Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 9x18: Hidden Gems - Let's Not Meet

Episode Date: December 5, 2022

In this week's giant-sized episode, we're treated to a collection of fan-favorite hidden gems from the first 6 seasons of the podcast. Stories in this episode: - The Shack on Kessington, by Tyler Brown (2:05) - Disturbed Man at University, by Dark Light (9:30) - Grey Cloud Island, by Randyb (18:09)  - Tanya, by VorpalBunny (37:21) - My Dad's Psycho Ex, by  alittleteapot19 (50:45) - Creepy Lawn Care Guy, by Maggie (1:07:18) - There Was No Basketball Game, by Dimples (1:12:32) - Bang at 3:09 AM by Cassie F (1:18:43) - How a White Lie Turned Into an Exorcism, by Llewellyn (1:24:30) - Almost Kidnapped, by StoneyWall (1:42:46) - Stoner's Intuition, by Shaz Cross (1:51:57) - Creepy Coffee Guy and My Savior Dog, by M (1:57:46) Extended Patreon Content: - The Man Who Kept Taking Photos, by Anonymous - My Terrifying Neighbors, by Katie - Hell House Woods, by Sierra - Men at the Gas Statio, by swarthy_toad - Bitten, by Jess 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! Don't forget to check out this week's episode of my other podcast Odd Trails for your true paranormal fix as well as the first episode of my new podcast the Old Time Radiocast all at crypticcountypodcasts.com. Go to the Apple or Google store and download Trivia Star for free today, and get ready to flex your brain muscles! Go to HelloFresh.com/lnm18 and use code lnm18 for 18 free meals plus free shipping! Turn your food waste into dirt with the press of a button with Lomi. Use the code MEET to save $50 at lomi.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 today! - 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/crypticcounty  

You know it, your wife knows it, your friends know it. Yep, there's no getting away from the fact that there's an outdoor kitchen shaped hole in your life. And it's time to put things right. Thankfully, bull outdoor products are ready with everything you need to create a world-class outdoor cooking space. Bull outdoor kitchens and accessories add value to your property and extra fun to your world. If you're gonna do it, do it right. Turn a bull loosen your backyard. BullBBQ.com to My name is Andrew Tate and this is season 9 episode 18 of Let's Not Meet a True Horror Podcast. We had originally planned to give you all a gigantic episode this week, marathoning the very best stories from the last few years of the show.

It would actually mark our very first best of episode ever, and sure that would have been a treat for everyone, including myself, but I've always been a fan of hidden gems when it comes to anthology shows like this one. The underdog stories that don't get talked about as much as, say, blueberry or tails from the bottom. So we decided to share with you some of the most terrifying tails that probably flew under your radar from the past 200 plus episodes, but don't worry, this will still be a gigantic episode worthy of your time.

In fact, it's the longest episode that we've ever released, and it'll make a fine introduction for those friends and family that you've been trying to turn on to the show. Just send them this one and they'll be hooked to promise. I loved listening back to these stories because I had completely forgotten about the majority of them. It was like listening for the first time. Anyway, let's get on with the show. For now, enjoy some Let's Not Meet, Hidden Gems from the Past.

This story takes place about five years ago. I was 18 at the time, and I had just gotten my license, and at the desire to explore. My friends and I would spend our weekend nights exploring abandoned buildings, or supposedly haunted buildings in the area. We were thrill seekers, and it was an exciting thing to do in a very rural location. I told my uncle about some of the adventures that my friends and I would go on, and he told me that when he was my age, he did similar things with his friends. He described to me a small shack on Kessington Road in Michigan, about 40 minutes from my house. He stated that when he was younger, he and his friends had heard rumors about a cult that would

inhabit the grounds and do rituals with blood and goat carcasses. This obviously sounds like the typical fake cult story, but it peaked their interest. One night, they drove to Kessington in hopes for something exciting to happen. They got just that. As they arrived, a man came out to the street with a shotgun and scared them away. As they sped down the dirt road, a deer ran out in front of them a little ways down the street and they flipped their car into a ditch. The police came and investigated. The man with the shotgun was just a squatter. Well, a few months had passed, and my uncle noticed something on Crime Stoppers. The man that came out of the edge of the road had been murdered, and his killer was unknown.

The whole incident was enough to make my uncle and his friends not want to go anywhere near that place again. Well, this story was really interesting to me, and I mean really interesting. The following weekend, I told my friends about this story, and we decided that we wanted to see the shack, being that it wasn't that far away. I typed Kessington Road into my Apple Maps along with a few other key things my uncle said that it was close to. I found a location, and on a Saturday night my friends and I set out for an adventure. The directions were fairly difficult to follow, but closer we got to the destination of fewer

cars we saw until there was absolutely no other traffic. There were deserted cornfields on both sides of us. The paved road that we were driving on approach to T intersection with the paved road, going left and right. This is as far as the GPS would take us. Kessington Road was ahead, not left or right, but straight ahead. The road was dirt and not even shown as a road on the map's app. We drove on this dirt road for about three minutes before we located the shack. It was a small building, incredibly small, and was slightly larger than a shed. There were no mailboxes for this place, and it didn't even have an address on the house.

The windows were all boarded up with wood, and it looked almost uninhabited. We didn't know what we'd find, being that my uncle had visited this place probably 10 years prior. But the place still gave us the creeps. Perhaps it was because of the boarded-up windows and the absolute lack of life and its surroundings. We pulled over to the side of the road in front of the shack, all of us afraid to get out and explore. We rolled down the windows and turned the car completely off in order to see if we could hear anything. I swear to you, we heard chanting, a repetition of words being said. However, we could not understand what was being said, or even if it was in English. This gave us chills, but we continued to see what else we could hear. Beneath the chanting was an extremely old broadcast being played.

the chanting was an extremely old broadcast being played. It sounded like a World War 2 era radio program. This was enough to scare us off, so we left. We returned again a week later, and we heard the same broadcast playing. Nothing else happened other than that. It was such a mysterious location. A few weeks had passed and we decided we wanted to check the place out again, this time in the daylight. We headed there feeling more confident now that we weren't surrounded in darkness. We parked the car on the side of the dirt road again and actually got out and approached the shack. A friend of mine went around the back while I held my ear against one of the boarded up windows trying to see if I could hear anyone inside. As we are investigating, a car drives by.

This was strange mind you that this shack is in the middle of nowhere on a dirt road away from any other houses. We sort of brushed it off and continued investigating. My friend comes around and tells me what the back looks like as the same vehicle drives by again from the opposite direction, not even a minute later. We paid closer attention this time, but we couldn't see the driver being that the windows were tinted. We started to grow more cautious. Again, the car circled back around and drive past us. Again, the car circled back around and drive past us. This was it. We ran back to the car and drove out of there.

We made a turn on the next available street, but to our surprise, that same car was following behind us. We were terrified. We made random turns anywhere that we could to try and lose them, but we couldn't shake them. They followed close behind us for what felt like an hour, but it was probably only 10 minutes. Eventually, they backed off. It had been a while before we would return back to the shack on Kessington.

Well, another boring night in rural Michigan approached us about a month or two later and we decided it was time to head back. I know it may not seem like a fun time, but the mystery behind the place was exhilarating. We were almost drawn to the place. We needed more. This time it was late, maybe 1 a.m. or so. We approached the shack by car and noticed something different this time. There was a big white van on the side of the road in front of the shack.

Now the van wasn't parked along the road, but instead it was perpendicular. The front half of the van was on the dirt road while the back half was in the field. To make things even stranger, the van doors were wide open and wires were hanging out from the bottom of the van. No one was inside or around. It was just abandoned. It looked like an abduction scene. Needless to say, we didn't stop our car to listen for noises this time. We saw the setup, and we left. I haven't returned to the shack since.

There was such a mystery to this location from the murdered squatter to boarded up windows and being chased all the way to the abandoned van with the door's wide open. This place was strange. It's a mystery that I guess I'm not meant to discover. So to the squatter's murderer, those whom we heard chanting over an old radio broadcast and those that chased us out of the area. Let's not meet again. I work at a mid-sized public university at night as a floor tech, which is a fancy way of saying a janitor who doesn't do toilets. At the time of this story, I was in charge of the university's student hub building.

Like most colleges and universities, this is the building where students from any major and course of study are welcome to hang out, eat lunch, study, attend events, etc. I work at 6 p.m. but the campus police shut and lock the building around 9 p.m. So this leaves me inside. There is one part of the building, the food court mall, that is left unlocked due to the ATM machines that are located just inside the door, though the entrance doors leading inside to the main building are locked.

This is located on the second floor, where this story takes place. It was around 12.30am this particular night. I was on a scrubbing machine on the second floor hallway that leads directly to the doors that opened to the food court mall. The vacuum on this machine is fairly loud, so it's not easy to hear anything that may be happening around you. I was listening to music as I slowly drove this machine down the hallway, which added another layer of obliviousness. I was mindlessly watching the floor and listening to some music that I had heard a thousand times before, when I began to hear an extra layer of what sounded like a bass drum beating along in the rhythm to the music. I'm sure there are others who can attest to the fact that even after listening to songs that you've heard in ad nauseam amount of times, there are still pieces within the music that you can still find.

So I chalked it up to that. But then the sound was becoming more rapid and offbeat to the music. I stopped the machine and pulled out my earbuds. The sound was coming from the doors at the end of the hallway, just out of view. After each succession of beating, I heard a man's voice calling out. Hello? Can you hear me? The hair is on my arm and next stood up. I stepped off the machine and slowly walked towards the door. They are facing away from the hall, so whoever was there couldn't see me. I wasn't sure what to do when I got to the doors, and the man sounded frantic,

but for security reasons I was not allowed to let anyone inside after the doors are locked. If they need to get in, they need to let themselves in with a key. And if they don't have a key, tough luck. I was just a few yards away from the doors when the beating and screaming stopped. I peaked around the corner to the door and looked through the glass. Nothing, no one was there. I figured that whoever it was must have heard my machine in the hallway, but when they couldn't get a response, they left to find help somewhere else. Stupidly I pushed open one of the doors to look into them all.

Before I could get my head through to look around, I saw a figure running at breakneck speed toward the door. I pulled the door shut just as they slammed their body against the glass. I stepped back and stared at a man, probably six foot three, around 230 pounds. His skin was a dull and dark color, but not because of his race or a tan. It looked like caked on dirt. His hair was about shoulder length, slick with oil and grease. His leathery face was scruffy as though it hadn't seen a razor in a few days. His eyes looked panicked. He knocked on the glass like one would do on another person's front door.

