The Lets Read Podcast - 110: Episode 098 | Australian & Stalker Stories | 23 True Scary Horror Stories

Episode Date: October 5, 2021

Welcome to the ninety-eighth episode of The Lets Read Podcast! This podcast includes narrations of true creepy encounters submitted by normal folks just like yourself. Today you'll experience horrifying stories about Australia, Crazy Ex Boyfriends and Scary Stalkers... HAVE A STORY TO SUBMIT?► www.Reddit.com/r/LetsReadOfficial FOLLOW ME ON - ► Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/letsread.official/ ► Twitter - https://twitter.com/LetsReadCreepy ►YouTube - https://www.youtube.com/c/letsreadofficial ♫ Background Music & Audio Remastering: Simon de Beer https://www.instagram.com/simon_db98/ PATREON for EARLY ACCESS!►http://patreon.com/LetsRead

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Australia is an incredible place to live sometimes. I mean, I love it. It's my home. And I don't think I could ever live anywhere else. But sometimes I'd do just about anything for it to be just a little bit less wild. For example, I'm a runner. It's my passion, an obsession I've had ever since I was a teenager. I do long distance races, hill running, all kinds of things that involve pushing my stamina. And every so often I get to compete in an actual competitive race that actually involves prize money, sometimes quite a lot of

it too. So a few years back I'm training really hard for a long distance race around the Gold Coast. I'm running 20-30km like every couple of days and let me tell you, in a country as hot as Australia, that can be utterly exhausting. Not to mention the smell that comes off of my running shoes when I'm done on a long run. It's enough to make my wife balk when I take them off. After one particularly grueling training session, I get home and I'm literally dripping with sweat. On this occasion, when I walk into the kitchen and take my running shoes off, my wife pretty much loses her mind, telling me to get those bloody things out of the house and to keep them out.

I told her it wasn't all that bad, but she insisted that if I brought the things into the house again, she'd be staying with her mother for the weekend. It was pretty bad actually, I mean, the skin between my toes was an absolute mess. All these little holes forming in the flesh were the fungus that was eating away at my feet. I suppose it didn't seem all that bad to me, but to her, it must have smelled like pure rot. So, I obliged her, took the shoes outside, and then drove down to a pharmacy to sort myself out with some antifungal skin treatment. I took a break from running for the next few days and ended up totally forgetting that I left my running shoes outside. So when it came to my next training session, I put on all my

gear, did a few stretches, and then went outside to put my running shoes on. So I had that antifungal cream, but the pharmacist recommended that I clean the shoes out with the cream too, so that I wouldn't just reinfect myself while I was running. So I cleaned the left one out, no problems, wiping some of the cream around the insides with a little cloth. But then it came to the right one. I pushed my hand in around the cloth when I feel like a squishy feeling in the toe. I'm all like, what is that, for a moment, pulling my hand out to look inside to try to get a look. That's when hundreds of these little red spiders come running out of the shoe, followed by this big red-black spider that's obviously very agitated that something almost squished all of her babies.

I absolutely hate spiders, so I just tossed the shoe into the yard and left it there for like a week before I threw it in the bin. I'm serious. I just put my training off that day, went inside, and ordered a new pair of running shoes on next day delivery. It was like something out of a horror movie. Like I said, I love Australia, but I wish it had just bloody cooled it with the whole venomous creatures thing. For many years, me and my dad had been going boat fishing off of the Sapphire Coast here in Australia. It's been a really good way for us to reconnect after a messy divorce he and my mom went through when I was just a kid.

Me and my little sister didn't see him for a long time after as the relationship between him and our mom was really strained. So once I was old enough to decide for myself, I started going to see him and although I didn't really like the idea of fishing, I found it was an amazing way for us to start bonding again. You see, the point of fishing isn't so much to catch fish, and I know how mental that sounds so bear with me. The point of fishing is to get out into nature and to spend a long time just sitting and thinking. It's basically meditation for people who don't fancy the whole Buddhism thing. Or in the case of me and my dad, it was a chance for us to just sit and talk for a few hours over a few beers. Whenever we caught something, we'd be overjoyed and

if I ended up catching something myself, he'd be so bloody proud of me and those feelings of having my old man be proud of me, well, nothing quite compares to that. But this one time we ended up catching something that I really wish we hadn't, and you'll see what I mean when I describe it. So I get a bite on my line and I announce it to him, and he starts doing his usual thing of guiding me around to reeling it in. Whatever's below the water line is absolutely massive, so much so that my dad actually grabs the rod so whatever was on the line doesn't actually manage to pull me overboard. I mean it was fighting the line like a devil and we're using the strongest line we can

afford as ocean fish do tend to be much bigger and stronger than lake or river fish. We're fighting the bugger, reeling him in slowly, bringing him closer and closer to the surface with each passing minute. We can't really make out just what kind of fish it is until it starts breaking the water and when it does, my dad starts going mental, shouting about how, It's a Bloody Mari Ras! Jesus Christ boy, you've only gone and caught yourself a Bloody Mari Ras! For those that don't know their

fish, the humphead wrasse is probably one of the largest kind of ocean fish in the entire bloody world, let alone Australia. The boys are typically much larger than girls and are generally known to reach up to 2 meters in length, from tail to tip, some even weighing up to 180 kilograms. They average out to be a meter long, but this one was bloody huge. I mean, it might have even been longer than that. We could tell it was a wrasse because of those huge, thick lips and the two black lines around the eyes, like a big bloody emo fish or something. And obviously because of the big F-off hump on its head, which is obviously where it gets the name hump head.

I'll never forget the color of the thing either. It was like a green and purpley blue kind of thing, like a bloody great alien or something. I mean, it was really beautiful. Like I said, it might have actually been longer than two meters, and if he had a chance to get it out of the water to measure it, we might have had a record on our hands. Because we didn't get it out of the water. Because while we were all focused on our potential record-breaking RAS, something else is creeping up on us. Something we had absolutely no chance of seeing thanks to our excitement at almost catching the biggest bloody fish we'd ever seen. Well, it wasn't the biggest fish we'd ever seen for very long because right as the raft starts breaking the water properly and we actually start believing we're going to land it on our boat, something rears up around the water, something huge with those big black eyes and hundreds white just smashes its way out of the water, bringing its giant gob down on our rafts and wrenching it back into the ocean. I was just in shock, not quite believing what I'd seen.

So it didn't even occur to me to let go of the rod. I just kept my hands clamped to it before I felt myself being dragged over to the side of the boat. Luckily, my dad grabs my legs, screaming at me to let go of the bloody rod, which obviously I finally did. If I'd kept hold of it for like a couple of seconds longer, I'd be in the ocean with that thing while it was hungry, and that probably wouldn't have ended well for me or my dad as he might have had to watch his only son getting bitten in half by a great white. A few days later, after it was

all over and we got back into port, we did end up having a good laugh about it. I mean it was that or cry over it, right? But at the time, it was honestly one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. I'd never been that close to a great white before, and I have absolutely no intention of ever being that close to one again. But I tell you what, it doesn't half make for a bloody good story to tell around a campfire or while perched on a barstool. Just don't ask me to tell it to you on a boat, alright? In the sun-bleached badlands of Queensland, Australia, there is a place that stands in sharp contrast to the arid scrubland surrounding it.

It towers over the nearby eucalyptus trees, a ginormous jet black mound of rocks and boulders appearing utterly unnatural compared to the sandy brown earth from which it rises up. It has long been thought to be the cause of bizarre and unexplained phenomenon and has become the center of a dark folklore told around the campfires of the native aborigines. People have long told of seeing strange creatures near the site, witnessing unexplainable sources of light emanating from the rocky landscape, while many who have ventured out to investigate have never been seen again. Its name brings a feeling of dread to those that know of it. This is the story of the Black Mountain. The Black Mountain can be found in the Kalkajaka National Park, a 781 hectare projected area about 16 miles south of the region capital, Cooktown.

Comprised of a huge collection of granite boulders, some of which measure up to 20 feet in length, it towers over 900 feet above the ancient forest that surrounds it. Geologists think that such borders were formed from a huge volcanic eruption, which caused molten lava to spill up from the earth before solidifying. The coal black appearance is caused by the thin coating of iron and manganese oxides, which is complemented by a film of blue-green algae covering the exposed surface, although these are not so visible from a distance. Needless to say, the dark coloration gives the rocky protrusion a distinctly sinister look. The boulders forming a

labyrinthine mass of passageways penetrating deep within the mountain itself, which harbor pockets of escaping warm air caused by the baking daytime heat. This hot air, complete with its hellish sulfurous smell, has been known to create terrifyingly menacing sounds, akin to a deep moaning, wailing, or an ominous hissing as it escapes from the earth. It is this heat that lends itself to the first of the peculiar happenings that we will discuss. Since the boulders became incredibly hot due to the baking Australian sun, when cooling rains fall on the Black Mountain, the rocks have been known to erupt in violent explosions from the sudden change in temperature. And of course, this adds to the mythos behind the mountain, a place where the landscape can suddenly burst into showers of deadly rock shrapnel. As previously stated, the intimidating appearance

and nature of the Black Mountain has often made it a central figure in many terrifying legends and myths. The Kuku Nyong'ko, an aboriginal tribe native to the region, has long dubbed the mountain Kokojaka which, depending on who you ask, translates into English as the place of the region has long dubbed the mountain Kaka Jaka which, depending on who you ask, translates into English as the place of the spear or more chillingly as the mountain of death. Native folk tales speak of the Black Mountain as a place frequented by the spirits of the dead, a home to malevolent forces which lurk in the sulfur-filled caverns which snake beneath the surface. One such spirit is all that remains of an evil witch doctor, known in the aboriginal tongue as the Devourer of Flesh. Stories are told

of unfortunate souls being dragged into their doom by the witch doctor's spectral hands, pulled into the dark tunnels as they kick and scream, never to be seen alive again. There is also the legacy of the brutal massacre inflicted on the Kuku Nyong'ko by early European settlers to the region, who supposedly transported a group of men, women, and children to a ravine close by, before slaughtering each and every one of them in a callous display of ethnic cleansing. The ghosts of Fumar are said to still wander the black rocks of the mountain, crying out for vengeance, giving rise to the native belief that the place is sacred and not to be encroached upon. But even today, the Black Mountain has been the center of a series of

bizarre events. The local wildlife population is said to avoid the area entirely. Birds refuse to fly over the rocky outcrop, and nearby forests are as quiet as the grave. Aircraft, both civilian and military, have reported strange equipment malfunction whilst flying over the region, as well as experiencing unusually violent amounts of turbulence. It was initially thought that magnetic disturbances or perhaps high levels of radiation might account for such bizarre malfunctions, yet a 1991 aerial survey conducted by the Bureau of Mineral Resources turned up nothing unusual, despite the fact that pilots continued to report these kinds of phenomena occurring.

There have been rumors that the Black Mountain's deep subterranean tunnels hide everything from the headquarters of extraterrestrial visitors to ancient lost civilizations, complete with tombs and valuable long-lost treasures. Some of these treasures said to reside within the depths of the many caves are lost stockpiles of gold, historic artifacts, or even ancient texts, and there may be an element of truth to such rumors since the massive geological shift could well have unearthed some rather large gold or diamond deposits that are sitting down in the dark waiting to be claimed. Other more terrifying theories revolve around the strange beasts that are said to inhabit the forests around the Black Mountain. Although it is well known that Australia is the home of many unique and pervasive species, there are tales of predator creatures stalking the

ancient bushland that are far more terrifying than anyone can possibly imagine. Hiding among the dense maze of overlapping boulders, there are supposedly enormous, overgrown snakes hungering for the flesh of humans and animals alike. There is also talk of a mysterious feline huntress, known by the moniker of the Queensland Tiger, that is said to prowl the mountainside, occasionally venturing out into the wider area to maul and mutilate cattle, eating them alive before disappearing back into the darkness of the night. There are also occasional reports of huge, reptilian humanoids emerging from the underground tunnels and passageways, stories of ephemeral shadowy figures that stalk the area in groups. But it is unclear whether these represent some

type of real animal, a more supernatural phenomenon, or merely a trick of shadow and light upon the black boulders. After all, our eyes can play tricks on us, especially when we're frightened. But perhaps the more commonly known and most frightening occurrences related to the Black Mountain are the many mysterious disappearances that have taken place there. There are a number of tales of entire herds of horses and cattle simply vanishing from the area as if they were swallowed up by the mountain itself. But even more alarming are the stories of the large number of people who have apparently ventured into the area before disappearing without a trace. While there are a plethora of aboriginal horror stories of their people vanishing from the mountain in the years before Europeans arrived,

the first relatively modern account of an unexplainable disappearance dates back to 1877, when a farmhand by the name of Grainer went out on horseback to search for a stray calf that had apparently vanished in the area surrounding the Black Mountain. It was the last time any of his friends or family saw him alive. After a thorough search of the area surrounding the mountain failed to turn up any trace of the courier, it was assumed that he had fallen into one of the many jagged chasms between the boulders, but despite thorough exploration, no survivor or corpse was found. It was as if he had simply vanished into thin air.

A few years after the incident involving the vanishing farmhand, an infamous outlaw and gunslinger known as Sugarfoot Jack was involved in a deadly shootout with local law enforcement. Upon losing a handful of their number to police bullets, the survivors fled on horseback in the direction of the Black Mountain. The last time the pursuing officers saw them, they were scaling the black boulders, attempting to find cover among the rocks. But after the officers dismounted and readied themselves to receive a withering volley of gunfire, nothing came. The outlaws were never seen again, and despite the exhaustive police search that followed, there was no evidence at all to hint at where they had gone. Again, it was as if they had straight up vanished from the face of the earth.

