Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 8x02: The Empty House - Let's Not Meet

Episode Date: February 14, 2022

Stories in this episode: - The Empty House, by Erik (0:49) - It Wasn't My Brother, by Teghan (16:57) - Man In A Truck, by Madison (22:28) - Flat Tire, by thefatdog57 (29:04) - Nick, by Bela Morningstar (37:59) - Scary Stranger Asking For Help, by Adam (47:13) Extended Patreon Content: - Interstate Stalker, by Your Brush Awaits - Not Your Average Stalker, by Lexi - Friendly Man In The Van, by Precious - A Wild Story, by majmaj    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 at a higher bitrate 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! Right now, Embark has a limited time offer on their Breed and Health Kit and Purebred Kit for my listeners! Go to https://shop.embarkvet.com/discount/MEETto get free shipping and save $50 with promo code MEET. Go to HelloFresh.com/lnm16 and use code lnm16 for up to 16 free meals and 3 free gifts. Right now, when you purchase a 3-month Babbel subscription, you’ll get an additional 3 months for FREE. That’s 6 months, for the price of 3! Just go to BABBEL.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. - 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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For your free quote, go to selectquote.com. Selectquote.com. That's selectquote.com. Select quote. We shop, you save. Full details on example policies at selectquote.com slash commercials. This podcast contains adult language and content. Listen to your discussion 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 8 episode 2.

Let's not meet a true horror podcast. This isn't a story about being stalked, followed, hunted, or harassed. My house wasn't broken into, I didn't receive threatening emails or phone calls. But this is a story about how I found myself in a dangerous, bizarre, and nightmarish place. Before I go any further, I just want to say, for the record, I really have no idea what it all meant or who these people really were. But they aren't anyone I ever want to meet again. So I guess I'll start with some details as to why I found myself at the bar where everything began. I got my first job at 16 working for a friend of my uncle doing some landscaping.

After I was let go during the slow season, I was never asked to come back. I bounced around from job to job for the next five to six years, all very hands-on, physical labor, construction, painting, things like that. In the mid-2000s, it seemed easy to land a job doing anything for a short period of time using Craigslist. I got to the point where I could tell potential job offers that I was skilled in any of the tasks that they needed done because I had basically done them all. I couldn't tell you how many gigs I picked up in that five-year span doing anything that you could think of. I just knew how things worked and I knew how to fix them just a natural handyman, I guess.

While the job market dried up in my town around 2005, life was still just about to start taking its first steps into becoming enveloped by the internet. We didn't live completely online yet, so social networking was checking your Myspace when you got home to your computer. I was even able to write off my dial as a business expense. At that time you couldn't just find a Facebook group or make a post looking for work where everyone you've known since middle school would see it. Luckily I had saved up a decent chunk of change to hold me over for a few

months, which is good because that's about how long it was between jobs that year. During this sabbatical I spent my time either at my parents for free dinner, playing gold and I with my roommates or frequenting the bar across from our apartment. And that's where the story begins. My roommates and I, all in our early 20s, we were having a late night at the bar. The bartender who I'll call Jeff was in a band with one of my roommates so we got the occasional beer on the house, and Jeff would always hang out and talk with us when it was slow. Like on this particular night. Jeff tells me, there's a guy at the opposite end of the bar from where we were seated

that was looking for some help working on some houses and a new development. I made my way over to the end of the bar and introduced myself. He kind of smirked and shook my hand, asking me to have a seat. He said that his name was Bill. The man had been sitting alone with a Miller High Life. He didn't look or sound like any kind of guy that would wear a cowboy hat, but he was sporting the biggest and flashiest that I had seen in person. It just didn't fit the rest of his plain clothed, boring, blend into the crowd look that he had going on. He wore a flannel button up, blue jeans, and a pair of white tennis shoes. It was like this guy walked out of a coffee shop and bought some novelty hat from a vendor as a joke.

