see if that would make things a little less weird. I have you ever gone to church? I asked. Instead of answering my question, he returned with a question of his own. He asked if I'd ever been to a dentist before. I told him I had, but not since I was a little girl. The next question was my first official red flag that truly scared me for the first time

since I started talking with Dr. Horton. He asked if I had the laughing gas when I was there. He said that he kept some in his house for whenever he had gas so they could try it out. I now realized how much danger I could be in. Even as a 14-year-old girl that was as sheltered as I had been, I knew this wasn't normal. I was frozen. I didn't know what to say. I just sat there wide-eyed and scared.

I think he picked up on my fear because he then laughed and said he was just joking. I nervously faked a chuckle so that I wouldn't upset him in any way. After this, he looked away from me as if he were trying to listen for a sound that might be coming from another room. I don't remember hearing anything myself. He told me that he needed to check up on his wife in the other room. I didn't even know he was married. The topic just never came up and I didn't think to ask. He then stood up and walked down the hall. I felt relief finally washed over me. This would be my chance to get the hell out of here. Without saying a word, I booked it straight out his front door as soon as he was out of my line of sight. He didn't yell

for me or chase after me as far as I could tell. I ran across the street to Sarah's boyfriend's house and began banging on the door, screaming to let me in. Nobody answered. Thankfully, I could hear Sarah's voice coming from up the road a couple of houses away. She was yelling my name and smiling. I had never been so happy to see her face. I ran to her and told her we needed to get out of there now.

She could tell something was very wrong and picked up on the fact that my urgency was very real. Before we left, I made sure to look at Dr. Horton's house to memorize his address. When I did, I noticed I had left the front door open and he still hadn't bothered to close it or even come to the window. It was like he vanished into that room where his wife apparently was. I told her what happened as we speed-walked away from that block to make our way to our pick-up spot and a nearby McDonald's.

I had never felt so stupid in my life. I decided right then and there that I would never be so gullible. I would never trust another stranger, especially a grown man that would invite a 14-year-old into his home and offer them laughing gas. Later that night, I told my parents everything about what happened with Dr. Horton. They quickly phoned the police and reported the incident.

I gave them the address and they said they would send an officer over to speak with him. I don't think he was ever arrested for any crimes, but we did find out that the man who lived in that house was not a dentist or a doctor of any kind. There was no doctor Horton listed anywhere in our town. It makes me wonder what he meant by laughing us, and what he really heard in that room in the back of his house.

When I thought about it a little more, I didn't remember seeing any pictures of his wife in his living room. I didn't remember seeing a wedding ring, either. To this day, I don't believe that man was married, which makes whatever he heard down that hall, even more sinister. I'm not too much of a religious person anymore, but I don't judge anyone that chooses that life. Most of my family still does. I would just hope that any parents or youth leaders around today would take the time to introduce their kids to the people and the things of the world instead of shutting them off to it. It's not safe and it's not smart. I had to learn a lot about life on my own when I moved away.

Lessons I should have learned a long time ago. Anyway, Dr. Horton or whoever you really are, that's not me again. AT&T Fiber presents A Straight Forward Moment You're wine? Thanks. I'll pretend I know what I'm doing before saying it's good. And I'll pretend I don't know you're pretending. Are you a Gagillionaire?

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Straight forward is better. No equipment fees, no data caps, no price increase at 12 months. Live like a gigillionaire with AT&T Fiber. Limited availability in select areas. Visit AT&T.com slash Hypergate for details. This story takes place in 1993. I was 9 years old and living in a townhouse complex in Tucson, Arizona. My parents had recently divorced and I lived alone with my father. He was a retired Marine and he had me when he was 49.

So he was a bit older than most parents, I suppose. He'd recently suffered congestive heart failure and I'd been taking care of him. He was a strong headed Irishman and managed to bounce back pretty quickly I suppose. He'd recently suffered congestive heart failure, and I'd been taking care of him. He was a strong headed Irishman and managed to bounce back pretty quickly, and there's no surprise there. I remember him telling the doctors that he couldn't die. He had a nine-year-old son at home that he needed to take care of, and death was not an option. Due to my dad's health, we didn't go many places, and this was before the internet. So I often found myself befriending some odd neighbor kids just as an excuse to get out of the house.

I suppose when it's slim pickens, you make some pretty forced friendships as a child, and one of these kids will call Mary. For the sake of privacy, I'm not using her real name. Mary was a bit on the heavier side, like myself at the time, and had a bowl cut with freckles. She was never all that nice to me, and she was a bit sarcastic, but we made each other laugh, so we managed to make it work. Mary lived on the other side of the complex with her father, a lawyer, and his girlfriend Dora.