He smiled as he spoke quickly in a raspy voice. Hey, man, I need your help. I need to get my wallet. It's in there. I left it in the bathroom. He didn't look like a student. He was much older than the students who attended the university, even older than me. But in that moment, I figured that that was beside the point.

Even though I had been in every bathroom in this building already, both men and women's, I hadn't noticed anyone's personal belongings. I informed him that I couldn't let him in, but I would gladly look in the bathrooms for his wallet. Oh, no, no! He said with a slight panic in his voice. You don't know which one I left it in. Just let me in.

I'll go get it." Again, I told him it was against university policy for me to let anyone inside. Come on, man. I have my driver's license and debit card in there. You can't just turn me away without that stuff. I told him that if he didn't feel comfortable with me looking for his wallet and felt like he needed to come inside, I could call for a campus police officer to come and escort him to it, or he could wait until 9 a.m. the next morning when the building opened up.

And that's where it turned ugly. That slight smile that he wore, advanced. His brows furled, and his mouth drooped. He reared his fists and began beating hard against the glass. He was screaming again. Let me in, or I'll break the fucking door down. I bolted around the corner of the door and called the campus police. I informed the dispatcher of what was happening.

All while this maniac beating his fist so hard against the glass, I was sure he was going to break through it. Just as I got off the phone, the beating stopped. It was an eerie silence that made the atmosphere very unsettling. It felt like my lungs were being crushed, and my heart was pounding out of my chest. Then he started knocking lightly on the glass. I heard him murmur through the glass. I can see you. I looked directly across from the door and saw a reflection of the man and myself in the polished steel of the water fountain on the opposite side of the hallway. I ran back down

the hallway and down the main staircase to the first floor, because the first floor is essentially lined with ceiling to floor the windows all around its perimeter. I was afraid that if he came around the building he would be able to see me. I opened an office door, ran inside and locked it behind me. I stayed in there for about half an hour when I heard the radio noise of a cop walking through the building. I walked out of the office and straight into the chest of the officer. After giving him my story, he sighed and told me that they didn't find anyone when they came in. He said they would review the security footage, but that he was confident that they wouldn't

find this guy due to the size of the campus. He could be anywhere by now, he said with a chuckle, as if that was a way to make me feel better. I wasn't laughing. I no longer work in that building due to other unrelated reasons, though before I was transferred to my current building, I was tasked with the duty of training my replacement for two weeks. Now, I never told him what had happened, but I did tell him every single night for those two weeks that under no circumstances is easy to open any door for anyone. One night, about a month after my transfer, I was talking to him at the department shop before clocking out for the night. I asked him if he's gotten used to everything.

He said yes, but that there was this one guy who walks around the patio area outside of the first floor windows. He's there almost every night and is always looking inside at him. He said it creeps him out so much that he called the campus police a week ago and ever since then he hasn't seen him. So creepy guy who was determined to get it into writing as soon as possible. My girlfriend and I were both sitting around, thumping through dumb content on our phones together.

It's early June here in the Twin Cities and according to the weather, it was going to be a beautiful day. It was a rare Sunday morning where neither of us had to work so we were also trying to figure out what kind of adventure we could get ourselves into. By 9am we decided we were going to go to the local zoo. We both started getting ready, and as I waited for her to finish putting her makeup on, I decided to plot back down on the couch and surf social media. Within a few minutes, I wound up stumbling upon an article that my cousin had posted.

It was something along the lines of the most haunted place in Minnesota, and you've probably never even heard of it. My girlfriend and I both have a fascination for all things Macaw, so naturally I clicked on it. The article was pretty short, and it focused on a very small town called Grey Cloud Island. A quick Google Maps search showed me that it was only about 25 minutes from where we lived. Even with its close proximity to my home, I'd never heard of it. According to the article, the town is located on a small island in the middle of the Mississippi River.

It has no police force or fire department of its own, and is sparsely populated by fewer than 300 residents. A single Google search showed that the island itself had been populated for over 2,000 years. It had been a significant burial location for both the Dakota Sioux and the Hopewell people, that predated the Sioux by its centuries. Hopewell burial mounds were said to still be dotted throughout the island. Very prominently featured in the article was the French settler's cemetery that had been continually used since 1873. This cemetery was said to be the epicenter of the paranormal activity on the island. Sightings of a spectral su-chief,

wondering the cemetery alone holding a green lantern? A woman sobbing over the grave of her long dead infant. A row of graves that when you count each of them from west to east they totaled 12 but when you count them from east to west they totaled 13. This is all I needed here. Without doing any further research on the subject, I turned to my girlfriend and said, never mind the zoo, we're going on a spooky adventure. She was more than game. To my surprise, when I typed the cemetery into my GPS,

it came right up. About 20 minutes later, we were getting off the busy highway 61 and heading south on Grey Cloud Island Drive. Once we were less than a mile off of the highway, the din of the highway and the city completely disappeared. The town was nothing more than a blip on the map. Borted up farmhouses, collapsed barns and large parcels of unkempt land, were pretty much all that

that quote unquote town had to offer. We drove by a small abandoned brick building that said grey cloud island town hall. This was the only municipal building in the entire town, at least as far as I could see. This was a grey day that was unreasonably cold, much more like a November afternoon than a June one. The island was completely windless, though the quickly moving clouds overhead, and gave off that feeling of electricity that is usually only present and late fall. A little further down the road, the GPS told me to turn left onto a dirt road. The only problem was this dirt road appeared to be either a private drive or someone else's

driveway. I pulled in nonetheless and noticed that about 20 feet down the road was a stop sign. Below this sign was a very clearly marked no no-tress-passing, private property sign. These by themselves sent a clear enough message that outsiders were not wanted. The thing that really set me on edge, though, was the large motion-activated camera that set on top of the signpost. I looked up at its lens and unblinking red light, pointed at our car. up at its lens and unblinking red light, pointed at our car. Knowing that the cemetery itself was public property, I figured that it was the fault of the GPS, and maybe it happened often enough that the landowner was tired of people coming up to his drive, looking

for some spooky cemetery. The whole thing really made me uneasy though. This was the first time I'd ever seen such a strong, keep-out message on someone's private property, let alone the very expensive and capable looking camera that was attached. I backed out of the drive and back to the main road. I continued heading south and made a left turn after about a hundred yards onto the next road. It was an old washboarded out dirt road, and I pulled over to look at the satellite map on my phone.

Sure enough, there the cemetery was on the map, but it seemed to be completely surrounded by private property. We slowly continued down the thickly wooded dirt road, thinking that there must be a public entrance to the cemetery somewhere. As we continued down this road, there were locked gates in front of several spaced out drive ways that led in the direction of the cemetery. All you could see was the woods, overgrown driveways, and the occasional house, no sign of our destination at all.

We drove a little farther and, in my surprise, there was a young family doing yard work in front of their house that was directly across from where the cemetery should have been. Certainly, this family would know where the public entrance was. So, to us, this was our best shot of finding out how to get there without accidentally trespassing and winding up shot on someone's property. The family and their yard was a young man, maybe in his 20s, his wife and their two young girls. The girls were playing in the large yard with two great Danes, and when we stopped our car at the end of their driveway they both started to yell. People, people, daddy, don't you see?

The father turned his head from our car back to his family and said something sharply that it couldn't quite make out. The mother quickly gathered their children and dogs and were out of sight. We both got out and took a few steps down their long drive, and the father met us at the end. He was wearing gloves that were gripped tightly to a metal rake, and looked at us with what was obvious annoyance and distrust. Hey man, sorry to bother you like this, but we were trying to find out how to get into this grey cloud island cemetery. Would you happen to know where the public entrance is? My girlfriend asked, with this much diplomacy, as she could muster, trying to temper the annoyance

in his eyes. His eyes only seemed to sharpen further as he quickly shot back. What? He leaned into us a little. And I repeated back what my girlfriend said. He just continued to stare at us for a couple more seconds before saying, I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about. Surprised, I said back. Isn't there supposed to be a cemetery near here? Turning back to walk down his driveway. He said facing away from us.

Not that I know of. The air was thick and quiet, and all I wanted to do was get the hell back to the car. We both got in, pulled a U-turn, and headed back to the opposite direction, down the dirt road. As we put that house behind us, we both remarked at how strange the whole interaction was. I mean, maybe he literally didn't know that there was a cemetery in the woods just across from his property. Maybe he and his family had just moved in and hadn't explored the area yet. These were plausible, but not as plausible as that he may have just wanted us to fuck off. Leave him alone and get off his property.

I mean, either way, it had to be there. I'd just been staring at it on the map. Needless to say, at this point, we both figured that it was time to abort the mission. Between the motion camera on top of the sign and the cringy interaction that we had just had with that neighbor, one thing was clear. Outsiders were not wanted here, and pressing our luck any further would just about be the biggest scary movie cliche imaginable. I started back in the direction of the highway, but slowed down when I saw the dilapidated,

old town hall building. I figured, since we'd driven all the way out here, it would be a shame to leave empty handed. So I pulled into the tiny dirt parking lot and hopped out with my old Canon film camera to take a couple of pictures. The building itself was simply made and couldn't have been more than 60 years old. It was all sender block with only one set

of glass block windows on the front of the building. A giant ancient oak left the tiny building in total shade. I found a decent spot to take a picture and held my camera up to my face. While I was adjusting the lens, I heard the sound of tires loudly breaking in the gravel just behind where I was standing. I turned around to see that a pickup truck with a man probably in his late 60s had just pulled up to my girlfriend and I and had stopped about 5 feet from us.

Can I help you guys with something? He shot out of the rolled down window. He was thin with a full head of white hair and a neat white beard. The thick accent of the lifelong minnesota was immediately evident. The tone that he used to ask us this question was very severe, which was contrasted by the large, easy smile he had on his face. A few of his teeth were missing, but for some reason his smile was still very disarming. The most notable thing about him, though, were his eyes.

They were still grey and very milky. Those eyes scanned us for an answer. We were looking for the cemetery around here. My girlfriend said. And why? Do you have a relation buried there? He snapped at us before she even finished her sentence, still smiling. He still scanned us with those eyes, trying to get a definitive read on both of us.

No, we don't, but we were hoping just to have a look, I said. This didn't seem to do anything for him. So my girlfriend took the will from here. I just got my masters in American history, and this whole island has a lot of historical significance. It's interesting, and we just wanted to have a look. My girlfriend said this, with as much charm as she could muster, given the fact that we were just getting grilled by a stranger and an old pickup truck. I know it does. The man said indignantly, the smile gone. Look, there have been a lot of people who just come out here looking for ghosts, and we don't want any of that kind of crap here. No, no, that's not at all what we're here to do, I sure am. Even if it was exactly what we were here

to do, this seemed like hardly the time to come clean. He thought for a minute. Then, side deeply and said, all right, follow me. Now, I know what you must be thinking, there is no way in hell that they follow that man. Who knows where he came from or what his intentions were. Well, you'd be wrong. For whatever reason, we were so fixated on the idea of seeing the silly little cemetery that we were willing to follow an old stranger down an unfamiliar dirt road in nearly abandoned town. Dar went award material without a doubt.

