Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 7x10: Lost Stories 6 - Let's Not Meet

Episode Date: November 1, 2021

Stories in this episode: -Not Always What It Seams - MaaikeMachine. -Home Alone - ligamentary. -The Man From Nowhere - dethgirl -My "Friendly" Neighbor - MandalorianHybrid. -Delivery Driver's Dark Experience - mrwavy. -He Knew My Name - theyareouttogetus. -My Ex: The Priviledged Sociopath - blackinkmindtrap. Extended Patreon Content: -Untitled - Steven James. -My Next Door Stalker - Veronica. -The Stranger - Marwah. Guests: Sarah Aubrey https://www.sarahaubrey.com/   Soren Narnia https://knifepointhorror.libsyn.com/  Liz Sower https://www.ghostsintheburbs.com/ 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! Upstart is the fast and easy way to pay off your debt with a personal loan–all online. Find out how Upstart can lower your monthly payments today when you go to upstart.com/meet. 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. You can get 25% off anything you order when you go to LiquidIV.com and use code MEET at checkout. Make the switch to PrettyLitter TODAY! Get 20% off your first order by visiting Prettylitter.com and use 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  

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The stories in this show can be frightening and disturbing for some. Listener discretion is advised. If you have a story to share, send it to Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com. Enjoy the show. My name is Andrew Tate and this is season seven episode 10. Let's not meet a true horror podcast. Hello everyone, happy Halloween and welcome to the sixth installment of this lost story

series I've been doing on the podcast. If you're new to the show, these are old recordings that appeared on episodes prior to the return in 2019 with the seasonal format. The majority of you have never heard these recordings from me, so I'm excited to be able to remaster them and share them with you. This time around, I've included some recordings from some of my favorite guests from the past. In this episode, we have appearances by Voice Actor Sarah Aubrey, Soren Narnia of KnifePoint Horror, one of our favorites, as well as Liz Sauer of Ghost in the Burbs, a fantastic podcast. Make sure you check out all of their work, there will be links in the show notes.

But for now, enjoy this special Halloween presentation of the Lost Stories. lost stories. A couple of years ago, my parents went on vacation. Me and my ex-boyfriend who lived with us stayed at home. I was around 17 at this time. It all got to be too much for me and I decided to kick the mentally abusive asshole out of the house and break things off. I decided I needed to take my mind off of things and called one of my friends who lives in a city an hour away from me. She is fine with me coming over, so I take the first train there, and we meet

up at the train station. By this time it was somewhere around 11 p.m. This city is known for not being the safest, and she lives in one of the sketchy parts of town. We grab something to eat, and are off on our way to her house. We've been walking for about 10 minutes. When all of a sudden, this guy on a bike starts riding next to us. He greets us way too happily and starts talking right away with a big smile on his face.

I immediately feel stressed out by his behavior. He's acting way too enthusiastic towards us. We try to make it clear that we have no interest in talking without being too rude. This continues for like five minutes, and I'm starting to realize that there aren't any other people ahead of us, and to any outsiders, it seems like this guy and us know each other and are having a normal conversation. All of a sudden, he starts looking behind him a couple of times. I swear to God, I was sure we were going to be murdered there. He then whispers softly to us.

Sorry for freaking you out. I saw you guys leave that restaurant. A couple of guys immediately started pointing at you and stood up to follow you. So I decided to follow you as well in case they had any bad intentions. Just keep walking home and pretend to know me. I looked behind me and sure enough, there is this group of four guys all dressed in black following us. I already saw them when we were grabbing food. The chance of them leaving the place at the same

exact time to walk the same exact way is way too small and I'm sure they did indeed follow us. I don't know what the group of guys following us intended to do, but I'm grateful for this one guy looking out for us. So, random dude, thank you so much, and I'm so sorry for thinking you were a creep. And since some people asked what happened afterwards, I decided to edit this story. Basically, the guy just rode next to us until we got to my friend's house.

We texted her male roommate to come downstairs, and the four of us stayed near the front door talking until the group of guys passed us, and were gone for a while. We didn't want to send the guy on the bike on his merry way right away, because we were afraid the group would go after him. Let's not meet. I was 12 years old and my older sister and I were home alone for the weekend. I was waiting for a friend to pick me up and get restless. There was a knock on the door. Thinking it was her, I ran to answer it without checking through the people. A man was standing there with a clipboard and said he needed to check our gas meter. I was entrenched in the disappointment

of my friend still not having arrived, so I just told him, yeah, sure, whatever you need to do. I didn't notice at the time, but he wasn't dressed as a city official. He had on a green and purple shirt with bold stripes, like the host of blues clues. He came in and immediately went up the stairs to where our bedrooms were and walked into the open door of my room, the typical girly girl room with pink and glitter. Thank God my sister came down the stairs at almost the exact moment. She said, oh, is that Daphne's dad? Why is he going upstairs?