I told him that Jeff had filled me in and asked if he still needed some help on the project. He paused for a moment, looking straight ahead, not at me. He did this for a long, awkward period of time, it had to be 10 to 15 seconds. It was like he was slowly processing what I had just asked him. After this weird quiet moment, he turned to me and asked what my experience was like. I gave him the complete rundown of all the countless odd jobs I had done. He then asks Jeff for two more highlights. Over the course of finishing these beers, he asked me a lot about my life, where I worked, about my parents, where I lived.

And while it did get a bit personal, it didn't feel intrusive. I told him I lived across the road and that I was free to work any time. It was kind of like having a beer with a new friend. I really started to like him. He was shorter, a stalky guy in his 40s with an eccentric sense of humor, I think. I was very quickly taken in by his personality.

He wrote down his address on a bar napkin and told me to meet him there at 8 in the morning. He said there may be some heavy lifting and to come alone. Now looking back at that statement, now, it seems a bit weird, but at the time, I was just excited about being able to continue paying my bills and get back to work. We shook hands and I turned to give the good news to my roommates only to find that they had already left the bar. So I went back to my apartment and got right into bed so that I could get up in time for my new job. I had a general idea of where this place was, but I plugged it into a map quest and

printed out the directions just in case. I arrived 30 minutes early to make a good impression. I was surprised to find that the address Bill gave me was to an already completed two-story home. At least, it looked to be that way on the outside. I was thinking to myself, what in the hell does this guy need help with? I knocked a couple of times, but no one answered. I saw only one car out front. It was a larger SUV in the driveway. I tried the doorbell, but it didn't seem to be functioning yet. I figured I would just let myself in. Maybe that wasn't Bill's SUV and he hadn't showed up.

Luckily the front door was unlocked. When I walked in, I was taken aback. The only item was in the front room. It was a couch. On that couch lay a large, very round-shaped man. I assumed the guy was sleeping, maybe another person who was there to help and crashing in the empty house. I gingerly said, hello? Helping to get a response, but this guy seemed to be out cold, he didn't even flinch. I started to get this gut feeling that maybe I had the wrong house.

Maybe I really shouldn't be here. But then I heard shuffling from the second floor, just above where I was standing. I could then faintly hear the familiar voice of my new boss Bill talking to someone in one of the room's upstairs, feeling extremely awkward and a bit creeped out, standing alone in this empty room with some stranger asleep on a couch.

I made my way up the stairs from the main room in the front of the house and followed the sound of Bill's voice to the first door on the right of the second story hallway. I then gave the door a light knock so as not to seem intrusive or impatient, Bill's voice stopped for a moment. It was completely silent for about five seconds. I tell you that awkward, creepy feeling intensified, and I had just considered taking off right then. But that thought was interrupted by the roaring of Bill's voice from

the other side of the door. He screamed at the top of his lungs. Who the fuck is this? I just kind of stood there in shock, with my stomach twisted and in knots. But I did compose myself, and I told him that it was Eric from the bar last night. He swung the door open hard. This revealed Bill with that trademark cowboy hat, and a halfway furnished bedroom accompanied by a woman in a bathrobe. She was sitting on a bare mattress on the floor. Bill then barked here early. He said it as if he were really upset with me. I stammered out an apology and explained that it was just the way I was. I like to be early.

Get in here. He barks again and literally pulls me into the bedroom by my shirt. He shut the door behind me, and a sincere feeling of regret started to set in. This is not a place that I wanted to be. This is not the bill that I met at the bar last night. That's when I noticed the tray with cocaine and a razor blade on the floor next to the woman in the bathrobe. At this point, I was already plotting my escape, none of this felt right. Then, as if there weren't a tray of drugs on the floor, Bill says to me, that's alright, the other guys are late. We meant to have the hard stuff done already. I asked him what exactly the job was.

I realized that I didn't get any details from Bill at the bar the night before. I think we had two very different ideas of the work that needed to be done. And I was now scared to hear what he had planned for me. He turned around to open a mini-fridge that sat on top of a dresser. He pulled out a bottle of Miller High Life then handed it to me. He said, here have a beer with me before we get started. I declined and told him that I didn't like to drink on the job. And he got this disgusted look on his face. Like he was so angry he might cry. Then blurred it out.

