The Lets Read Podcast - 111: Episode 099 | Louisiana & Maid Stories | 20 True Scary Horror Stories

Episode Date: October 20, 2021

Welcome to the ninety-ninth 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 Louisiana, Maids, and Being Hunted In Target... 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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Find your pro at your local Tread Experts. From tires to auto repair, we're always there. TreadExperts.ca We'll be right back. Treads worn down or you need a new wheel. Wherever you go, you can get a pro at Tread Experts. 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 Tread Experts dealer near you at TreadExperts.ca. From tires to auto repair, we're always there. TreadExperts.ca

Everyone's got a pro. Need tires? I've got a pro. Car making a weird sound? I've got a pro. So who's that pro? The pros at TreadExperts. From tires to auto repair, TreadExperts 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. TreadExperts.ca Hey, y'all. My name is Troy, and I live with my wife and daughter in the Gentilly neighborhood

of New Orleans. Both me and my wife are Creole and we're really proud of that. We have a rich and diverse heritage that we can both trace back for generations. We was born, both raised in New Orleans, it's our home and neither of us would rather live anywhere else in the world. But although this city is nicknamed the Big Easy, living here has been anything but. From the heat and humidity to the gators and hurricanes, I think the sense of community down here has been forged out of suffering. And back in 2005 when we was hit by Hurricane Katrina, boy did we suffer. So back in 2005, my family was living in this sturdy red brick two-story here in Gentilly. I guess it's my fault that we went through what

we did because even after we got the hurricane warnings, it was my decision to keep us there. I mean, we had it for at least four or five years at that time and never once had it flooded before, no matter how crazy the storms got. On top of that, the roof had almost an inch of waterproof plywood underneath it and I laid all the shingle with my own two hands. I was proud of my work too, put a lot of time into it. Maybe it was my pride getting in the way, but I reckon we'd be alright. And at first, we were alright.

My wife and I figured it was just another regular old hurricane, if you can call them that. But then we got the news that the levees had broke. And only then did we realize just what we was in for. The water came in fast, real fast. It flowed down the street we lived on like a river and leaked into our house wherever it could. We grabbed all kinds of things we didn't want to lose from the ground floor and then headed upstairs to safety. Somehow I got it into my head that it would just stop there, but I remember how scared my wife got as the water started climbing the stairs step by step.

We watched them disappear one by one until, not long after, it was soaking into the carpet right there on the second floor. The house had never flooded before, not even once. And then there we were, feeling like we had no more than an hour before the entire place would be underwater. Our daughter was real young at the time too, only just out of diapers. She can imagine how scared we was and how her crying made everything so much more tense. That's when all the power went out. Me and my wife saw this big flash of light outside, along with hearing these scary sounding sparks from outside, but it wasn't lightning. It was from the transformer down the block as it shorted out and gave up.

After that, we were in darkness. I was hauling as many of my valuables and essentials as I could into the attic of our house while my wife tried to keep the baby calm. She was hushing her, singing her little songs, but the baby was wailing something fierce. She knew something was badly wrong and she wasn't too proud to show it. By the time it was up to our waist on the second floor, we were all really starting to panic. But suddenly, it just sort of stopped. We wasn't sure it had at first, I just figured it had slowed down but was still rising. But sure enough, it had.

I swear I could have danced for joy. Sure, almost the house was ruined, but as long as the water stayed just there, we wouldn't drown, and to me, that was something worth celebrating. It was about midnight when this water stopped rising, and we were in total darkness, only able to see by flashlight. Our bedroom had a balcony on it, so I headed out there to get a look at the street outside. It was like a river out there just all this rushing water flowing down the street and it was filthy.

It had this oily black layer on the surface and trash was everywhere. All kinds of things floated past me. Anything that could float out of people's houses was just bobbing on the surface. It was a vision of utter destruction. But I'll never forget the noises coming from other people's houses. There was all this banging sounds coming from the people's roofs,

but they were trying to break out of their attics. It was haunting. Like all these houses had been turned into coffins, and the people inside had been buried alive. Just this horrible boom, boom, boom that echoed all around our neighborhood. These houses had been turned into coffins and the people inside had been buried alive. Just this horrible boom, boom, boom that echoed all around our neighborhood, and you couldn't tell exactly where it was coming from. The water seemed to create these echoes or something, sending the sounds every which

