Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 7x15: Run Faster - Let's Not Meet

Episode Date: December 6, 2021

Check out my new true paranormal podcast Odd Trails on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts today! Stories in this episode: -Run Faster - Hatter (1:43). -Creepy Maintenance Worker Who Is Now My Neighbor - Liz (12:15). -Creep At The Window With The Camera - Blanche D (23:14). -Two Stories - iamidonquixote (40:44). -The Child Murderer - Patrizia (53:23). Extended Patreon Content: -My First Stalker - Kelsey. -Creepy Adult Housemate - Nicki. -Two Stories - Anon. All of the stories you've heard this week were narrated and produced with the permission of their respective authors. Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast is not associated with Reddit or any other message boards online. To submit your story to the show, send it to [e-mail]. Get access to extended, ad-free episodes of Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast with bonus stories every week along with a bunch of other great exclusive material and merch at patreon.com/letsnotmeetpodcast. This podcast would not be possible to continue at this rate without the help of the support of the legendary LNM Patrons. Come join the family! Make the switch to PrettyLitter TODAY! Get 20% off your first order by visiting Prettylitter.com and use promo code MEET. Shudder has the largest, fastest growing human curated selection of thrilling and dangerous entertainment. To try Shudder free for 30 days, go to shudder.com and use promo code meet. This podcast is sponsored by BetterHelp and my listeners get 10% off their first month at betterhelp.com/MEET. Go to theouai.com and use code MEET to get 15% off your entire purchase. - 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. Hey everyone, I'm excited to announce

the long awaited release of odd trails. My new true paranormal podcast hosted alongside my longtime friend Brandon Lanier. We'll be covering all things weird and otherworldly. Hauntings, shadow people, alien encounters, spiritual visitors, you name it. All written and submitted by those that experienced these bizarre encounters themselves.

Think of it as let's not meet in the Twilight Zone. You can subscribe now, and here are very first episode on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or any platform of your choice today, or head to oddtrails.com to learn more. As usual, links will be available in the show notes. I know many of you have been dying to check out this show, and trust me when I say we

have a lot of weird and terrifying stories to share. So when you're done with this episode of Let's Not Meet, make your way over to odd trails for your weekly dose of the true paranormal. Oh, and don't forget, this podcast contains adult language and content. episode 15 of Let's Not Meet a True Horror Podcast. I live in the city, and like any city, you get used to eccentric characters, especially on public transportation. I've had my fair share of odd or even scary experiences. These range from creepy old men, sitting just a little too close, to witnessing attempted arson,

to running into a co-worker so drunk that they pissed themselves. At the end of the day, if I come home unscathed, I can brush it off and tell myself it'll make for an interesting story later. But there was only one day, years ago, that still gives me chills. For some context, at the time I was about 19 and presented as female. I had just moved out of my parents' house and was enjoying my newfound freedom as an adult. I used to love spending time by myself and exploring. I was lucky enough to snag an apartment in the heart of downtown with some roommates,

so there was always something to do in the area. I used to work early shifts and get off around noon, so one day, with a whole bright sunny afternoon ahead of me, I thought I'd hop on the light rail and go shopping. The area that I wanted to go to was only about a 10 minute ride away. What could happen? I followed my usual public transportation route. Find a spot, pop my headphones in, whether I'm listening to anything or not, and keep my head down. I think we all know this doesn't always keep weirdos away, but I like to think, seeming closed off and anti-social at least helps.

The light rail comes to a stop, and a handful of passengers climb on, including a man and his bike. He was in his 20s, I'd say, skinny, not much taller than me, with short, unkempt, brown hair, and equally unkempt stubble. He wore a big, baggy jacket with lots of pockets. Who knows what he had in them? It wasn't my business. And he really looked like an average guy, so after a cursory glance, my head just stayed down. Hey, baby. It was a man's voice. And by how close it was, I knew it was the guy on the bike. I didn't reply.

Hey, baby, he said again. What's your name? As awful as it sounds, I feel like getting hit on by weirdos on the light rail or bus is some unfortunate right of passage. It happens to everyone I know, and has happened to me plenty of times. I've even been threatened before, but I really wasn't too afraid here. It was the middle of the day, and the cart was full of other people. I decided to continue ignoring him. I thought, hey, worst case scenario. I heard the guy's ego and get called some rude names. As I pretended not to hear him over my headphones, which were on mute at this point, I found myself preparing for some kind of escalation.