He turned down the dirt road where we had spoken to the man doing yard work, and we followed him. He pulled his truck to a stop just shy of the other man's property, and pulled a quick U-turn, and pulled up next to us. Alright, this is the entrance, he said, pointing across the road to a locked green gate. The gate was old and wide enough for two lanes of traffic to get through. There was a long field behind the gate, and at the far end you could see Dint's forest. Just before that forest, however, was the small, old cemetery. Just go around the gate, don't worry. Nobody will give you any trouble, just don't get off this property here. All the rest of this is private property. He looked back towards the cemetery for a minute before

narrowing his eyes and saying, make sure that when you're back there you say hi to my mother, father, two brothers, and more neighbors than I can count, okay? The tone of his voice had a hint of discipline to it. As though by sharing this information, he was entrusting us to be on our best behavior. We got out of the car, locked it, and walked towards the gate. He stared at us both in his review mirror as we walked. After a few steps, he looks at my girlfriend from the head to toe in the mirror. Finally, after a few seconds, with a six smile on his face, he says,

Wow, you're a colorful young lady, and drives off. My girlfriend is 5'11. Dark olive skin with black hair and has large colorful tattoo pieces all over her body. We walked together toward the cemetery and chalked it up to him being friendly, but a weird, weird, old man. However, as we walked, neither of us could shake, not only his words, but the creepy deliberate way that he said them, just one of those things that makes you feel like you need to immediately go wash your hands. The cemetery itself was set on a small hill against

the woods, with the graves that started at the end of the 19th century and went up until present day. Many of the graves were very unusual, and on some of the older ones, they even appeared to be homemade. One odd thing about the cemetery was that many of the graves, even some of the oldest, were still maintained with flowers, wooden crosses, stuffed animals, unopened whiskey bottles, and too many types of trinkets to count. Many of the last names were the same, so this led us to believe that this place was still a central part of this incredibly small town.

Honoring the dead must be a local tradition, and no matter how long dead ancestors are, they are to be remembered. Odd, I thought, but kind of endearing. Just like the rest of the island that day, the air was dead quiet and cold. The cemetery was certainly one of the more unique ones that we had seen, but the feeling of eyes on you through the cold air was one of the most memorable parts of the day. Whether it was the cameras and the woods or something more, I'm not sure. The bottom line is that we were not alone in that cemetery, and we knew it. We spent less

than 10 minutes in that place. It was obvious that it was the town's opinion that outsiders were not welcome in this place, and that feeling was penetrating. On the drive out of town, we started asking ourselves the same questions over and over. Why did the camera on the stop sign? Why would that man clearly lie to us about his knowledge of the cemetery, and how on earth did the man and the truck know how to find us? And who was he?

What did he mean by his creepy comment about my girlfriend's color? As I drove, a girlfriend did a little more reading on the experiences that others had had with Grey Cloud Island. She turned to Reddit, as well as a few other paranormal forums on the internet. It turns out it is very comment, especially late at night, to be violently chased off by a man in a pickup truck. We'll come up on you quickly and try to run you off the road if you're in his opinion, up to no good.

I guess on that front, we got lucky. The last thing that we read though was the thing that made us decide to never return to Grey Cloud Island. And may have given us the answer about the man's odd comment. As it turns out, the town is also well known in history as a gathering place for the KKK. Even going so far as to host a retreat at a camp on the island. So everyone on Grey Cloud Island, let's never 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, online in-person, individually, or groups. It's training that's measurably better. Learn more at managementconcepts.com. That's managementconcepts.com.

AT&T Fiber presents a straightforward moment. Youcepts.com. This whole situation started in 2009 and continues to cause me a great deal of anxiety. Some of this information is jumbled. Honestly, I try not to dwell on it. In order to write this out, it took several days of consulting my husband to remember exactly what happened. So this is the story of Tanya. For a little bit of backstory, though, I'm not much for making friends. I didn't have many while I was in school, and until this day, making friends. I didn't have many while I was in school and until this day I had a tendency to avoid people in general. In the effort of not being a complete recluse I created a Facebook account and went surfing through there one day just to see if I could find someone to mindlessly

I am while I was at work. While scoping through the many mutual friends of high school friends, I happened upon Tanya. This isn't a situation where I decided to talk to a random person. Now this was someone I actually used to go to school dances with and talk on the phone with. After losing contact with her in college, I figured it wouldn't hurt to shoot her a friend request in a quick message. I should have been worried when she instantly accepted and messaged me back. After messaging for a while, we decided to meet up and get coffee when my shift at the restaurant was over. The first time we hung out, there were no red flags whatsoever, typical bitter twenty something, so we decided to hang out the next night after I was done with my waitress

gig. Second time around, I really should have paid more attention. The night before she was single, tonight however, she had a fiancé, Michael, who was a navy semen from Virginia. They had been living together prior to her moving home and they were going to get married on February 2010 and she wanted to make a date to hang out so that we could go shopping and get her a wedding ring. When we started talking about my love life and how I was dating someone from high school,

she got kind of pissy and stated that she hated him, which I guess to each their own. For some reason I ignored this, just happy to finally have a female friend. Weeks preceding up to her fiancee, coming were spent with her dragging my boyfriend through the dirt and pushing me to talk to her brother David, a soldier in the army. All through high school she had never mentioned him. There were no pictures of him at all, at home, on her phone, on her Facebook profile. Random messages from her aim account would pop up in the middle of the night claiming

to be from David. So I would exchange messages from this phantom and leave it be. When her fiance arrived that February, the message is stopped. Finally, the night came to go pick up her fiance from the airport and she asked me to go with her. I said, sure, because navigating the SFO is not always easy. However, I thought it odd, because they hadn't seen each other in a while. Wouldn't they want to be alone? When the flight landed, and the passengers were getting off the plane, a random man came up to me and started talking.

Tanya's fiance. He seemed startled when I said that I wasn't Tanya. After that bump in the road, they got along like a normal couple and were married within the next few weeks. Then the crazy came out. Once he left to go back to base, Tanya seemed to unravel. I would get calls from her, all hours. She would drag me out of my house and refuse to take me home. But that was the tame stuff.

She would get violently mad, screaming, and causing scenes if I told her that I didn't want to hang out. On the occasion that I didn't hang out with her, she would try to get me drunk so that I would not be able to get myself home and had to stay at her house. This happened on a few occasions. One night while I was staying there, I woke up around two and she was just sitting by the bed, lit up by the light of the phone, staring at me.

Thankfully not long after that, she moved to be with Michael in Virginia due to the invention of cell phones, however, that led to non-stop calls about how her husband was horrible. Repeatedly, he would beat her and scream for hours. She was absolutely hysterical. She even went as far as accusing him of putting sand and sugar into her gas tank so that

she couldn't leave the house. Finally, after maybe two months, she decided to leave her husband and come back to California. When she moved home, everything came to a head. While I did welcome her back and agreed to hang out from time to time, I didn't trust her at all and started looking into some of the things that were going on around me. First, there was the whole David thing. I was stupid to trust these random messages. So I did a Google search on the pictures that he sent me, and they were stock photos. Yep. Time to cut ties there.

When those messages were unanswered by me, my boyfriend started getting messages from a random Myspace account. They were from someone that neither of us knew. She didn't even live in the same area as us, and she was in none of the groups that either of us were in. When she started actively hitting on him, I decided to take a closer look into it. Sure enough, her background info was Tanya's. The pictures that she posted were stock as well, and the one scenery picture that she uploaded was of Tanya's neighborhood.

She was trying to catfish both of us. While all of this was going on, my husband, then boyfriend, was attending regular PT session, so that he and his buddy could finally enlist in the military. Tanya was thrilled that he was finally going away. However, his friend was a special interest of hers. She had a thing for him all through high school and after her divorce, she zeroed in on him again and was not happy with the intel she received.

He was separated from his wife and dating a girl on the side. While this is frowned upon, the office that the guys were going through to enlist really disapproved and would boot not only one of the people that were participating in the infidelity, but anyone else that knew. So when it was discovered that she could not get rid of the girlfriend, she reported the couple to the recruiting office. Thankfully, no one was dropped from the program, however, they were able to talk their way

out of it, and the couple has now been married for five years. The situation not only put the future of the couple on the line, but because my boyfriend knew, it was detrimental to us as well. Enough was enough. I decided that I couldn't put up with the chaos and the crazy anymore and separated myself from her. When my husband left for boot camp in April that year, she tried to get a hold of me. I declined the calls and generally went into hiding. When she couldn't get a hold of me through those means, emails from David started back up. At this point, since I knew he was a figment of a sick girl's imagination, I ignored the emails and various

I.M.'s. However, that didn't stop the multiple false orders that she sent to the restaurant, trying to get my attention and get me in trouble with my boss. It only took two of the fake orders before I learned the pattern and was able to avoid the orders altogether. For a while, Tanya disappeared, upset with my unwillingness to return her calls. She went into hiding. After I got married in 2012, however, she resurfaced. I started noticing her car driving slowly through our area, and at times even park across from the house, leaving a massive cigarette butts in her wake. After one of these nights, my parents received a notice from the city stating that they were contacted because we were abusing our dogs and that someone was going to come out the next day to talk to us regarding the situation. We've never even had any dogs. When the city employee came out to

talk to my mother, we were told that the tip was fishy and it sounded like it was just someone that had issues with me and they left the initials TMC for record. When I was told this, I apologized for bringing this monster into our lives and that it would probably stop as soon as I moved to North Carolina. This statement was particularly correct. It stopped for them, however it did not stop for me. She wasn't done with me. About six months

after moving, I got a call from Tanya's ex-husband. Michael and I had stayed in touch after their divorce and bonded through torture. He was warning me that she had been up to Virginia the day before, screaming at the gate to his base, wanting him to come out. When he refused, she started screaming that she knew I was in North Carolina, and she was going to find me. The following week, I hid. I made sure that my husband and I stayed close to home. I didn't want to risk running into her. Apparently, though, that didn't stop her. When she couldn't get me, she went after my husband. Within the next week, my husband got called in the battalion office because

someone had called stating that he had raped them. No police report was ever filed by this woman, and I was able to verify my husband's activity for the time that was specified, so the base stopped the investigation. I, however, was terrified that she would find out where I lived. I spent many days hiding under the kitchen table so that I could be out of the sight of windows. Then the phone call started. That following summer, I began to get phone calls from companies back home in the Bay Area, responding to my resume posts on Craigslist. I got roughly seven calls, each of them stating that they were impressed by the conversations that we were having via email.