Since then, the number of unexplainable disappearances rose considerably. In another instance, a Cookstown man by the name of Harry Owens was out herding his cattle. When he failed to return, his partner George Hawkins went to the police who subsequently organized a search party that went out looking for the missing farmer. According to one account, two police officers ventured up the mountain and into one of the caves. After a considerable wait and into one of the caves. After a considerable wait, only one of them emerged. When the officer returned alone from the darkened caverns,

he was said to be so completely deranged and terrified over something he had seen inside that he was unable to speak, and no matter how much his fellow officers questioned him on what happened, he couldn't bring himself to talk of it. Years later, two professional cave explorers who traveled from the nation's capital of Sydney tried to solve the enigma of these disappearances before going missing themselves. In all cases, nothing was ever found to give any clues at all as to what had happened to any of these people, and extensive investigations have never been able to come up with anything conclusive regarding the cause of their disappearances. It is as if the mountain itself had swallowed them alive, which is actually not far from the official theory given by the Australian government. A handful of geological experts have stated that these people most likely fell into the numerous caves, crevices, and chasms of the mountain, or became hopelessly

lost when trying to venture into the impenetrably dark passages. It is also likely that highly concentrated pockets of sulfur had suffocated those unlucky enough to wander into them. Whether or not this is actually what happened to the disappeared remains unclear, as there have only been a very small number of people that have braved the mountain's caves to return and tell the tale. One experienced aboriginal bushman who ventured into the mountain armed with a pistol and a flashlight has given a chilling account of his time in the deep, dark depths. I stepped into the opening like other black mountain caves it dipped steeply downwards, narrowing as it went. Suddenly I found myself facing a solid wall of rock, but to the right there was a passageway just large enough

for me to enter into a stooping position. I moved along carefully for several yards. The floor was fairly level, the walls of very smooth granite. The passage twisted and turned this way and that, always sloping deeper into the earth. Presently I began to feel uneasy. A huge bat beat its wings against me as it passed, however I forced myself on to push further. Soon my nostrils were filled with a sickly, musty stench. Then my torch went out. I was in total darkness. From somewhere that seemed the bowels of the earth I could hear a faint moaning which was then followed by the flapping of wings of thousands of bats. I began to panic as I groped and floundered back the way I thought I had come. My arms and legs were bleeding from bumps with unseen rocks. My

outstretched hands clawed at space. I expected solid walls and floors but could not find it. At one stage where I had wandered into a side passage I came to the brink of what was undoubtedly a precipice judging by the echoes. The air was foul and I felt increasing dizziness. Terrifying thoughts were racing through my mind about giant rock pythons that I had seen around this mountain As I crawled along, getting weaker and losing hope of ever coming out alive I saw a tiny streak of light It gave me super strength to worm my way towards a small cave mouth half a mile from the one I had entered Reaching the open air, I gulped in a lungful of it and fell down exhausted.

I later found that I had been underground for five hours, most of the time on my hands and knees. A king's ransom would not induce me to enter those caves again. His account is a frankly horrifying look at what can happen to those who are foolish enough to venture into the dark, hissing caves of Black Mountain, and perhaps provide a clue towards the last things the missing ever saw. His words alone are enough to put most people off of an attempt at unraveling the mysteries of the Black Mountain, but they do suggest a tangible theory as to how and why these foolish enough to venture inside failed to ever return. Was it just the case that these unfortunate souls simply got lost and died of thirst in the sweltering hot tunnels, or was there a less

explainable, evil force at work down there? There have been very few who have been brave enough to investigate further, but every single one of those who have described a feeling of desperate confusion, becoming hopelessly lost, as well as being plagued by feelings of palpable terror and anxiety as they explored the stifling blackness of the tunnels. The warrens and cavities of the Black Mountain have been invariably described as being highly intricate and extremely erratic, filled with perilously sudden drops and deep dark chasms just waiting for the unwary to fall down them. There is also the added danger of jagged, sharp walls, not to mention the exploding rocks and boulders we talked about previously. One can only imagine the oppressive heat that saturates the

confines of the passageways, the kind that makes the disgusting, rotten egg smell of sulfur even more pronounced. Not to mention the horror hearing the incessant fluttering of bat wings that only increase the sense of horror and danger of the place. Most of the cave explorers have dared to enter the Black Mountain, describe the caves as being the singularly most horrific experience of their lives, while the tourists who visit Kakajaka National Park are more than content to view the foreboding mountain from a very safe distance. Whether or not you actually believe any of the folklore or horror stories involving the Black Mountain, it is most definitely a harsh, unforgiving place that instills a palpable sense of unease and dread in those who see it. It is clear that this menacing mound of boulders in

the middle of the Australian wilderness is a place shunned by the rest of the natural world an enigmatic place of natural wonder mystery and fear the black mountain of kakajaka continues to tower over the surrounding area perhaps just a mere pile of boulders but perhaps watching waiting inviting more souls to join those already lost to its deep, dark tunnels. that pro the pros at tread experts from tires to auto repair tread experts is always there helping you with michelin tires you can trust until may 30th receive up to 70 by prepaid mastercard with purchase of four new michelin passenger or light truck tires find your pro at your local tread experts from tires to auto repair we're always there if it's a flat or a squeal, a wobble or peel, your tread's worn down or you need a new wheel,

wherever you go, you can get a pro at TreadExperts. Until May 30th, purchase four new Michelin passenger or light truck tires and receive up to $70 by prepaid MasterCard. Conditions apply. Details at Michelin.ca. Find a Michelin TreadExperts dealer nearyou at tredexperts.ca slash locations. From tires to auto repair, we're always there, tredexperts.ca. Back in the early 90s, I had just finished my A-levels here in the UK, which are the exams you complete before attending university.

Basically like the SATs over in America for those that don't know. Of all my mates that were planning on taking gap years before uni, most had planned to backpack around Europe. But I was always terrible with languages and didn't quite fancy something so close to home. So I opted for the great down under, Australia. It was honestly the adventure of a lifetime but one incident marred the whole experience for me and it's something that continued to echo through my life for many years to come. I ended up flying up to the capital city of Sydney with nothing but a change of clothes and a few hundred quid changed into Aussie dollars. Then I worked a few months as a waiter getting together some proper

cash to fund a trip around the country. But I was a frugal teenager and I decided that instead of actually using the proper public transport links to get around, I'd try my hand at hitchhiking. I had a flat in the Sydney suburb of Liverpool which always sounded a bit weird when I'd phone home and mention that's where I live since Liverpool is the name of a city here in the UK too. You've got a long way just to end up in Liverpool, haven't you son? My dad would always joke. People were generally pretty friendly and you'd be surprised just how many people were generous enough to stop at the side of the road for me, taking me as far as they were able before I had to jump out and start the whole process again. So I was headed towards a

place called Mildura, a city in the state of Victoria where I was hoping to then get the train all the way down to Melbourne. Eventually this silver four-wheel drive slowed down for me and I climbed in, thanking the guy behind the wheel profusely as I told him whereabout I was headed. He told me his name was Bill, a forgettable name, but I'll never forget the way he looked, thanks to his distinct handlebar mustache that I thought was distinctly out of date for the early 90s. I mean, he looked more like something out of one of those Mad Max films, and although that should have made me feel uneasy, I suppose I was just so grateful to be on the move that I completely overlooked how weird and cold he was acting. Just after we pass a town called Mittagong, a place name I've never ever forgotten,

he slows the jeep down to the side of the road. I ask him why he's stopping and to my absolute horror, he pulls out this old style revolver and points it right at my head. It was absolutely horrific. I'd never been so scared in all my life and even to this day, I don't think I ever have been. We don't really have guns here in the UK, not aside from the odd shotgun that a farmer has, so just the sight of one was enough to make me pee myself with fright. He then tells me to open the glove box, which I do, anything for him not to shoot me. And then I see a load of rope he's got stashed away. He tells me to open the glove box, which I do, anything for him not to shoot me. And then I see a load of rope he's got stashed away.

He tells me to take it out and wrap it around my wrist so he can tie it. I'm begging him not to kill me at this point. He told me to calm down as he was only looking to take my cash before kicking me out. But the ropes, Jesus Christ, why would he need to tie me up if he was just looking to nick a few dollars off me before kicking me out? I knew he had something else in mind, but just what exactly I had no idea. I had to think fast, if I was tied up, it would be game over, so in a moment of pure genius on my part, I know that might sound arrogant, but I don't care. It saved my life. I look up into the rearview mirror and say these exact words. Thank God, the police.

This bloke spins around to look behind us, and I just smack him as hard as I can in the side of the head before legging it out of the car. I can still hear his furious shouts as I ran into the bush at the side of the road. Have you ever been shot at? Well, I have, and it was one of the most traumatizing things I'd ever had to endure. I mean, he was close too. I think he was just shooting into the bush in hopes of hitting me as bullets struck the trees all around, knocking off branches and kicking up dirt, but one of the bullets passed just over my head and oh my god, I felt it.

Like really felt it. The head and pressure of the bullet flying over me. I can't even really describe it, like a big lead wasp flying right past me. It made this horrible zipping sound as it did. The bush in Australia isn't quite how you'd picture it sometimes. Like I thought it would just be one big desert or something, but some of it is actually like a big dry forest in places and it's much easier to get lost than you might expect. I hid out there for as long as I could, maybe an hour at the most,

but it felt like an entire day. Just sat there, hiding in a bush, scared one of those horrible poisonous snakes or spiders might get me well before this psycho ever did. I hear him looking for me too, rustling through the bush and cursing under his breath. I was being hunted, and like I said, I have never been that scared at any time since. When I was confident that it was safe to come out. I walked back towards the road, peering out from the bush until I saw another car passing. I had to wait to make sure it wasn't that same silver 4x4 before I actually ran out into the road and flagged it down. It was driven by this really nice woman, who caught me down and drove me into the town of Bowro in the southern highlands of New South Wales. Together we went to a police

station where I described the bloke who tried to kidnap and possibly kill me, before she put me up in her house for the night. I ended up staying for a couple of days, really shaken up by what had happened to me before resuming my journey down to Melbourne. Oh, and you can bet that I just got that train this time. I wasn't risking that whole thing again. Not a chance. I tried to forget about what had happened, to not let it ruin my gap year traveling around Oz, but it was impossible. And after a month or so of working in Melbourne, I caught a flight back to the UK and just

tried to get on with my life. Cut to three years later and I'm in my third year of uni in London. My flatmates and I are sitting in my living room eating beans on toast, another detail I never forget, when the news comes on. It's all the usual stuff to begin with but then there's like this special interest piece from Australia. The police in New South Wales had set up a reward of half a million Australian dollars for any information that would lead to the arrest and imprisonment of a serial killer. They described the killer's method of murder which was that he would drive around looking for hitchhikers or motorists in trouble before kidnapping and murdering them. Then they showed this police sketch artist's interpretation of the bloke they thought was responsible.

He looked like Bill, right down to the handlebar mustache he wore on his lip. I dropped my cutlery on the plate, marched out of the room and nearly had a panic attack in the kitchen. My flatmates were obviously really shocked by this whole episode and it took me a while before I could calm down and tell the whole story. It was just surreal. They implored me to get in touch with the Aussie police and even suggested I might be entitled to a bit of that half a million reward they talked about in the news.

And I know this sounds a bit mad, but I didn't give a toss about the money. Just the idea that I'd be so bloody lucky to escape with my life was enough for me, and I felt absolutely horrible knowing that there had been so many young people who hadn't had the same kind of fortune or foresight as me, that now they were lying dead in graves because of that guy that called himself Bill, a monster. I kept in touch with the police over there since apparently I was one of the only people to have encountered this bill bloke and lived to tell the tale. Early in the following year, they rang to tell me that they'd arrested a man named Ivan Milat in connection with the murders. I followed the trial closely over the next few years as all the news of his victims came to light.

It took two more years before he was convicted of the murders and an Aussie court handed him a well-deserved life sentence. I thought that was it then, that I could finally let go of this horrible part of my life that had haunted me for years. I was 18 when it happened and I was 24 when he was put away for life. But then when I was 33 and dating my now wife Lisa, we decided to get a babysitter for our 3 year old son and go on a little date to a local cinema. My wife has always loved horror films so she wanted to see this new film that was out at the time called Wolf Creek. I should have asked her what it was about and maybe I should have told her about the incident in Australia when I was a teenager and that would have helped me to avoid all the embarrassment that came. But as we sat in the dark cinema,

and watched the story unfold on screen, I started to get this horrible, familiar feeling. The film is partly based on the Ivan Milat murders, and as I sat there, watching these young actors getting tortured and killed on screen, it all just came flooding back to me. I ran out of the cinema and to our car as my wife followed me out, asking me what was the matter. I had to tell her everything and as I sat there in the car crying my eyes out and apologizing, she told me it was all okay, that she totally understood and she was sorry for making me watch it in the first place. I think I knew right then how special she was. But I've rambled on long enough about this. I think I just want to end it by saying that we try to move on from the traumatic things that happen to us,

but I don't think we really do. I think these kind of emotional and psychological scars will always be with us, just as much as physical ones. Oh, and be really, really careful about getting into the cars of strangers. You really don't have any idea of the kinds of people that are out there. The kind of evil that exists in the world, disguised among the kindness of strangers. We'll be right back. BetMGM Ontario app today. Visit BetMGM.com for terms and conditions. 19 plus to wager Ontario only. Please gamble responsibly. If you have questions or concerns about gambling or someone close to you, please contact Connex Ontario at 1-866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge. BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with iGaming Ontario.