This was before Dora, the explorer, so we had never heard the name Dora. We thought it was weird. We'd often make stupid jokes about her whenever she wasn't around, though. See, Mary hated Dora, and never seemed to get along well with her. Or her father. In fact, Mary was probably most friendly with her next door neighbor, Pat. Pat was a single woman in her mid-50s, with short gray hair, and she lived alone. Pat was always super nice to us, and you might say that she even treated Mary like family. Knowing what I know now, though, about Mary's home life, I can see why Pat was always so involved and protective of Mary. I can only imagine the things that Pat could hear through the thin walls of those townhouses. Mary's father was strict, and whenever I would

hang out with Mary, I'd have to stand outside of the house and talk to her through the window of her bedroom. Looking back on it now, it was pretty weird, but I played it off as a quirky aspect of our friendship. Partly because her dad was just so weird about having people in the house and partly because I was a boy. Being a boy, I was pretty used to parents not letting me hang out with their daughters, even though I'd secretly known I was gay since I was six and had mostly female friends, I just learned to deal with everyone's assumptions that I was there to court their daughters. One day, I rang Mary's doorbell and Mary answered, as she usually

did, though instead of directing me to her window per usual, she asked if I wanted to come inside. I was taken aback and thought that she was joking because I had never been in her house before. She said that her parents would be gone for a very long time, and that it was fine. I thought it was strange that her parents had left their nine-year-old daughter alone, but her friend Serena was over, and you could see her on the couch from the front door. Serena had long blonde hair, and was in the same grade as both of us. Serena was very nice to me. So I was excited to hang out with both of them and agreed to come inside. Now before I did, Mary warned me that Dora had several dolls placed throughout the house.

I thought she was pulling my chain, but she explained that it was true, and even she thought that it was weird. I promised not to make fun of her, because I collected action figures. She said, yeah, that's lame, but at least those aren't creepy. Serena agreed that they were very creepy. And they both laughed as I stepped through the door. They had been watching some boring, r-rated movies on stars. They were eating all kinds of junk food. The things you'd typically expect if you left the pair of fourth graders to do whatever

they wanted. And this was the 90s, so they had all kinds of snacks like capri-sons, lunchables, and hot pockets. You know, healthy stuff. I was so excited to get my first taste, literally, of being without parents for once. However, hanging out was quickly put on the back burner, as I stepped inside, because holy shit, Mary was not lying. The dolls were everywhere, hundreds of dolls, all shapes and sizes, all spread throughout the living room

dolls on shelves dolls on the counters Including a dining room table pressed against the wall dolls stacked on top of cardboard boxes and Wherever else you could find extra space It was insane and I'd seen my fair share ofU. afraid of the dark episodes to associate them with something nefarious or downright evil. I definitely broke my promise and made a few jokes about the dolls Mary got upset. I'd never seen her express such humility before. The dolls really embarrassed her, so I decided to back off and play nice. This was the first time I had been in her house after all, and she didn't

need to invite me in. So I toned it down, and just found a place to sit down and watch TV. After way too many sugary drinks, I asked if I could use the bathroom. Mary hesitated, but agreed and warned me that there were also dolls in the bathroom. I said, you're joking, right? Mary insisted that she wasn't joking and reminded me not to touch them. Fine, you can use the bathroom. Just don't take a shit, okay?

Do that at your own house. I said, no, I just have to pee, I promise. Serena laughed as I walked off to use her restroom. I made it down her dark, carpet-stained hallway, and there they were. It was surreal because it was the same layout as my bathroom back at home, only covered in creepy dolls. The dolls were on shelves on the top of the vanity. And the strangest thing was that they were even on top of the toilet tank. Sure, I collected action figures, but on the back of the fucking toilet, it took a strange

ass adult to have all of these dolls in the bathroom. It was a good thing that I didn't have to do a number two because I certainly would not have wanted to sit down and place my back towards them. I could finally understand why Mary was so embarrassed and freaked out by these things. Ironically, too, I realized that the only room in the house without dolls was Mary's room. The only room without dolls belonged to a nine-year-old girl. She told me that she insisted on them not being in her room.

She wouldn't have been able to sleep with them, watching her. Officially creeped out at this point, I made my way back to the living room and hung out a little while longer. Serena eventually had to leave, so we all split off and went home. A few months later, I'd placed this around Thanksgiving or went to break of 93. I went to visit Mary again. I had forgotten that Mary was visiting her biological mother in Colorado and rang the doorbell. No one answered, so I turned around and headed back home. That's when I noticed Robert Mary's father checking the mail. Since it was a townhome complex,

we didn't have individual mailboxes. It was one of those group mailboxes. It was about 50 feet away from there else. Mr. Moody was a lawyer and was almost always wearing a suit. He had long brown hair, but was bald on top. I was never a fan of his hair styling. I think he should have just shaved it all off, but he was always dressed fairly nice. Only not this time. This time he seemed off. He looked messier than usual. His hair, his clothes. He looked tattered or wet or something. But it wasn't so much his physical appearance that was alarming. It was the way he was moving, slowly turning towards me, saying nothing back after I called out Hi, Mr. Moody is Mary home or is she staying with her mom in Colorado again?