Finally, I figured out that this could all be a fluke and asked what email they were contacting. And I was provided with one of Tanya's that she had created for me when I worked with her years prior. After thanking this poor, confused HR person, I started scoping through Craigslist and found that not only had she posted that resume multiple times, but that she had been posting on dating in single forms with it as well. First chance I got, I changed my phone number.

From 2013 to 2015, nothing happened, at least nothing that I had noticed. It's like she forgot about my existence altogether. I thought that I was finally free, but then Michael called. By this time, we stopped having regular conversations, only really sending a message on each other's birthdays. So it was weird when he called me in the middle of November in 2016. He wanted to know if I had heard anything from her. When I said no, he responded with, well she is coming to see you. I had become thoughtless, thinking that I was safe, so I started posting pictures on

Facebook again, nothing specific, but like the welcome sign to the town that I lived in, and just some stuff from where I worked. Understandably, I freaked. Michael told me that she called him and told him that she was in my area. He wanted to give me a heads up. Later in the week though, I thought that maybe she was bluffing and that I was okay, but I went to Walmart. I was just running there after work one day.

The one in town is not far from the freeway, so it's easily accessible. And there she was. Tanya standing at the other end of the parking lot, lost by that horrible little car that raced through my nightmares. Upon seeing her, I ducked down and hid behind the steering wheel while I frantically tried to turn the car on. Once my hands decided to work, I peeled out of the parking lot, called my husband, and drove frantically back to work where it was safe because you had to have a key card to enter. I hid in the break room for an hour while I waited for a friend to get off of work so

I had someone to protect me. Since that moment, nothing else has happened. Every time that I let my guard down, however, she comes back. So, for this moment, the only thing I can do is wait. This story occurred when I was in middle school. I can't remember the exact grade, but it had to have been fifth or sixth because I was still attending private school with my little brother. The summer before the school year started, my mom busted me for having a MySpace account.

Well, actually, my little brother squealed on me after we had one of our weekly blow-ups. He's a twerp. Anyway, I told her I really, really needed to keep in contact with my best friend who had moved at the beginning of summer, and my space was how we were able to share pictures and chat. She said that I could make a Facebook account instead, as long as she had access to my username and password. This was when Facebook first became popular, so I had no clue what it was, and my mom had to walk me through setting up the account and finding some of my school friends. About 45 minutes after I created my account, my inbox started to flood with requests.

Some kids from my school, some old teammates from my basketball days, and most importantly, this boy, that I had a mad crush on for about three years. As I'm scrolling through all my real-life friends that were hoping to level up to be my online friends, I came across an outlier. The profile photo was that of a woman who had to have at least been in her early 40s. The photo was taken from a downward angle. Her lips perched in that classic duck lip fashion and her breasts, spilling out of a lazy tank top. Her hair was cut into a blunt bob with her bangs covering one of her eyes.

The color was pretty unnatural. Definitely one of those cheap box dies that you get from the drugstore. I'd describe it as a deep black and cherry color. Her name was Holly. I was pretty freaked out to say the least. Being fairly new to social media, it gave me the heebie-geebies to think that an adult woman that I didn't know sought me out and wanted to get a glimpse into my online life. Instead of rejecting her request, I ignored it. That way I could feign ignorance and say that I never saw it, in the event that I did actually know this woman.

A few days later, my staunchly overprotective mother signed into my account while I was swimming at my cousins. She checked my friend requests and saw Holly's. Being the conservative, prim, and proper woman she is, she was appalled by Holly's profile photo. Without giving a second thought, she denied the request and never said a word to me about it. The remaining days of summer came and went went and I was connecting with my classmates and engaging

in the classic poke war and posting silly things on each other's walls. Then, three days before I was set to start school, I got another friend request from Holly. This time, her last name was different in her profile picture is more seductive. It's a full body mirror selfie and she's wearing a leather bodysuit, coupled with thigh high leather boots. Okay, now I'm even more freaked out. I decided to tell my mom and part to see if maybe she knows Holly and because her Facebook wisdom was so vast, and she would tell me how to get rid of Holly for good. I left my profile open on the computer and ran upstairs to get my mom.

When I came back, I had a staggering 45 friend requests. All from Holly. Her picture and her last name were different on every profile, but each photo featured her darkened, cherry hair and some sort of leather get-up, occasionally featuring a whip in her hand. My mom gasped audibly, and was about to message one of the accounts to give this holly character a piece of her mind and threatened to call the police. As my mom was slamming her fingers on the keyboard, unleashing her fury, I got another friend

request, this time, from my dad. Now, to anyone else, this one may not seem too weird, except for a few things. One, my dad has made it his life's mission to be the last man on earth without any social media. Two, the profile picture was a photo of me and my dad from when I was in first grade. My dad had lost a considerable amount of weight since then. I'm talking over a hundred pounds, and was always deeply embarrassed by his old photos, so I know he would never use that specific photo as his Facebook debut.

3. My dad and I were not estranged. We lived in the same house, and he and my mom were happily married. It's like a million percent impossible that he would make a Facebook without telling any of us and send me a friend request. It was obvious to me that my mom wasn't buying the fake account anymore.

She went from absolute rage to disgust. And then to a state I rarely saw her in. She was calm, like eerily calm. Oh, it seems that Holly is a friend of your father's then. Let's see what she has to say. In my head, I was thinking this woman has no idea the Pandora's Box, she's about to unleash. My mom is a lovely lady, but the moment you try to cause harm to her family, you've

got a big storm coming. Anyway, she accepted the friend request, and then we waited. And waited and waited. Nothing. My mom had figured that this woman had somehow connected to either herself or my father, considering she knew his first and last name and was able to find my mom's Facebook account to steal that old photo. She stared at the inbox, waiting for the reply from this enigma of a woman.

Go to your room, dear. She told me, I don't want you involved in whatever shitstorm this woman is trying to cause. I happily obliged. The drama was far too much for my pre-teen brain, and I honestly just wanted to eat some lucky charms and watch SpongeBob. My bedroom was right above our home office, which was usually a quiet place until that day. My mom called my dad into the office and interrogated him about this woman, who was usually a quiet place until that day. My mom called my dad into the office and interrogated him about this woman who was trying to desperately get my attention

on the internet. My dad was quiet, methodically clicking through these photos and repeating each of the Fox last names out loud to see if they rang any bells. Then, oh for fuck's sake, I could hear his heavy footsteps nearing the bottom of the stairs. Get down here!" my heart started pounding. My dad wasn't a guy that raised his voice very often, but I bet my neighbors heard him calling me this time. I timidly came down the stairs and met my parents in the office. Honey, I'm sorry for yelling. You're not in trouble, he began. I just need to know how

this woman found you. I don't know," I said defensively. He sighed, and dragged his open palm hand down on his face. He turned to my mother, delete the account now. No, I wind. I just got it and all of my friends are on there. Punny this woman is mentally ill. I need you to be safe. I need to keep you safe." He said as he grabbed my hand and pet my hair. It turns out, my dad dated Holly when he was in high school. She was older than him by quite a few years, and his mom couldn't stand her. My grandma forced my dad to break up with Holly when he was a senior, threatening to kick him out if he didn't. I guess it didn't go well.

Like at all. My dad said that two nights after they broke up, he came home from the night shift that worked around 4 a.m. My grandma was out of town visiting her sick sister, so it was just my dad and his two younger brothers staying at the house. He was exhausted out of his mind and didn't even notice that there was shattered glass on the porch, the result of a broken window in the living room. He entered the front door and went to check that my uncles were asleep, like he did every

night. To his horror, neither of my uncles were in their rooms. He ran to the back of the house to his bedroom hoping desperately to find that they had fallen asleep in his bed after watching TV. Instead, he found Holly, naked, waiting for him. Naked, waiting for him. You psycho bitch! Where the fuck are my brothers?" he yelled. She said, I took them to my sister's house for a sleepover. I thought we needed some time to ourselves.

Long story short, my dad ended up getting a restraining order against Holly. Though it didn't do much, he would see her car driving slowly by his house and workplace at all hours of the day. He would find roses and teddy bears and creepy notes on the front seat of his car or in his mailbox. Eventually, my grandma got a new job and moved, my dad and uncles across the country. And Holly was never heard from again, until now. I let my parents delete the account, and life went back to normal, for a while. I started school, saw all of my friends made some new ones, and was generally just kick

an ass. A few months into the school year, I remember being in math class when the assistant principal pulled me out. I'm sorry, sweetie, but your mother was involved in a car accident. Your grandma is here to take you and your brother home," she said. I instantly started to ball. The assistant principal took my hand as we walked down the hall to my brother's classroom. He was two grades younger than me, but our private school was small and went from kindergarten

to eighth grade. The three of us walked hand in hand to the main office. My tears had become a bit more silent now, as I had to put on a strong front from my little brother. My breathing started to steady, and the ringing in my ears began to lower. We entered the principal's office, and I saw a few kids sitting on the bench in the waiting area, either waiting for the school nurse or to be reprimanded by the principal. I looked around for my grandma, but I couldn't see her. I started to cry again, because I was so upset and wanted to hug my grandma and to go

see my mom. My tears and sniffles startled everyone, and the otherwise quiet waiting room. So much so that the only other adult in the room turned around. She was tall, maybe six-one. She was wearing a tight-eye shirt with a kitten on the front and acid-wash jeans. Her hair was long and curly and unnatural. Blackened cherry. I screamed. Oh honey, don't worry, I'm here. Let's go to see your mom, she really wants to see you."

Holly said. "'Get away from me,' I yelled. You're not my grandma.' I ripped my hand away from the assistant principal, grabbed my brother and ran out of the office. My heart was racing a million miles a minute, and my mind was scrambling for some sort of plan. I only live a few blocks away from the school. Should I run home? No. No, of course not. She could follow us and find out where we live. My older brother lives in an apartment across town. Should I go there?

My older brother lives in an apartment across town. Should I go there? No, that's too far. She'll find us before we make it. And I stopped in my tracks. I told my brother to go back to his classroom and pretend like nothing happened. Everything will be fine. Then I break into a dead sprint back towards the office. Luckily, Holly is still in the office, talking to the assistant principal, spinning God

knows what kind of story. She shocked to see me burst through the door. I'd like to call my mom, please. I said, honey, your mom is in the hospital. Holly began her voice increasing in volume. We need to go see her now. Principal Mandy, may I please use the phone? I'd like to call my mother.