Drink the fucking beer. Are you going to make me look like an asshole in front of my girl? Now, I didn't notice this when he first turned his back to me. But in the reflection of the mirror, connected to the dresser behind Bill, I could see a pistol tucked firmly into the back of his jeans. The previous feeling of regret that I had for even walking up those stairs now kicked into high gear. I was fucking terrified for my life. I opened the beer and started to drink.

I really fucking needed that beer in that moment. I was thinking that if I could just play it cool and pretend that I was in on whatever dirty work that he had planned for me, maybe I could find a safe time to get the fuck out of there. I just had to play along. The woman in the robes knorted a line of coke and then handed me the tray. I said that I was good, I'll just stick to the beer. She smiled and got up and handed the tray to Bill. This was my moment to tip out of there because Bill had turned his back to me when he set the tray on the dresser next to the mini-fridge to do a line himself.

Just as he turned his back, I reached for the door and swung it open. I booked it down those stairs to the tune of Bill's voice from upstairs. Honestly, I don't remember what he yelled at me. My adrenaline was pumping so hard through my body that I really couldn't make out a single word. I was laser-focused on the front door. Thankfully, I hadn't shut the front door behind me and I sprinted through it across the dirt-filled lawn and slammed into the front seat of my car. Bill didn't chase after me, though. I took one last look at the house as I turned the ignition and the door had already been

closed. He just let me go. I drove like a madman to try and get to a phone to call the police because I didn't have a cell phone at the time. I actually broke down into tears at the first red light that I hid. I realized that I told this mother fucker where I lived. He obviously knew the bar that I frequented, and he knew that I lived across the street and the only apartment complex on that block frequented, and he knew that I lived across the street and the only apartment complex on that block. I couldn't worry about that right then, though.

I had to focus on the task at hand and notify the cops as soon as possible. When I got home, I called and told the police every single detail I could, down to the description of the man on the couch, and that's when the second unfortunate thought entered my brain. Who was that on the couch in the empty house and were they asleep? Or was that the heavy lifting that Bill referred to the night before? I didn't get any answers since everyone had cleared out of the house before the cops got there. They said that they were gathering evidence to work on finding out who Bill was and where he went. All they did was give me a short interview. They talked to my roommates and Jeff, our bartender friend. They wanted to find out anything they could about Bill,

but this guy was a ghost. We never saw him again, and the police never followed up with us about the case. I really hope they tracked this guy down, at some point. I moved out of that apartment a month later and stayed with my parents. I couldn't stand the idea of Bill knowing where I lived. I was up every night terrified that he would show up with this creepy fucking cowboy hat to try and kill me. I'll never know what happened, but I'm happy to leave this whole ordeal in the past. I was always extra careful about new potential jobs, and I asked all of my questions up front before accepting any.

I can't get the image of that large man on the couch out of my head. I see it whenever I close my eyes. It's a memory that's driven me to drink most nights now. Bill, woman in the bathrobe and whoever that man was on the couch and the empty house, let's not meet again. 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,

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This happened quite a few years ago, back when I was around 9. I have four siblings, one being already out of the house. Still at home were my two brothers, my sister, and myself. It was a very stressful time in our lives. My parents were divorcing and my dad had freshly moved out. This left us alone with my mom in our large five-bedroom home. One night, it was only my mom, my seven-year-old brother Matthew, and myself. Elaine and David were out at a friend's house until the next day. Besides having our two dogs asleep with me upstairs, it was a pretty average night. My mom, Matthew and I all slept on the top floor.