Silence he didn't say anything He just grinned at me I immediately felt uncomfortable in my heart began to race My face quickly losing its color as the sense of dread watched over me I Said do you know when she'll be back, Mr. Moody? face quickly losing its color as the sense of dread watched over me. I said, do you know when she'll be back, Mr. Moody? His eyes were lifeless, like a monster. It felt like a predatory animal studying me, preparing to make a move and tear into my throat. Now I knew Mr. Moody and had interacted with him several times before, but whatever instincts I had in that moment, they were telling me that something was severely off with my friend's father and that I should immediately run home and get somewhere safe.

Mr. Moody began to walk slowly towards me, his lifeless grin running from ear to ear. I started to back away, still unsure of how to react, since I didn't want to offend my friend's parent. I hesitantly called out. Mr. Moody is everything okay. He began to walk faster and faster in my direction. That instinctual voice in my head was now louder than before. My heart was pounding. My adrenaline began to release. A voice in my head called out this time, practically screaming at this point. Something is off, run away, go home now. Well, I bolted for my house, practically tripping over my own feet. After I had gained about 200 feet on him, I looked back and I saw that Mr. Moody was still heading in my direction.

He was still walking, but now at an accelerated pace. Like Jason Voorhees or some crazed killer from some terrible B movie. I turned the corner, placed both my hands on the front door, and forced myself inside, locking the brass dead bolt behind me. My father had been cooking, and I immediately told him what had happened. I explained to him that Mary's father had been acting strange. My father asked if Robert had specifically said anything to me or if he had put his hands on me. I said no and explained that he was just acting really weird. Now I was my dad's youngest and he was very protective of me. He would have believed anything that I would tell him. But that was the problem. I knew he would go there and confront

Robert if I had explained how truly scared I was by his actions. My father had never fully recovered from his heart problems, and I didn't want him to get hurt, so I decided to downplay the event and avoid instigating things any further. My father concluded by saying, just don't go down there anymore. Stay inside for the day, go play some video games or something. I like knowing where you are and that you're safe. I spent the rest of the day playing Super Nintendo

and forgot about what happened. Looking back on all of the news articles, my memory is a bit fuzzy on the exact timeline for the rest of this, but it was anywhere from a few days to a few weeks later. There was a knock at the front door. I had been watching cartoons and my dad was still asleep and is underwear, so I decided to look through the people, planning to ignore another annoying solicitor. I just

wanted to go back to watching Saturday morning cartoons, but it wasn't a solicitor. It was my neighbor Beth and her mother. Strange, I rarely interacted with either of them. Why were they knocking on my door so early?" I opened the door and said hello. Beth's mother didn't say anything back. She just handed me our newspaper. I said, the paper? Kind of large for a Saturday morning.

Beth's mother replied, yes. Me wanting to just get back to watching cartoons, I replied, okay, thanks. And I slowly began to shut the door. Why were all the adults in this neighborhood acting so crazy lately? Beth's mother broke her awkward silence and explained, no, read it. I removed the rubber band and uncurled the newspaper, and there it was. My face turned white, the title article read, Robert Moody murders two women, claims space aliens made him do it. I remember explaining to Beth's mother that I had recently seen Robert, she panicked, but said that I was smart for running away.

I don't remember much of the conversation after that though. Now looking back on that day that I interacted with Robert, Mr. Moody, he really was a killer. My instincts were exactly correct, and he was most certainly going to harm me if I had not run away. Based on that look in his eye, I would have become his next victim. I came to discover that one of his victims was Pat, Mary's next door neighbor. My heart stopped. Was she dead next door when I was knocking on Mary's house? Was her body in that house when I was speaking with Robert? Had he already killed her?

Or was he about to kill her that day? Was Doris somehow involved? Did she know? How is Mary dealing with all of this? That last one gets me the most because I never saw or heard from Mary again. In fact, I never saw Serena again, either. Beth's mother told me that Serena and her mother were already planning to move away. They were fairly close with Robert and the fear that he might escape terrified them. I don't blame them for moving. I'll call the rest of the information alleged, because this all happened over 25 years ago,

and some of it is likely hearsay combined with some of the things that I've read over the years. But apparently, another woman that Robert had killed was his drug dealer's wife, one of Doors' friends. Robert had also trapped Pat under her own couch, forcing her to give up her bank information. After he withdrew the money, he came back and bashed Pat's head in with a pair of hedge-clippers. All of the dolls in the house, Doors' dolls? Those were all filled with drugs. So the reason we were

never allowed to touch them? I guess it all made sense now. I definitely lost some of my childhood innocence that winter. I understand how easily I could have died and how crazy some adults really were. But I also learned that I was a pretty smart kid with great instincts. Again, I still don't know whatever happened to Mary, but I'm thankful that she was staying with her mother in Colorado when all of this had happened. I don't know if Robert would have hurt his own daughter, but anyone as crazy as him, I guess I just wouldn't want to think about it. That was almost 30 years ago. Robert Moody, being an attorney, had tried to represent himself in court all while claiming

insanity in Amnesia regarding the entire situation. I have my doubts that Robert still believed Space Aliens made him do it, especially after sobering up. But I suppose escaping from a mental institute would have been easier than jail. So I get why he stuck with that insane story. Luckily he was not declared insane and was sentenced to life in prison. In October of 2019, Robert finally passed away in prison, so knowing that he's finally passed, I finally felt comfortable sharing this story.