I requested. Cool as a cucumber. This bitch wasn't going to get me or my brother. Not today. The assistant principal looked half confused and half scared out of her mind. Did they not check this woman's ID? There was a list of adults for each student that would be allowed to take them off school property. And I'm sure Holly was not on that list.

I stared intently into the assistant principal's eyes, my hand extended. Yes, honey, of course. She finally relented. She turned around to tell the front desk secretary that I needed to use the phone when Holly made a beeline towards me, grabbed me by the wrist as I pulled her by the hair with my free hand as hard as I could and stepped on her ankles, a tactic that I learned from fighting with my brothers all of those years.

She fell hard on the floor, but bounced up just as quickly and ran off. The principal had told the front desk lady to call 911 and she took me into her office to call my mom. After my parents had some choice words with the office staff are allowing that woman onto campus, they decided to pull both me and my brother from the school. We moved a few towns over for a clean slate and have moved a few more time since. I never saw Holly again, but this is not the end of her story. I recently turned 21 and it was about to head to the bars with a few of my friends to celebrate. I noticed what looked like a flyer on the windshield of my car, which was parked in our driveway.

It looked like one of those promotional things that people stick in your car windows while you're in the store. I yanked it off intending to throw it away without a second glance, but I noticed my name was written, and big pink sparkly letters. I opened the folded piece of paper to find a handwritten letter about how much better my life would have been had I gone with her that day, all of those years ago. But that despite my foolish decision, I turned into a beautiful and accomplished young woman signed Holly. Holly, you psycho bitch, let's never 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 individualize 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 this measurably better. Learn more at managementconcepts.com. That's managementconcepts.com. AT&T 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 ATT.com slash Hypergig for details. Not long after we got married back in 2014, my husband and I moved from Rockingham, North

Carolina to Fayetteville, North Carolina. We didn't have any friends or family there, but he was offered a good job in his field, and so off we went. With the move being so quick, I was still looking for a job when we got there. So for the first few weeks, I was home alone while he was at work. I will say we weren't in the best neighborhood, but in our immediate situation it was an area that we could afford. Plus our landlord that we were renting from lived right next door, and she was extremely

nice, ex-military. So I never worried about being there alone until one afternoon. I was doing some laundry when my dog started barking. I didn't hear anything, so I looked at the front window to see what they were worked up about, and I saw a man walking down our road. Now this was a dead-end cold-assack road, Now, this was a dead-end cold-to-sac road, with just our house and our landlords at the end. So, it was very unusual for anyone to come down that far. He was walking pretty slowly, looking around and behind him constantly. I thought he was weird, so I kept watching. He finally stopped, then started walking back up the road. At this point, thinking it was odd,

but that he was probably just lost, I brushed it off and went back to what I was doing. About 30 minutes later, I get a knock at the door. I peek out the window to find that the man from earlier was standing on my doorstep. At this point, I was very weary, but dumb curiosity got the best of me, so after a few knocks I opened the door. This is how our conversation went. Hey, miss, is your husband home? He shouldn't be here any minute. Can I help you with something? Oh, no. I mean, yeah, probably. He said that I could cut your grass, so I was coming to talk to him about it. Side note. My husband has never and would never have anyone else cut our grass.

He enjoys doing it, and can be very particular about it. Is that so? When did you talk to him about that? A few days ago, he said he would give me $50. Knowing at this point that there was no way that this was true, and then realizing he not only had no lawnmower with him, but also he had walked there. I started feeling very uncomfortable. Sir, I think he must be confused. I know he hasn't spoken to anyone about that." He responded, "...that long of you lived here. I can come back tomorrow and do it. I'll come back then."

No, sir, that's not necessary, and I'd really appreciate it if you left now. He seemed unfazed, and we just stood there in silence for what felt like forever, while he stood uncomfortably close to the door. Without saying anything else, he walked down the steps and back towards the road. I watched him make sure that he left, and once he was out of sight, I locked all of the doors and continued with my day. That evening I told my husband about my day, and that included a strange man. He confirmed what was already known that he had not spoken to anyone about cutting

our grass. A little weirded out, but letting it go, we laughed and chalked it up to nothing. The next day around lunchtime, I was alone once more, and there was a knock at the door. I peered out the window to see that the man was back. I just stood there at the door not moving, not really knowing what to do. That's when he started yelling, asking if my husband was home or if it was just me. I'm assuming after realizing that I was there looking out. He continued knocking and yelling that he was there to cut our grass and that he just needed to talk to me about it. I yelled back that I didn't see a lawnmower and

that I already told him yesterday that we didn't need any help. I could hear him mumbling and then he started yelling again, that he just needed to talk and could I please open the door. I again told him no. I went back and forth with him, like this a few times. I told him at this point that I was calling the police, which I probably should have, but I didn't, and that he needed to leave now as they are on their way, and we had nothing to talk about. He stood there for another few minutes seemingly unbothered, and looking around, and then eventually walked away and went back up the road. After that day, he started keeping a gun near my front door, although thankfully he never

came back. I'm not sure what his exact intentions were, but I'm happier not knowing. Creepy lawn care guy, let's not meet. This is something that I think about to this day. It happened to me more than 10 years ago, and I'm thankful for listening to my gut response because for all I know, I might not be here writing this if I hadn't. When I was maybe 15 or 16 years old, and I believe sophomore year in high school, I had art honor society after school once a week.

I lived in a suburb outside of Atlanta, and I've never felt unsafe in my area. However, if you asked the richer folks on the other side of town, they would have a different opinion. After my club meeting, my sister was supposed to pick me up. But she often would be late by 15 or 20 minutes, sometimes 45 minutes to an hour. She absolutely hated having to disrupt her personal time to pick me up, and she got a mouthful from our mother after that night. I always sat in the same spot on a bench that faced the cold sack-like loop around the drop-off section in the back of my school. It was just past dusk, and the sun had already set.

It was just past dusk, and the sun had already set. I was simply sat with my MP3 player listening to music, annoyed with my sister's chronic lateness. And then I saw headlights creeping up the path. Given that I was the only one out there, I kind of sat up expecting it to be my sister, but as the car pulled around the loop, and eased to a stop I could tell immediately it wasn't. They didn't pull up right against the curb. The car was reminiscent of an old beat-up Cadillac, and it was a steel blue with rusted

paint. A man leaned out his window, arm hanging out as he poked his head out and looked over at me. Immediately, I felt uncomfortable. He stared at me for a very brief moment, and I tried not to notice him, but then he started to wave his arm at me, as if to gesture for me to come over to him. He knew that I had seen him, and I thought it would be rude to ignore him. I slipped my headphones off and called out some generic, can I help you?" He gestured more vigorously as he wanted me to approach him.

I stood up and approached, stopped short of the curb, never stepping off, too far away for him to lunge or jump out. I kept a safe distance and assumed maybe he was just hard of hearing and needed directions. He didn't look like he could be a parent, too young to have a kid in their teens, but also too old to be a student. Hey, uh, you know where the basketball game is? I blinked, confused. Granted, I was the artsy type. I kept to my art club and wasn't one to go to school games and functions, but I heard nothing about a game happening that night, and while I didn't go to many events, I was

one of those people that made friends with all sorts of people from different groups. This definitely weirded me the fuck out. I timidly replied, committing his face and card of memory. Uh, no, but the school gym is on the other side. They gave him some simple directions on how to best loop around the school. He didn't seem to listen. Hey, come closer. I took the smallest baby step, still not stepping off the curb. I didn't want to upset him, I guess. Do you need a ride home?" he asked. "'Hell, nobody,' I thought. No, my sister just called me. She's just a few minutes away. You sure? I can give you a ride, he pressed.

Why the hell would this guy want to give me a ride if he was trying to get to some basketball game? Alarms are now ringing. No, thank you. She's probably right around the corner or something, I said. I could easily be waiting there for another 20 minutes though. But he didn't know that. I turned to retreat back to my bench, but he called that again. Hey, hey, hey, he spoke a smile on his face, but it was weirdly forced. The way creeps smile when they try to put their victims at ease, I wasn't buying it. I can give you a ride, come on. No, thank you.

I spoke a little louder and continued walking. In retrospect, you could have easily jumped out of his car. He gave me this look as if he were contemplating, if whatever he wanted to do was worth it. Then he leaned back into his car and turned around. I thought quickly enough to grab the most convenient thing and wrote down his license plate number, illuminated by his car lights, and what was left of the sun disappearing completely.

The next day, I walked into my school's police office first thing. We had two officers that always patrolled our school, and I reported the incident. They looked at me. Their faces troubled, as they informed me. There definitely wasn't a basketball game last night. The expressions suddenly made me incredibly unsettled, but it only confirmed that this guy was definitely not up to any good. One of them assured me that they would look into this and would keep me updated.

They thanked me for my fast thinking, and that I did the right thing. I later learned that they found the guy, and he had some warrants out for his arrest. But I can't remember if they ever told me what they were for. They could have been just for traffic tickets for all I know. I hope. They were just for traffic tickets. Creepy man and assistant on giving me a ride home let's not meet. meat. It's 309 AM. It's a bang.

From deep sleep to full force adrenaline, either it was a crash, an explosion, or a meteor I'd fell to earth. This sound was so loud. Screams, a man yelling, my wife, my wife, my body became weightless. It felt like I was floating at lightning speed as a ran to help myself. In the time I ran, I was preparing myself to see something horrible, broken, dead bodies, severed limbs, but I saw a glowing light around the bend and a walkway. It was a house completely ripped open, as if a giant had torn off its facade.

Electrical wires with lights still attached, moving slightly as they hanged from the ceiling, hardly attached. A stolen car had crashed through the house almost completely. The two youngest daughters of this family were sleeping in their bunk beds when this happened. The car, it stopped right before them. They were within literal inches of doom. Miraculously, everyone was accounted for and unharmed, except for the driver. He was gone. By this point, a police officer arrived, and more people started to appear, all wearing pajamas, with dreamlike confusion on their faces. As I walked back to my apartment, I saw a trail of blood.

It was leading right down the path that goes to my door. There are no other doors down this path, and no one but I should need to take it. The usual sweet, pleasant smelling jasmine hedges that surround my apartment and gave me privacy now offered something different. The driver was either in my unlocked apartment or hiding behind those hedges. I stepped over the small puddles of blood and felt that feeling we all have experienced before that feeling of being watched. The deranged, hopped-up driver of the stolen crashed vehicle was watching me. I half-expected him to jump out, to grab me, and seek refuge in my apartment.