Somewhere in the middle of the night, my mom woke up to a loud, crashing downstairs, something like things in the fridge being knocked around. Thinking that it was my oldest brother David coming back drunk from a party, she went downstairs to catch and scold him for being out so late and drinking. Our staircase is at the front of our long home, and the noise was coming all the way from the back of the house and the kitchen. To get there, you had to walk through the foyer, the living room, and the dining room. Each room with a very old style would in doorway. She made her way through the dining room and stood in the doorway,

only getting, I swear, out of her mouth, before she realized it was not my brother. In front of her was a dark-figured man she had never seen before. She screamed and turned to run, but that's when she hit her head on the wooden doorframe, causing her to fall. She scrambled up and flew through the house, rushing back upstairs with a bloody forehead. She grabbed Matthew first and then myself. In an urgent whisper, she begged, please honey, you have to come with mommy. You have to be very quiet. There's someone in the house.

She locked us in her bedroom, and we hit on the far side of the room, nearly under the bed. Over and over, she whispered, I know you're scared, but it is so, so important for you to stay quiet. I remember shaking so violently, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop. My mom picked up the landline to call for help.

There was no dial tone. He had cut the line. Seeing my mom's reaction made Matthew start to whine and tear up. My mom started tearing up too in desperation, begging him to be tough and be quiet. Luckily her cell phone had enough battery, so she called the police. We sat there in silence, huddled, and shaking with tears streaming down our faces. I was so terrified that he would hurt my dogs in the other room, unprotected and alone. We listened, but the man never made his way upstairs.

After what felt like hours, we saw flashing lights outside, and heard a man knock on the bedroom door saying, police. It was such a relief knowing that we were all going to be okay, including the dogs. But the shaking wouldn't stop. It's a bit of a blur from here, but my dad came home in all four of us, my mom, dad, Matthew, and I, all laid in what used to be their bed. We cried and huddled together for the last time. The following morning, we weren't allowed to go into the kitchen. I remember it being completely covered and gray powder to look for fingerprints. It turns out he had stolen $600 worth of prescriptions from our medicine cabinet in our kitchen.

A butcher knife was found on our back porch that was attached to the kitchen. Our electrical box was slashed. Because our medications are in a rather odd place, only someone close to us would know. The police spent weeks thinking that it was probably my brother. It was so disappointing. By the time they ruled him out, there were no leads.

He was never caught. I didn't feel safe sleeping anywhere for years. I'm still terrified of every bump in the night and religiously lock my doors and windows. I'm sure people who have experienced this know the feeling. Once that safety bubble pops, there's no putting it back together. One thing I am grateful for is that my sister wasn't home. Her bedroom sits on the other side of the wall from the medicine cabinet. I can't imagine what could have happened if she were the one to find this man,

or if he were to find her. To the man who stole my brother's ADHD medication, To the man who stole my brother's ADHD medication, as well as any sense of safety I had, let's not meet. When I was 18, I came home from college for winter break. My dad and I were catching up, and we were talking about how awful my behavior had been as a child until I was about 14 or 15 years old. I was always getting into trouble, especially in elementary school. I would bite teachers and classmates, say really mean things, and get those terrible tantrums that I couldn't control. I was just angry all the time for no reason.

My first two suspensions happened in third grade. I was in and out of suspension from then until seventh grade. I joked with my dad about this, wondering why I had been so difficult. My dad remarked somewhat casually that it was probably because of that incident that happened back in pre-K. I paused and I asked what he was talking about. He started telling me that when I was in pre-K, I was playing at home one day when I blurted out that a man had taken me

in his truck. My mom was with me and probably shocked. She tried to find out more. All I would say was that during school a man had taken me in a truck one day, and then he took me back. My parents didn't own a truck and had not authorized any of our relatives or friends to pick me up. Besides, if it had been someone we knew, I would have said Mr. So-and-so. Now I had never heard this story before. I thought my dad was joking, and I ran outside to ask my mom if it was really true.