Get ready for a roller coaster. So I had this ex once. I was young and dumb, only just 20. He was 5 years older, married, had a kid. He was unhappy, a stifled artist, or so I thought. His wife was nuts, had stalked him when they first started dating, poked holes in their condoms then told him about it, and said

he had to marry her or she would terminate it, something he was vehemently opposed to. Little did I know how perfect they truly were together. So we start flirting, calling each night, talking through until morning and at this point we're just friends but I'm falling. Eventually we confess our feelings, the whole shebang and then one night wind up at a party with our mutual friends and take a walk around the block. We ended up hooking up on the bleachers of the nearby high school and then had to hide while we heard all of our friends come looking for us. Daring and exciting, yes. This stuff was intoxicating. I'm not proud.

Eventually his wife figures out what we have going on, starts talking me online in the MySpace era, and I have to change URLs a couple of times to shake her. He signed up to be a corrections officer since he couldn't get into the FBI, his dream job, and gets in. This is the first red flag I miss because again, I was dumb. He comes over to mine and proudly tells me not only did he pass the psychological exam, but it was easy to cheat on. Cheat. I repeat. Cheat on. He goes across state then to train for two months. I nearly break up with him, he begs me not to, then he nearly breaks up with me and I beg him no. On and on like this until finally he's able

to come home. In this time his wife gains access to his bank account and keeps draining it each month. She also comes by my work with her daughter in order to intimidate me after making sure it got back to me that she planned on kidnapping me, beating me, and leaving me on the roadside in the state south of us. So that was a thing. But finally he comes home. His wife kicked him out or so he said to me and he doesn't have money for a hotel. So I asked my parents if he could stay with us and they agree. He lives in my home, uses the washer, eats our food and pays for absolutely nothing. In this time he also begins divorcing his wife. His lawyer is a functioning drunk and

takes what little money he managed to keep before his wife gets into his account each week. She's taken about over $18,000 at this point. So now he's staying in my house for two weeks, then back across state for two weeks working doubles. It's when he's staying in my house for two weeks, then back across state for two weeks working doubles. It's when he's living in my family home I finally get to see his true colors. We've been dating two and a half years at this point. His daughter is about three, his mom and I are close and I do shopping for her once in a while because she's sick and live near me. But when he's home he is just off. He says things, does things that keep setting off flags. Then I get trichomoniasis. If you're AFAB and you've

had trich, you know it's literally a living torture inside your body. If not, be glad and do your darndest to avoid it. Around this time, my ankles are swelling on and off, and I go to get everything checked out and got a pregnancy test. No results on the test, doctor just doesn't tell me anything, but shoves me out the door and tells me my boyfriend is cheating on me. I can't believe it. I mean, why would he? We do it all the time. I was dumb. So the trike lets up, he's away at work, and life seemingly goes back to normal. Two weeks later, he's back home, the trike pops back up,

he gave it to me again, and so I'm back there to the doctors for more treatment and another pregnancy test. I ask the doctor this time, so are you going to tell me my results? She was very dismissive and goes, yeah, you're pregnant. Turns out I was last time too, but now it's too late to take the pill. It wasn't, she only just told me that turns out. I slept out in a daze, telling him idly as he's waiting there for me and he's just thrilled. I wanted to die. So we get home and I tell him I don't want to have the baby. I'm 23 at this point, younger than my mom was when she had me and I'm the oldest. I didn't have a job anymore because his wife stalked me into being too scared to leave the house and I just wasn't ready.

He tells me, listen, termination isn't an option. You have to have my baby. This is where the really crazy stuff starts. He tells me he always imagined, growing up in the church, that he would be the one to father the one meant to kill, the Antichrist. That his children would be kings, that he would be made a saint, etc. Me and atheists look at him like he just grew three heads. I tell him I cannot give a child up for adoption. Too many of my friends lived in or had siblings that had been in the system, let alone know something I grew and loved was out there without me. Then the answer's simple. We'll keep it, he tells me. So I tell him, then the two weeks you're home,

you change all the diapers since I'll be doing it when you're gone. He laughs and tells me, that's a woman's job. I want to determine it immediately. The next day he gets home from divorce court and he's painting and laughing and pacing. Asks if anyone's home, they weren't, then proclaims, I chickened out. Chickened out? He then pulls from his big bag a shiv, stabbing device fashioned from something else used in prisons as weapons, and he says, I learned this from the guys at work. To which I ask, the other COs? And he replies, no, the inmates. He worked at a supermax facility, literally the worst of the worst our state had to offer, and he had made friends with actual serial killers. I wanted to run but was trapped in my own home for another two days with a man who had literally planned to kill his wife in the middle of court. I broke up with him that night but bent and promised that he could still stay with my

family until we had money. Two weeks go by, he leaves, I'm stricken unbelievably ill and I'm spotting. I decide with my mom to actually go through with the termination, and I make the appointment. I have to wait two more weeks because of the law. I've got three days to recover before he comes home and can assume anything other than I just lost the baby. We go. Mom walks with me. They do a psych exam. The shrink tells me I'm beyond prepared for this and that I'm making the right decision, they do a psych exam, the shrink tells me I'm beyond prepared for this and that I am making the right decision, based on my various reasons, primarily not wanting anything to tie me to the psycho I'd just broken up with. I'm done, I'm home, I'm snarky on the

volume they gave me and I sleep better than I have in all my life. The next morning everyone is at work, I'm alone and he comes back two days early. He tries kissing me, begging me, telling me how much he loves me and misses me and how much I've broken his heart. Begs me to sleep with him, I tell him over and over again no until all I remember is lying face down on the couch, my pants pulled down, him on top of me while I'm crying uncontrollably. He asked me what was wrong. I tell him that he just had his way with me and what he just did to me and he just sits there trying to convince me that he didn't and couldn't understand why I was crying. I started locking myself in my room after that. So when I went through with it with the baby it turned out that the fetus had died

at six weeks and I was 15 weeks along so for nine weeks it was just rotting inside me. Despite the intrusive and violating internal sonogram they legally had to give me I did manage to get a refund on that because they then classified it as an assisted miscarriage. That said I needed a lot of help to recover from the hormones and other near lethal chemicals in my body so another doctor prescribed me medication for a disorder I didn't have. Medication that made things even worse. The medication I was on at the time made me manic for upwards of 48 to 72 hours then I would crash and be dead asleep for 24-30 hours. On one of these occasions, I woke up with my ex's hand in my, let's just say, he left with one less tooth after I kicked him off of me. I kept a chair wedged against my doorknob after that. The entire time, my family

was unaware. He was a corrections officer and I knew enough true crime and statistics even though to know nothing would happen if I reported him. So I lived in constant fear and anxiety, wondering what would happen next. Once on another medication, I nearly died so I stopped taking anything, despite my family trying to convince me the medications were helping. My blood sugar was the cause of what nearly killed me with the medication my family is trying to push on me so I literally felt like I could not trust telling the truth to anyone. Then another night I had traded spots with my ex so he could sleep a little in the room and I could spend time with my family who kept telling me I was being mean to him and should just get back together with him because he loved me. I remained silent and went back to my room the second I was done eating. Only I walk into my room, switch on the light, and my ex has sprawled in my bed. All of my dirty underwear he'd fished out of my hamper scattered across my bed and wrapped around his face,

tissues surrounding him. I cried all night that night and was inconsolable the rest of the time he was there. He started partying with my friends then, going out drinking and then coming home at 3 and 4am, ringing the bell to be let in, waking the entire house, and causing my parents to constantly scold me for his irresponsibility. Then my brother's sweet 16 came around and we had a huge party for him and my friend's brother as they were three days apart. The boys got drunk. I sat by the basement stairs so I could escape while my ex sat in the corner texting me. At one point, he asked if his new girlfriend could come to the party and that's when I finally snapped.

I collected all his things, threw them outside and waited until he stepped out with my friend to chat while my friend smoked and locked him out of the house. Another friend of mine stupidly let him back in, unaware of what was happening and I instinctively did the stupid horror movie thing and ran upstairs away from him. He chased after me, cornered me in my doorway and was about to hit me when my older brother, army trained, stepped between us. My father came out of his room and demanded to know what happened. My ex started talking but my brother interrupted and told my dad my ex had just tried to hit me. So my dad kicked his butt to the curb for good that night. Now you may think this is the end of the story. You're dead wrong. This was just the first hill of our roller coaster. So strap in tighter, it gets bumpy after this.

So this was all around 2006. That following year, I'm at a little geek club that meets once a month. Couple friends are with me and then there sat across from me is my ex. But he's not alone. He's with a woman 10 years my senior who had previously been obsessed with me and wanted to be me. She was so obsessed with being me, she started dating him and he, wanting to get under my skin, wanted to make me jealous by being with someone I openly hated but only managed to test my upchuck reflex. That was the day I told everyone what had happened and that he was dangerous. I stopped going to that club and never saw many of the friends there ever again for fear that they would tell my ex about me. Skip ahead about a month or so,

and he has his new girlfriend, the creepy old lady I hate, calling my phone from restricted numbers, leaving voicemails in my phone that they were going to murder me and to stop telling lies or I would disappear. I didn't leave my house. I stopped showering so my parents wouldn't be able to drag me anywhere. I stopped living because I was so scared. Then the car showed up. About a year after I'd broken up with him, a car kept appearing every night under my neighbor's street light. We couldn't see who was in it. Anytime we walked toward to see it would take off. No one ever left the car. We saw someone eating in it off the dash. Rain and snow it was always out there, all hours of the night. And finally we realized why. I smoke, have since I was about 17

and still do. It's a habit I can't break no matter how much I've tried, and despite this next event I couldn't quit even to save my life. One night around January at 3am I was on the phone to my friend in Indiana. I had her tied to my head with my winter hat, it was snowing and I went out for a smoke. I stood by the brick wall beside our front door, lit my cigarette and noticed a car creep onto my street. I live two houses and from the corner on a curve. I make mention of the car to my friend then move to the chair my father had set behind our large shrub because despite the snow it was clear and dry. There was a foot of snow on top of the shrub and our gas lamp set in the middle of our lawn, and were it not for these two things last night,

I would not be typing this right now. The car creeped in front of my house as I gave commentary of it to my friend in a hushed tone. Then as I said it had better not the car came to a stop right at the end of my driveway. I hushed my friend a moment and she laughed then came the bang. I heard it and a moment later felt the force of it hit my chest. He had fired his service revolver into the air when he could no longer spot me. I was silent as my friend, familiar with gunshots, screamed over the phone to find out what happened. If she had just witnessed my murder as I listened to him open his car door, pick up the shell from the freshly fallen snow, and close the door before peeling off down the street. I woke my parents, we called the cops. They told us they could

literally do nothing and any restraining order would only make it worse and that despite him living literally across the street, illegally from the police station, they could not remove his gun from his possession because it was a service weapon issued to him by the state and mandatory for his job. I lived in constant fear and paranoia for the next year. Then the calls start coming from this crazy person that he dated after me, begging me to speak in court against him because he had done terrible things to her, strangled her, and much worse. Three other women were going to testify, she told me, ones he had put into the ICU twice that had been friends of the friends of mine he'd partied with. I declined. I couldn't handle it emotionally. I also didn't want to give him any more reason

to come after me and try to finish what he'd recently bungled. It took me traveling across the country to see friends I'd made online in the community that had helped me through all of this to finally stop being scared and start recovering. A few years later I moved across country with my friend from Indiana. We lived out there for a bit before I wound up back home and less than a year later I met my ex-husband. It was winter about 2013 or 14 when I got the most random call from my old friend Tom. Our friend had died after a long fight with mounting illnesses. He understood what I hadn't come, why all the people there would only serve to upset me, they being the mutual friends of my psycho ex. Tom knew what had happened, was the only one who would believe me

and has always been there for me before and since. So after telling me about the service for our friend he tells me, I have some news though. I'm not sure you want to hear. I prepare myself and ask and he tells me. It turns out our former friend who staunchly took my ex's side and called me and every woman he came into near deadly contact with, a liar, had some news for the group after the service. While they sat after eating supper, he informed everyone my ex was in federal prison. He had just been sentenced after about six months investigation and trial and would be serving 14 years. His crime? He had answered a Craigslist ad requesting a man to turn out a woman's 12-year-old daughter, the woman being an FBI agent and the daughter not actually existing. They had him when

he requested photographs of the girl, requesting certain images of this minor, but he went a step further, as he was apt to do, and crossed state lines when pictures weren't sent. Thinking the girl lived in Florida, he drove down there to be with her and they caught him using his credit card at Disney World buying a tangled dress for the girl to wear while he had his way. I wept tears of joy that night. He has exhausted all possible appeals and been denied each time within the first year or two of his sentence. He still has half his sentence to serve and has been serving the entirety of it in solitary confinement due to his former profession and him now just being convicted for what he just did. My family still lives in that same house, as have I since my divorce in recent years,

but hopefully within the next seven years they will be moved away and safe so when he gets out he won't seek out further retaliation against me. He has been said to have openly many times proclaimed I was the reason why his life fell apart, not taking ownership for his own choices or actions, only getting progressively worse and more violent over the years. It still boggles my mind that anyone could be obsessed with me. I'm just some fat kid from the Rust Belt, poor and ugly, but then looking for logic amid insanity is a losing battle. In 2007, when I myself was seven years old, my single mom began dating a man who lived in a campground and she, my older brother, about 12 at the time, and I moved in with him. While most campgrounds are seasonal and not

intended for residential use, this particular campground had a large area up front dedicated to campers, and a row of trailers in the background that people lived in full time. Most of the trailers were occupied by elderly folks who wanted a cheap place to live that was close to nature, and there was only one other family there with kids my age. It was lonely during the off seasons when no families came to camp but during the summer numerous families would stay there giving me the opportunity to make new friends and in some cases reunite with families that would visit on a yearly basis. Summers in my campground were lots of fun for a kid my age. There was a large pool in the center of the campground, a pavilion that would host parties practically every night, and plenty of new people coming in and out as the summer progressed. However, this influx of strangers made my mom wary and she always stressed to me that not all grown-ups were nice, especially given how many were intoxicated during their vacation.