And I complained about how Daphne wasn't here and was going on about how unreliable she was when my sister cut me off. Wait, wait, if Daphne isn't here, who is that? I said, he's here to read the gas meters. Her face turned white. She flung open the front door and dragged me out, and clamped over my protesting mouth. She said, our gasmeters are outside." Neither of us had a cell phone. It was the 60s, and obviously we weren't going back in

the house to call the authorities on the landline phone. Then my ever-resourced full-sister had a stroke of genius. A man was walking right by our house, and she motioned him over. She called loudly into the house. Oh, Dad, it's good you home! A man from the city is here to read the gas meters upstairs, and just like she'd hoped, this man on the street said, what are you talking about? The man in the striped shirt bolted out of the house. The men on the street asked us repeatedly if we were okay. If we needed him to stay and wait in the yard with us until our parents came home, he was very sweet.

We were so startled that we barely thanked him before slamming and locking the doors and windows. As I rate, as my sister was, that I let someone in the house, she begged me not to call the authorities, because my parents left her in charge and she worried she'd be in trouble. I didn't want to catch any heat from carelessly allowing some guy in, so I was on the same page. Three weeks later, a girl in our community went missing, same M.O.

She was home alone, and authorities found the door open. And no signs of forced entry. My sister and I had discussed our options, but deep down we knew we had no choice but to come clean. We told the police everything. I don't know if it ever helped, but they did tell us they had reason to believe it was the same man. They also tracked down the man who helped us on the street. Turns out we already knew him. He worked in the butcher shop.

We just didn't recognize him. He was lifelong friends with the family after that. Our parents were mortified. They weren't angry with us, just glad we were okay. Though they did review all the rules of caution and didn't leave us home alone for a while. They found the girl and say she'd been held for a few days and then burned her life. They never caught the man.

But fear not, he was in what appeared to be in his early 30s in the 1960s, so in any case, he has to be dead by now. I just thank God, every day for my sister's resourcefulness and quick action. False meter reader? Let's not meet. Amplify your career through training and development solutions specifically designed for federal government professionals, from courses to help you attain or retain certification to Please be aware of the work that is done in the field of management. Learn more at managementconcepts.com. That's managementconcepts.com. You know that fresh produce is the best produce. That's why at Crogr, we invest in local farmers to bring you seasonal picks that taste fresh

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I was infatuated. We talked online, video-chatted, texted, and called each other constantly for six months until we finally figured out how to meet in person. She came to visit. It was perfection. I was obsessed. And that was that.

We're still together to this day. Then it came time for her to fly back to North Carolina. This is where things started to go wrong. She had a flight to catch, and I was dragging my feet, trying to absorb every last moment and commit to memory, as I didn't know how long it would be until I got to see her again. We boarded a city bus, bags into and headed to the airport. The bus trip took longer than we had anticipated. And when we reached the airport, it was five minutes until boarding.

We ran to the luggage check-in, only to be told she had missed her flight. My lolligagging had made her miss her flight. Shit. A small part of me was secretly happy, but I had made her piss her flight. Shit. Small part of me was secretly happy, but I had no idea what to do. I didn't have a car or any money to get her another flight. However, the woman at the luggage counter found her another seat on a later flight. Eight hours later. Again, I had no car.

I was planning on riding the bus back home. We really couldn't leave the airport easily, so we looked for a spot to post up for a few hours. No problem. She had her laptop and some blankets and pillows meant to use for the flight. We could hang out a little while longer. I was actually looking forward to the additional time together. So we set off in search of somewhere to sit down and stretch out for a few hours. Meanwhile, I called my roommate at the time and asked if she could come down and bring some food in my wallet that I had left at home. We combed the airport and found an empty, quote-unquote, family room. Complete with chairs, loveseed,

and plenty of wall outlets. Even better, it had a door. There was also a large bathroom, but the door was closed. The airport was pretty desolate, and there was no one waiting to use the room. So we sat our stuff down, plugged in our computers and got some pillows, and snuggled down to watch a movie while we waited. My roommate showed up and we directed her to the room. She brought snacks and drinks and decided to wait with us and give me a ride home after. Cool, only like 6 more hours to go. The three of us sat in the included room, watching movies, and my roommate mostly on the phone with her girlfriend. Eventually, sometime during our second movie, we were startled by the sound of the door opening. Only it wasn't the door we came through.