I wasn't giving this strange man the attention he craved, and usually that led to some kind of outburst. But this guy was calm and quiet, and despite no reply, he still spoke to me. He asked where I was from, where I was heading. Do I want any company? The usual. I remained silent, but I could feel his eyes on me, watching me, unmoving. My stop finally came, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I climbed out of the cart, not even looking at the guy. I was ready to just brush off the whole situation. When I heard someone step off behind me, who else would step right up to my side?

All too close, but the guy and his bike. I started walking forward, and as this guy hopped on his bike to follow, my heart started beating too fast. I didn't look back. As I walked, I was already making a game plan. Ahead, just across the street was the shopping district, which included a grocery store. I knew there were always security guards in there, so if the guy was still following me, I thought I could get some help. It'd only take a minute or two to get there anyway.

And then everything got a little bit weird. A little of a sudden this guy started singing to me. But it wasn't any song you can think of. He sang in this light, cheery tone that matched his carelessness towards my attitude. The words however are what sent chills down my spine. The words however are what sent chills down my spine. Run away, he's saying. Run away faster. I'm going to get you.

This isn't happening, I thought. When I look back on this story, I know I should have said something. Yeld screamed, made a scene, told the guy to fuck off. I could have even stopped and asked for any passerby for help. I don't know why I didn't. I think I was just too scared. I wasn't even brave enough to look back and check how close the guy was if he was close enough to reach out and grab me,

I'm going to get you, hey continued, I'm going to hurt you, I'm going to kill you, run faster. I could hear this smile in his voice. I did what he said though, I ran faster. I finally came to my senses and bolted across his street, across the parking lot. Just before I entered the store, I looked back, and there he was. Still riding at the same pace as before, casual, he was rolling across the lot towards me. I went inside and found the nearest employee. I tried to stay calm, kept my voice down.

I didn't want to cause panic, but I needed some fucking help. I explained the whole situation to them. I told them I planned to call an Uber to pick me up from the parking lot and take me elsewhere so that I could escape the guy. But I was scared to even step back out alone. I didn't know what that man was going to do to me. Maybe he just wanted to scare me. But I wasn't about to take those chances. As the employee called for security, I kept glancing at the entrance, expecting him to waltz in at any moment.

He'd see me immediately. What did he want? What was he going to do? Eventually, a security guard came down. He wanted me to step outside with him and point the guy out. Still shaken up. But filling a bit more secure now. I agreed and we re-entered the parking lot. I looked all around the lot, the alley on the side of the building.

I glanced back over the side of the street to see if he had returned to the light rail stop, but he was gone. At that point, I felt like some insane asshole who just wasted this employee's time. Still, he was nice, at least nice enough to wait with me until my Uber arrived. I went home that day instead. I didn't feel like hanging around in the area anymore. In case my light rail creep found me and decided to treat me to another serenade. For a while after that incident, I didn't do a whole lot of exploring.

To the grocery store employee and security guard who helped me out thank you, sincerely, and to the emotionless dickhead on the bike that gets his kicks out of scaring the shit out of strange girls. Let's not meet. This town ain't big enough for the both of us. Ain't put one thing to do! Yep, start banking at community banks. Say what? We'll grow this town bigger by doing business with community banks. That way, our money will get reinvested locally and help small businesses grow in prosper. Son of a Shattlespur!

This town will be big enough for the both of us. Help your community grow. Find your community bank at vanglocaly.org. 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. I was in my early 20s and working on my undergraduate degree at a small private college just 30 minutes from my hometown. The college town was small, and there wasn't much going on, but I felt safe most of the time.

In my junior year, I was excited to be moving off campus and into my first apartment. I had never lived alone before, but the rent was affordable, and I decided that I was ready to be on my own. For reference, I lived in an old renovated high school. There was something about it that just felt weird to me. The lockers were still in the building. It was filled with apartments, yet there was never a sound in the hallways. It was so eerie and quiet most of the time.

My apartment was the old French classroom and had high ceilings and almost floor to ceiling windows. Apart from being a little creeped out, I was happy there. Not long after I moved into my apartment, I received a message on Facebook. Now I didn't recognize the name, but I opened the message anyway. It was a man that worked at the college that I went to as a general maintenance worker. We'll call this man Jim. I didn't know his name, but after looking at his profile I remembered his face, and remembered seeing him around campus quite a bit.