Thankfully, I never really encountered anyone truly malicious in the seven years I lived there. A few oddballs and more drunks than I could count, of course, but most people were either nice or simply kept to themselves. However, one summer, about a year or two after we had begun living there, a rumor had begun to spread amongst the kids in the campground. I was told that there was an elderly couple visiting that summer that had been caught in a number of times staring into people's windows, following them at night, and even supposedly intentionally walking in on people as they used the public showers. I didn't take this warning very seriously since scary stories told between kids were the norm in a place like that and I personally hadn't encountered any creepy old people. I suppose word of this got to my mom

because she reminded me to always close my blinds at night just in case. Since she began to take it seriously so did I until the nights became unbearably hot and I began keeping my window and blinds open at night in order to let cooler air into my room. I had gone days without any strange encounters so I figured the rumors were simply rumors and continued to leave my windows open at night. One night I was playing in bed with my Nintendo DS and watching old Disney Channel sitcoms at around 1 in the morning or so when I started to hear rustling outside. This wasn't particularly unusual since we had outside cats who liked to play in the leaves and it wasn't uncommon for deer, raccoons, coyotes, and other wild animals to pass through our yard,

entering and exiting the woods behind the line of trailers. When you live in the country, the nights can be just as lively as the days due to wildlife. However, the rustling seemed to be much louder than I was accustomed to. Whatever was making the noise wasn't nearly as light of foot as a typical animal. My bed was directly in front of the window, so I would have to turn my body completely around to look outside, and I was simply too tired to do so, even if it meant catching a glimpse of an elusive coyote. After a while, the noises stopped so they completely faded from my mind as I continued to play my game. About 15 minutes later or so, I heard an incredibly strange noise however. It sounded like a fingernail scratching against the mesh of my window. I immediately started to feel

anxious. The cats couldn't reach my window, and no wild animal would care to come that close to a bright window. Instinctively, I turned around to see what made the noise. Right outside my window was an elderly man, wide eyes and big, toothless grin, face practically pressed against my window. His expression wasn't at all what I would have expected. He looked so genuinely happy to see me as if he had been waiting all that time for me to turn around and notice him. Instead of screaming for my mom or brother, I froze up, just staring at this face in my window for what felt like minutes, but was probably more like seconds, before I grabbed the blinds and rod and rapidly twisted, closing my blinds and throwing my blankets over my head.

I remember trying to take shallow breaths, as though I were afraid he would hear me despite having already seen me. I tried to convince myself it was just a hallucination, or maybe even my own reflection distorted, but I knew that what I saw was real. It was inches away from me, separated only by a thin mesh screen. At some point I must have fallen asleep because as soon as I woke up, I rushed to tell my mom what had happened. She immediately called the campground's owners, pretty close friends of ours, and they informed us that the old man along with his wife

had already been kicked out. Apparently after I closed my blinds and shut him out, the old man went to another trailer with an open window, one belonging to one of my neighbors who was also still awake. She called the campground owners who immediately called the cops and they evicted him along with his wife who was apparently making her rounds peering into the windows of the campers up front. They had been doing this for over a week and finally had been caught. To this day I'm not really sure what their motives were. It could have been a source of perverse pleasure to them or it could have simply been an exciting hobby of theirs, seeing how long that they could stare at people before they noticed.

Regardless, this event shook me quite a bit and it was a long time before I was comfortable enough to have my blinds open whatsoever. I was more than willing to suffocate in the summer heat that meant not risking being spied on again. I lived in that campground for seven years and my childhood was certainly interesting due to it. I mean, what kid doesn't want to live in a place that's a 24-7 vacation? But the voyeuristic couple who came to visit me in the summer of 2008 definitely changed my perspective. I'm a young female living in a big city in the United States. I don't make a lot of money, so I live in a poorer area of the city.

One day after work, I decided to stop by Walgreens to pick up some junk food for a movie night with my boyfriend. I rely on public transportation to get around and often travel alone so I am not afraid of walking by myself at night. For the most part I felt pretty safe in the city until I had this experience. It was around 11pm when I walked to Walgreens and as I was looking in the freezer section for some ice cream I noticed a guy lingering around me. I didn't think too much of him other than he must be buying some ice cream too and that's why he's lingering. I grabbed my ice cream and some chips and headed to the checkout area. As I was walking down the aisle, I made my eye contact with the guy and he gave me a creepy stare. I say creepy because his eyes were huge, like he had just done cocaine or some other type of stimulant. I was taken aback by his stare and picked up my

pace to the cashier. I paid for my stuff and went outside to the red box, which was in front of the Walgreens, to pick out a movie. As I was browsing for a movie, I heard someone honking loudly, as if to get my attention. I turned around to see who the heck was honking and I saw that creepy guy sitting in a white truck just staring at me. I was so sketched out that I didn't pick a movie and just started walking in the direction of my apartment complex. The quickest way back was through the back parking lot of a closed burger joint. It was dark and no one else was around so I quickly hurried toward my home. Unfortunately, the creepy guy started to follow me in his truck.

My heart started racing as he got closer. He stopped his truck in front of me, blocking my path. I was shocked by the brazenness. I tried my best not to panic or show fear, but I was basically a deer in headlights, frozen in place. He rolled his window down and smiled at me, looked me up and down. I clutched my cell phone, waiting for him to say something. He asked, Do you want a ride? His words sent ice through my veins. Was this dude about to abduct me? Is he having a manic episode, drugged out and looking for someone to prey on? Thoughts raced through my mind, but I was still frozen.

I managed to say no in a hushed voice and then he drove off, almost speeding away. I fast walked to my apartment, afraid he would turn his truck around and follow me home. I was scared to go to the Walgreens alone for a year after that incident and would make my boyfriend walk with me. I was ashamed that I put myself in that situation in the first place. As soon as I noticed that creep checking me out in the store and honking at me in the parking lot, I should have went back into Walgreens and waited for him to leave. I was lucky he didn't try to force me into his truck because no one would have been around to help me. Stay safe out there and remain vigilant of your surroundings. You never know what

kind of creeps are walking around at night. I go to a university in the UK and live in the on-campus accommodation. There is a guy that lives in the flat next to my block and we'll call him Kevin. Kevin used to be on my course but was very rude to the lecturers and students. Nothing offensive, just rude, but for example, he would often start arguing with the lecturers about the topics they were teaching. I won't say what course I'd do, but the point is the topics aren't exactly controversial, nor did the lecturers explain them in a very controversial way. Sometimes he would just put his hand up as if he was going to ask a question and just repeat what the lecturer had said back to them, but as if it was a question. Usually the lecturer

would just confirm that he was right and go on with the lesson, albeit noticeably annoying at the meaningless interruption. Well Kevin stopped coming to lectures and I later found out that there was an undisclosed incident and he no longer is on the course. But that's not where it ends. I noticed he would still go outside to smoke, meaning he still lived on campus. A note about Kevin, he is an average sized and built white male. He's a mature student, I'd say probably around early 40s. There's nothing wrong with that, but it is unusual for someone that age to live on the campus accommodation. But again, nothing wrong with it, just slightly unusual. He also had spiked black hair that isn't styled. It looks like he was trying to have a spiky mohawk, but he has too much hair all over his head,

and it's clear that the hair just isn't cut to be styled that way. And this gives him the effect of looking more like a bird or something rather than someone with a hairstyle. Now back to the story, I also heard that people who lived in the same flat as Kevin were really scared of him. The reason being is that he would bark loudly in his room, which was apparently for his mixtape, he said. This is apparently so jarring to them that campus security was called and he argued with them so much that the police were called and he argued with them too. I don't know if he was arrested or charged with anything nor can I confirm the part is true.

It may well have just been a rumor but given what I'm about to tell you I can easily believe it. Anyway my class would often talk about where Kevin went and one day we found that he used to be homeless. We knew this because one day he was in the library and typing an email when he got up to go somewhere someone from class caught a glance at the email. It basically detailed that he needed more money or something and that he has nowhere to go because he used to be homeless. At this point we all kind of felt bad for the guy and it's this information that led me to not call the campus security earlier. Well, some time passes and Kevin still smokes outside. I got to chatting with one of the cleaners in my block once and it turns out she and some other cleaners are scared of him because when they would come into his room and clean it, he would ask them all sorts of weird questions in a vaguely aggressive way. Like asking where their accent is from and acting strange when they gave an answer.

It's at this point that I should also mention that Kevin has poor social skills. He kind of stares at people in the eye for too long and his mannerisms are aggressive which given his rudeness and slight disheveled appearance makes him very intimidating. Well anyway, in my block there's a long outdoor hallway and me and my friend who lives on the other end of the hallway both had noticed that at night time we could hear someone shouting aggressively but none of us could ever make out any real words. It also sounded like there were two people doing it so the only thing we could imagine was that two men were arguing every night. It wasn't very likely but it was our best guess. We'll cut to about a month ago and it turns out it was Kevin.

Just Kevin. I know this because when coming home one night I heard the noise and recorded it. It sounded terrifying. Like multiple people coming from one voice. I have since seen through my window that it's definitely him just saying nonsense words and shouting them. I'll post the video after this. So if that wasn't creepy enough, today I woke up and was making breakfast. Kevin was outside smoking and I was just looking outside. I'm on the ground floor and he yelled, you alright? I didn't reply, just nodded my head a little. I guess he didn't see me because he then yelled, is there a problem? I looked at him confused wondering if this guy was

serious. He walked over to my window and started yelling, asking if I had a problem. I eventually replied that I don't and when he asked why I was staring, I told him it's my window and I can look out, all I wanted. He persisted and kept asking if there was a problem and if I wanted to come outside. Needless to say, I was shocked that this guy was really trying to fight me at 8 in the morning while I'm trying to make toast. Fed up with the situation, I told him I was calling security. This is where things got really annoying. I called security and they basically told me that they know all about him and they tried to assure me that he's not a threat. Well, that's nonsense.

He's a 40-year-old man who's asking me to come outside he's not a threat. Well that's nonsense. He's a 40 year old man who's asking me to come outside and sort out a problem at 8 in the morning. How on earth is that not threatening enough? It's beyond me. Anyway they did go and knock on his door but he didn't answer so they left. This annoyed me even more because if the rules were reversed I'd probably be expelled for doing something like that, as would pretty much anyone. Then security came to me and told me the same thing, that they were doing background stuff to deal with him, and that I'm not in danger, and to just ignore him and call back if he tried anything again. Later that day, I called and asked if they went back to him, and they said they did, and talked to him, and that it's all been reported. But it doesn't sound like

they're actually going to do anything. It's near been reported. But it doesn't sound like they're actually going to do anything. It's near the end of the academic year and people's accommodation contracts will be expiring soon so I guess they're just gonna let him leave when he's supposed to. I don't know if he moved course or was forced to quit and they just can't kick him out of accommodation or something. Hopefully nothing else happens but if it, I'll let you know. Before I begin, I'd like to state that I am a paranoid schizophrenic. This will come into play later. This happened recently on July 6th at around 8pm.

Just starting to get dark when I happened to notice a man walking around my housing complex. I saw this on my security system with about 6 cameras in total. He was wearing a black hoodie with the hood up and a pair of ratty blue jeans and he had a wild looking beard. I see him walking around and think nothing of it until around 30 minutes later I see the man walk around near my house and notice him walking a bit too close to my car for comfort. He then just walks away and I don't see him for another hour when I get an alert on my monitor with all of my security cameras that says there is a proximity alarm. I have each camera set to a different proximity alert and the two garage cameras were set to around 15 feet away from the camera. At this point it's dark outside and the cameras switch into infrared mode where I can get a better look at the sky. He looked crazed and

had a small grin on his face. It didn't look too obvious but it was definitely noticeable. I kid you not, what he does next is downright terrifying. He looks up and then begins to stare into the camera with his wild looking face and just sits there for a good five minutes. He then tries the rear left door and fails to open it, then tries the driver's side door to no avail. The crazed man begins to then knock on the window of the driver's side door and starts pounding on it after a short period of time. This guy was getting more visibly agitated and angry with every second he couldn't get into my vehicle. By this point, I'm already on the phone with the police and they say they'll be at my place soon. I get off the phone with the operator and just continue to watch what this guy is doing.

He's still trying to get into my vehicle and then stops and just stares into my car with no regard to anything else. After 10 minutes, two police cruisers come onto my street with their lights on and their guns drawn at the man. He looks at them and then starts walking toward them slowly. By doing that, the guy got tased. I assumed the guy had a gun or some sort of weapon on him because why else would four officers have their weapons drawn? Then I could hear a loud scream come from outside. One of the officers got the guy in cuffs and he turned his head back toward the main garage door camera. He stares into it with the most deranged and insane look on his face. I gave the police a statement and a USB drive

with all of the footage of what had just transpired and am still waiting to hear back from the police. I am not allowed to show any footage from these events as there is still an active investigation going on. In conclusion, thanks Brain for making me paranoid and installing security cameras and to the insane man who tried to break into my car. I hope I never see that creepy face again. I'm 54 years old now. As a teenager, I lived in a small town in central Virginia. Our town had less than 2,000 people. I was 17 in 1983, and one of my best friends, Chris, lived across the street from a peculiar house.