It was the one that was closed the entire time. And it was the bathroom door. A man walked through the door and sat down across from us. He had been in that bathroom the entire time we were in here. None of us had bothered to check the bathroom. The light was on, but there hadn't been any sound coming from it. The man sitting across from us was average height, a bit overweight, dark hair, all of skin. His hair was wet, and he was holding a towel, running it over his head and scrubbing at his hair, the way you do when you've just finished a shower.

He didn't have any shoes, he was barefoot. He had no luggage with him. He was wearing khaki cargo shorts, a white undershirt, and an unbuttoned Hawaiian print shirt over the top. At this point, he was sitting across from us, sitting casually, as if he had not been in the bathroom for more than two hours, silently. Eventually he broke the tension in the room by asking us where we were flying to. We answered as casually as possible without giving away any information about ourselves. We asked him where he was going and he said, oh, wherever the wind takes me. Wherever the wind takes me. Okay, we were vague, but that was just straight up avoidance. I tried asking where he was from next.

Oh, nowhere. I have no home country. Wait, what? I was confused. I tried to ask him where he had come from. Was he local to this city? No, no. I'm from nowhere. I just go everywhere. Okay, so now I'm thinking maybe he's homeless and was just using the bathroom to clean up.

No big deal. He will wander off eventually, right? My roommate got up to go find a better place for a call reception, so she walked out the door that we came through, intentionally leaving it wide open. I could see a few people walking around now and I immediately felt better. The door is open. He can walk out whenever. We can walk out whenever. People can see us. Everything is alright. My roommate

wanders back in and sits down. We hunkered down for another movie. By now the man is dozing off in the armchair he sat in. And we did our best to ignore him, making sure the door was left open and people could see us. Sometime, during the millionth movie we were watching, we made a crucial mistake. We got bored and sleepy. We dozed off, stupidly, incredibly stupidly, but it's one of those things that you don't realize you've done until you're waking up. What we woke up to is forever engrained into my memory.

Hard banging on the door, the shouting of police officers. Something about opening the door and walking out with hands up. My eyes dart to the door. Why can't they open the door? There isn't a lock. I see it. At the bottom, maybe three or four industrial box cutters shoved underneath, wedged to keep the door from opening. My mind is reeling. What the fuck is going on? My mind is reeling. What the fuck is going on? He locked himself in here with us? How could I fall in a sleep?

How could we all have fallen asleep? The man starts talking. Okay, okay, no problem. I will open the door. Hang on, just a minute. He walks over to the door and pulls the box cutter out from under it, sliding their blades back in their holes, and places them in the pocket of his cargo shorts. He opens the door and the police officers immediately handcuff him.

They escort him away. All while he's explaining that he just wanted privacy and didn't mean any harm. Sure, dude. You needed box cutters shoved under the door for privacy, while you're in a secluded room with three 19-year-old girls. Right. The police asked us if we were okay and explained that they had been looking for him. Apparently he had the habit of coming to that airport and hiding out, harassing people, and being a general nuisance. We assured the

police that we were okay, unharmed, just rattled by the whole situation. In the end, we never did find out where he was from, or where he was going. So man from nowhere, let's not meet again. 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 wash code. Find your nearest location at zipscarwash.com

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Shop the sale online or visit your neighborhood Sherwin William Store. Click the banner to learn more! Retail sales only, some exclusions apply, see store for details. This may not be as terrifying as a lot of these posts are, but it freaked the hell out of me, especially since it was such a random shift in personality. A little bit of a description and backstory to help paint the picture. At the time of this, I was roughly 26 years old. I'm 30 now. My husband and I at the time lived in a military city. He was enlisted, and this particular

city was only popular, not just for the base at house, but by its incredible crime rate. Honestly, if people had warned us ahead of time, we would have happily moved out of the city and dealt with the long drive. But I digress. At the time, we lived in a duplex and a really bad neighborhood. The way the unit was set up was if you stood in the street or our parking lot style driveway and looked at the house. Our unit was to the left, our neighbours to the right, and exposed to the street, since our building was on the corner. The entire property was surrounded by a chain-link fence, save a six-foot privacy fence that ran along the back of the property to block our view of the parking lot

that led to the apartments behind us. A promise, this will be relevant. As I said, we lived in a horrible neighborhood where crackheads and hookers ran free. But I didn't ever feel overly unsafe. At the time, I had a 200-pound English massive, a sweetheart, but intimidating from a distance, and my size always gave me a hint of security. I'm five-nine, and definitely not a beanpole. We also had a few sweet neighbors which helped buffer the horrible. One such neighbor was a man that walked the neighborhood regularly. He walked everywhere, and our house was about centre in his path to the store and the like, so we'd see him at least once a day or so.