He used to say hi to me. He was probably in his late 30s or early 40s. He had this rugged look, but seemed nice. I was just barely 21 at the time, and still very naive, so I messaged him back and told him that I remembered him. Looking back, I wish I never opened the message. The message soon turned uncomfortable, when he started telling me how pretty I was and asking if I was single.

Feeling a bit weird I stopped responding to him and deleted the message. I was nervous to potentially run into him on campus, so I told one of my professors what happened. She said that he had been recently fired and was under investigation for theft from the college. I didn't think much about it after that. I figured I would never see him again. A couple of weeks after the message, I went to a local bar with a close friend. It was

a Saturday night and between school and work, we were ready to have some fun and just let go. As we walked up to the bar, we waited as the people ahead of us were showing their IDs to the bouncer. We were next, and as I reached into my wallet to fish out my ID, I look up, and to my surprise, it's Jim. He smiled at me, as I looked down at my ID, hesitating to give it to him. I had just turned 21, so I had to get an updated license. When I updated my license, I updated my address to my current apartment. I was about to hand him all of the personal

information on this tiny plastic card. Has it tentally, I gave him my ID. He eyed it for a while and handed it back to me. Quickly walking past him to get inside, I told my friend who he was. She brushed it off and thought that I was being paranoid, so I just put it out of my mind. A couple of drinks in, and my friend and I are having fun when Jim approaches us. He offers to buy my friend and I a drink, but I quickly decline. Now my friend started chatting him up while I uncomfortably sat with my drink. Jim then says that he actually just won a thousand dollars from a gaming machine and that we could use it to gamble on the gaming machine in the corner of the bar. Before I could say no, my friend excitedly agreed, and we were at the gaming machine.

Jim Hoverd and watched as we spent all of the money that he gave us. He wasn't mad or happy, nor really anything. I still cannot understand why he gave us that money to spend, and I feel weird about it to this day. After I told my friend that I wanted to leave, we snuck out without saying another word to him. Fast forward to the next week. I'm in my apartment enjoying a cup of coffee.

I look at the window to see it's a beautiful day and the sun is shining. Across the street from the apartments, there were a few old houses. Two of those houses looked to be abandoned. I noticed someone was mowing the lawn at the abandoned house, which I thought was odd. At that moment, the man mowing looked back at the apartments, and to my surprise it was Jim. He kept looking at the apartments every couple of seconds as he was mowing. I immediately dropped to the floor and tried to avoid the window. I can't be sure, but I had this sinking feeling he was looking for me. My windows were massive.

Could he be watching me? Did he see me looking out the windows? I was freaked out, but again, I thought I was just being paranoid so I just avoided the windows and continued on with my day. Fast forward one last time to the following week. I'm coming back from the gym, and I walk through the doors of my apartment building. I round the corner to my hallway and stop dead in my tracks.

Gym is standing in the hallway. I freeze and fear. Alarm bells are going off in my head. What the hell is you doing here? And why is he just a few feet away from my apartment door? Remember me mentioning the halls? How they were always quiet. In that moment, they were absolutely silent. No other soul was around. No one to hear me yell. No one to help me. At least that's what my brain was telling me. He looks at me and gives me a crooked smile. He says, hey neighbor. I stumble over my words but manage to say, what? He repeats it again. He tells

me that we're neighbors now and informed me that he just moved into the apartment next to mine. He then asks if he can come over to dinner. I tell him that is not going to happen as I jam the key into my apartment door and slam it behind me. I lock the door immediately. I listened and waited for him to walk away. He hovered around for a while, but eventually left. I am now reeling. What is his plan? Is this really a coincidence am I overreacting? What if he's now doing maintenance at the apartments and he has a key?