way until it seemed like the entire city was all playing drums at the same time. I'll never forget what that sounded like. I told my wife to take the kid up into the attic to try and get some sleep, but I'm not sure she slept a wink that night. Around noon the next day, a boat full of guys wearing uniforms of some kind came along and hitched themselves to our balcony railings. I thought we were saved, that everything after that would be okay. They drove that boat all the way to a nearby overpass where they'd already ferried about half the neighborhood. I mean, there was about two or three hundred scared, exhausted people

already there, just waiting around to be told about what to do next. But once we got there, we realized how bad the situation was. Nobody had no food with them, no water or bedding either, but we all just guessed that someone would come along with supplies we needed. There was no way the government was just going to leave us there to die, right? It makes me angry just writing that, knowing what I'd do now. But they did. They just left us there to rot, like they straight up forgot about us. And that's when things started to get bad. I mean really, really bad.

After one night up over on that overpass, the sense of community started to come apart pretty quick once people got into their heads that we'd just been abandoned. It got tribal, brutal even. People was going around taking food or money from those who wouldn't defend themselves properly. Those folks had no shame, didn't even bother to cover their faces or nothing like common bandits. They just felt entitled to other people's stuff. Not a hint of guilt about them. What little food or water the group had was all gone by that second night and the next morning, people started trying to escape the overpass on whatever was floating by.

I'm talking wheelbarrows, those little plastic swimming pools, anything that came by that looked like it might take them somewhere away from that overpass. People were getting real desperate by that point and people were getting mean too. Luckily, I'd had the foresight to keep my cell phone dry and charged, so the whole time we'd been up on that overpass, I'd been keeping in touch with a cousin of mine who lived uptown. Apparently, he hadn't had any flooding at all, still had running water, still had power, the works. The only trouble was that the water was real deep at the end of the overpass, my wife wasn't a strong swimmer, forget about the baby, so swimming was totally out of the question. We was trapped up there, stuck on that overpass as the group we were with became more and more fractured, aggressive and paranoid of each other.

These mean folks were accusing people of hiding food or water, fights was breaking out, kids were crying, It was just awful. The third morning we was up there, something terrible happened. Some kid is messing around in the overpass railings and I'm watching, wondering where this kid's parents are to stop him doing something so dumb. Then the kid just slips. People screamed and ran to the edge and so did I. It must have been a 50 or 60 foot drop into the water. I mean, it was a long way. We were expecting this kid to resurface so we can tell him where to swim to but no one comes up. He just disappears under the water and not a soul did anything to try and help.

I only realized later that the water wasn't even all that deep, and the speed the kid fell, he would have smashed into the concrete under the water, maybe even head first from the way he fell. We watched a kid die that morning, and people were so hungry, thirsty, and tired that they almost acted like it didn't mean a thing. It was then that I decided that I had to get my family out of there before things got worse and that's when I had an idea. You see there was this guy on the other side of the overpass from us that had been sleeping on this inflatable pool lounger thing. The bandits in the group had tried to take it off of him at one point and he had fought them off something fierce but I figured if I had asked him real nice and told him about my baby that he might just give it to me so we could get out of there.

I walked across the group to him and he gives me this look like leave me alone but I start explaining about my kid, how she hasn't had no food or water in god knows how long and that if she didn't get some soon she might die. He looks like he doesn't believe me until I point across the overpass to where they were sitting. Then the look on his face just softens and he gives me that pool lounger without a word, just straight up gives it to me. So as discreetly as I can as not to let the bandits see us leaving, I take my family down to the water's edge and put them on the pool lounger. I start wading out and before long,

I'm up to my neck in the filthy flood water. My wife and kid are whimpering and crying, wanting to go back to the overpass because they were so scared, but I told them that wasn't happening. That was getting to be a real bad scene up there and I wasn't going to be around when it imploded. After about 2 or 3 hours of pushing that pool lounger in the direction of uptown, I'm exhausted, and our pace has slowed down a whole lot. All of a sudden, I feel the lounger snag on something in the water. Now, you gotta appreciate that because it was so dirty and oily, neither me or my wife could really see what it was.

Like I said, I was incredibly tired, so I asked my wife to try and move it out of the way, but when she does, the thing rolls over in the water, and we actually see what it is. It was a dead guy, this old dude who probably couldn't swim so good, and he looked absolutely horrifying. His eyes were all milky white, his mouth was wide open and full of water, and his face was all swollen and purple. I mean, he looked like a straight up monster, and my wife and kids started hollering up a storm on the lounger, begging me to get us out of there. I had to physically move this dead body out of the way of the lounger, grabbing onto the dead guy's arm and feeling it squish in my hand as I dragged him away. The smell off of the body was horrific, and I was gagging and retching while my wife was hysterical on the lounger.