The first thing she said was, John, she could have gone her whole life without knowing that. I knew from that that my dad had been telling the truth. I made her tell me her point of view, and she said pretty much the same thing as he had. One day a man came to my preschool and had picked me up in a truck, and then he brought me back. She said that other kids in parents in my class had the same story, but weren't sure what to make of it. Toddler's make things up all the time. My aunt had been an inspector at the time for the school board, and after that incident,

she had apparently shut the preschool down. After that, my mom said that some woman who ran the school, ganged up on her at one of my brother's little league games and harassed her. She didn't give me any more details after that, but I was still processing the information that I already had. They told me that they had always thought my terrible behavior as a child was because of whatever that man might have done to me that day, which I have absolutely no memory of. They tried to get me in with a therapist or a psychologist, but my parents didn't want to risk retraumatizing me. Eventually, I grew out of it and acted like a normal preteen, as normal as preteens

can be, at least. Fast forward a few years later, and I'm 24 last year. I brought the situation up again to my mother. I had been explaining it to my boyfriend at the time, who asked me a few questions that I hadn't even considered like if the man had ever been found. Or if my parents had filed a report, etc. I asked my mom more about it and she reluctantly gave me a few more details. Apparently, nothing ever came of the investigation, and my parents are very hesitant to talk about it at this time because of how difficult it was to go through.

I think that they were more concerned for my safety and avoiding retraumatizing me than finding out whoever had done this. They said that I never mentioned the man again and whatever memory I had at that point had probably been suppressed as some kind of defense mechanism. I still have no memory of this man or the preschool. I'm not sure I want to. On one hand, maybe I should dig up the information as a way to take control of what happened. But, on the other hand, maybe it's not worth making my parents relive a time that was probably beyond awful for them to go through. After all, I don't think I have any lasting effects from the whole thing. Either way, I hope that man is either dead

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Live like a Gagillionaire with AT&T Fiber. Limited availability in select areas, visit AT&c.com slash hypergate for details. This happened about nine years ago when my brother and I were about 14 and 12 respectively. For context I live in a third world country with several undeveloped roads and inadequate transportation services. Getting from one place to another could be a burden for the most part. Being raised in a loving home, I was lucky enough to have never encountered any real danger. Don't get me wrong, the horrible things that we saw on TV made us aware of the dangers that lurk in our world. But surely, there was nothing to worry about, right?

It was a Friday night, around 7 to 8 p.m. My mom had picked me up, as well as my brother, from our appointment with our dentist. She had booked us a cab since it was the most convenient mode of transportation during these hours. Since I was seated next to the cab driver, I was tasked with giving him directions. After all, cab drivers in my country never really brought GPS with them at that time. That being said, I knew these roads like the back of my hand, so I suggested to the driver to take a shortcut as the major highways were lined with countless vehicles making their way home. The cab driver was a bit apprehensive when I had suggested this alternative route, but it was barely lit and notorious for having squatters.

But seeing as how it was the fastest way to get to our house, he really had no other choice, so we took it. This shortcut was a long, narrow road, about 6 kilometers. During the day, it would get really busy and congested, but at nightfall it was almost deserted. As we were passing through, we noticed a man on a motorcycle behind us. It was very weird since there were no cars in front of us, so there was no reason for him to stay behind us, and maintain moderate

speed. We debated amongst ourselves that maybe the rider lived in one of the houses and was just strolling. However, as the trip went on, the man on the motorcycle would occasionally attempt to overtake us, but with limited space on the road, it was hard to do so. By this time, we were already on high alert. The road went on a straight path with no turns, so if we wanted to shake this guy off, there was virtually nothing that we could do but continue to drive. Suddenly the motorcycle sped past us and stopped just a few feet in front of us. His bike was positioned

horizontally, making it impossible for us to go around. The man was motioning for us to stop, and he looked genuinely concerned. We were wary though, especially the driver, who gently put his foot down on the brake pedal to give the man a chance to explain himself, but not without making sure that all of our doors were locked first. The man on the motorcycle then started walking up to my side of the window. The dim light from the street lamp was more than enough for us to make out his features. He looked like he was in his early 40s, dark stubble, short and stature with a bulging stomach. He was wearing some kind of jersey. He calmly approached us and said, you know, you got a flat tire. He delivered that statement, matter of factly, which contradicted with

his frantic demeanor several minutes ago when he was just following us and trying to get us to pull over. All of us in the cap could only stare in confusion as we were trying to process what he had just said. This time, it looked as if he was looking for something or someone else around him. When I noticed this, my brother told me that he could make out at least three or four more men behind a lamp post just seven feet away. Fuck!