When I first moved to the town in 1980, a family lived in the house and their daughter had been friends with Chris. Her name was Joy. Joy told Chris that every member of her family had seen ghosts in their house. I'm not sure if anyone believed them but one night the whole family piled into the family car, took off to a motel and never returned to the house. It was assumed that this was a reaction to another supposed ghost encounter. I moved to town and became friends with Chris the same year Joy's family took off. I never really knew them so all of that previous information was second hand to me through Chris. Joy's old house remained empty. By empty I mean no one bought the place. Actually the house still

contained most of the furniture and a lot of the family's belongings. They had literally grabbed what they could carry and left. Chris and I and our other friends liked to poke around in the house to see what we could find. Over the years, kids had thrown rocks and broken every window in the house. Every square inch of the floor upstairs, downstairs, and on the stairway was covered in broken glass. Like most houses in our town, there was little to no carpet inside, just bare wood flooring. One day in October 1983, Chris and I decided to skip school. We did this way too often.

It's not like getting a real day off because we had stayed out of sight. Our small town was full of nosy people who would turn you in for skipping. In such a small town, most people knew your parents. This day, Chris and I decided to hide upstairs at Joy's old house. There were still beds and furniture upstairs and we carefully sneaked in and plopped down upstairs to read, talk, and nap the day away. Early in the afternoon, we suddenly heard footsteps downstairs. Heavy footsteps that crushed the broken glass with each step. We immediately thought someone had heard or seen us through a window and was coming to bust us. This old house had vents built into the floor so that heat from the downstairs would float up through the vent upstairs. The houses in that

part of Virginia were built in the early 1900s and a lot of the houses in the area had these vents. They were basically just an ornate grill covering a large hole in the floor about a foot square in size. As we heard the footsteps crushing glass directly below us in what used to be the living room, we carefully peeked through the vent to try and see who was downstairs. With the footsteps directly below us, we could see no one downstairs. Then, suddenly, the footsteps were upstairs at the top of the staircase, right outside the door. Chris and I whispered quickly that we would fling the door open, act surprised and act like we were just passing by when we thought we heard kids in the house, so we came in to investigate. So we walked to the door of the bedroom. The footsteps had walked right up to the door and

stopped. We opened the door and… there was no one there. Chris and I stood silently looking at each other confused. After a moment we began searching the house, the entire house. No matter what room I was in while searching, I could hear Chris in another part of the house because the crushing of glass was so loud. Finally Chris went outside and completely circled the exterior of the house. From the inside I could hear him circling the outside because the house was surrounded on all sides by trees and there was a thick blanket of crunchy dry leaves all around. With no windows intact, it was easy to hear the crunching leaves from anywhere inside. We both had heard the same thing. The footsteps were heavy and made by something with two legs that sounded like standard human walking. Whatever it was had enough weight to crush glass underfoot.

After the fact, we realized we had never heard the footsteps upstairs. They went directly below us to right outside the upstairs door. The house was completely empty, but we would have heard someone approaching or leaving the house because of the dry leaves. Neither of us believed in ghosts. We won't say what we experienced was a ghost. What we will say is that in all these years, neither of us have been able to come up with any other logical explanation. I'm still in contact with Chris thanks to social media although we haven't been face to face in 33 years. After such a long time, you can begin to doubt older memories. You can wonder if you were mentally embellishing these things. Chris and I have not shared this story with many people. They would tend to think that we were lying or imagining things. When I told my wife this story

a few years ago, I contacted Chris and asked him to give his version of these events. I only asked, what do you remember that day we skipped school at Joy's house? His story was identical to mine, to my relief. Joy's house was demolished in 1984. Today, the wooded area around it has grown so much, there's no sign a house was ever there. I'm a 25 year old female and for as long as I can remember I have always been terrified of the dark. So to be able to fall asleep I have to have some sort of dim light illuminating my bedroom like a night light or the television. Now that there's some backstory here's the first part of my story. This event occurred when I was around the age of 7 or 8. My best

friend at the time, we'll call her April, was spending the night at my house. She was sleeping in my bed with me and told me the morning after that she had awoken in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. But when she turned over to get out of bed, she noticed something. There was this black, humanoid mass pouring out of the ceiling over my sleeping form, its face a mere inch away from my face. April had described it as this weird, bubbling black smoke. I was angry and asked her why she didn't wake me up. She replied that she was just too scared and when she had seen it she couldn't

move out of fright and just shut her eyes trying to go back to sleep. Honestly, I can't really blame her. I'll skip forward to a few years back. I had completely forgotten about that incident when I was a child. My best friend, whom I've known since junior high, we'll call her Kyrie, and I were reminiscing about our teenage years. She had brought up a time when we were about 15. She was staying the night in my house. We were sleeping in my living room, her on one couch and me on the other on the opposite side of the room. The only light that was on was the stove light in the kitchen adjacent to my living room so you can pretty much make out everything albeit with a little difficulty. Kyrie had relayed to me that she was awake for a few hours after I had drifted off to sleep since my house had always freaked her out. At some point during the night she rolled over to face my side of the room and almost

peed herself at what she had seen. There was a pitch black humanoid figure hunched over my face. It was standing at the end of the couch and seemed to be just staring at me only inches away from my face. She had said it was huge. It would have been as tall as the ceiling if it had stood up straight. Kyrie meekly told me that she had just simply turned back over and tried to forget about the terrifying figure looming over me, hoping she had simply imagined it. I instantly remember the experience I had with April in my childhood and told her of it. Keep in mind that Kyrie and April had only spoken to each other a handful of times and were never at all close. So how they had seen the exact same thing ten years apart I will probably never know. I still think about this coincidence every now and then and I truly hope that whatever

was watching me sleep is long gone. Gone. I must first tell you that I am now 18 and when these occurrences happened I was 12 or so. However, I remember every detail to this day. The setting of my story is at my grandfather's house in the year of 2014 and my main parental figure at the time was unfortunately my mother. She, my sister, and I have been borderline homeless and kept away from our father for the majority of our lives. However, my grandfather on my dad's side was our only suitable living option with whom my father stayed with when he was not working out of town. During our stay, which only lasted a couple of months, I was going through a very dark period of time. I was depressed and stressed about things that no child should be stressed over.

I had no one and in response to these very mentally damaging emotions and thoughts, I decided to reach out to someone whom I've never even gotten the chance to meet. My father's mother. She had died due to a heart attack that was the result of taking too many gas station caffeine pills. She was addicted to them. My father and aunt both watched her die. She had lied down after arguing with my grandfather and didn't feel so well. When the pain got worse, she woke up and called for help. She had died before the ambulance could arrive. My older brother was not even born yet when she passed. I've only heard stories of her from time to time and always craved to know more about her. I think that goes with any relative that you never got to meet or that died at a young age to where you can't remember them. I would talk to her every day and every chance that I had just telling her about my day and asking about hers. I didn't have such a clear stance

on if ghosts were real or not at this time but I just needed someone and for some reason I chose her. I've always been very closed up but I felt her presence or at least I manifested it. I would cry to her and silently scream on my really bad days. I would always leave my room after doing such with this extreme questioning. I questioned whether she was even there listening to me. She helped me regardless and at the time, I was okay with pretending that she was there for me. During these talks, I would also beg my grandmother to show herself to me, that she could trust me. This went on for months.

I was basically granting the other side access to feed off of me which is why this experience haunts me and leaves me questioning if it was even her. All I wanted was to see her. One night during our temporary stay my sister and I were extremely hot in our tiny room that we both shared with which was only occupied with a single twin bed, a dresser, a bookshelf, and a lamp. My sister and I were so exhausted with having to take turns on who would sleep in the bed and who would sleep on the floor. I always had to sleep on the floor but it was a worthy sacrifice. It meant that she could sleep comfortably. We decided that we were going to sneak into our aunt's room and be rebellious along with comfortable sleeping benefits. Now the way that this house is set up is that there are three bedrooms and one bathroom in

the hallway on the left side of the house. The hallway connects to the living room which leads into the kitchen. There is a separate doorway with a door that leads to the laundry room garage and a flight of stairs that leads to the only upstairs bedroom isolated from the rest of the house This upstairs bedroom was my aunt's room My sister and I, giggling and scared that we would get caught and or wake up my aunt Quickly walked through the dark house My young sister led the way As we got to the flight of stairs I got got this eerie feeling, but it didn't last long.

I just brushed it off as me being scared of the dark in general. As she entered the room, I stopped at the very top stair. The entire room was pitch black. I couldn't see anything, and I had lost my sister. The only thing I could hear was my aunt's very loud box fan whirring throughout the room. I started to panic as I called out for my sister's name at least three times. I was trying my best to feel around the back of the bedroom door to see if she was there because I couldn't see where I was and didn't want to wake my aunt up by tripping over something while sneaking into her bedroom in the middle of the night. That's when my hearing went out.

I don't know the term, but my ability to hear slowly muffled and all there was was silence. Something told me to turn around. I don't know what, but something did, and this is when I really felt like a small 12-year-old child. There before me, when either the third or fourth step was who I assume was my grandmother. She was so tall. She seemed so, so tall. She was the darkest shade of black I had ever seen. The room without her was already pitch black to where I couldn't see anything. I could see her perfectly though. The only detail I could make out of her figure was what seemed to be the end of a nightgown of hers that I actually

have and wear sometimes and some of her hair strands were individual and flowed around her figure. Imagine the character from the movie Mama except just a silhouette with long hair and some strands sticking out and flowing. That's what she looked like. She looked young. She just stood there looking at me. Granted I couldn't see any facial features but she was clearly there for me to see. I felt caught off guard at first and then at peace. I can't explain the peace I felt just looking up at her. I imagined most people would be traumatized and I was definitely kept in place but I did not feel danger at the time. I was also confused. I just stared at her, taking her in. While still unable to hear, I went towards the black tall figure that I thought was my grandmother and actually reached

for her hand and tried to take her with me. My mind was saying that it was her while also thinking it was my aunt because they look so similar in present day comparatively speaking. I also called her by my sister's name while trying to take her with me but when I reached for her arm she disappeared into thin air. I'm glad I didn't fall down the stairs. I was so shocked that she wasn't coming along and I was also hurt. I snapped out of whatever zone I was in. My ability to hear came back the same way it left, muffled and then progressively got clearer until the fan was loud again. At that exact moment, my sister grabbed my wrist and said almost in a frustrated tone, Come on, Ansley, what are you doing?

I went to bed that night wondering what had just happened. Months later, I was telling this story to my aunt and she mentioned to me that the month in which this occurred was also the month that my grandmother had died. I've also asked myself whether or not my mind simply made the figure up to fulfill my request of seeing her but I wasn't even focused on her during this time in fact I had stopped talking to her for weeks maybe a month or so because it no longer helped me it wasn't until years later did I find out that spirits and even demons will take the form of who you are calling to, to feed off of you and inflict pain or harm, to manipulate you. Me calling out to who I thought was my grandmother was basically leaving a door wide open for the other side and I do believe that evil could have

taken the figure of her. The only reason I'm torn is because this figure not once tried to harm me, just simply observed me and disappeared. My grandfather's ex-girlfriends have also reported seeing my grandmother and believing her to be my aunt only for her to disappear once they flipped the light switch on. I love to hear theories of what this could have been. I still believe that it was her, but a part of me is still terrified that it wasn't her. I've since moved a ton, but am currently still in this house as we speak. My grandfather moved out, and my aunt took over the house with her wife. Recently, we've all been seeing figures and shadows swoosh past doorways, mainly the doorway to the laundry room that includes those same

flight of stairs. A small child of a family friend went to use the bathroom and saw what he described to be someone standing at that doorway to the laundry room and came outside crying. My aunt's wife said she saw it too but I don't think it was my grandmother this time. I must also inform you that the owner of the house had a son who passed away due to a four-wheeler accident. He didn't die in the house itself, but that upstairs bedroom was his and still to this day has some of his belongings, including four-wheeler trophies, Hot Wheels collections, etc. in the crawl spaces. I don't know what to make of all of it, but I'm just glad that I haven't died yet. Throughout my life, my family and I had odd experiences happen in a few of several homes that we lived in,

so we were no strangers to paranormal activity. My mom has always believed that whatever spirits or energy we encountered were brought by negativity or traumatic events that may have happened in the homes previously. My parents had saved up enough money to buy a nice four-bedroom, three-bathroom home with far too much space for us to live in and it was fairly new being less than a decade old. I was in elementary school transitioning into middle school at this time. Three-fourths of the bedroom were upstairs so naturally my parents took the master, my older brother took the room with a window facing the neighborhood, and I took the room in the middle. I loved the house. It had been mine and my mother's

dream to move into a two-story home with lots of space to accommodate for our needs and wants, and I think the four of us went in with high expectations and a lot to look forward to. During the first month of us moving in, my mom had her first experience. She was staying at home alone and was washing dishes when an odd feeling of someone being there had overcome her. She initially ignored it until she felt the back of her hair bounce up and down against her shoulders like someone playing with her ponytail. She turned around, nothing. She knew it couldn't have been a draft but she also knew it was the best to ignore it so she did and continued washing the dishes. However, it only took a few seconds for it to begin again. This time the bounces were more enthusiastic, and the moment my mom rushed to

look behind her, it had stopped again suddenly. My mom was a very impatient and stubborn woman, and she was never the type to let herself be scared so easily, but at that point she realized that if there was something in her home that could make physical contact with her then it could easily do the same to my brother and I. So my mom took a defensive approach and called out, if you mean no harm to my family then you may stay but if you were here to hurt or scare my family then you need to get out of my house. You are not welcome here. And then nothing happened. The odd feeling slowly went away and my mom went back to doing her thing without any odd occurrences disrupting her again. In fact, that seemed to be the only time that