I'm now 36 years old living and working for a tech company in California. My husband and I don't have any children but we do have nieces and nephews and you'd better believe that I encourage their parents to meet anyone's parents before they're allowed to stay over. So I guess to all the other crazed killers and alleged space aliens that make people do things, let's not meet. 18T Fiber presents A Straight Forward Moment Your wine? Thanks. I'll pretend I know what I'm doing before saying it's good.

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limited availability and select areas, visit atat.com slash Hypergate for details. This was a couple of years back, and for context, I'm a female in my 20s. Around this time, I was living with my sister and we got into a big fight. And the fact that my bedroom was her couch in her living room, I decided to leave. I didn't have anywhere to go, so I lived out of my car for the next two months, sleeping

in a Walmart parking lot. I know what you're thinking, what an idiot. But my story doesn't take place in a parking lot. At this time I was a raging stoner, and I would get very irritated and upset anytime I didn't have weed. I was completely out, and all of my dealers were dry, so being single, I turned to Tinder to find a weed dealer. I started swiping through one day at school and found a guy's profile with the outlet

emoji in their bio. Score! Now, being a dumb naive 20-year-old, the second I matched with him, I was trying to come ASAP and pick up before knowing anything about the dude. I'll call him John. I showed up and the next thing I know, I was there for two hours and had smoked three blunts with him. He even cut me a deal because he said he enjoyed my vibe.

To be fair, I could make friends with a brick wall if I really wanted to. John became a regular dealer because he replied quickly and was always available. He lived with a female roommate and she and I got along so well I felt comfortable coming over and hanging out with them. At this time, I maybe had two friends in the city I was living in, and when I was living in my car and going to school, I didn't really have a shower. So I had a lot of time to just hang out, and I found myself at their place a lot through the next couple of weeks, just smoking weed, drinking, and rolling on Molly with them. They knew that I was sleeping in my car, and they even let me use their shower and crash

on their couch sometimes. John and I started a more intimate relationship. He's not typically my type, but I could really probably blame my attraction to him on the Molly and, you know, free weed. One day I got done with school and came over. He had just gone and picked up a pound of weed before I got there. John's roommate had gone to work,

so it was just him and I at the house. We spent the afternoon laying in bed and smoking blunts. His roommate sent him a message telling him two of her friends were going to come by and buy some weed from him. Then being best friends, he was more than fine with this and told them to come by. He was sitting at a desk in the room weighing out their weed when I was sitting up at the

foot of the bed. Two guys showed up. He went to let them in when they knocked and brought them back to the room where we were. There was a shorter, more stalky guy, probably like 5-8-200 pounds, and a tall, skinny guy who was probably 6-5 and couldn't have weighed more than 190. The shorter of the two came into the room while the taller guy waited in the hallway. They were just having casual conversation about the weed and the price when the shorter guy acted like he was going to reach in his pocket for money. As soon as John looked up to get it from him, the guy punched John in the face, literally so hard it knocked him out of his chair.

My first instinct was to stand up, and as soon as I did, the tall guy in the doorway started screaming at me to sit back down. I froze and disbelief, and I didn't move. Until he pulled out a gun and pointed it straight at me. And then I instantly sat back down. As soon as my ass hit the bed, they grabbed the bags of weed and made John walk them out of the house. I think they tried to get him to come outside with them, but as soon as they walked out, John closed the door and locked it as quickly as he could. He came back into the room and

we sat in silence for probably ten minutes, but it felt more like hours. He finally asked me if I was okay, and I didn't respond to the question. But instead I asked him if he was okay. The guy hit him really hard, and he said it didn't really hurt, just caught him way off guard. I wanted to leave his house so badly, but I was scared that those two guys were going to be sitting outside, so I waited an hour until I did. I wanted to run straight to my sister's house and tell her everything that had happened, but I figured she wouldn't have any sympathy for me, not in my situation since I was the one hanging out with drug dealers. So I never told anyone.