All of these thoughts race through my head in a full panic. I do eventually calm myself down and decide to add an additional deadbolt to my door. We weren't supposed to do that since maintenance wouldn't be able to get in, but honestly, that was the whole idea. I put a new deadbolt on my door, and that made me feel a little bit better. I saw him in the hallways after that, and every time I saw him, he would ask me when I was going to invite him over for dinner. I moved out shortly after that, and heard from him one last time when

he messaged me on Facebook, asking why I left and where I was going. I blocked him on social media, and I haven't heard from him since I moved out of that town. I still wonder to this day, if it was all a strange coincidence, or if he was stalking me. Either way, creepy maintenance Amplify your career through training and development solutions specifically designed for federal government professionals, from courses to help you attain or retain certification to individualized coaching services, to programs at home, your leadership skills, and business acumen. Management concepts optimizes your professional development, online in-person, individually, or groups.

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Visit ATT.com slash Hypergate for details. I've been a long time listener and I've thought about sharing my story, but never have. This is the craziest shit that has ever happened to me this far in my life. I'm now 35 and lived through my fair share of insanity, but this one takes the cake. So this story starts in the fall semester of 2005 to 2006 when I was a sophomore in college. For context, I went to a decent-sized state school that was within a few miles of the beach. The closeness of the beach made it a huge party school where people were out and about

most hours of the night. At the time, I lived on the first floor of a four-story building on campus where the floor is alternated, from the first floor up, girls, guys, girls, which was the women's swim team, and lastly, guys. Each floor had a common living room and kitchen, and then it split off, and had three rooms to the right and three on the left. There was also a huge metal dead-bolted door that served as the front door to each suite. I stayed on the right side in the two-person room with huge glass windows that faced a pretty busy tree-lined road. pretty busy tree-lined road. The road was so close that for added security, the school made sure that each of those

rooms had their own individual deadbolt, in addition to the deadbolted front door. I know these details are a bit tedious, but I promise this all wraps around, so stay with me. Many of my friends and sweet mates would be out partying all hours of the night, drunk, and belligerent. I'm honestly shocked that they made it home some nights. Plus, I can't tell you how many times they've lost keys, cell phones, shoes, and would end up banging on my windows to let them in the front door.

I guess one day, the sweetmates got tired of asking and started leaving the deadbolt in the locked position so that the main door never locked shut. It became more and more convenient when you were carrying things in or on your way out and just needed to push through. It was also a way to have the sweet parties on the weekends where people can go from floor to floor and just party. We, as a group on the floor, had gotten to know everyone in the building and felt pretty comfortable, chit chatting and opening our rooms for people to come in and chill.

My roommate and I, because of this new development, with the sliding bolt, felt that it would be best if we were to sleep with our deadbolt to our rooms locked as well. It wasn't a huge deal, but it helped us sleep better. Now we enter, who I'll call George. George was a very big guy, tall and broad shoulder. Definitely a football player or played some sort of physical sport because he was solid as a brick shit house. He and his friend who I'll call Zen wandered down one night to see who was drinking and still hanging out as it was late and some people were already passing out.

My roommate, me, and our two next door neighbors hung out and drank with them. It was fun and we really enjoyed getting to know them. George was really digging my roommate and Zen was fun to talk to and play beer pong with. I wasn't taking anything else further with Zen that night because I had a boyfriend and he was deployed at the time and I rack. I was very in love with him. Insert Hyrule here. Zen was very cool about it and we continued our friendship that lasted beyond college. Once all of the liquor was gone and the keg tapped, George and Zen stumbled up to the floor above us. We all called it a night and let the heavy door swing shut, dead bolt and locked position for the late night neighbors that we lived with.

Over the next couple of months, we partied hard many times with George and Zinn, as well as a small collective of their friends that came and went. George was still really into my roommate. He tried asking her out numerous times, only to be turned down time after time. He just wasn't her type. only to be turned down time after time. He just wasn't her type. I guess after being shut down so many times, he honed in on me as his next target. I put my hand into his face so fast because I was taken and not interested. Even if I were single, he really wasn't my type either, but at the time he was so sweet. I was into the tattooed and pierced bad boy variety, as I'm pretty covered in tattoos and pierced myself, so I assumed that my denial of his advances was the final straw, because

George never came around anymore after that. Even when we asked Zen where he was, he was never really straightforward with us, and was generally dodgy about the subject. We just shrugged it off as George paying pissed off or being turned down by almost every girl in my suite. We just went along with our lives. Fast forward a month or two later, it's spring semester. Remember those big, almost floor-to-ceiling windows that I had in my room?