Dwayne was a nice enough man, my height, roughly my build, and always smiling, but not that creeper kind of smile, a normal jovial smile. He never set off alarm bells, which makes this more disturbing. We'd been living in our house about a year or so, and all the while got me to know some of our neighbours better. Up until this point, Dwayne would always wave hello and offer some small talk. He'd speak to my husband more than myself because I just don't do well in the southern hate and he tended to be long-winded. So I'd wave, say hello, and go inside after a few short minutes. Everything was fine, until my husband was deployed. We'd been married at that point for six years,

and this was his fifth deployment during that time, so I was used to being left alone. It didn't bother me in the least, especially since it would be a nine-week deployment. Seriously, we were so pissed about that. What a pointless time frame, and I'd already learned the layout of the new city fairly well. One day, I was coming home from the grocery store about two weeks after my husband had left. I'm a firm believer in one trip with the bags, so I loaded up my arms completely and headed to the house. As I said before, our yard was completely encased in a fence, so just after I managed to shut the gate, I hear someone calling

up at me. Turning, I saw Dwayne bearing his normal, happy, wide smile and heading for me. I shift the bags and give him my attention. I was raised to be polite to people, and since I knew him vaguely, I had no problem saying hello. Besides, seeing my arms full of groceries, some of which was milk, bags, and other cold things, he surely wouldn't keep me too long. I was wrong." He starts droning on about nothing in particular, during which I could only smile and nod. I waited patiently for a break in the conversation so I could head inside, but he barely took a second

to breathe, let alone let me speak. For a little while, the conversation had been pretty mundane, until he started talking about his lady friend. Without warning, he started to tell me explicit details about his relationship with whoever this woman was. He went on to tell me how much he likes what he can do to her, his techniques and to my horror, how good he is at going down on her. I knew I must have looked as horrified as I felt because he just started chuckling and went on as though nothing was wrong. He even

went so far as to ask if my husband was as good. At this point, not only were the grocery bags digging into my hands and arm, but I was thoroughly creeped the fuck out. I told him, I had to go put the groceries away and let the fuck out. I told him I had to go put the groceries away and let the dogs out. I thought that was the end of the conversation, but evidently not. Nor was it any less unsettling. Oh yeah! Your man's gone now, huh? It took my brain a second to realize what he'd said. I never told him my husband was gone. I didn't tell anyone who wasn't a close friend, so naturally my guard rose.

Yeah, he went on. You need someone to take care of you. I'm fine. It was all I could really think to say. For some reason, I didn't even bother saying he was wrong. I guess on some level, I thought my husband must have told him. Well, how about I come by later and make you dinner tonight? I'm a hell of a cook! I knew my brows came together and my eyes were wide because I could feel it.

How about six? I can come back around six, make you some dinner, and then we can watch some TV. You shouldn't be alone. He just kept persisting, which made every hair on my body stand on end. I told him no thanks. Didn't even tell him to fuck off, which I have no idea why not, and turned around. Without bothering to look back, I went inside, locked my doors, and waited until I was sure he was gone before letting out my dogs. By the time six came, I didn't even want to be in the house in case he did stop by. After making sure everything was locked up tight, I left, drove around for an hour or so before coming home. I didn't even bother turning on more than the TV when I got back,

just in case he came by again. I didn't see him for a couple of days, maybe a week and a half. I was a smoker back then, and hated smoking in the house, so I'd let the dogs out, smoke a cigarette, then bring them back inside. After Dwayne's disturbing confrontation, I took to smoking in the backyard on my back steps. From where I sat, I could only see a few feet of the main street, being as our unit was away from the street. Beside the neighbors who had trees and bushes and the privacy fence between us and the

apartments, I felt relatively shielded. I knew that if I saw Dwayne, I'd be more than capable of ducking around the corner of the house and hiding. Like I said, it was just a small strip of the road that left me exposed. It was really easy to stay hidden. Or so I thought. One day, I'm standing outside in the front yard, talking to the sweet little old lady that lived across the street.