Are those guys with him? My brother said in a hushed voice. As soon as the man was aware that we were able to comprehend this situation, his face suddenly formed a smirk, a very sinister and bone-chilling smirk. My mom shouted at the driver, snap out of it, gun it! In his haste to get us out of there, he knocked the motorcycle over, and a few trash bins as he maneuvered the cab on the pavement. As we drove off, we couldn't help but look back one last time. What I saw truly scared me.

The man standing over his fallen motorcycle was just staring at us, but several men had joined him. We finally reached our house, adrenaline still pumping, and the shock of what happened yet to wear off. At the same time, we disembarked the cab. The driver also got out to scan the vehicle for the alleged flat tire that the man had pointed out earlier. When he finished with his inspection, he looked dumbfounded. And so we asked why. I don't understand. There's not a single flat tire here."

He said as if that made things any better. In the years that followed, I would bring this story up to my brother and mother from time to time. They inferred that maybe the man started following us that moment that he saw a mother and two kids inside of the cab, even our driver looked harmless. We were tired that night, so we were easy pickings for the man on the motorcycle in his buddies. So many thoughts go through my head whenever I remember this story. What did they have planned for us?

Why did he have other people with him? What if we listened to him? It was surreal as much as it was scary. For what it's worth, I'm just thankful that we had the presence of mind to keep our doors locked and assess the situation before acting. God was really on our side that night. We still passed through that road, but only during the daytime. So to the band on the motorcycle who followed us and let us to believe that we had a flat tire, only for his friends to appear out of nowhere. Let's not meet. 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 Gigillionaire? Yeah, I have 18T Fiber. The straightforward pricing has inspired me to be more straightforward. Me too. Ugh, this wine. I'll fetch you a better one. Straight forward is better. No equipment fees, no data caps, no price increase at 12 months. Live like a Gagillionaire with AT&T Fiber.

Limited availability in select areas. Visit AT&T.com slash hypergig for details. AT&T Fiber presents a straightforward moment. Your wine? Thanks. I'll pretend I know what I'm doing before saying it's good. And I'll pretend I don't know you're pretending. A straightforward moment. 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 ATT.com slash Hypergig for details. This story takes place over the course of about six years and came to its eventual climax last night, around 1 a.m.

I used to do community theater. I participated in it from the time that I was 12 up until I turned 21, but I had to put my degree first. While working on a production, I came in contact with someone who will call Nick for anonymity purposes. Nick worked the technical side of the productions and had went to school for audio-visual stuff at a large state university that's very prestigious in my state. We only knew each other in passing, really, but we still made small talk. Now I knew Nick helped out with the city for sound equipment and whatnot, and we had

many mutual friends. We became friends, went to cast parties, and post rehearsal, chilies meetups together. I had to quit my community theater career due to starting college full-time at a university. A few years went by and I needed some jewelry for my nose ring. I went to a nearby tattoo shop where they also do piercing so that I could get some good quality jewelry. And what do you know?

Nick is the piercer for the shop now. We reconnected and became very close. I learned that he had enlisted in the Marine Corps, served his time, and was honorably discharged due to a landmine incident that lodged shrapnel in his lung. A few months later I received a phone call from Nick at around 3 a.m. I worked 12 hour overnight shifts at one of the medical colleges in the downtown area, so it was unusual to have a friend call me at that time. When I answered the phone, Nick told me some grave news.