I half-expected him to be there already. In either case, I was ready to fight. I tried to appear unaware of his presence, not only to hopefully keep him in hiding, but so if he attacked me, my fight response would shock him. As I shut the door, I heard the lightest shutter of the hedges, and the trailing of feet as they whisked away. Thinking this was my imagination, I checked my entire place to make sure that he wasn't inside. It was clear. Moments later, the police spot him on the side of my block, and they chase him briefly

before arresting him. As I was walking back into my bedroom, I realized that if this drugged up driver had turned in a slightly different way, he would have driven right through my room. He would have first collided where my head lay in bed. There is no doubt. If he had hit my house instead, just my door, I would have been dead. Tweaked out man covered in blood, you chose to steal a car. Drive it while high out of your mind and almost kill two innocent children.

You indeed traumatized them. Not only by nearly killing them, but also with your blood-covered face as you crawled over them and bed to escape out their window. 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 individualize 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. 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 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 Hypergig for details. This happened 15 years ago in my final year of high school. In the country where I lived, they took Christianity very seriously. You were raised Christian at school. We had Bible lessons and scripture readings every morning

before class started and your social life pretty much revolved around the church. When this event occurred, I was a youth leader at my church, and I even had a key to open the church every Friday evening and Sunday. That was a pretty awkward kid though, a bit weird and perhaps a little eccentric. So I didn't have that many friends in school, too, to be exact. That was a real social outcast back then. We also lived about 60 kilometers away from the school, and I had to wait like four or five hours after school for my mom to come pick me up so that we could

go home. All these facts will be important for later. My story starts in January of my final year. As final year students, we had slightly more privileges than all the other students. For one, every morning we would all meet in a big hall for Bible ratings and the announcements for the week. Here all the young students would sit on the icy cold floor at the bottom of the hall, and the final year students and the very few girls would sit on chairs at the top of the gallery, overlooking the big hall. This was always made out to be a major privilege.

We also had a choice to attend sports events like Rugby or athletics. One of the major sporting events in the beginning of the year was the Inter-High School Athletics Competition. Here, on one day in January, all the schools in the area would compete against each other to find the best athletes so they could be nominated to represent the schools in the area would compete against each other to find the best athletes so they could be nominated to represent the area in provincial competitions. At these competitions, all the students from each school would need to attend as spectators. Final year students had a choice whether or not they wanted to go. However, this year, this event was moved to another school,

and there wasn't enough space for each high school's entire populace. Therefore, only the first year and final year students were forced to go. Given that final year students always had a choice in the past, and that this event was on a Friday, my two friends, who all called Dr. Dre and the Wizard and I, decided to stay at home and make a long weekend out of it. Dr. Dre was the only normal person and the little group of friends. Dr. Dre was really into rap music. He had good relationships with the teachers, all the different clicks of students from the jocks to the geeks, they all liked him. And he was overall a really decent kid, very wise and smart for his age.

The wizard on the other hand was a very tall, blonde Dutch boy that was into very weird things. People found him to be extremely weird but didn't pick on him. He liked to catch mice in the field, skidding them and make stuff from their skins. He was in his own mind into wizardry. He identified as dark wicka or a dark witch. He was just overall kind of weird. Anyway, the Monday morning after the athletics event, my two friends and I went to the big hall for the daily Bible lesson and announcements, as was customary.

We sat at the top of the gallery and waited for the plebs to fill the hall at the bottom. When everyone took their seats, two student leaders came to the gallery and said that everyone that wasn't at the event on Friday will need to go sit at the bottom with the plebs for the rest of the year. Apparently, they handed out little cards on Friday and we didn't have them. So my friends and I awkwardly stood up and made our way down the stairs. Halfway down, I told them that it was kind of bullshit that we had to go sit with the kids. The wizard then said, I say we just go outside the hall and refuse to go in. Make a statement about it. At the time, we thought it was a good idea and went to sit outside.

About 15 minutes later, a student leader came to ask us why we were sitting outside. I responded, it's none of your business. And he proceeded to call one of the teachers. Our mathematics teacher, a short mid-40s baldding Greek man, came outside and asked why we were sitting there. Without thinking the wizard said, it's against our religion. The teacher asked what religion it was, and we didn't respond. He turned around and walked away. We didn't mention which religion we were, and at the time we thought it was a very smart response. Later that day we were in our home room class, the intercom went off, it broadcasted over the entire school. An old woman's voice asked the wizard, Dr. Dre, and I to go to the principal's office. Obviously, this story had already spread across the entire school,

and everyone knew what this was about. We went to his office and sat on the old wooden benches in front of his door. Dr. Dre was the first to be asked to go in. Ten minutes later, he comes out and returns to class. The wizard and I were then asked to come in together. The principal asked us to sit down and proceeded to ask us to explain the situation. Not willing to give up the jig, we proceeded to stick to our story. He then asked if we were Satanists. The wizard then responded and said something that would put me on a path of lifelong psychological trauma. The wizard said, yes, even though he wasn't.

The principal then proceeded to ask questions why and how and when. They felt like we were sitting there for hours. The wizard said that he was in it for the power and control. All the time I'm thinking, what the fuck, dude? I was quiet throughout the entire session, though. Mostly because I was afraid, but primarily because I was shocked from the things that came out of his mouth. Around an hour later, we were asked to leave

and return to class, and I thought that the situation was resolved. The next day at 7 a.m., all the students lined up in the quad, as we always did from Tuesday until Friday. The principal did his Bible reading and then the announcements. His final announcement sent shivers down my spine, though. He said that he made it his mission to destroy the satanic rituals and Satanists

in the school. At this point, it felt like all the students' heads turned towards me. With the extra incentive, the majority of the students started to bully me, and I was consistently made fun of. Given that both Dr. Dre and the wizard were macho gym junkies, no one picked on them. So I took the brunt of the students and teachers' wrath. This went on for about three months. By the end of the third month, people already forgot that Dr. Dre and the wizard were involved in the matter, and I was basically now labeled the school demon.

The face of the quote unquote satanic cult in school. Already an outcast, my life was now an absolute living hell. The smart astrum mark to get us not to sit at the bottom of the hall had now turned into a life of constant physical and psychological torture from students and teachers. Although I kept telling everyone that I wasn't a Satanist, and that it was the wizard lying to get us out of sitting with the younger students. No one believed me. Everything weird that happened at the school was now always made out to be my fault. I even talked to the principal, and even my pastor from the church, but nothing ever came of it.

I just wanted the torture to stop, and no one would believe me. I just wanted the torture to stop, and no one would believe me. So this brings me to D-Day, the last Friday of the semester. The school got out at 11. It usually got out a little bit later. Although the school was out, and everyone was on their way home, for the start of the summer vacation, I still had to stay at school until around 5.30 so that my mom could pick me up after work and we could go home. Around 11.30, the school was empty and I proceeded to go sit under my usual tree and entertain myself with snake on my old Nokia phone.

Mid-game I see the vice principal and the teacher that was in charge of religious studies. They walk up to me. They asked very politely if I wanted to ride with them. I declined saying that my mom would be here at any moment to pick me up. The Vice Principal said he already spoke to my mom, and she wasn't going to be here till around 6. Fair enough, he caught me out of my bulge at mom, and she wasn't going to be here till around six. Fair enough, he caught me out of my bowl should excuse, and given that that was the usual time she would pick me up, I didn't think to question it any further. We walked to his car and

I asked where we were going. He said he wanted to introduce me to what he called a friend of his. We climbed into the car and drove 15 minutes until we arrived at a church. I knew the church because that was where the school's minister, kind of like a priest, worked. The minister was big and wobbly. We looked as if he could afford to skip a few meals, a pudgy fellow with rosy cheeks, a massive belly, and this weird, bluish, gray tent to his eyes that always seemed as if it stares through you as he looks at you.

We'll call him minister bear. So we get there, and I feel my heart sink into my shoes. I knew where this was going. I was walked around the church and led into a dark room in the back of the building. As my eyes adjusted from the bright sun to the darkish room. I saw Minister Bear sitting behind his antique yellow wooden desk. He welcomed my two teachers and stood up and made his way around the desk. As his friendly eyes moved slowly away

from my teachers and towards me, his gaze systematically turned into this deep look of concern and fear. He locked the door next to me and said, in a deep and serious voice, I feel a dark presence in this room. He then thanked my teachers for bringing me there. He told my teachers to sit in the corner and ushered me into a chair in front of his desk. He sat down and proceeded to ask me a bunch of personal questions. It started innocent enough like who I was and where I lived, then drifted towards if I

ever had sex, if I am gay, which is a taboo subject where I'm from, then the questions became darker. I would answer, and he would tell my teachers, this isn't her talking. He then asked me, if I was a satanist, to which I responded with a clear no. I told him I was a youth leader in my church, and that he could phone my pastor to ask. He would then respond by saying things like, don't lie to me, demon, release this child of God. The more I would deny his claims, the more he would tell my teachers that they needed to pray because the demon has a very strong hold on me.

This went on for about two hours. I looked at my watch and it was clearly 130. He then asked the demon inside me its name. And how many of them were in me. I kept denying it and eventually I burst into tears, begging him to let me go. He said to my teachers that this was a demon's way to escape, that he was getting closer to getting them to release me. He asked me about Satanist rituals, and in between each

question he would ask, he would pray under his breath. No matter how much I cried, he didn't want to stop. I stood up and screamed that I'm going to phone the police and ran to the door. I tried to open it. I shook the handle, but it was locked. You won't escape this room with this child, demon. He yelled. I fell to the ground crying, saying that my mom is looking for me, and that I just want to go home. At this stage, he picked me up with both his hands and held me in the air. He pushed me against the wall and started praying louder.

As I struggled to get free, he yelled at my teachers to come put their hands on me and pray as the demons were losing control. I was afraid for my life. As a kid of 17, I didn't know what was going on. I remember thinking that how can they feel a dark presence as I spend all my time in church? Why don't they want to phone my pastor? Why won't they believe me? At this stage, I realized that the only way out of this was to act the role that they clearly want

me to play. That would be the only way out of this locked room. I tried to pull my tears back and look him in the eyes. I tried to push the quiver out of my voice. Okay, you got me, minister. I said, you can have the child. He immediately dropped me and took a couple of steps back. He stared repeating the questions from earlier and told my teachers to pray harder as we are now getting to the crux of the matter. They needed to cast him out. I kept responding to the questions in the way I thought they wanted. I then started speaking German backwards as they started praying harder. At this point, I just wanted to get out of there. After what felt like years, they finally stopped, and I fell to the ground. Minister Bear said, it's done. Laying on the ground, the tears again started bowling out of my eyes,

but this time out of total relief. They asked me how I felt, and I couldn't stop crying. I just wanted to go home. I lied again, and I said, I feel relieved and lighter, and that I'm not sure what was going on and how I got there. The minister then told me that I was possessed with a series of demons. I can't remember the names that he gave them, and that they were holding on deeply to my soul, that it took hours for them to cast them out, but that I'm free now. That's why I felt so light, and that crying is normal. He prayed one more time and gave me his number.