We were just having a nice little talk until Dwayne suddenly came walking up. I, of course, felt uneasy. But a little safer with my neighbour there since I didn't think he'd be as gross as he was before. He wasn't. But he was no less creepy. My neighbour had asked me if I quit smoking because she didn't see me out front anymore. That was usually what she'd used to come and say hi since she was always gardening. I didn't immediately answer because Dwayne was there, but it didn't matter. He spoke up first and told my neighbour, nah, she smokes in the backyard now. My blood ran cold. Not once. Not one single fucking time had I seen him walk by while I was back there. I never seen him walk by while I was back there.

I never saw him walk by while I was back there, nor did I catch a glimpse of him when I stepped out of my front door and walked around back. Never. I politely excused myself and went inside. Creeped out as hell. The only way I could think he might have known I was in the back was if he somehow had been watching me through the bushes and trees in my neighbour's yard to the other side, or through the privacy fence that led to the apartments. Each thought was as disturbing as the last. I couldn't stand the thought of him peering at me from the shadows. That was the last time I smoked outside. I didn't go outside unless I had errands to run until my husband came home a few weeks later. I'd told him everything, and he admitted that was creepy as hell and just told me to keep

our mastiff close, who was very protective of me. And I did. The last time I saw Dwayne was just a glimpse. I had let my dogs outside outside and a few minutes after sitting back on the couch, I heard my mastiff losing his mind. Anyone who owns a dog knows the difference between a normal bark and an angry, I'm going to rip your leg off bark. This was the latter, and it terrified me. Until this point, he'd only ever growled protectively twice and never barked. Freaked out, I opened up the front door, and saw

Dwayne standing halfway up my driveway. It looked like he'd been walking up to my fence, probably to say, hi, when my dog caught sight of him. The bark was so ferocious that it had him and me completely still. My dog continued to bark and even charged the fence, which he could easily have taken down if he chose. Every hair on the back of his neck and down his spine was standing on end, and it was pretty obvious he wanted a piece of dwayne. Dwayne glanced at me, forced a smile and a wave, and backed slowly out of the driveway. My dog didn't calm down until he was out of sight, at which time I was able to get him

in the house. I was so grateful that I gave him half a package of sliced turkey lunch meat. I don't know what, if Dwayne had anything planned, but my dog, who never had a problem with him up until that point, definitely knew something wasn't right. Like I said, we'd been in that house for just over a year, and many times Dwayne had stopped at the fence to talk and our dog never reacted like that. It still freaks me out to think about why my dog suddenly changed his mind. I haven't seen him since. So Dwayne, we may have known each other, but for your sake, let's not meet again. My dog may have something to say about it. At Croger, you can find the highest quality products at a great price in every aisle every day with Croger brand.

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A pro, each CERTA-PRO painter's business is independently owned and operated. Often mentioned to be one of the most dangerous jobs in America, being a delivery driver definitely has its pros and cons. Aside from the horror stories you hear of drivers being called to abandoned houses with malicious intent, being stabbed or even shot, I had no doubt in my mind that I wanted to try out being a delivery driver. My reasoning was led by the fact that it would be decent money for a college student. And I'd get to do what I genuinely enjoy doing,

driving around, blasting music, satisfying my nicotine addiction while on the clock, and getting to explore new roads and various landscapes. I didn't think much about the dangers, but I must have subconsciously realized that the area I was going to be delivering in was mostly a wealthier business district with little crime. My sophomore year of college was over and after leaving my previous job to focus on my heavy course load, it was time to take advantage of the summer. I was hired at the first and only place I applied to for delivery. This was about a 30 minute commute from my house and I'd be delivering in a town and

city that I previously had no familiarity with. Besides the nervousness of trying to impress at the start of my new job, I was excited to get started and get in my car. I must know that I was never warned of anything or told any alarming stories by any of the management or other delivery drivers. That's because there were none until I landed the delivery shift six months later that would traumatize me and force changes in the policies of this company. So it was a normal night per usual and I was on a delivery to the neighboring city only about 15 minutes

out. There was a confusing numbering system on the small apartment complexes that occupied the left side of the road. I believed that my GPS took me to the right lot, but when I pulled in, I couldn't seem to find the apartment number that was listed. A nice guy was walking his cute little dog, so I politely asked if this was 22 whatever street and he responded talkatively. He said no sadly and then he realizes how confusing these streets can get. Before I get a chance to ask if he knows what direction to send me and he quickly asks an assortment of questions none of which made me uncomfortable.