He had lung cancer. He was worried that he wouldn't survive it if he did chemotherapy as his heart had some issues. He opted for immunotherapy instead. Of course I did everything in my power to help and support my friend. He was one of my best friends, and caring for people is a big thing with me. Months go by, and the treatment is very rough on him. I always called to see if he was

okay after treatment, but it was still hard on him. You could hear it in his voice. Later down the road, Nick reconnected with an old friend, and they sparked this romantic interest in each other. He was smitten, and so was she. She would take off work and take him to his cancer treatment sessions, and provided care for the after-effects. I was so thrilled that he had found the perfect person to be with, who was so caring and kind.

I still adore her, nothing has changed about that. Now time passes and everything seems cool. Nick and his girlfriend decide to move in together, and of course I'm thrilled. Two good friends in one place, totally in love. I'm riding this on a Saturday night. Nick moved in the Wednesday just prior to today, four days ago now. We facetimeed and got on group calls pretty much every day just laughing and being dumb. Now, I know this story just doesn't seem weird so far. I'm sorry for ranting about everything, but it is important to know. Now Friday morning, Nick calls me panicked. He tells me that he and his girlfriend are having

issues and she seems to be pushing him away. He's now worried that she's having second thoughts. I comforted him the best way that I knew how and went on with my day. Around 3 p.m. I received another call that he was being told he had to move out. 3pm I received another call that he was being told he had to move out. He asked if he could crash at my place for a few days. Sure, I'm always willing to help out a friend in need. He gets off work late, so it's like midnight before he's even on his way. When he arrives, he calls me and asks me to come and sit in the car with him. He needs to talk to me." He said it was horrible. I go out and I get in the car thinking that he didn't want to share his business with my boyfriend and his sister. When I close the door, Nick, in this somber tone, says, I'm sorry.

Of course I thought he meant about having to stay over. It's okay, I reply. Once again somber Nick says, no, it's all a lie. He goes forward to tell me that he had never gone to college. He never served in the military. He had never been diagnosed with cancer He never served in the military. He had never been diagnosed with cancer. All of it was a sham. I'm shocked why would someone lie about their life story? He tells me in the most creepy

monotone voice that during the time he told everyone that he was in college and overseas, he had been running drugs and was associated with a torture ring for the car tells as well as a large aggressive biker gang in the area. He said he was on the run because there are people who are after him. His girlfriend said that she was going to publish all of his lives and expose him. I'm sitting in this car pan, because he could easily drive off with me in it. I would never hurt you," he says. Still somewhat monotone as if he were some kind of robot psychopath. I asked him in the most calm tone that I could. Nick, have you killed someone? He stared at me, very intensely.

Needless to say, he would no longer be staying over at my house as I no longer know who this person is, or what he's capable of now that all of his secrets are out. He made me swear that I would never tell anyone his deeds that he carried out for such nefarious organizations. This morning, after having that freaky conversation in the wee hours of the morning, all of his social media had been deleted. I only received a text message that says, you did not deserve me doing you that way. In nothing sense.

Hopefully the story does not continue and I'm sorry if I abored you. Just felt it belonged there. So Nick, whoever you really are, let's never meet again. So first I want to say that I've been listening to the podcast for about a month, and it reminded me that I also have a similar story to these. I am a male 6 foot 2, and I was 20 years old when this happened. It was the summer of 2020, just before school started. I went to a party at a friend's house to finish the summer properly. For context, I live in the capital, and he lives about 15

kilometers away, so public transportation isn't the best. I got there, we drank a bit, and at around midnight, my friend mentioned that he had to leave early because he had work the next day. I asked him if he could take me because he had his car with him. He said, all right, so we got in the car and headed back to the city. He was in a hurry, so I told him to just drop me off on the way at a place that was close to my home. I had my long board with me, so the remaining 3 kilometers from that spot really didn't matter.

I got out of the car and started cruising. I also have to explain that I live in the suburbs so the streets were empty. About 2 kilometers later, I saw a guy on the street. He was taller than me, probably around 6'4", and very muscular. Not thinking much of it, I thought that I would just ride past him with no problem. Well, that really wasn't the case because he stopped me, asking for help. Now, I like helping people, and at first sight, he didn't seem dodgy, so I asked him what he needed help with. He told me that he was drunk, and he was going to a friend's house, and that he couldn't find it. I asked him what the address was, thinking that I would just look it up.