Yeah, that's where they come into picture. One evening, I had my blinds pulled halfway up, and the window opened to allow the salty spring air of the dusky evening clean out the old smell of winter. Normally we kept the shades drawn all the way down because of the busy road and the dense woods. It made us feel like we had some privacy and made us feel less vulnerable. I didn't really have a reliable cell phone or MP3 player at the time to play music on. So I was rocking out to taking back Sunday on Pandora with my school computer.

The cell service was terrible in my room, so I could only be reached by our dorm phone when I was home. The university had a landline phone jack in each of the rooms that had a number assigned to it by the school. Each room essentially had their own phone number. All of the people in the building decided to share our dorm numbers, just in case we may need something or in case of emergency situations. Plus, we were all cool with each other, so it didn't matter to us who called or when. However, this particular spring evening, as I'm standing in front of that window,

putting my stuff in my wardrobe, the phone rings. I answer it half expecting it to be my roommate to ask to turn off the straightener again. So I answered, what's up, roommate? Forget the straightener. I was shocked to hear a man's voice, almost a gruff whisper on the other side. Is Ali home? It was strange to have someone call looking for her at that time because everybody knew

that she worked at the local hooters and her shift was just starting for the evening. No, she's not. Can I leave a note for her or text her to call you? There was silence on the other end. Hello? I said. The next sentence, to come out of his mouth, still to this day, after all these years, makes my skin crawl. In a low but satisfied, over-sexualized sounding voice, he said,

I really like that shirt that you have on. And those jeans, they make you look so perfect. that you have on. And those jeans, they make you look so perfect. My heart dropped to my toes and I started to panic. I jerked my head around to the window and peered out to see if I could see anything. It was dusk and seen through the trees was difficult during the day, much less when it's even the slightest bit dark outside. I couldn't see where they were standing, for all I know they could be right at the edge of the woods, and I'd be none the wiser. I then shakily responded. How do you know what I'm wearing? Can you see me?" He answers, and that very satisfied tone, He answers in that very satisfied tone. I know more about you than you know.

Like, how your boyfriend is deployed in Iraq? He drives a VW GTI. I know you've got classes at 8 a.m. with break at 2 for lunch. You usually go to Einstein's. I hung up on him. My head was reeling. How did he know all of these things about me? He can't know unless he's stalking me or my roommate,

since he was looking for her. My roommate, oh my god, is she okay? She works at night. I hope so. I'm thinking about all of this, panicking. I call the campus police immediately. I told them what happened. And they all that told me to keep my windows or blinds closed as they patrol the area. We'd see them cruised by pretty frequently, so that did put our minds at ease knowing

that they were being somewhat serious. The semester rolled on, and it was all but ended when it happened. My roommate and I were jolted awake by a scream and loud bangs outside her door. I vaulted off the loft and to our room door in a flash, throwing my deadbolted door open so hard I almost knocked the microwave off of the counter. As I did this, I heard the familiar click of the locked deadbolt as the front door attempted to shut. I heard my sweet mate say, a man was in here. I took off out the door, I ran out, and looked around to see a guy walking very quickly

down the sidewalk and through the quad. Hey you, stop! I yelled. He didn't stop, but started walking faster, and then broke into a run. I screamed at him to stop now as I chased after him. Luckily a group of guys were coming home just that time. They ended up catching him and getting him to the ground. I run up to see the sick person that decided to be in our sweet uninvited. I was staring down at the face of George. His face was

all scraped up from where he was tackled down to the ground, and a few feet away was a digital camera. As soon as I saw it, my heart dropped. My sweet mate had already called the campus police. They were there with lights blazing. They cuffed up George and have him sitting on the sidewalk as they talk around him. They ended up shoving him into the back of a county squad car and I never saw him again. Now you guys remember how I said that my roommate and I kept our second dead boat locked for safety? I'm glad we did because apparently he had came to our suite to try and take pictures of

me in my roommate sleeping but encountered our locked door. He wrote a note on our whiteboard that says, I know your class schedules, see you around, then decided to get his jollies elsewhere. He chose my next door neighbors who were also our age, and in the same graduating class. These are the same girls that had partied with us, Zen, and George, and they were completely in shock when this happened. Guinea had woke up to a flash in her face. She opened her eyes to George standing over her breathing heart. And I won't go into details about what he was doing with himself. She instantly screamed bloody murder, causing George to panic and fall all over the place,