Even now, years later, I've only told one person this story. Since that day, I've only talked about it with John once, and then he messaged me the next day asking if I was okay. A week later, he moved out of the state, and I haven't heard from him since, and honestly, I don't plan on changing that. I did stay friends with his roommate, though, and a couple of months ago she texted me asking me if I was looking for a roommate, and obviously I said no, even though I was. I got really lucky that day that nothing physically happened to me. Now, mentally, that's the different story. I just could never put myself in a situation like that. Since then, I never

go to people's houses to meet them for the first time, and I haven't used an app to find a drug dealer again. I hate telling other people what to do, but I very much encourage you to do the same. So too, John, the guy that punched John, and the guy who pulled a gun on me, let's not meet ever again. This happened to me around 20 years ago when I was about 10 years old, and even today as a 34-year-old man, just writing about it, gives me chills. Growing up in the suburbs of Montreal, life in the suburbs is just how you would expect

it to be. Picture-esque neighborhoods, houses with perfectly manicured lawns and old trees, low crime, and any stories of creepy happenings are just that. Stories or urban legends. One night, my elementary school was hosting a fundraiser spaghetti supper, and since the school wasn't well equipped to host a big supper like this, it was held at the associated parish across the street. While I originally wasn't going to go, my best friend invited me along so that she wouldn't be bored. The night was super fun, and I was having a blast. I ate spaghetti until I was about ready to bust. We joined in on the organized activities where

I even won a couple of prizes. As the night started to wind down and my friends' parents were helping to clean up, we asked if it was okay to go outside and play in the school yard until it was time to leave. After a little bit of convincing, some groans and a couple of, but mom, they said yes, but that we had to take her younger sister with us. Seeing as how that was the only way they'd allow it, we said sure, and the three of us set out and made our way out to the school yard. As we opened the door to go outside, we noticed that the sun had completely set, and that

a somewhat low-hanging fog had now set in. Now, I know many of you will say, Fog, how cliché. But seeing as how foggy weather was not a normal occurrence in Montreal, we thought this was so cool and decided that this would be perfect for a round of nighttime hide-and-seek. Now it's important to note that the church and elementary school are located at the end of a cul-de-sac, a dead end street, and are the only buildings located there? So unless you're visiting either one of those, there's really no reason to be there, especially at night. In addition, there are only two entrances into the fully fenced-off school yard, both of which are located on opposite sides. One opening is

found where the school buses made their drop-offs, and the other at the top of the small footpath that went directly into the yard through a fence. While the driveway was closer to the church, the other entrance was closer to the little playground equipment that was on the school yard, so we decided to walk that extra two minutes to go in through there. As we made our way through the opening in the fence and onto the school yard, I started to get an uneasy feeling that I couldn't explain, but I just chalked it up to the fog and not having 100% visibility.

So shaking it off the three of us goofed off and set up the two main rules for our game of hide and seek. Rule number one, stay in the area closest to the fence. Rule number two. Since her sister was around seven, she was to hide with us at all times. Thinking back on it now, I'm glad we had the common sense to do so. After losing rock paper scissors and becoming the seeker, my friend and her sister ran into the fog and I began to count to 20.

When I finished counting, I turned around and shouted, Ready or not, here I come! And once the slight echo of my voice faded, there was an absolute silence. Making it an easy 7 out of 10 on the creepy scale, but either way, with a smile on my face, I started to go look for them. Going straight to check the obvious areas that were big enough for two people to hide, and being unsuccessful, I stopped for a couple seconds to think about where they could be and reformulate a plan to find them. It was while I was thinking that I heard it.

The sound of footsteps on gravel coming from the bus drop-off area. The area that we deemed out of bounds. Slightly annoyed, I yelled out to my friend saying that they were cheating since they were not supposed to be hiding over there, and that I wasn't coming to get them because it was too dark. But no answer. Just the sound of footsteps on gravel. I called out again saying that they were cheating and that if they didn't answer me, that I was going to head back to the church, but still nothing. Just silence, fog, and the sound of gravel crunching. It was at this point that I felt my heartbeat

faster and was beginning to get that sensation where you aren't sure if it's fear, anger, or nerves that are taking over. Fed up and starting to feel uneasy, I finally yelled out one last time saying that they were stupid and then I was going back to the church, but as I started to make my way to the fence where we came in, I saw the two of them run up to me asking why I was leaving. I told her that it wasn't cool that they were hiding in the out of bounds area and that I heard them walking around. My friend looked slightly confused, but promised me that while they were hiding in the out of bounds area, the two of them were

hiding on the other side of the fence and not where the buses came in. Thinking about it now, it makes sense because how the hell would she have caught up to me so quickly, and especially from the same direction I was walking? But in the moment, you don't think of that. We continue to argue a little bit with me saying that she's lying because I heard the two of them walking around and that's when we all heard it. It was ever so subtle but deafening as it pierced through the night. Psst! We stopped. All of us stopped mid-sentence and looked at each other. All three of us wanted so hard to believe that that didn't just happen when we heard it again. Psst!

This time louder and followed by footsteps on gravel. Even though the fog wasn't that thick soupy fog, we all just stood there, completely still, hoping that whoever said it wouldn't see us, but knowing that they had been close enough for us to hear. A couple of excruciating moments passed, and we heard nothing but the blood thundering in our ears. No footsteps, nope, just the sound of a few crickets chirping. And that is when it began.