I had to yell for her to calm down, screaming at her to get her head straight. I'd never yell at my wife, but I was just terrified she'd have a panic attack or something and fall off the lounger with our baby in her arms. But she does. For the sake of our baby, she starts breathing right, and about an hour or so later, the water starts shrinking a little, and we finally make it to my cousin's place. We stayed there for about a week, living off my cousin's generosity until we could finally get evacuated out to a FEMA camp out in North Carolina. They was real nice to us out there, but I think a lot of folks just felt bad that we'd been left alone for so long.

And I hate to get political about this, but the whole experience changed the way I think about the government. I get that no one expected Katrina to be that bad. I do. I was just as surprised as anyone that the levees broke after being so good for so long, but what are we paying taxes for if they ain't going to use it to help us when we need it?

We pay them so they can look after us, not all the time, but sure during an emergency like that. I don't think it was a racial thing like a lot of people try to make it out. Where we lived, and gently, there was all sorts of folks living there. Black folks, white folks, Latin folks, and we all got abandoned just like everybody else did. I just hope that we learned enough from that whole horrible experience to be able to deal with it better next time something like that happens. And I pray that we do, because I'm not sure New Orleans could survive something like that again. As much as I love the place, Katrina showed me something. The community is fragile, and it don't take much for it to unravel. Back when I was pursuing my PhD in zoology at the UL Lafayette,

I chose to write my thesis on the life cycle of biology of the alligator snapping turtle. This meant I spent an awful lot of time out at the Atchafalaya National Wildlife Refuge, a one million and a half acre area of hardwood swamps, lakes, and bayous about 30 miles west of Baton Rouge. It's a truly beautiful and awe-inspiring place, but it's wild, one of those areas out in the country that has barely been conquered by humanity. And coming from Chicago, I'd never seen anything quite like it, but as much as I had come to love Atchafalaya, I had one of the worst experiences of my entire life whilst lost in the swamps there, an incident so intensely terrifying that I had to put my studies on pause for a matter of months

in order to recover. I've decided to write down what I went through as a form of cognitive behavioral therapy in the hopes that it will help me deal with some of the unresolved traumas that followed me out of the swamps. Whether or not it will actually help, I can't tell just yet, but I sincerely hope it does, as frankly, I've been unable to be completely happy or content in myself since it happened. So without further ado, this is my story. It all started the morning my research partner and I were supposed to drive out to Atchafalaya for a long day of study and observation. The weather had been absolutely abominable over the previous few weeks and we picked

a time during what appeared to be a brief break in the rainy season. It might be the only period for weeks where it would be feasible to undertake such a research trip, but in the morning we were due to depart, I awoke to a text message saying he was feeling severely under the weather. He apologized, but told me that he wouldn't be able to accompany me. I was disappointed in the extreme, but like I said, the following few days looked like they would be the only time I'd be able to get a sizable chunk of research completed. So as foolish as it was, I loaded up my gear into my car and drove out into the swamps, alone. I drove out to the small town of Plaquemine, just on the edge of Atchafalaya, parking up near a

small mom and pop joint to get some griots and grits before my hike into the swamps. I was in a pretty bad mood marching in there alone and I had to carry a little extra equipment since I couldn't spread the load with my research partner. This made the walk out to my preferred observation spot much more tiring than usual. I mean it's crazy how just a little extra weight can make a long hike like that seem harder. But anyway I'm on my way out to a place called Upper Flat, a big stretch of water near Little Tensaw Bayou when all of a sudden, I start realizing that I don't recognize any of the terrain. This was weird, as I'd made this journey like at least 50 times before,

too many to really keep track of, but I figured I've only strayed just a little off course and I could find my way back onto my regular trail in no time. It was just a case of finding out which direction I'd move off in and making the appropriate course correction. Only when I get my compass out, I see the little needle spinning around wildly, like whirling around in a circle like it was being propelled by something. I give it a little tap, shaking it up, but it carries on doing exactly the same thing. It's not like it was a cheap compass either. It was a Suunto KB-14 and they're some of the best compasses on the market. That one in particular set me back almost 200

bucks, so I fall back on the compass on my iPhone which is even less reliable but works off a GPS as opposed to the Earth's natural magnetic forces. But again, not only does it refuse to calibrate, but I realize I have absolutely no bars on my phone either. That was definitely not normal. The cell reception isn't the best out there but I always get something, even if it's just a single bar to send texts. I'm a little worried by that point as I've basically got no method of reaching the outside world if something goes wrong. But it's either push on and get my day's research done, or walk back the way I came and face messing up my entire thesis. And I don't even know if the way I came will even take me back to Plaquemine by that point.