trying to get out their door and through the front. That was the scream and loud bangs that I heard before running out of the room and after him. We gave our statements to the police and moved on through the summer. We found out from Zen that that summer, George, had been expelled from school, and most of the state schools for his behavior. After being expelled, the campus police contacted Gennie myself, my roommate and Gennie's roommate to let us know what they found. Apparently, George was quite the pervert. He would sneak into people's unlocked rooms

and steal underwear, bathing suit bottoms. His favorite shirt that they wore, their hair brushes, which he admitted to, liking the smell because it smelled like the girl's hair. He not only would sneak in when they weren't there. He would also do it while they were there. The police found a digital camera. Yes, the one that he dropped that night, and it was full of sleeping girls from across various sweet buildings surrounding the quad. I was absolutely floored. This was coming from George, of all people. I was absolutely floored. This was coming from George of all people.

Oh, and the campus cops told me that they looked at his phone records, and he was the creepy guy that could see in my window. His phone contained notes on my roommates and school schedule, where we worked, our shift times, where we shopped because apparently he watched us at the store too. Just super stalker shit that I didn't expect from George because he came off as a very chill person. Goes to show you that you can't always believe what people show you and to have a healthy dose of skepticism when it comes to meeting new people. So to George, the guy who thought it was cool to gain

our trust only to stock and take creepy photos of us while we were sleeping. Let's never meet again. I hope you've gotten your karma for everything you've done. 18T Fiber presents A Straight Forward Moment You're wine? Thanks. I'll pretend I know what I'm doing before saying it's good. And I'll pretend I don't know you're pretending. Are you a Gagillionaire?

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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 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 Gagillionaire with AT&T Fiber. Limited availability and select areas,

visit ATT.com slash Hypergate for details. I've asked if the following stories be narrated by their author, who wants to be referred to by the username I am Don Kiyote. I'm a new fan of her horror movie vlog post-mortem on YouTube, and when she was submitted these stories, I just had to have her on the show. I'll leave a link in the show notes if you want to check it out for yourself.

Enjoy. I do not have full memories of either of these encounters. Compared to a lot of things I've heard on this show and personally experienced since, these stories seem mild. But something about them has stuck with me as a core memory all these years. I remember how I felt, and I haven't felt that specific type of dread since. It's safe to say these experiences were formative. I've always had a big imagination. I played alone a lot as a kid and liked listening to stories, playing make believe, and getting lost and thought.

I was a quiet kid, introverted, bookish, kind, and obedient by nature. All of these traits informed my behaviors in both events. The first happened when I was around four. I wasn't in school yet, so I still got to spend the days at home with my mom. Once a week, she'd go to a jazz or size class, which is exactly the type of fad exercise it sounds like aimed at young moms. I would go with and play in the back of the room until she was done. One of these times, I remember getting up to get a drink from the water fountain by the bathrooms located near the entrance. The venue was thick with the sounds of 80s pop music,

instructor steps, and people coming and going. I was mid-Sip when my mom took my hand and started to leave me outside. She kept hold of my hand as we crossed the parking lot, and I skipped along with her, looking down to avoid cracks in the pavement. I remember telling her stories about the new drama in my stuffed animals' lives, and she stayed uncharacteristically silent. Normally, my mom was extremely supportive and loved to engage in my make-believe world. About halfway to the car,

I heard my name being shouted. I turned around to see my mom running toward me. The hand I was holding, let go. And I turned to watch a different woman continue briskly walking toward her car. My actual mom reached me and scooped me into a hug, hurrying back to the building. To be honest, I think she assumed I had wandered off alone.

I'm not even sure she saw the woman. I suddenly felt like I was in trouble and had done something wrong. It was confusing. As mom carried me back, I faced the parking lot. was in trouble and had done something wrong. He was confusing. As mom carried me back, I faced the parking lot. The woman seemed to have disappeared into the rows of parked cars. She had just kept walking, didn't look back, didn't say anything. I remember she had a long, straight, blonde ponytail and big glasses. She looked nothing like my mother, who had short, dark,

curly hair and never wore glasses. But I didn't even question it. An adult was taking me away, and I assumed I should comply. The lack of information or understanding I have about the instance is what scares me most. The unknowns about her plan or intentions, how methodical she was in execution, how confident she seemed in broad daylight. It was the first time I remember clocking that some adults might not be good. I was not always safe in the real world and I needed to pay better attention. The other story takes place about six years later when when I was ten. I was still shy and introverted, but I was starting to fall in love with theatre and

creative arts in general. A lot of my friends acted in the community theatre in town, and I had been trying to get a part in a show for a while. Finally, I had an audition that granted me a small role. It was in a play written by one of the directors, a dark comedy spoof based on Frankenstein. The theater was grassroots, compiled of chairs and props and costumes acquired or donated over time. It had an eclectic bohemian feel.