A sound that sent shivers down my spine and turned my blood cold. It was the slow, sharp, high-pitched notes of someone whistling. Not from a distance, but coming from somewhere close by, conveniently hidden by a cloak of fog. It wasn't that moment that my best friend must have been thinking on the same wavelength, because at the same exact time we each grabbed her sister by the arm and bolted straight toward the fence from where we came in,

and ran as fast as we could back to the church without saying a word and not stopping once to look back. back to the church without saying a word and not stopping once to look back. After what seemed to be forever, we made it back to the church, composed ourselves, and went to find our parents to see if it was time to leave. Soon after we got back into the church, we grabbed our stuff and all walked back to their car, which was parked near the school bus entrance to the school yard. Now, not having told her parents what had happened, I nudged my friend and made a small gesture to the entrance and by the look on her face, I knew I wasn't imagining it.

There, standing on the sidewalk at the mouth of the entrance was an older man wearing a school bag and staring at us as we walked to the car. Trying our best to pretend that we hadn't noticed him, we quickly got into the car and just as I was about to slam the door shut, I heard it. The faint high-pitched notes of someone whistling, the exact same one we had heard in the schoolyard. Whether you choose to believe this story or not, that's totally up to you. But to the creepy old guy that was in our schoolyard that foggy night, let's not meat.

This story takes place in the summer of 2017. I was 22 years old and attending graduate school in West Texas. My boyfriend at the time and I were renting a quaint old house and he was leaving for a summer internship across the country. I had to drop him off at the airport very early in the morning for his three-month trip. As someone who has always been into true crime, I am a very cautious person.

I didn't know any of the neighbors and the house did not have a garage, so I felt it would be safer not to tip off all our neighbors that my boyfriend was leaving for a long trip. The sun had not come up yet, and we quickly loaded his luggage into the car and headed off to the airport. This was my first time ever living alone, as I had only ever lived with family or roommates up to this point. As a student, I was excited to have a quiet summer to myself, to study for my summer courses, but was also a little apprehensive because living in an old, creaky house alone can be a little creepy. Later that night I was letting my dog outside. It was around 10 p.m. and my back porch light was burnt out. The house had a very long driveway

that extended beyond the end of the house and ran parallel to the backyard fence. I heard some wrestling in the leaves at the very back of the driveway, and my normally very docile dog promptly started barking and snarling at whatever was on the other side of the fence. I looked up and saw a flashlight shining towards me, and the silhouette of a very large man behind the flashlight through the slats of the fence. I quickly asked an inaggressive yet confused tone, can I help you?" The flashlight immediately switched off, and the man stepped back behind the side of the

house as if I hadn't seen him. I grabbed my dog and ran inside, checking that all the doors were locked and turning on all the functional exterior lights. I called my then boyfriend, who told me to hang up and call the police, so I did. The dispatcher told me they would send an officer out to my house, and that the officer would make contact with me once he took a look around. But no officer ever came to the door. I figured I was probably overreacting and that the police likely drove by and didn't see anything. After my nerves had finally settled several hours later, I attempted to go to bed. As I was just beginning to drift off to sleep around 2 a.m., I heard a knock at my front door, which

was right outside my bedroom window. I peaked through the curtains and I saw a familiar figure. This same very large man I had seen hours earlier in my driveway. I immediately ran out of the bedroom to put as much distance between me and this mystery man at my door as possible. The knocking continued to get louder and more aggressive as I dial the police again. The man was now trying to kick my front door down. Each kick of the door shook the walls of the old house. I grabbed my dog and a golf club, the only weapons I had, and hid in the only room in the house without windows, which was a bathroom without a lock on the door,

and waited on the phone with the dispatcher. The pounding and kicking on the door lasted around ten minutes, and I was sure the old door and rusty hinges would break at any moment. Finally, it was silent. I stayed in the bathroom for 45 minutes until the police responded, at which point they couldn't find anyone in or around my yard. My then boyfriend called several of his friends to come sleep in my living room on an ear mattress that night, so I wouldn't be alone at the mysterious man returned, which made me feel much better, but I couldn't shake the feeling that this man's presence at my house wasn't a coincidence. I felt he had been watching my house and noticed that the car had been loaded up early

that same warning and that I returned home alone. A few days later, a social media post was circulating in my city about another female college student just two streets over from me who caught a very large man peeping into her windows and lurking around her house on security footage one night. I am sure this was the same man. As far as I know, he was never caught. I do not know what his intentions were, but he knew I was inside the house and wanted so badly to get inside. I no longer live in this city, but I hope he doesn't do this to any other women, and I

really hope we don't need. I grew up in a small village in Switzerland. The next train station was in the neighboring town. That's how small of a village it was. And Switzerland has train stations everywhere. That wasn't a problem for me. In fact, I love to walk to wherever I wanted to be, no matter the weather or the time of the day. Even if it was pouring in the darkest of nights.