anyone had an experience, for the time being at least. Fast forward to about five months into our time living there, my family was going through a hard time. My older brother was getting into trouble at school and he was distancing himself more from us. My parents were arguing a lot more and I was getting bullied at middle school while dealing with my self-consciousness due to being overweight. All the space in the house felt too much by then. We had no more than a large table and a Christmas tree in our living room. We rarely had guests and the house always felt chilly, so it felt more lonely than ever. Sometimes I would lie awake at night and stare at nothing until I fell asleep,

thinking of everything that was bothering me and missing the way life used to be, missing the way we were as a family before we had moved. One night I woke up and just stared into the space outside of my door which was cracked open. The lights were off and while I'm usually afraid of the dark, I was for some reason transfixed on the space outside my open door that showed the hallway. I stared, not thinking of anything, slowly zoning out until my eyes blurred. I stared, not a bad feeling in my mind or body, nothing but the pull of something that kept my gaze. All of a sudden the lights in the hallway came on and I saw my brother rush to my mom's room. I blinked for what felt like the first time since I had woken up. I became aware of myself again, of how dark it had been in my room

which I was always afraid of. I sat up in bed confused and thankful that I had been snapped out of whatever sort of trance I was in. I could hear my mom talking with my brother but couldn't make out what it was. But I didn't need to try as moments later my brother opened my door and said, did you hear that? I was confused and I replied, no, hear what? Instead of answering me, he went back to my mom's room and after more talking, my mom came with him. You really didn't hear anything? Were you awake? My brother asked me. You're going to scare her, we'll talk about it tomorrow, my mom said to my brother and then she asked if I wanted to sleep with her and my dad that night, and being a little freaked out, naturally I went with her that night. It wasn't

until the following morning that my mom and brother had explained what had happened. They explained how while both of them were in their rooms awake, they heard what sounded like a woman calling something out in the hallway. My brother knew it couldn't have been my mom because it wasn't her voice. But when he went to ask her anyway if it was her, my mom said she heard it too and that it sounded too old to be me. What was weirder so was how neither of them could understand what she was saying and what was even more odd was that while my room was right in the middle of the hall with the door open, I heard absolutely nothing. All I could think of was the odd feeling while I stared out into the hallway that night.

Two months later and unfortunately, things had escalated to the point of no return with my family. My mom was divorcing my dad after discovering his other family in his hometown back in Mexico. My brother understood the circumstances when she told us that we had to move away but growing up being blind to the signs I was distraught and caught completely by surprise. My mom did her best to stay strong in front of us but she was bitter and torn up inside. I'd stay with my dad a few times over the weekend but when I'd see the state of the home with even more open space it just felt lonely. I stopped visiting and my dad and I decided it was best to just spend time together during the day. In no time with my mom supporting us in a separate home and no one to help my dad pay for the house

we lost it and my dad moved out in a moment's notice. Our happy family home had become the place of our family's end. One day not too too long after he moved out, I asked my dad what it was like living there alone without us. When he told me it was scary, I was curious about his answer and asked why. What he said terrified me. He said that some nights he would feel like he was being watched or followed throughout the house. He'd feel so nervous that he would practically run to the room, and he'd rarely stay anywhere else in the house because of it. One night he was jolted awake from what he knows was a vivid and horrible nightmare, but before he even had a second to breathe and gather his thoughts, he felt the bed slam against

the floor, and all the doors, room door, closet doors, and bathroom door opened and slammed shut all at once. He didn't remember his nightmare and from that night on he slept with the lights on. I was horrified when he told me this. Was his bed floating? It was winter when this had happened so no windows were open and even if they were, no draft could have opened and closed the doors the way it did when I thought about it. That day, when I went home, I relayed the experience to my mom. She seemed surprised, but she laughed. When she saw how confused I was, she said,

Before we left the house, I told your father he was going to see something in that house for everything he put our family through. He laughed it off. I guess he won't be laughing about it anymore. To this day I wonder if my mom's first experience and her message to my dad were connected. She wanted whatever was there to leave her family alone and to leave her home if it meant any harm. Could her leaving that home and my dad's experience be because his actions had hurt our family? Could my mom have sealed the deal with her statement toward my dad? Or could it have just waited for the moment when the negative energy was highest in that house? Whatever the cause, I think there is power in words

that are said with full intent, and it's a scary concept to think about it. While I was a teenager, I babysat at least for three families. There was a fourth but this is why I drew the line. This was around 1994 to 1995. Now the fourth family had two kids between 6 to 11. I was a bit annoyed because the 11 year old boy acts like he was 6 and the 6 year old boy acts like he was 10. So there was some kind of issue mentally with this older boy. I was carrying a book with me for research called Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark. This will come up later. Now I'm not going to say that the night went off without a hitch, but oh boy. Now I put my things in the closet beside the front door and this will be important. We went to the park which was right next to the apartment complex of which they lived in.

The 11 year old absolutely refused to come back with me until dark which for me is a big no. I told him he wouldn't get one story out of me until he came home. We got back 7pm and I made them their evening snack and the 11 year old grabs my book bag and pulls out the book. I am stunned and startled when he demands that I read him those stories. I have the rule about scary stories and I told him no, we would read the book that his mother selected. He whines that he wants to read these stories from my book. I am just freaked because I had left my book bag in the closet next to the door and he told me he found it on the couch. I had no memory of ever leaving my books out for anyone. I suddenly see my homework and books all spread out on the couch. I had no memory of ever leaving my books out for anyone. I suddenly see my homework and books all spread out on the couch. I hear something coming from one of the rooms and I just

grab the boys and tell them that we are going out. We go to their grandparents who are on the top floor of the apartments. Well there I saw that once again the 11 year old boy is clutching my book of scary stories demanding I read from it. I'm just staring at him wondering what I should say. Grandma looks at me and then the book asking where the heck I got it. Again this is my book I was doing for a project for my American literature class. She tells me that scary stories that tell in the dark is haunted and to get rid of the book. I push the book into a jacket pocket.

Yeah, it fit there and I told the woman I won't read it and now isn't the time to demand I trash the book. Cops arrive and sure enough a neighbor broke in and was in the middle of ransacking the apartment when we got back from the park. I noticed that we had avoided something terrible because the cops had arrived. And sure enough, a neighbor broke in and was in the middle of ransacking the apartment when we got back from the park. I never requested payment for my time and refused to babysit for that family again. I never told my parents and I also tried to push it out of my mind. One question was, why did this guy choose to go through my backpack and not anyone else's bags? He had ample time to do so, but he chose a broke teenager's backpack.

I used to love posting on Instagram. It was a place I could show off my new clothes, hauls, and the compliments from friends and internet strangers alike really boosted my confidence. You see, I was something of an ugly duckling when I was a teenager. I was bony, I had braces, and I was totally lacking in self-confidence. And as shallow as it sounds, it was social media apps like Instagram that really helped me get a real sense of self-worth and made me feel pretty. But towards the end of last summer, a guy happened to slide into my DMs,

paying me lots of compliments and saying all kinds of nice things about the things I was wearing. I have to admit, I really enjoyed the attention but he wasn't really my type so as silly as it seems, I just kept the conversation going for a few days, chatting back and forth and stuff. Eventually he asked where I lived. I told him I was in Cambridge and he told me he was from Ilford in East London. Then he asked if I fancied going out sometime. I told him it was a bit far to go for a date, it's like an hour's drive between here and Ilford and aside from that I thought he might be a bit too old for me. He was 28 and I was 19 at the time. But that didn't put him off at all. He kept insisting that we should give the whole dating thing a go. I just didn't have the heart to tell him no outright so again as silly as it was I just

kept stringing him along by telling him maybe or we'll see and stuff. One Saturday morning the guy asked me what I was up to over the weekend and I told him I was out shopping with a few friends. I'd be picking up some new outfits and I'd be posting them to Instagram so he and everyone else could see what I'd bought. He said he was looking forward to seeing them and that seemed like the end of it. Then a few hours later I was going from shop to shop on Cambridge High Street, not a care in the world, when I happened to see a familiar face across the street. It was him, the guy from Instagram. I was stunned. He'd driven all the

way up from London after asking me what I was doing just so he could know where to find me. I remember getting really, really nervous, so much so that my friends started asking me what was the matter. I kept quiet about it for a little bit until one demanded to know why I was acting so strange, so I told her. I told her everything. And as I actually said the words, I think he's stalking me, I broke down crying in the middle of a busy shop.

She was so supportive about it though. She waited with me in the shop and ordered an Uber on her phone, telling me everything was going to be okay and that there were things we could do to stop this from happening and how the guy wouldn't be able to get away with it. About an hour later, I was home and safe, but I was so upset that I had to tell my parents what had happened. My dad was furious. He couldn't understand why I'd been posting pictures of myself online for anyone to see, and I suppose I don't blame him. Back when he was a kid there was nothing remotely like Instagram where you could just go online and look at pictures of total strangers. He wanted to take my phone off of me but I told him that there were things I could do

to make myself safer like blocking the guy and making my account private. He said it was far too late for that but the guy knew where I lived and I suppose he was right. A few days later I walked out of my house heading over to my friends who happened to only live around the corner. Ours is a very small, close-knit community so I happened to notice a car that wasn't normally parked in our quiet little neighborhood. But when I looked and saw who was in the driver's seat, I froze. It was him. Again. The guy from Instagram. I was so, so scared. I had no idea how he'd been able to find out exactly where I lived and the only thing I could think of was that he had been following me around town for days. Maybe he'd

even followed that Uber that I'd taken back to my house. But it was what he said to me that I found so disturbing, the way he phrased it. You need to come with me. I ran back into my house, shouting for my dad, who came hurtling out of his little office asking me what the matter was. When I told him he was outside, he knew exactly what I was talking about and his cheeks flushed red with rage as he grabbed

my hockey stick from out of the cupboard and walked down the front path towards the street. I didn't follow him but I heard the shouting. He kept telling my dad the same thing he told me that I needed to go with him but with no other explanation as to why. My dad told him to get lost and that if he came back that he'd beat the life out of him. But he did. He kept coming back, over and over again. The police said they couldn't do anything about it initially, that we needed to make a log of the times he was visiting and to take pictures if we could. So that's exactly what we did. Every time he showed up my dad would go out with a hockey stick and his phone, take a few photos before scaring him off.

He was amazing like that, but I won't lie. It put a real strain on our family and I could tell my dad was getting really, really tired of having that same drama unfold week after week. Once we had enough evidence that the stalker kept returning, my dad didn't go outside when he showed up. He just called the police and explained that he had about six different pictures detailing different times this guy had showed up outside our home. Only then did they actually bother to send anyone. It was a huge kickoff when they did. At first they just politely asked the guy to move along but he he refused and, for some reason, kept telling them the same old thing, that I needed to go with him. That's when the police tried to arrest him,

and he resisted, telling them they had no right to. It was only in February of this year that we actually got any resolution on the whole thing. On the 21st of February, the guy was sentenced to 21 months in prison at Petersburg Crown Court. He had pleaded guilty to harassment and resisting arrest. The thing is, though, I don't know if that's actually solved the problem entirely. I know he won't be turning up outside for just less than two years, but what about after that? What if he decides he's not finished with me and he continues to turn about side my house? I thought the prison sentence would be the end of it but

only 21 months. What if he's angry about it? Gets out and decides to hurt me? I just can't stop worrying about it. I can't get it out of my head. The whole thing has completely ruined my life. I used to work as an events manager for a very successful nightclub here in New York City. It was honestly a dream job. A professional party planner, something thousands of young people dream of being able to do for a living. My phone is filled with selfies I've taken with literally hundreds of VIPs, big name house DJs, rappers, sports stars, you name it. I pretty much spent my weekends meeting famous people and partying, all while getting paid pretty handsomely for it. But then, quarantine happened. At first, we were put on furlough, which was a pretty sweet deal.

Sure, it sucked having to stay indoors pretty much all day, but I was still getting paid 75% of my salary just to sit on my butt and watch Netflix or do yoga. But then rumors started to go around that the club wouldn't be reopening, which I honestly thought was crazy at first since the place was making bank before the lockdown, and the owner was definitely wealthy enough to keep it going, no matter how much various business expenses were costing him. But then one day, we all got an email confirming our worst fears. The club was shutting down indefinitely and as much as it pained him to do it, we'd all been laid off. I was absolutely devastated. I just broke down crying

right there at my laptop and they were those real ugly tears. I had no idea how I was going to pay rent for the foreseeable future. I don't know about you guys, but a $1200 stimulus check was barely going to cover a month's rent and I haven't even really got much in the way of family to lean on. The only jobs I knew of were temp jobs and nursing homes and I knew I couldn't do anything like that. I was complaining to friends online, generally feeling sorry for myself and begging for a few dollars when one made a weird suggestion. She told me about a website called OnlyFans. I'd actually never heard of it at the time but when I googled it, I actually got kind of annoyed that she'd even suggested it. I'm not some e-girl and I can count

the number of guys I've slept with on one hand and they've all been long-term boyfriends. Okay, so for people that don't know, OnlyFans is basically just a place where people can put up photos, videos, audio files, all kinds of things and put them behind a paywall. Sounds innocent enough, right? And it can be, but OnlyFans is more famous for other stuff. Adult stuff, which is where the real money is. I told my friend that I'd have to be desperate to resort to posting stuff like that online, but she came back with the fact that they don't have to be outright nudes, they can be just lewds, which apparently is an actual term that's thrown around in those sort of circles. She went on to tell me that there's a huge market for so-called

real girls, like girl next door types, which is most definitely the kind of look I have. All I had to do was put up a few freebies, just kind of like showing myself off, then put some raunchier shots or videos behind a paywall and see what kind of response they got. I didn't even have to show my face. I think that's what sold it. Covering up my tattoos and no one would ever even know it was me, right? Besides, it was try it or risk getting evicted. So I picked out a few bralettes and booty shorts that I thought were cute, took a few pictures and then uploaded them to an OnlyFans account that I'd started.