He told me that I should come see him next week, and that I should phone him if I feel something is coming back. They finally unlocked the door, not knowing if I was actually free to go, I stood there silently, still shaking, looking at my watch. It was now 5.45, and I knew that my mom was waiting for me at school. The teachers then asked if it was okay to go. They then took me back to the school and dropped me off at my mom's car. I climbed in and burst into tears.

My mom asked what was wrong and I explained. She then told me that I probably just misunderstood what was going on and that she would speak to the principal. Nothing ever came of this. This was by far the most traumatic event in my life. Although I know I contributed to the situation 15 years later as a trained and registered psychologist, the matter still haunts me. So minister bear my vice principal and my Bible study teacher.

Let's not meet again. I have been debating submitting this for some time now, but recently you said that families listened to this with their kids during one of your episodes to help educate them. That hit home for me. I hope my story will help someone somewhere. I grew up in a rural community in eastern Canada. I want to tell you a little bit about my neighborhood for context. My house was located on a hill, a belong driveway surrounded by trees.

You could only see the roof of my house from the road. My grandparents lived two houses down on the opposite side of the street that opened into a rocky beach, but all of the homes were sheltered and separated by patches of forest. My best friend at the time, who I'll call Bert, lived about six to seven houses down this street in the opposite direction. Around two curves in the road, I walked and biked this stretch all the time. This is relevant for later and how isolated I felt and how limited my options were at the time of this event.

I was about 7 years old when this happened to me. I'm almost 30 now. It rains a lot where I grew up, but picture a beautiful warm summer afternoon with the light ocean breeze. Usually, I would bike to Berts House, spend the day there, or we'd meet at my nanns, hanging out in their large yard, or on the rocky shoreline. On this day, I had ventured to my nanns and gathered a bunch of toys in my really cliché little red wagon and headed to Burt's.

I don't really remember what we got up to, or for how long. But I know it was late in the afternoon when I decided to head back home. I knew I had to drop the wagon off at my nands, and then get home for dinner, so I headed out with my wagon towards home. Shortly after I left, a vehicle pulled up behind me, and the driver stopped the car next to me to talk. That was not uncommon. People came down through our community for drives on nice days and asked for directions. I remember the vehicle pretty clearly.

It was a brown station wagon, one of those older ones, with the wood paneling on the sides. The driver was a man and a t-shirt, and there was a younger woman in the passenger seat. The man did most of the talking. He commented that my wagon must have been pretty heavy, to which I responded it was. But I was strong. He asked me how far I lived. I remembered this because alarm bells started ringing in my little seven-year-old brain,

and it just got worse from there. I said I didn't live too far, and that my man was waiting. He then offered to give me a ride home to which I said no thanks, and repeated that I didn't live far. He offered again, I declined. This time I went further as to say that I couldn't just leave my wagon. At first he told me it would be okay to leave the wagon, that he would come back for it. I refused.

So then he offered to put it in the back of his station wagon. At this point, alarm bells just got louder. The woman chimed in and repeated that it was no trouble, that they would put the wagon in the back and give me a lift home. I don't remember much about her, but she didn't look at me when she said this. that they would put the wagon in the back and give me a lift home. I don't remember much about her, but she didn't look at me when she said this. The bells started screaming. This part is scarily clear to me.

I again responded that I didn't live far, just around the bend, but knew I was running out of things to say. I was worried that I was also running out of time. Remember my neighborhood setup? At this point, thankfully, I'm standing about 200 meters from a house that I know. A family that went to our church with two girls just a bit older than me.

I can't see my house from here. It's just beyond the curve of the road. There are a lot of uninhabited woods from here to there. I also noticed that there's no car in this family's driveway. I literally remember calculating. I felt that I could make it to the door, but I was very worried they weren't actually home. Then what would I do? There was another house about 500 meters in the opposite side of the street, but their house was farther from the

road, and I didn't know them very well. Plus, the car was between me and that route. What if they got out of the car? I didn't feel like I could make it to my friends, as it was about 500 meters behind me, and up a small hill. They had a long driveway through the woods as well. Could he sense me thinking all of these things, though? I could feel the adrenaline, and I realized that I would have to ditch my precious wagon. He then said, OK, well, we could really give you a lift, it's no problem.

I declined again as all these options are going over in my mind and he said, OK, have a nice day. And drove away. The walk home seemed to take forever. I was afraid that they would be up ahead, away from the houses, as there were large stretches of woods on both sides, isolated from any house, and they would just grab me, where no one would see or hear me. But they were gone.

I left my wagon at the bottom of the driveway and ran up and told my mom. I don't remember much after that. When I asked my mom about it, she doesn't like to, but she remembers it. She reported it to the police who came and took a statement, but I honestly don't remember that part. I realized I'm very fortunate, and that thought still crosses my mind from time to time. There was no one else around. There were two of them and one of them me.

My parents and I didn't have a definite time to be home. Just a vague sense of being home for dinner. I'm very, very lucky. I don't know why they didn't just snatch me. Maybe they were just being nice. But when I listened to my mom talk about it, I know how upset she gets, and that reportedly other children in the surrounding areas

reported similar interactions. No one had seen that vehicle before or since. This is a small community. Everyone knows everyone, but regardless, I am glad that it didn't escalate. Or it might not be around to tell this story. To the young couple offering a seven-year-old 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 F 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 gigillionaire with AT&T fiber. Limited availability in select areas. Visit AT&T.com slash Hypergate for details. As a wild teenager, I had my fair share of lucky misses.

This one in particular scared me to my core. I was 14 at the time and at a friend's house one evening, and when we were all getting stoned and drinking, you know, stupid teenage stuff, I was wearing a white mini skirt, a glittery halter top, and knee-high white healed boots. Yes, I was that kind of girl. It was around midnight. I knew I had to be home, but there was no one sober enough to drive me. I asked my friend for a hoodie and some pants then I decided to walk the 30 plus minutes to my house alone. I had done this many times, so it felt safe enough to do so, except I hadn't done it

at midnight, alone. Within the first 10 minutes I passed the main intersection with no issues, and as I'm about to walk around the corner, down the main road into my area, a large green van pulls up beside me. Me being stoned in paranoid, my fingers automatically dialed 111, New Zealand's police number. As I dialed the police, a young man jumped out of the passenger's seat and yelled at me to get in the van. At this very moment, I had my phone to my ear, and the operator picked up and asked,

fire, ambulance, or police. I replied, police, police. Upon hearing this, the young man jumped back into the van and sped off down the road. I continued to tell the operator a man just tried to get me into his van and that I was stoned and walking home. I ended the phone call because I needed to keep my battery from dying as I still had 20 plus minutes to go before reaching my house. At this point I'm terrified in my stoner's paranoia as at an all-time high. I mean an

all-time high. This is a long straight road with only two bins in it. You can see most of the road from anywhere on the footpath. After the van incident, I started to jump into driveways and hide behind bushes whenever I saw headlights. After doing this consistently for about 15 minutes, I started noticing a white sedan had passed at least three times. Thinking I must be seeing things, I continue to hide whenever I see headlights and make my way closer and closer to my street. My finally reached the empty paddock, opposite the primary school, and saw headlights again.

Thinking on my feet, I quickly jump over the six foot high fence into the open paddock. There was a massive tree in the middle of the paddock, so I ran in a head behind it. A minute or so later, the white Toyota sedan pulled over directly in front of the paddock fence and outjumped five full-grown men. The first thing they said full grown men. The first thing they said was, where is she? Where is she?" They started searching the street for me, and we're peering over the fence and into the panic. Panicked, and absolutely shitting myself, I dialed the police. Once I got the operator, I just kept repeating my name, address, in current location. The operator finally calmed me down enough to ask me what was happening. I told her that five men in a white sedan out on the street were searching for me, and

they wanted to kidnap me. I knew they were looking for me as I was the only person walking on the street at that time. She told me the police were on their way and to remain hidden. Finally, I hear the police sirens after what felt like an eternity, but it was probably about five minutes. They drove straight past the men and they all scattered back into the car and fled. By this time, I'm pretty sure I nearly wet myself and balled my eyes out to the operator saying they drove straight past. Suddenly I hear a man saying, hello? Excuse me, girl.

Are you okay? I went silent. The man said, were those men looking for you? I live across the street and I could hear you crying. I peered out from behind the tree and said yes, are they gone? He said, yeah, when the police went by, they fled. He then offered to take me to his house and keep me safe until the police came. So I hung up on the operator and climbed to the fence and went into this guy's garage.

He was a lovely guy. He was just working on his car and the garage a few doors down from the paddock. He offered me a warm drink and a cigarette to call my nurse. After about 10 minutes, it became evident that the police were not coming. So he dropped me off at home. At that age, I was young, dumb, and I definitely would have gotten kidnapped if I wasn't a paranoid stoner with a true day-weird and be safe. It's 2014. I'm in my mid-twenties. I had just moved back to the city after getting out of an abusive relationship for two years, and I got an apartment with my best friend and her boyfriend, Marie and Robbie. Also, they're very sweet, loving, big, loud, and intimidating looking

dog, Bailey. The goal was living it up, aka getting trashed every night, not actually my best life, and what I really mean is spiraling. I was a drunk mess more than half of the time, and I didn't make great decisions. But I was so confined by my previous relationship and separated from my friends for so long that I decided that I would deal with my trauma by drinking it away, as well as casually dating and enjoying my time. I worked as an assistant manager at a cosmetic store in our local mall. My co-workers and I frequently made friends with people who worked within the mall.

We had a little network of people that we knew and chatted with. So when my co-worker told me that their friend who worked down at the coffee shop was interested in me, I said, give him my number. I said he wasn't looking for anything serious, but he found me attractive and asked them about me. So one night we meet up for a beer at a local brewery after work. The connection was fine, at least the coffee guy and I had a friendship started. And he was attractive and seemed fun. We're both what I thought, honest and upfront about what we're looking for. We talk about how I just moved back to the city, and he knew the area that I lived in because

he was going to college near my apartment. We part ways at the end of the night, and agree to hang out a few days later on a Wednesday. My day off. We're going to make dinner at his apartment and watch a movie. So we lightly text a bit between each other. Again, it's fine, but I'm already getting a sense that he's a little bit more attached than I feel comfortable with. Cut to Monday night.