Everybody kept telling me how dangerous that is for a young girl, but I never listened to them. Turns out, I should have done so. It happened in the summer when I turned 18. I spent my Saturday evening with my best friend. We were in the next bigger city to spend our evening at a small hair salon where she had a side hustle doing hair extensions. I kept her company while she did extensions for some girl. We had a blast together. It got late and at around midnight we decided to head to the train station to catch our train home. We even discussed calling my father if he'd come pick us up. I was a lucky girl as I had a dad that insisted on me calling him to pick me up anytime, no matter where I was.

But we were both in the mood to talk a little bit longer, and I wanted to enjoy the summer night air on a quiet walk home. So we entered the train that was headed to the neighboring town of the small village I lived in. After a 20 minute ride, we got there. My friend lived right around the train station, so we said goodbye and parted ways. It should take me around 15 minutes to get home. I put in my earphones and turned on some music. The town didn't bother to put any street lights on this street, which was my way home.

You couldn't see a thing. I went off into the pitch black night. After a few minutes, I realized that there was someone behind me. It was unusual at this time of night in this empty street. I knew that, but I didn't think anything of it. Just some guy heading home. Just like me, I thought. I always walked pretty fast and was sure it would create some distance, like it always does, but not with this guy. He kept up. Even worse, he got closer to me.

So close that when I arrived by one of the only street lamps, I noticed his shadow being ahead of me. I jokingly thought to myself, whoa, that guy's creepy. What if he's going to do something to me? How should I defend myself? I clinched my fist ready to fight but absolutely sure I won't have to. No way that something like that is going to happen in this small boring town, right? Nothing ever happens here. I also turn the volume a little lower so I can notice what happens around me. After all, one of my favorite songs was on.

Scotty doesn't know, by lustra. Suddenly, something hit my head. I stumbled, then I got incredibly angry. Never before have I felt so much hate and anger towards someone. I turned around to face him and began to scream at the top of my lungs while lunging towards him. He was a lot bigger than me, and I still don't know what the hell was driving me to this reaction.

I cussed at him, calling him the worst words coming to mind, and just kept screaming, trying to make people hear me. After all, the next house was nearby. We fell to the ground. I don't know if he took me down or if we just both stumbled, but suddenly we were laying on the warm concrete. He sat on top of me, put his hands around my neck, and began to choke me. He was staring at me the whole time, and I made sure I was staring back, letting him know that I wasn't afraid and burning the image of his face into my brain, so I could tell the police every detail about this man.

Very slowly, I felt how sudden my strength left me. My vision went black. He was winning. At this moment, the last thought I could build up in my head was, if you pass out now, you're done for. I wouldn't let that guy kill me. How dare he try to kill me. I opened my eyes again and quickly thought, where can I hurt him the most? I rammed my nails into his eyes with a clear intention to rip them out. As I said, I never was so angry in my life and I just wanted to cause as much pain as possible.

When he managed to get my hands off his eyes, I grabbed his ear and pulled as hard as I could, trying to tear it off. All of a sudden, he stood up and ran away. Slowly and confused, I stood up too. But I didn't run. I just stood there for a moment, still thinking about how I was going to tell the police everything,

and that I needed to figure out where he was headed to. After a few meters, he too stopped and stared back at me, just a few seconds of us both staring at each other. Then he ran away again. I looked around me where the fuck was my phone? Then it hit me. Who fucking cares about your phone? Run!

My house was just about two minutes away. I ran and screamed my lungs out to wake up everybody in the neighborhood. When I approached my house, I saw the lights go on and my mom opened the door before I even passed the street. Even though she was a heavy sleeper, my screams woke her up. I ran to her arms and felt her hug.

It all overcame me. I just couldn't stop crying, and at the same time tried to explain what happened as fast as I could. She carryingly asked me some quick questions. Are you hurt? No, I'm okay. Did he try to rob you? No.

He didn't care about robbing me, Mom. He wanted to kill me. I'm sure. She sat me down on the stairs. I hugged our family dog while she ran to the kitchen to grab the phone and call the police. I remember that they asked if they needed to send an ambulance. My mother looked at me.

I shook my head. No, it's okay. She still quickly looked at me and told them I was bleeding on my head. I told her, yeah, he hit me, but it's okay. I don't want an ambulance right now. The police arrived quickly. After a few minutes, they were in our house and told us that some officers were also at the place it happened and around the whole town searching for him.