The dressing rooms were side by side half structures, almost like cubicles but a little taller, with no doors. Curtains on tension rods blocked the doorways with a gap at the top all around, and if you weren't careful when shutting the curtain, gaps on the sides as well. There was a man in his mid-40s who played Frankenstein's monster. As you can imagine, this meant he was a huge silhouette of a human. At least six foot five with a bulky top half and a blonde curly mullet. Kind of like Brock Samson but not as fit. I can't remember his name but I think it was Mike. He was friendly and outgoing like most of the people who participated theater. I remember

he made me nervous and I could never quite figure out why. I didn't warm up to him the way everyone else did. I just had this feeling. But I was new to the theater, so I figured it was just general nerves I had about wanting to belong. I remember once I was in the dressing room and some of the other women were changing, and Mike passed by. I could see him facing forward, but his eyes were looking to the side, trying to see through the gaps in the curtain with his peripheral vision. This was my first concrete red flag. However, since no one else seemed to have an issue with him, I assumed I was being oversensitive

and I so badly wanted to fit in. The second red flag was his need to touch people. He was always trying to get hugs, high fives, anything. He was a big guy and I was very small at the time. I had also developed at an early age and was extremely uncomfortable and awkward in the new shapes my body had become. And I was starting to be aware of how people, men, looked at me now. One night after a show, I was waiting for my parents to pick me up. It was late October in Minnesota, so it was already dark and

had started to snow. I was in the lobby looking outside, content to quietly sit there alone. The director was still in the building, but in his office, finishing up paperwork and waiting for everyone to leave before he closed up. Mike was the last to leave except for me, and offered to take me home. But I knew my family was on the way. Instead he said he'd wait with me. I remember he kept getting closer to me to try and talk to me, and I kept trying to politely move away and answering in very minimal

one word answers, signaling that I did not want to talk. At one point he jabbed me in the side with a finger, the way you do when you poke someone to tickle them. I did not like this and reacted how you would normally react by squealing and twisting away. He saw this as an invitation to keep doing it. This resulted in me running away from him into the dark theater, backstage, anywhere, to try and hide or escape, and him chasing me, continually finding me, and chasing me again. Literally saying, I'm gonna get ya." A massive, grown man chasing a small, ten-year-old girl through a nearly abandoned and dark theater trying to tickle her. Finally, I ended up back in the lobby, crouched on the ground trying to hide by the ticket counter,

but stayed near to the door so when my family's car pulled up I could run out. He found me, and I remember him looming over me, out of breath, wagging his fingers at me as he slowly leaned in to tickle me more. He had this grin. Suddenly I heard the director shout, hey, what is going on here? As he swiftly strode across the theater lobby toward us. Mike straightened up, giving some kind of easy excuse about playing a game while I waited for my ride. I didn't hear the conversation as I scrambled up and went over to the door to stand outside in the cold. I remember the director having a flash of complicated emotions and realizations across his face when I looked at him on my way to the door. He knew things were almost bad in the moment.

I felt like I was in trouble, that this was somehow my fault, because adults don't get in trouble, only kids do, right? I didn't want to be kicked out of the play and I didn't want to cause any issues. So I just left. A moments later, Mike left in an angry hurry. The director waited outside with me until my family came and tried to gently ask if I was okay without alarming me. I was quickly trying to forget the encounter and since nothing actually happened, there was nothing for me to report. I didn't know that adults could be predators. I thought evil would be obvious and clear. This was complicated, quietly sinister, and subtle.