He saw I was delivering food and asked what it was. I hadn't put the light on the top of the car so it made sense that he was curious, not a crazy amount of places deliver around there. He then got oddly excited asking if I had a menu, what time we deliver until, and if I'm the only one delivering on this Sunday night. After quickly answering kindly and interrupting, I asked if you could point me to the way, because I was in a rush to get back. He said he isn't too sure, but he insists on walking his dog up the road while I drive out, so he could help me figure it out.

After a minute or two of navigating, he said where to try next. I thanked him, smiled and told him to feel free to call for delivery and I'll be back out with your food and no time. I said this because he said he was starving asked for a menu and seemed so excited about the fact that we delivered. As the night came close to an end, I was hoping I didn't get any more delivery calls after 9.15. Delivery shut down at 9.30, but if a call was placed anywhere before that, I would be stuck driving and not get out to at least 10. What do you know? An order was placed at 9.2020 and I would leave with it at 940. At this point I'm on autopilot and just following my GPS not paying attention to where I might be going. As I recognize

the similar street which I'd only been on for the first time today and here my GPS say to turn left in .2 miles, I realize it has to be that guy that helped me out earlier. I pull in, park, approach the door, and knock. I hear faint music that seems to have gotten louder after my knock, so I ring the doorbell. I'm greeted by the friendly man, both of us smiling at each other. I guess you decided cooking wasn't for you tonight, I say, light heartedly in a humorous manner. He then said something along the lines of

cooking isn't something I had waste my time on. Plus, I believe raw food is the only way to feast. is the only way to feast. I laughed thinking to myself that this guy is definitely an odd one. He insists that I step in and put the bags down in his kitchen. Most of the time I don't go into the customer's homes, but it wasn't so uncommon. I comply, step in, and he says to take off your shoes. Then this made me uncomfortable. Never have I been told to come in someone's house on my delivery job and then told to take off my shoes. This is in an out job. I was not here to sit down and kick up my feet.

I figure this guy just has some issues or OCD, so as I slip my shoes off, this moment seemed to move in slow motion and last longer than it did. My eyes fix on this strange, runner, small carpet next to a shoe rack that was made of what seemed to be black feathers. Simultaneously, I'm listening to the song he has playing, which gave me a sense of extreme discomfort and anxiety. It was scarily familiar. I almost felt as if I was experiencing the feeling of deja vu. I now realize it was a song I remembered from when I played Fallout 3 and Galaxy News Radio

played a wonderful guy. If you've played this game and remember the song you should be able to confirm how strange it is. I follow him to his counter and place the bags down next to what looked like a stuffed crow in aivity scene. He sees me examining it and says, did you know when a crow dies, a mob of a hundred live ones will gather in ceremony. It's their way to learn about threats and they hesitate to revisit locations where they have encountered a dead crow. I pulled out the payments lip from the sign and shook off his previous statements, saying,

interesting. As he signs, he continues the subject and says something about how he thinks we can learn a lot of lessons from the behaviors of crows. I thanked him for signing, and as I moved to walk out, I said, I'll have to look into that, hooking to shut him up about his obsession with crows. As I'm putting my shoes back on, he says, one last thing, if I said someone was killed here, would you be hesitant to come back? If I said I was responsible,

would you revisit this location? location. I panicked, sped out, and fled to work with thoughts rushing through my head. A couple sleepless nights after that, and five months later, and the run-in continues to haunt me. Looking back, it seems as if he saw something about me that made him want to know if I was the only delivery driver working. After telling him our clothes time for delivery, it seemed like he purposely planned to wait till the latest possible time, ensuring he would be my last delivery. I really still think about what this man is up to every time I work. 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

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

Straight forward is better. No equipment fees, no data caps, no price increase at 12 months. Live like a Gagillionaire with AT&T Fiber. Limited availability in select areas. Visit AT&T.com slash Hypergate for details. So a few people asked me to post another of my stories from my time of working private security and the Let's Not Meet moments that I had. This happened about two years ago.

It's the last and final private security gig I had. It's also what made me say fuck it and join my dad up in the Pacific Northwest. So I worked out in Beverly Hills, California. I was a guard at a luxury community. This place was the Creme de la Creme. They had strict policies in place as far as security went. That didn't stop paparazzi or other strange folk from trying to get in, but we would more often than not cut them off at the knees. There were no less than four of us on patrol at any given time. Two at the guard shack watching

the folks entering and two running patrol in a golf cart. One night we were short-staffed. There was just myself and big D. D was huge and he was a former bouncer. He also at one time had been a bodyguard for Britney Spears. He had to use a restroom so he decided to go on patrol and then run by the clubhouse to use a facility. So I'm chilling in the guard shack which was actually a pretty nice little office when our phone rings. Now the only people that could call into us were residents, or someone calling from the clubhouse or bowl area. I answer and there's nothing but just heavy breathing. I look to see who's calling and it's the clubhouse. I think it's D, fucking around.