I heard sirens everywhere. I could tell them a lot of details about him, and suddenly, the walkie-talkie of the officer went off. He listened to it, then looked at me, a little shocked. Do you think he would have any fight marks on him? I hope so. I went for his eyes and ears. Great. We have him then. I couldn't believe they caught him so fast

and started to cry again, this time in relief. They asked me if it would be okay for me to go back to where it happened. They had a guy there to take some evidence from under my fingernails and take photos of my wounds. Sure. Me, my mother, and two officers went there, and when we arrived, my mother pointed at something finger nails and take photos of my wounds. Sure. Me, my mother, and two officers went there and when we arrived, my mother pointed at something

lying on the ground. It was a freaking gun. He must have hit me on the head with it, I told her, not believing how lucky I was he didn't shoot. I sat down with the other officers, taking evidence from me. One of them whispered to me, good job, she looks horrible, you did great. Finally, they were finished and drove me and my mom to the hospital. I had the worst headache of my life, but felt fine otherwise. The doctor first inspected my neck since I had strangling

marks all over it. They were more worried about that than the small wound on the back of my head. When I tilted my head back for the doctor to see my neck better, my mom, who sat behind me, pointed out to the doctor that there was some object in the wound in my head. The doctor went back to take a look. My mother tells me to this day that she saw his face turning white as he looked at it. Then he walked out without saying a word and came back no minute later with the metal bowl and tweezers. It was the worst thing I've ever felt, the metal tweezers scratching on something, metal in my head. Then I noticed the sound of a small object falling into the bowl and the doctor showed it to me. What is that? I asked. That's a project I'll miss.

I was stunned for a moment. Then I asked, why am I still alive then? I really don't know, miss." He answered honestly. Once again, I started to cry. I couldn't hold it back, hearing the fact that he really tried to kill me. The two police officers didn't leave my side the whole time, props to them, looked at each other and disbelief. My mother comforted

me, trying her hardest not to cry herself. I spent a few days at the hospital. The wound on my head wasn't so bad after all. Turns out he must have used an old gun with old bullets in it. That and that one bullet didn't work properly, and it got stuck right behind the skin, not even damaging my skull. What annoyed me the most was that nobody seemed to believe that I actually knew what happened to me, and that I indeed was fine. Sure, I was shaken up a little,

but I looked for the good things and everything. And for me, this was never a sad story. After all, I made it out alive, right? I just wanted to go home. The morning after it happened, a police officer showed up to talk to me. They talked to the guy and he confessed everything. And he said he saw me leave the train and decided,

this was the day he was going to kill a girl. Apparently this was something he wanted to do for a long time, but was never rave enough. That night, after smoking weed and drinking a good amount of beer, he wanted to go through with it. He still lived with his parents right next to the station where I left the train. He ran down from his room, grabbed his father's gun, and apparently also a knife. Then he followed me. While following me, he told the officers he realized that I was actually his type. Realizing this, he made the plan to kill me and assault me.

Yeah, you heard right in that order. It made me really happy to hear that he told the police that I scared the shit out of him. He thought he had an easy game that I would fall dead after the shot. Instead, I turned around and attacked him. He really thought I was some kind of superhero or something. Back home, I googled his name and found some social media profiles on him.

All the girls he liked looked very similar to me. They were all skinny, had colorful hair and lots of tattoos. I was one of the few girls looking just like that in this area. It just couldn't be a coincidence. I told the police, but they didn't seem to care much. What difference would it make, right? But I did hear from an officer that apparently he told a female police officer in jail that he indeed did follow me a few times before that, but wasn't ready to do it then.

I never realized that though. He is spending the time in prison right now and for the next 25 years to come. But after that he won't get out. He will be held in a prison-like facility for the rest of his life because the psychiatrist came to the conclusion that he is very dangerous. Me, for my part, don't walk home alone at night anymore after this. And to the asshole who wanted to kill me, you picked the wrong girl. Let's not meet, ever again. Thank you for listening to this week's live finale episode of Let's Not Meet, a true horror podcast.

This week you have heard Treehouse by Ponds, Dr. Horton, by a listener that asked to remain anonymous, the Space Alien Killer by Monster Rocket, a story by Jocelyn Lance. The Foggy School Yard by MTLGuys00. Can I help you by Madison? And finally, the night I almost got killed by Natasha. 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 towards online. As always, if you have a story to share, make sure you send it to 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, make sure you send it to Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com. I want to thank all of my guests this week, Sora Narnia of Knife Point Horror, Sapphire Sondalo of Stories with Sapphire, Shelby Scott of Scare You to Sleep, Amanda and Cassidy of Drinking the coolade. Just see Ken Nicole.

You probably recognize her voice from Alice isn't dead. And unfortunately, Christine Schiffer of, and that's why we drink was not able to make it this weekend. If you're a fan of her show, if you're a mutual fan of ours, I'm sure you understand that she's got a lot going on right now. However, we're gonna try and get her on a near future episode. We'll see how all of that goes. But we appreciate her effort in any case.

And obviously she's welcome on the show anytime. Thank you all so much. I hope you enjoyed this episode. Don't forget, if you want to get access to the extended version with no ads, we have some new stories coming up at the end after the music. Head over to patreon.com forward slash Let's Not Meet podcast to sign up today. I'll see you all next week for the season premiere of season 7 of Let's Not Meet a True Horror Podcast. Stay safe. When I was a little girl I was terrified to go to the doctor or dentist.

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