I get home from work and almost immediately after I get home, I get a text from the coffee guy. Hey, are you home? I'm feeling slightly creeped out as he asked almost immediately after I walked through my door, but he doesn't know exactly where I live, right? It's just a coincidence. He starts to go on about how he just got out of class and had a terrible day between work and school, and he'd really like to see me. He knows that my apartment isn't far from the campus. Could he come over and just chill for a bit. I say yes, but I do feel a bit weird about this whole interaction. So I tell him my address and he gets there within five minutes. Now I know I love close to the campus, but it's at least a couple of miles away.

So maybe he took a Uber. He comes up and he's overjoyed to see me. He's practically sitting on top of me on the couch, and he's hugging me. And the overall level of physical affection, it's just making me uncomfortable. He talks about how much he's loving talking to me, how we should go to a movie later in the week. He's getting very excited, which is a combination

of endearing and, dude, this isn't what I'm looking for right now. Suddenly, the dog bursts in and wedges his way between us. Now, Bailey was incredibly protective of me, but I had never seen him like this, physically pushing the coffee guy away from me, sitting on top of my lab and wedging his head onto my shoulder and just staring. Oh, you have a dog. He says in this tone that's completely different from before, seemingly annoyed. Yes, this is my roommate's dog. Oh, you didn't mention you had a roommate.

Even more annoyed. I still get a vibe that he's almost mad at me. Yeah, Marie and Robbie. Do you fuck Robbie? He says, stone-faced. What? No, that's my friend's boyfriend. There's immediately an intensity in the room.

We had a weird moment of silence when suddenly Marie and Robbie walked through the back door. I'm going to go, he says. He seems weirdly angry. But after just getting out of an abusive relationship, I don't want to push the issue. When it comes to weirdly quiet upset men, it just frees. I immediately feel strangely uncomfortable, and like I'm really not sure if I want to see him again. The interaction with Bailey, it was just bizarre.

Now I could stop the story right here and talk about how I learned my lesson about the creepy, possessive, mall barista. But like I said, I didn't make good decisions at this time of my life. I still went over on Wednesday. Still got weird vibes, but didn't feel strong enough to speak for myself at this point. We hung out maybe two more times, but it continued to get wildly uncomfortable. He made comments about how I should meet his family. And when we bumped into a friend of his, he called me the one while squeezing my shoulder.

We were laying down watching a movie and he says, we should do this the rest of our lives. And he says, we should do this the rest of our lives. He seems sweet, but it wasn't what I was looking for. And something was intense and just felt off. I noticed a few odd moments, like when he asked me about how many men I've slept with, or if there are other guys that measured up to him, I'd find him peering over my shoulder when I would get a text message and suddenly get jealous of anyone who I was talking to. He also had a bit of a temper when I left his apartment. I knew that we would have a conversation and I wasn't going to be seeing him again. So we did. And he didn't take it well.

He replied, but we have a real connection. I love you. And out of nowhere, oh, what the fuck bitch really? I wasn't about to get into something abusive like this again. We had only hung out maybe three or four times and now here is where the story really begins. Coffee guy continues to text me. I either tell him, no, I'm sorry, or I just completely ignore him. So one Saturday night, he's texting me,

asking if we can meet up and talk. And I tell him, no, I'm just not that interested. I'm sorry. I wish you the best. I go out with three or four of my friends from work and we're sitting in a booth in the basement at the same brewery he and I had originally gone to. We're talking in bullshitting and they're asking me about the whole situation with coffee guy.

And if he was still texting me, we giggle about him for a minute, make a few jokes about how I'd never want to meet him in a dark alley and move on. My friend Danielle gets up to grab another round for everyone at the table. Takes two steps, immediately freezes, then sits back down. He's sitting right behind you. She says to me quietly. What? Who? I exclaimed, confused. That fucking coffee guy, he looked me dead in the eye as soon as I stood up. He had to

have heard our conversation. I, now feeling scared but bold with my friends with me and having some liquid courage, loudly exclaim, fuck it, let him say something to me. He wouldn't be so bold to actually talk to me here, would he? Did he follow me from the mall? I try to brush it off, but have an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. A few minutes pass and he comes over to the table. So this is where you've been hiding. He exclaims, I've been texting you all day. What did you lose your phone? Without even having a chance to get my words out, my friend stands up and exclaims, you're fucking creeping her out, dude. Back off. We all get up and leave. He tries to grab my arm as I walk away.

We need to have a conversation," he says, with much more anger in his voice this time. I pull away, flip them off, and head up the stairs and out of the bar. We then decide to head off to one of our other watering holes. The night is young, and he's already told me that he doesn't go to those bars because they're too seedy. So I feel safe knowing I realistically won't bump into him there.

So we head off to bar number two. It's about a 25 minute walk. We're all just laughing about the bizarre incident with coffee guy. We hang out out back and two of my friends go inside to grab a beer. And about two minutes later, come barreling outside, again with that look of what the actual fuck on their face. Coffee guy just walked in, they said, what? Let's go before he sees you. Maybe it was coincidence? No, he had to have followed me here.

He's already said he doesn't go to these bars. I don't think he saw me, but he saw my friends, and that was enough for the fear to rush over me. Also, I'm bust. It's barely past midnight, and the bars are still open for another two more hours, and no one was going to stop me from drinking. So we run off to the scurvy dog, my favorite bar, thinking, I've got to be safe there. We get to scurvy, and everything seems fine. I'm hanging out with my friends playing pool and popping in and out of the bar between smoking and drinking. My group of girlfriends had gone out and

slowly start to head home, asking if I want to go with them. But I again am too stubborn and idiotic to miss out on last call. I know the majority of people here. I feel safe. I'm thinking that someone would have to be a fucking idiot to come here and try something with me. Around 10 minutes before the bar is about to close, I'm hanging out with an acquaintance, chatting in the corner when someone spends me around.

It's coffee guy. We need to have a conversation, he said, looking at me with anger radiating through his body. His face was bright red. I freeze. What the fuck are you doing here? Did you fucking follow me? He slowly guides me outside.

I'm afraid I can't speak. Every memory of my ex is flowing through my brain and I'm terrified that he's going to hit me or worse. He pulls me into the side alley of the bar and starts talking to me, begging me, and pleading that I see him again. To give him another chance. Initially, I say, no, absolutely not.

And at least attempt to stand my ground, but I realize he's getting angrier. And the bar has let out, but no one knows who we're standing here. The music is so loud, so if I try to scream, no one would hear me. He takes my phone. He shows me my fucking location is shared with him, and is turned on on Snapchat. He told me he did it for my safety. Fucking whore. What are you fucking some other guy?

Is that it? Am I not good enough for you? I'm attempting to light a cigarette, and he's ripping them out of my mouth and smashing them on the ground, but then immediately crying and apologizing. It's 2.30. We've been arguing for over 40 minutes in an alleyway, and no one is left in the bar. I decide I'm going to craft a plan that will appease him enough for now. Get me home safely, and I'll deal with it tomorrow.

Yeah, okay, I'm sorry. I was wrong. I'm sorry, but I need to go home," I said. It's near three o'clock in the morning. It's the middle of December in New England. There's no one out. He gets excited. Come back to my place.

I lie. No, I have work early in the morning, and I need to change. He starts to wrap his arm around me. I'm terrified. I really need to pretend like everything is fine for my own safety in this moment. It begins begging and pleading with me. But I decide, at least in this moment, I'm going to put my foot down because at least going home should be a reasonable request. I'll come with you," he says.

I'm fumbling with my freezing fingers in the cold, trying to get an uber. No, no, no. My roommates don't like it when I have guys stay over that they don't know. My roommates don't like it when I have guys stay over that they don't know. 25 agonizing minutes later, the uber shows up. We agree I'm going home and he can't stay over, so I get in the uber and I feel like Cinderella stepping into a fucking pumpkin carriage, escaping this obsessive, crazy barista. He jumps into the uber. What are you doing? I just want to make sure you get home safe. He grabs my leg, grips it hard. We sit in silence for

the ride, except for me exclaiming every few minutes. I don't know why you got in the car. You can't stay stay over We pull up to the apartment How the fuck am I going to pull this off? It gets out I get out Okay, so bye What do you have another fucking guy coming over? He's infuriated. He's grabbing my wrists telling me he will come inside All I can think about is how the fuck did I end up here? My friend hooked me up for a casual hookup buddy, and now he's screaming at me in front of

my apartment at 4 a.m. and I'm convinced something terrible is about to happen. That's when Bailey starts barking and smashing into the window, loudly. Even I jump. He's completely losing it. Like I've never seen before. He knows I'm in trouble. This is why he got weird when he realized I had a dog. My apartment lights turn on and I can see Robbie's silhouette standing in the window, trying to calm Bailey down.

I have to go. The dogs upset. He can see me. I rip away suddenly refilled with courage that I had earlier in the evening. You're just going to make me fucking walk home now? What the fuck? Fuck you! He starts coming after me. But Robbie at this point had realized I'm outside and opened the door for me. Coffee guy immediately stops when he sees Robbie. The next day, Robbie called the guy and told him if he ever came near me again, he'd

fucking kill him. I had mall security walk me in and out of the mall every day, and shortly after he got transferred to a new coffee shop across town. For a long time, I dealt with a lot of guilt and confusion over the situation. I know I didn't lead him on, but to go from one abusive relationship to an abusive hookup really threw me for a loop. Now, I'm sober, married, a mom, and living 1200 miles away. But just in case he didn't get the picture the first time? Coffee Guy Let's Not Meet.

This week you have heard The Shack on Kessington by Tyler Brown, Disturbed Man at University by Darklight, Grey Cloud Island by Randy B, Tanya by Vortal Bunny. My dad's Psycho X Holly by a little T-Pot 19 creepy lawn care guy by Maggie. There was no basketball game by Dempels, bang at 309 am by Cassie F. How a white lie turned into an exorcism by Lulele. Almost kidnapped by Stony Wall, Stoner's Intuition by Shaz, Cross, and finally Creepy Coffee Guy and My Savior Dog by M. All the stories you've heard this week were narrated and produced with the permission of the respective authors. Let's not meet.

A true horror podcast is not associated with Reddit or any of the message boards online. As always, if you have a story to share, send it to Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com. And don't forget to stick around after the music for your patron for your extended ad-free version of this week's episode. If you want to get access as well, head over to patreon.com forward slash Let's Not Meet Podcast to sign up and support the show today. I'll see y'all next week. Stay safe! I'm always listening to the podcast and these stories have reminded me of something that

happened when I was just...