I tell him to go fuck himself and hang up. A few minutes go by and I'm flipping through my manga. Phone rings again. Clubhouse, I answer it and tell D to finish his shit and come back. Heavy breathing, and then a raspy voice. That's not nice, Nate. It's not day. Because I see him coming back in the golf cart.

Now I'm petrified. Who the fuck is calling? The voice creepily giggles, then hangs up. I toss my manga and fly out the door. I tell D what happened, and how the dude knew my name. Do you think I'm fucking around because we often play jokes on each other, and he says he will go back to check it out. I tell him he better call our boss, but he rolls his eyes and tells me he will go back to check it out. I tell him he better call our boss,

but he rolls his eyes and tells me he will be right back. Besides, he never got to use the restroom. So I go back into the shack and try to calm myself down, and the phone rings. I don't want to answer it, but I do. It's more heavy breathing. I had enough. I called our boss, who bitched about it, but came down. D, meanwhile, gets back, and the dude looks like he saw a ghost. He tells us he's in the restroom in the clubhouse, and someone comes in as he's going to the bathroom. They don't say anything, just heavy breathing. They get into the stall next to him,

and just as he's flushing, he looks up, and some man wearing a mask, covering his eyes, and most of his face is just staring at him with the most peculiar grin. Dees Grames and pulls up his pants and the guy books it. Our boss wrote it off as a teenager playing a prank. He wouldn't let us call the cops. He said, it must be a resident who knows my name as we wear badges. I wanted to quit, but I didn't that night. But the next weekend, while I'm at work,

D is in the booth with me, and we are just talking about the Lakers game when the phone rings. D answers and says, it's for you. I take it thinking, who would be asking for me an answer. Nothing for a second. Then that horrible breathing. I look at D and then the phone.

I hang up. We tell the other two security guards to stay there and we take off for the clubhouse. We get there and it's quiet. Start going through the game room, then the kitchen, and we peek into both bathrooms, and nothing. Then we get radioed that one of the others saw a figure jumping over the wall. The walls were pretty high, and they said he or she scaled it with no problem. We call the cops, as we are supposed to do, if someone gets in, and they come in sweet the area. Meanwhile one of my co-workers finds a notebook outside of the clubhouse, like it fell out

of someone's pocket. It was one of those small lined notebooks with pages that tear out. In it, someone had written not only my full name, but every security officer's name that worked there, and their home address. After learning that, I quit. I was making good money and liked my co-workers, but knowing that he or she knew my name and where I lived made my decision to quit. And move up to where my dad lived, which was much easier. From what I've heard from D and former co-workers, they've only heard from the heavy breathing man

one more time, but it was enough that three or more of them quit, including D. My former boss and the police think it was a former co-worker, but they haven't figured out who, or if it was, so whoever you are, let's not meet ever. We all have that one axe that just grinds our gears, but mine is fairly more creepy than the average drunk texting arsehole. About three years ago, I was in a long-distance relationship with a younger man, meaning he

was only 17 at the time while I turned 19 in the relationship. His name is Peter. Peter was not a nice person, to say the least. He thought that the first impressions he made on people were the only one he needed, and as such he stopped being nice, polite, or reasonable to people after the first meeting. I was young and saw past this, thinking I could somehow change him. However, this abuse towards people around me and myself eventually became too much and I broke off the relationship with him. The breakup went smoothly, all things considered, except he wanted me to say the words so he

could play the victim. This had been a core element of our fighting, because he hinted that he wanted the breakup, but instead of just saying it, he kept me on the hook and became even more abusive. I'm getting sidetracked, but the point was that I thought of the matter as resolved and entered a loving relationship with my current boyfriend shortly after this. Then came the day where Peter wanted to get his belongings back. I texted him a list of everything he'd left to my apartment and he ok'd that it was everything. We also made an appointment for him to stop by my apartment around 3pm the following Thursday.

I have no intentions of letting him back into my home nor being alone with him since he suddenly seems to have many mood swings after seeing me in another relationship. He has been blocked for my Facebook account but somehow knew I was in a new relationship which was a major red flag to me and my boyfriend. Thursday came and I felt eager just to be done with it. My boyfriend and I were walking home from high school when my phone rings. It's Peter. He yells at me that he's now been waiting at the train station for over an hour.