Then I posted some of the tamer shots to a subreddit called R Gone Mild, which would basically serve as advertisements. I got instant attention. Hundreds of upvotes trickled into the thousands and a steady flow of messages from thirsty guys all received the same copied and pasted responses in return. Hi, thanks for your lovely compliments. If you'd like to see more of me, a lot more, sign up for my OnlyFans account, along with a link to my page. A handful of guys who told me to die, basically saying how they were only interested in free content, how any girl that actually charged for that kind of stuff or whatever was a, well, you get the idea.

But just enough were interested in me to actually sign up to my OnlyFans and pay the $30 monthly fee I demanded in order to see more of me. Every time I posted an Argon mild I got more followers and it got to the point where like not only was I able to pay my rent on time, I ended up making considerably more money than I had in my old job thanks to OnlyFans tipping system. Basically fans can make requests and you can fulfill them for a little extra cash. For example, one dude offered me $500 to show my face. Just my face. Nothing lewd, nothing like that. As he put it, it'd be worth the cash just to see me smile. By the end of the first month of posting, I was making serious bank. My friend was right,

it was low risk, high reward. Or at least, that's what I thought. So about five weeks after I started my OnlyFans, I walked down to a local grocery store to pick up some food. Like most places, there was a queue winding out the front entrance since the store was only allowing a certain number of people inside at any one time. So I'm just standing there, alternating between checking my phone and just sort of people watching when I notice a guy across the street stop walking and begin to stare at me. He had a long beige coat on, slick back hair, glasses, and like a lot of other people walking around, he had one of those disposable medical masks on.

He was incredibly creepy, but this is New York. It's full of creeps, and he wasn't the first older dude to try to start an impromptu staring competition with me, nor do I think he'll be the last. So I just sort of ignored him and carry on checking my phone. I didn't figure he'd be creepy enough to start anything in broad daylight. And besides, if he had a mask on, there was little chance of him coming within six feet of me, I assumed. Only when I get my grocery shopping done and head out back into the street for the walk back to my apartment, he was still there, still staring at me from across the street. Again, super creepy, but nothing I was about to freak out about.

So I just start walking back towards my apartment. But he just follows me. Stays on the opposite sidewalk, sure, but follows me nonetheless. The last thing I wanted was to lead this creep right back to where I was living at so I take a couple of wrong turns, walk him around in a circle and eventually lose him entirely. I mean it was irritating that I had to even do something like that but that's just something us girls just have to do from time to time I suppose. Let me just take the time to say that obviously not every guy is a creep like that and it never seems to be the guys I want to follow me home that ever do so but it's enough

guys to make it a problem for us. So I finally get within a block of my apartment building like an hour after I thought I'd be home. It's incredibly hot outside. I feel sweaty and gross and I'm just looking forward to jumping in the shower to get cooled off. What do I see waiting outside my freaking apartment building? Yep, the creepy guy in the long beige coat. Not even the summer heat could have stopped the chill from running up my spine. Like how in God's name did he know where I lived? Out of all of the apartment buildings in Williamsburg, he just happened to guess which one was mine? Something was going on. Something real bad and I had a feeling I was about to find out just what that

was. I decided to just bite the bullet and walk past the guy. If he tried anything I could always just like threaten to cough on him or whatever. Failing that, knead the balls then call the cops. Only as I'm getting closer to him and he finally locks eyes with me, he addresses me in a way that makes me just freeze in my tracks. He uses my OnlyFans username to get my attention. I pretend not to know what he's talking about, but he's all like, I know it's you. You can't lie to me. And for the first time, I felt this deep sense of shame at what I'd done. Which is weird because I don't really have any regrets, but in that moment, I felt like I'd been caught doing something I shouldn't. He told me it was nice to finally meet me, that he'd paid me a lot of money and that he

didn't think he'd gotten all that he was owed. I broke and just straight up asked him how he knew where to find me. I know the admission wasn't the wisest move but like he said, there was no point in lying by that point. Besides I just needed to know so I could maybe avoid this happening again in the future if I even kept my OnlyFans up at all. He just laughed at my question in the most horrible patronizing way like it was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard. Then when he told me I felt like face palming so hard. I've been dumb enough to take some pictures that showed the street outside my apartment. Nothing with too much detail but enough for some entitled psycho like

him to put a little work in to figure out where I lived. I couldn't believe how short sighted I'd been. How my own greed had gotten me into a potentially dangerous situation. The guy then asked if he could have my phone number so we could stay in touch properly. I told him he couldn't and that my boyfriend wouldn't be too happy if I did. The whole boyfriend thing was a lie but I figured it might deter him from getting too weird. But that's when he started getting really, really mean. Apparently outraged that I could be using something like OnlyFans to get money when I should be making all that kind of thing exclusive to my boyfriend. I got sick of trying to be reasonable

with the guy, having figured that being nice was the surest way to keep myself safe. He didn't try to block my way as I went into my building, nor did he try to follow me up the stairs, but he did spout a tirade of passive-aggressive abuse at me about how I should be loyal to those that love me and all this other stuff. I've deleted the OnlyFans account now. I just about have enough money to last me until I get a new event planning job or just any other job at all. But this guy knows where I live now, and I know next to nothing about him. I don't know if he has a violent history, I don't know if he's hurt nothing about him. I don't know if he has a violent history, I don't know if he's hurt women before, and I don't know what he's planned for me now that I

have tried to let him know that I'm not available. I'm so so worried about what my future holds or if other creepy obsessive people have been able to work out where I'm living based on those pictures I took with a view out of my window. I know it was dumb of me to start that account in the first place, but lockdown has put us all in a bunch of very difficult situations, and I think I'd rather be dealing with a stalker problem than a homeless problem, as crazy as that might sound. But if anyone has any experience with anything like this or any advice, don't hesitate to write about what you know in the comments. I'd be really grateful to anyone that can help me keep this guy at arm's length. So I ended up matching with this girl on Tinder a few summers back.

She was this punk girl, all kinds of piercings with short crop bubblegum pink hair. She was cute, really cute and she actually seemed really into me. The weather was horrible in the afternoon that we matched, typical British summer here and I was in no mood to go traipsing around in the rain. But it didn't seem to bother her at all and she wanted to make plans for that evening despite it being such short notice. Now I'm a planner. I like having notice about doing stuff and I really don't like being spontaneous at all. I don't know why it just makes me nervous so when she insisted we meet that evening I wasn't keen on the idea at all.

But she just sort of charmed me into it so we met for drinks with her giving me lines like take a chance and live a little stuff like that. Now that I look back it was a total imposition and that should have given me a clue right there but let's just say I was thinking with my other head. So the first date goes pretty well. We did seem to actually have a lot of chemistry, but it was weird in that after like a few drinks, she's all like, what are you up to after this?

I tell her I'll probably just go back to mine, and she responds with, can I come, yeah? Now, I know that seems way too fast, but like I said, I wasn't entirely thinking straight, so I let her come back too fast, but like I said, I wasn't entirely thinking straight, so I let her come back to mine, make her some pasta, then we fall into bed together for you know what. The next day we hang out a little, grab some food, just chill stuff, but I'm completely

expecting her to leave to go back to her place at some point. Only the later into the evening it gets, the more I realize she has absolutely no intention of doing so. So I start dropping hints to her mentioning how tired she must be, how I probably don't have enough food on hand to make a meal for two, blah blah blah. It's not like I didn't enjoy her company, I just wanted my own space, you know what I mean? We seemed to go from 0 to 100 over the course of 24 hours and as cute and charming as she was, I was just not ready for that. In the end, I had to just spell it out for her. I felt rude, but I just laid it out that I had work to do in the morning and I had to be responsible and get a decent night's rest, because we both knew that wouldn't be the case if she was sleeping in my bed again.

I tried to like blend the harsh truth with a little compliment or something, but it didn't go down well, not at all. She got really, really upset, getting moodier and moodier as I tried to continually soften the blow, explaining it wasn't her, that I really liked her, stuff like that. Then as she gathered up her things, she started to cry. I was upset too, devastated even, and thought she might be girlfriend material, but she really, really wasn't. I'm not one for drama like that. I don't think many people are, so the idea she could become so bloody unhidged so quickly, it really knocked the wind out of me. She left in the same flood of tears, and no sooner had she gone, I was typing up an apology text to try to make her feel better.

I felt awful, I really did, but I knew the really hard part would come over the next few days when I'd have to explain to her that I couldn't see us working as a couple. But before I could, I got a text off of her asking if she could come round to mine again. She hadn't even gone 24 hours and she was asking to come back like the little drama from the night before had never even happened. That was deeply disconcerting and I felt constricted, strangled, so I had to just do the right thing and tell her the truth. So I typed out this long, equally apologetic message telling her what I was thinking, how I couldn't see us together, that I just wasn't ready for a relationship, So I typed out this long, equally apologetic message, telling her what I was thinking. How I couldn't see us together, that I just wasn't ready for a relationship. Whatever came to mind that might soften the blow and then hit send with a silent prayer.

I didn't get anything back. We were using WhatsApp by that point and I knew she'd actually read the message from the two little blue ticks that denoted it had been seen. But she didn't reply. And that denoted it had been seen, but she didn't reply and that's when it all really started. That evening, she was shouting in the street up at my flat window, telling everyone what a terrible person I was, how I'd gotten her pissed as a fart on that first night and then taken her back to my flat and assaulted her. I couldn't believe this was the same girl, seeing the rage that poured out of her, the way she screeched and barked up at my flat window, never did I imagine she was capable of

anything like that. But there she was, telling everyone who walked past her open their window what an evil, manipulative person I was, destructive and deserving to be in jail. It was without a doubt the worst experience of my life. I remember just sitting there on the couch, fingers plugged in my ears, imagining how my life was about to fall apart around me. My friends would turn on me, my family would shun me, and eventually the police would turn up to arrest me and charge me with something I'd never even think about doing. You'd think it would be my turn to cry then, but I was just numb. Completely and utterly numb before the complete and all-consuming fear hit me.

I know I should have just phoned the police and cut off the accusations, but I was convinced they'd side with her. That basically there was nothing I could say that would convince them that I was in fact the victim in the situation. She came back twice over the next week, no matter how much I begged her over whatsapp to just leave me alone. The one night I thought she might turn up and she didn't, I thought it might have ended, but as I left my flat and walked down to grab a few tins of Stella from the corner shop, I saw that she'd daubed something on the doors of my apartment building. It said my name is a predator and he lives here in flat 4 it said and bright yellow paint on the dark red door. I had to go from apartment to apartment, 6 others excluding my own and explain what was going on to the people that lived there. 2 slammed the door in my face and neither were

girls either. The only 2 girls that lived in my building actually listened with one sympathizing with me. The other told me that if it was true, she hoped they'd threw away the key but that didn't bother me because I knew it wasn't. Weirdly enough, the girl didn't actually go to the police. In retrospect, this is because she'd been charged with making a false complaint and wasting police time which in some severe cases can actually end in a jail sentence. But for about a month, she'd made my life complete torture by getting in touch with pretty much everyone she could and telling them all about how I was constantly fighting fires, be it with friends, family, work, colleagues, neighbors, you name it, and I had to tell them the same old story. A story that took on this stale, terrible air of repetition to it that got more intense every time I told it. Then one day, finally, it just sort of seemed to peter out.

There were no more messages from people close to me like, What's this I heard about you? Please tell me this isn't true. No more from unknown numbers that said, you're going to get what's coming to you, or we're going to get you when you least expect it. It all just sort of ended. But the nightmares didn't end, nor did the sense that every little look from a stranger was about to turn into them punching me in the face or worse. My life had been well and truly turned upside down. Not destroyed completely, but it was enough. I just want to end this by making it clear that that is an abhorrent crime. But so are false accusations, harassment, and inciting violence against an innocent person. And please, if this happens to any of you, go to the police immediately.

It's what I should have done, and maybe if I had, I'd have a little more of my sanity left intact. To be continued... been fine. She was pretty much in perfect health and I told her as such before wishing her well in that sort of we're done here now please leave kind of way. Only instead of leaving she starts to make casual conversation asking me about my interests if I enjoy being a doctor stuff like that. She's flirting really really hard like aggressively so. Despite the fact that this made me a little bit uncomfortable, I had a wife and a newborn baby at home, I obliged her at first, just making general chit chat with her until it was fast becoming time for my next appointment. So obviously, in the nicest way possible, I tell her I'm a busy man and that I needed her to leave so I could see my next appointment. She seems a bit disappointed, but she seems to understand, grabs her things and leaves. I suppose she was just lonely or something so I didn't really think anything of

it and to be honest, I'd completely forgotten about the girl a couple of days later. About a week goes by, I get into work nice and early and I'm sipping on my coffee while I'm going through my appointments for the day. Then I see a name that's vaguely familiar to me, but that's not unusual at all. I have loads of regular patients that I see sometimes, twice or thrice monthly, but I know these people in first name terms, while this name I couldn't quite remember where I'd seen it before. When it comes time to see this particular patient, I'm actually kind of looking forward to it, simply so I could find out who this person was and put the whole question of why does this name seem familiar to rest. Then when the patient walks in, it's the flirty girl.