He told me that he didn't know. The only thing he does know is that it's around a small shop. I told him that there are hundreds of those in this district, but he started to get aggressive. Somewhat scared I asked him if he knows anything about this place. I lived there my entire life, so I knew the place pretty well. He said something about a green gate. I told him that doesn't really help, but he got more aggressive. He told me that I had to come with him and search for this place. He list to say I wasn't really in the mood for that. It was three in the morning. I was a bit drunk, and this was just

some random guy on the street. Anyway, I figured I had little to no chance at beating him in a fight, so I followed him. We were walking, and he just started getting more and more furious. He told me that if he doesn't find the place, he was going to, quote, finish me. At that point, my heart was beating very hard. He also said that if we don't find it soon, that it's my problem too, because I'll need to stay with him. He told me he'd keep me there until seven in the morning if he had to. I thought to myself, there's no chance of that happening. I was constantly thinking of ways to escape thinking of plans. As I said,

I did have my longboard, and I thought I could probably hit him quite hard with it if I needed to, but that's pretty risky. What if he dodges or he blocks my head? Then I most likely done for. It'd take quite a big hit to knock someone out like that. But I thought that it would probably be possible if I hit him with the trucks of the board, which is the hardest part. We had been walking for about 15 minutes at this point. The road was pretty bad there, so I didn't really consider getting on my board just yet. I knew that if I did get on, he would have probably just knocked me off and beat me up. So I had no ideas.

We were heading towards this small hill and I thought that maybe I could take advantage of that. We were getting close to the top and I knew that I had to get a bit further from him to execute my plan. At that point he was furious. I was terrified. So we got to the top and I suggested to cross the street. He said, fine.

I was a little bit behind him. He wasn't looking at me, so I took the opportunity and jumped on my board. I bombed the hill that he chased me for about 400 meters. I've never felt that rush of adrenaline journal in before, and I was so concentrated. I knew that if I fell, that'd probably be the end. So I escaped, going around 35 kilometers per hour with two beers in me at around 3.30 in the morning. I turned so he wouldn't see where I was going. After I saw that he had no chance of catching up, I immediately called my friends, explaining that the craziest thing just happened to me. I was home in just a couple of minutes

and it felt good. I've never really been the kind of person to get scared going out at night, but this experience definitely changed my perspective. And you bet I'm not stopping for more strangers in the night. I have no idea what I would have done if I didn't have my longboard. Anyways, be safe guys, and to the weirdo threatening to kill me, let's never meet again. Thank you for listening to this week's episode of Let's Not Meet, a true horror podcast.

If you're looking for the true, paranormal, don't forget to check out the new episode of my other podcast, OddTrails, at oddtrails.com or wherever you get your podcasts. This week you have heard. The Empty House by Eric. It wasn't my brother by Teagan. Man in a truck by Madison. Flat tire by the fat dog 57. Nick, who faked his whole life story by Bella Morningstar. And finally, scary stranger asking for help by Adam. 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, make sure you send it to me at Let's not Meet Stories at gmail.com. If you're looking to get an ad-free extended version of this week's episode and many more, head over to patreon.com forward slash Let's Not Meet podcast to join today. Starting with this episode, season 8 episode 2, we're going to be putting up a higher bitrate version of the show as patreon allows me to upload a very high quality audio version of the podcast. Go check it out, you're not going to want to miss it. I'll see you all next week for a brand new episode of Let's Not Meet, a True Horror

Podcast. Stay safe. This took place about six years ago when there was a serial killer in Tampa, Florida. AT&T Fiber presents A Straight Forward Moment Your wine? Thanks. I'll pretend I know what I'm doing before saying it's good. And I'll pretend I don't know you're pretending. Are you a Gigillionaire?

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