I try to reason with him, agree to meet him there with his belongings since he needs to catch a train. My boyfriend walks with me to the train station, but we arrive only to find it vacant. I live in a small town, and the train station is mostly used during rush hours in the morning and evening. It is also located rather bizarrely among normal residences, and there are a lot of alleyways leading all over town from there. I get a text stating that Peter can see us, but won't come out of hiding when my boyfriend

is there. We leave his stuff on a bench at the train station, calmly replying that I'm not actually interested in meeting with him. When I say calmly, I mean that my reply is calm. I'm shaking and my boyfriend is furious over this child's play. On our way home, I received another text. This time, he states that he has a gift for me and it's in my mailbox. This freaks us out even more, mostly because this indicates that he might be waiting at my home. It is entirely possible that he watched us in the train

station and then ran all the way to my apartment. However, there's no trace of him and nothing except a bill in my mailbox. By now we figure that he's acting up out of spite and proceeded to ignore the bombardment of text calls and so forth that followed that day. After a while, life returned to normal. Then I got another call, this time for my ex's elder brother, who's worried about his sibling. Apparently, he's disappeared, taking one of his brother's gas pistols. I'm speechless, but since I haven't seen anything, I shake it off as another childish act.

The same day, my boyfriend sees police officers walking around the basement staircase on the exterior of the house we lived in while doing some grocery shopping. He did this every day around 4 p.m. The next day, we were contacted by my boyfriend's mother. In the newspaper, there's a description of an unarmed young man from the same town as Peter, who has been arrested for attempted robbery of the pizza place I lived above. He was armed with a knife, a gas pistol, and lighter fluid, while stating that he was not attempting a robbery, but was there to visit his ex, presumably me.

Contacting the police, I discover that he also had a mask, fake papers, and a wig in a duffle bag, which he'd thrown down into the staircase when around 4pm, he had jumped offence and tried to enter the pizza place. This means that my boyfriend went out the front door while my ex was hiding right beside the front door, armed. I've never been that freaked out before. The sad truth is that my ex never got charged with anything because he's a minor, has a father with a military background and money. I rate this now because after three years, I thought that this horror story was finally

a closed chapter. That was until I received a declaration of love from a fake email account signed Peter. I received this just two weeks ago. To clarify, I never wrote him back and marked the male span. Hopefully it'll be the last I ever hear of it. Thank you for listening to this week's episode of Let's Not Meet a True Horror Podcast this week you have heard. Not always what it seems by Mikey Machine. Home Alone by Ligamintry.

The Man From Nowhere by Death Girl. My Friendly Neighbor by Mandalorian hybrid. Delivery drivers dark experience by Mr. Wavy. He knew my name by their out to get us. And finally, my ex the privileged sociopath by Black Ink Mindtrap. Thanks again for appearing on the show years and years ago, Sarah Aubrey, Sorenarnia, and Liz Sauer again.

Make sure you check out all of their work links to Sarah Aubrey's work, Knife Point Horror, and Ghost in the Burbs will all be available in the show notes. If you are a patron don't forget to stick around after the music for your extended ad-free version of this week's episode and and if you want to join, head over to patreon.com forward slash Let's Not Meet podcast to join, support the show today and get access to all of the bonus content. 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 want to hear your story on the show, send it to Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com.

I'll see you all next week for a brand new episode of Let's Not Meet a True Horror Podcast. Stay safe. This is a pretty recent story. I started talking to this guy through one of the dating apps. 18T fiber presents a straightforward moment. You're wine. Thanks. I'll pretend I know what I'm doing before saying it's good. And I'll pretend I don't know you're pretending.

Are you a Gagillionaire? Yeah, I have AT&T Fiber. The straightforward pricing has inspired me to be more straightforward. Me too. Ugh, this one. I'll fetch you a better one. Straight forward is better. No equipment fees, no data caps, no price increase at 12 months.

Live like a Gagillionaire with AT&T Fiber. Limited availability in select areas, visit AT&T.com slash Hypergig for details. AT&T Fiber presents a straightforward moment. Your wine? Thanks. I'll pretend I know what I'm doing before saying it's good. And I'll pretend I don't know you're pretending.

Are you a Gagillionaire? Yeah, I have AT&T Fiber. The straightforward pricing has inspired me to be more straightforward. Me too. Ugh, this wine. I'll fetch you a better one. Straight forward is better. No equipment fees, no data caps, no price increase at 12 months. Live like a Giga-Gillionaire with AT&T fiber.

Limited availability in select areas. Visit ATT.com slash Hypergate for details.