To my knowledge, nothing ever happened with my gun record, but he never acted in the play there again, and I never saw him after that night. I didn't realize the full weight of that encounter until years later, and I never told anyone what happened because I felt ashamed that I, my body or my shyness or obedience, caused a grown man to get so confused and behave this way. It infuriates me that I carried this guilt and I hope he didn't traumatize any other young girls. The following year, the theater relocated to a much more official building with proper dressing rooms and closing protocols, and I continued to act with them for years throughout high school.

Another example of the terrifying unknown of what if? I was a kid. I trusted the wrong people and thought adults were always right. I got very, very lucky. Always trust your gut. Two of my potential kidnapper and to Mike, let's not meet. This story is from Denmark. In 2014, I was a nursing student and eight months pregnant with my first child. I've always been haunted by anxiety and a lot of bad things had happened early on in my

life, so I had a really hard time trusting people. Like any other day, I was scrolling through Facebook, and I saw a post about a free photo session. The owner of the post was a man in his late 40s, describing that he was a self-taught freelance photographer who needed some experience and pictures for his portfolio. He was offering free sessions, and in the comments section, several people wrote that they have had some great pictures taken by this guy. Now, I literally had zero money, and really wanted some nice pregnancy pictures.

I wrote to this man despite feeling that it might be risky. We found a date and time, and because I had no car, he offered to pick me up and give me a ride to the location of the photo session. He arrived in an old car, and I remember thinking this is a very bad idea, but I felt like I couldn't say no. I got into the car and we drove off. The drive felt like forever, and I remember him talking a lot about his children, especially his daughter. He also told me about his marriage, that they weren't happy, and his wife has said that she wanted to

get divorced. But he didn't want to and begged her to give him another chance. He thought it would destroy him, especially his daughter, that they got divorced. He told me that he believed in love, and he couldn't understand why his wife wanted to get a divorce, because his daughter was only six, and she deserved that they would try and make it work. He babbled on and on about getting married and giving it a try.

A divorce was not the answer, according to him. I thought this was very private information to give to some stranger, but I just politely answered, ensuring that everything hopefully would be fine. But I also had a very bad feeling about him, like something wasn't right. His vibe was off somehow. Finally, we got to the location, and the photo session could begin. He drove me back home after the photo session. Now, this was all just backstory. Because two years later, I read the local news, and his face appeared.

I recognized this man, the man who took my pregnancy photos. The news was that he had strangled, and afterwards drowned, his eight-year-old daughter in the tub. He called his ex-wife to tell her what he had done. He had then tried to cut his own wrists, but didn't succeed. Weeks prior, the wife had finally gotten through the divorce, and in his statement, he said that he wanted to leave Earth with his daughter, because he didn't feel like there was any good left for them here. He also said that in hindsight, he could clearly see that it was crazy, that it was a good idea that he was sentenced to 14 years in prison. I felt so incredibly bad and I still do.

I once sat in that man's car, listening to him and giving him comforting words. Hopefully, the girl is happily in heaven now. But to this child murderer, for your own good. Let's not meet again. Don't forget to head over to oddtrails.com, Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts to hear the first episode of Odd Trails today. We'll be releasing this show weekly, along with Let's Not Meet, so you'll be able to get your daily dose of true horror and the supernatural. We literally put a year of prep into this show as it was delayed over and over again.

But this meant that we were able to come up with a show that my co-host and I are truly happy with, and I know you're going to love it. And if the paranormal isn't your thing, don't worry, let's not meet isn't going anywhere. Oh, and if you're a patron, don't forget to stick around after the music for your ad-free extended version of this episode.

This week you have heard Run Faster by Hatter, Creepy Maintenance maintenance worker, who is my new neighbor by Liz. Creep at the window with the camera by Blanche. Two stories by listener I am Don Kiyote, and finally, The Child Murderer by Patrizia. All of the stories you've heard this week were narrated and produced with the permission of their respective authors. Let's not meet a true horror podcast is not associated with Reddit or any other message

boards online. As always, if you have a story to share, send it to Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com and if you want to get access to all the bonus content head over to patreon.com, forward slash Let's Not Meet podcast to support the show today. I'll see you all next week for a brand new episode of Let's Not Meet. www.carrion.com forward slash let's not meet podcast to support the show today. I'll see you all next week for a brand new episode of Let's Not Meet. Stay safe. This story is from when I started my first job as a barista. I started working at the... AT&T Fiber presents A Straight Forward Moment

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