That's where I'd seen the name before. She'd already told one of our receptionists that she's been experiencing stomach pains, sometimes so severe that she wasn't able to sleep. But when she walks into my office, she's looking good, acting perfectly normal. She doesn't seem tired or in pain, in fact, she's obviously spent a lot of time doing her hair and makeup, not to mention being overly flirtatious as usual. I ask her about her symptoms and she insists that she's been having the most horrific stomach pains, reiterating that it's been making sleep almost impossible.

So I give her a quick look over and there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with her, but medical issues involving the digestive tract can be very difficult to get to the bottom of. I ask her about her diet, whether or not she's eating anything overly spicy or acidic, to which she replies that she eats very healthily, sticking to salads and the like. Now I'm starting to suspect that she's just making these appointments to be able to get to talk to me, which I know sounds a little bit arrogant, but I just really got this feeling in the pit of my stomach. So towards the end of the appointment, I just come out and ask her if there's any chance that she's just making up symptoms as a way of being able to see me.

Obviously, she's all like, what? Me? Never. And let's just say she wouldn't be winning awards for her acting anytime soon. So I just take her word for it, pretending that, of course, she'd never lie about something like that, and of course she's genuinely experiencing horrible stomach pains. I tell her to keep an eye on her diet, make sure she's not eating anything that might irritate her bowels and make it clear that she should make another appointment if it carries on as I might have to refer her to a specialist. Cut to about a fortnight later, I'm in my office just typing up a few prescriptions

when I get a call from the receptionist telling me there's something going on in the reception area of the clinic. I ask exactly what's going on, but she sounds really shaken up and just says that I need to come down to reception immediately as there's a patient of mine there who's demanding to see me. Puzzled as to what it could possibly be, I walk down to reception only to see the flirty girl leaning on the front desk and she looks terrible, actually terrible. She's not bothered to do her hair or makeup this time, she looks really really pale and she's obviously in a lot of pain. Right as she sees me, she turns, looks me in the face and says, I told you I had stomach pains, and proceeds to vomit blood all over the floor of the reception area before

collapsing onto the floor. Obviously we call her an ambulance and she gets rushed to accident and emergency for treatment and the entire afternoon I just feel absolutely terrible. Like I'd ignored this girl and assumed something deeply self-centered and arrogant, having totally neglected my duty of care. I tried to get through the rest of the day. I tried my very best to stay focused on the rest of my appointments but it was tough. I couldn't get the image out of my mind, that horrific mental image of the poor girl looking like death, looking so confused and let down before the bloody contents of her stomach slipped from between her lips and onto the surgery floor. At the end of my shift, I called up

the hospital the poor girl had been taken to and waited patiently until I could get a hold of the accidents and emergency T number who had dealt with her. Funnily enough, it turned out to be a doctor that I knew from many years before, one who I actually knew from university. So after a little catch-up chat, I asked her about a patient who had been admitted that afternoon having vomited blood in a surgery just outside the city center. She knew exactly who I was talking about and at that I sort of broke down and told her about how foolish I'd been, how I'm pretty sure I diverged on being negligent in my diagnosis of her. But she stops me in the middle of my little emotional breakdown and tells

me that the girl refused to talk to them, that she insisted on going back to see me and that the only thing she could think of was that apparently she had attempted to end her own life. Hmm, those words sent me into a spiral of confusion. I asked her what she could possibly mean by that and that's when she told me that they had to pump the bleach out of her stomach by inserting a feeding tube to fill her stomach with a fluid that basically flushed the bleach out of her system. Basically the girl had drank bleach in some misguided attempt to see me again and it almost ended her own life. I'd never had a stalker before, but I suppose that's exactly what she was. A completely mentally unhinged young woman who would go to any lengths to see me again and to prove that her lies were actually the truth. It was horrifying, thinking there are people that obsessive that they'll do something like that.

But I suppose that's just the world we live in. I'm a student here in Hong Kong. I've been really stressed out with all the political stuff that's been going on lately, but somehow I've managed to get myself in a situation that's made my life even more unbearable right now. You see, although I live in Hong Kong, both my parents were born here and I speak fluent Canto. I spent the first seven years of my life in North Carolina so if I'm honest, sometimes I feel way more American than anything else and I speak fluent English too. I feel like I identify much more with American culture a lot of the time, and I'm a huge nerd for things like Dungeons and Dragons and other fantasy role-playing

games. So as a result of the lockdown that's been imposed here over the past few months, I've found an outlet for my geekiness, and that's Discord D&D groups. They're just awesome. If you can get yourself a good dungeon master who's actually creative, they can be a lot of fun. It's literally exactly the same as being sat around a table playing, only it's even easier to share pictures of characters and scenery and whatnot. So recently I was playing as part of a group when my character gets like romantically paired with another character for the sake of the story. I get pretty invested in my characters so I play the part as convincingly as I can so everyone can get as emotionally involved

in the story as possible and it actually ends up being a pretty amazing campaign that ends up in a few characters dying which we were all devastated about. Now usually everyone is pretty clear that it's purely a role-playing thing and that it's basically just acting out a character for the sake of the campaign but the guy I'd been paired up with ends up contacting me outside the D&D game. He said it was the best he'd ever felt playing out a campaign and wanted to know if he could keep in touch with me so he could invite me to future games and stuff. Of course I told him sure that it was one of the best campaigns I'd ever played and that I'd love to get involved with future games, especially if he was involved. He played his character super convincingly and he was a great writer, able to describe thoughts and feelings in a way that others just couldn't seem to.

Then, a couple of days later, he starts asking me a lot of out-of-character questions, inquiring about my real life and such. I figured he was just being friendly and people have been getting pretty lonely during all the lockdowns that have been going on so I suppose I'd indulge him, letting him get to know me maybe a little more than I should have. Then he came out and asked me if I would ever consider doing like a long distance relationship. I told him those were never a good idea, no matter how much you like someone, as they tend to put people into really unfair positions where they can't pursue local relationships with people they might even be better suited to. It was then that he started getting kind of reticent, like his replies got all short and monosyllabic. I asked him if he was feeling okay and if I'd said anything that he found upsetting or something and he straight up went and told me that he really liked me

and would I consider having like a discord date with him via video chat. I told him I didn't think it would be a good idea, that what happened in the D&D game was just like acting and that it wasn't real. Then he got mean, really really mean. He told me I was a liar for making a guy feel like I had, then just pulling the rug out from under him, so to speak. He told me I deserve every bad thing that happens to me and he'd personally see to it that I suffered the punishment for the pain that I caused him. For a guy in his 30s, he was the most emotionally immature person I'd ever met in my life and I'm used to hanging with freaking teenagers. I just blocked him and thought that that would be the end of it. But more recently, I've had all kinds of discord friend

requests off of people that have turned out to be the same guy, trying to add me over and over again. Sometimes he'd pretend to be someone else, only to give himself away with some little detail. It made me incredibly paranoid, to the point that I've had to stop playing D&D online altogether because he continually infiltrated as many groups as possible simply to try and find me. Some of his messages were just apologetic at first, but as I ignored them, they got crueler and crueler and more violent with each instance. The one that scared me the most was just a list of all the things he knew about me. My name, the university I study here in Hong Kong,

even the names of my parents and brother. I don't even know how he'd gone about getting his hands on that kind of info. All stuff he'd managed to find out on his own through some stalkery detective work. This creep had obviously put a lot of time and effort into finding out additional stuff about me and it's his level of determination and zeal that seriously freaks me out sometimes. Like, how far is he really willing to take this? I know he's far away, I know he's in the United States and that means there's enough distance to make me feel a lot safer than I would otherwise. But I'm terrified he'll just show up in Hong Kong and track me down. Like there aren't many girls here that have the American accent I do when I speak English. Like he's much older than me,

he has a job, has money saved up and stuff, like there's literally nothing that could stop him from doing something like that if he really wanted to. And I think someday he might actually want to. But it's some of his threats that have really made me feel nervous, like how he's told me that if I don't give him a chance, he's going to email some of my university professors to tell them how I've been cheating on assignments, plagiarizing the works of others. Accusations like that are taken very seriously by the university. I had no idea a friendly little D&D game could end with me being in this almost constant state of anxiety like every day. Guys online can be really creepy and misinterpret just basic friendliness as being flirting or whatever. I'm not saying it's everyone, but it's enough to turn some girls' lives upside down. Like I trusted this guy,

he seemed really nice and now he literally has the power to ruin my life if he chooses to. Like me personally, I'll be taking much more precautions when it comes to what information I reveal online in the future. Last summer I met a guy called Michael through the online dating app Tinder. He was lovely at first, very charming and funny and we ended up going on a few dates to some local cafes and bars that actually went really well. But at one point he started getting really possessive over me, acting like I was his girlfriend and getting really jealous and stuff. At one point I got a text message from him asking me who the bunch of guys were that I was friends with on Facebook. I told him the truth.

They were just old school friends or people I knew through work. But this didn't satisfy him at all and he demanded that I unfriend them. Obviously I told him that I wasn't going to do that and it was really unfair of him to be asking me to do something like that, especially considering we haven't even been dating all that long. That's when he started getting really abusive and paranoid. He was convinced that I was dating other people on the side, and that I was just using him for free drinks and food. That was a ridiculous accusation on its own, as I'd always made a point of splitting the bills

with him. I work, I'm independent, and I don't need a man to pay for things for me. Eventually I got really sick of the way he was acting and I told him I didn't want to see him anymore. But he kept trying to contact me. At first he told me he was sorry and that the past relationships had ended badly with infidelity and the like, which was why he acted so paranoid over things like that. But I made my mind up. I couldn't go out with someone like that and a friend of mine had made a good point that if he acted like that once, he was bound to do it again at some point. I asked him to leave me alone, but he wouldn't. So I ended up blocking his number on WhatsApp as well as blocking him from actually calling me entirely. But his attempts

to contact me didn't stop there. He used every means that he could. Eventually he got a hold of my work email and started sending me messages there too. I couldn't change my work email but I could block the sender yet that didn't stop him. He made a brand new email address for every email he sent me. I had to block him on Facebook too. I had to block him on Instagram. Every single social media platform I had was bombarded with messages and some of them were really frightening. At one point he even managed to get a hold of my PayPal username and sent me payment requests for money that he said I owed him for drinks and food we had on our dates.

He threatened to end his own life if I didn't get in touch and sometimes he threatened to hurt me too. Some of the messages were really, really graphic too where he described ways with which that he'd take his own life or take my own. He was obviously putting a lot of real thought into it and that's what gave me sleepless nights. But I think the worst thing was that he kept getting in touch with friends and colleagues of mine, even family members trying to tell them what a terrible person I was and how he was going to hurt me if they didn't get me to respond to his messages. In total, I received over 4,000 emails, over 300 phone calls, and hundreds of messages from him. I have had to change my whole life to ensure that my children

and I were kept safe throughout the ordeal. I still have to maintain this and my life will never be the same again. But I kept a lot of the messages handy so that when I finally broke and contacted the police, I had a shed load of evidence on hand to show them and this was all they needed to arrest him. Michael was sentenced to 12 weeks in jail, suspended for a year after pleading guilty to stalking in Liverpool Crown Court. He was also handed a five-year restraining order which stopped him from contacting me. I finally feel like I've had some justice regarding the whole thing. He might not be going to prison for the things he's done, but he's certainly in a position

now where if he does try to carry on stalking me, he will be put away, which, frankly, is where people like that belong. If there are any women reading this who are going through a similar situation, please be brave and keep hold of some of the messages for evidence. It's the only way to prove that it's happening, and it's the only way the police will actually do anything about it. I'm a PT at a fairly popular chain of gyms here in Australia. I had a girl who used to turn up to all the spin classes I ran, I mean every single one, until she ended up giving herself an injury. And even then she continued to turn up and openly take painkillers in order to get through the sessions. Eventually I had to take her aside and advise her that she should seriously consider

taking some time off to let herself recover and she burst into tears saying that she couldn't bear not to see me. I tried to be kind and told her that I loved her enthusiasm and stuff and that it'd suck not to see her too but she needed to do what was right for her body. Then she asked me if I wanted to see her outside of work but I had to decline her. I had a steady girlfriend at the time and I knew she'd not be happy about me seeing this girl even as friends. Besides, it would be really unprofessional to pursue any kind of relationship with someone who was literally paying for my company. Then over the next few weeks I began to see notes attached to my windshield of my car whenever I

finished work. They were from the same girl and every time they had a phone number attached, but I had to ignore them. I couldn't give her any idea that I was interested in her. Then the notes began to get nasty. Really nasty. I won't repeat what they said as they had some frankly disgusting language to them. Then one day, there was a fire engine in the parking lot of our gym, spraying water all over a car that was on fire. My car. CCTV showed the exact same girl from the spin class, walking up to my car and

dousing it in gasoline before setting it on fire. She was arrested and I chose to press charges, but she managed to dodge a prison sentence because apparently she had a history of mental illness. I also came to find out that I wasn't the first person she'd become obsessed with. I basically live in fear for my life now. I filed a successful restraining order against her, but honestly, I don't think she'll abide by it. I think she's just waiting for the right time to approach me again, and when she does, I'm really, really scared about what she'll do. Hey friends, thanks for listening. Be sure to subscribe and click that notification bell to be alerted of all future narrations. If you got a story, be sure to submit them to my subreddit, rLetsReadOfficial, and give and receive feedback from the community and maybe even hear your story featured on the next video. And join my Discord to interact with me and other listeners directly.

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