So, I foolishly decide it would be better to push on as opposed to turn back, one of the single biggest mistakes of my life. So I'm walking for like another hour or so, hopelessly lost in a place I somehow barely recognize when I begin to smell smoke coming through the trees. I figured it's some campers or hunters out there which would be highly unusual for the wet season but at least they'd be able to point me back in the direction of Upper Flat. I follow my nose as the smoky smell gets more and more intense until I start to see the smoke itself wafting through the trees.

That's also about the time I begin to hear the slow rhythmic sounds of a banjo being plucked, just out of sight. It's not some jolly Cajun tune either. The sounds are discordant, ominous even, and the hairs on the back of my neck begin to stand on end as I finally begin to see this little wooden shack coming into view. I can see the campfire by that point and the sounds of the banjo are floating out of the small window in the shack. I'm nervous, but I speak up anyway, calling out hello and asking if anyone is home, even though I knew well that there is. I was just trying to be polite, you know. This angry looking face appears in the window in an instant, a face I'll never forget.

This guy's skin looked like leather, all wrinkled and cracked while the darkest eyes I'd ever seen started around from sunken eye sockets. He had a beard and mustache but it was all dark, ratty, patchy hair that made him look more like a kind of vermin than a man. There was some rustling from inside before the guy stumbled out from the shack's door, staring at me from the wooden steps. I apologized for my intrusion, then asked him if he knew which direction I could find upper flat. He didn't say a word at first, just carried on staring at me like I was somewhere I didn't belong,

which I suppose was exactly the case. I then took to reassuring him that I didn't want to take up any of his time, that I was a little lost and all I wanted was to find my way back towards Little Tensa. Petit Tensa? He replied in a drawl of Cajun French. Ah, oui, parlez-vous anglais? I had picked up a little French since moving to Louisiana for school, but I'm not about to pretend it was any good. The man just shook his head and then said something that sounded like a question that included the word traiteur.

For those of you that don't know, in Louisiana, a traiteur is what they call someone who practices so-called faith healing, and whose primary method of treatment involves what's known on as kind of a laying on of hands, so to speak. An important part of Creole and Cajun folk religion, the traiteur combines Catholic prayer, medicinal remedies, and occasionally voodoo rituals. Or at least I thought they did. I generally didn't think that there were any traiteurs left, assuming the practice had long died out, yet apparently not. A traiteur comme a voodoo, non? I asked with a chuckle in my terrible French, trying to be as disarming as possible as to not irritate the man any further. He didn't laugh. He didn't smile. He just got mad. Really, really mad. He started growling things in French

I didn't understand, pointing at me accusatorily as he seemed to get angrier and angrier. I started to back off slowly at that point, hands raised in the air as if to say, I don't want any trouble. But somehow that just makes him even more irate. And then he's sort of apoplectic with rage as he pulls this huge gator jawbone knife from behind his back and starts pointing directly at me. A knife on its own would have been intimidating enough, but seeing the blunted alligator teeth that made up the handle, Jesus, that's just about scared the life out of me. I thought once I was out of there I'd be okay, but as I'm walking back through the forest, pretty shaken up, he starts screaming in French and whistling.

Only when I look over my shoulder just to make sure he's not about to give chase, I notice something that makes my blood run cold. He's not screaming at my back. He's not whistling at me either. He's screaming and whistling into the forest. It didn't quite hit me at first. I just peered over the back of my shoulder wondering what he was doing, but then I realized he was calling others, telling them there was an intruder or whatever. I tried to move as quickly as I could without running, don't get me wrong, I was absolutely terrified, but the bayou is not a place to go blindly sprinting among the greenery. Aside from gators and occasional cougar sightings,

Louisiana is home to the cottonmouth snake. Although it's not outright deadly, their venom contains an anticoagulant meaning the wound won't clot. Cottonmouth bites have been known to be fatal and without treatment certainly require amputation. So I'm sort of jogging and bounding my way from the shack as fast as I can, keeping my eyes on the ground so I don't get myself bitten. I go for about 20 minutes or so until I'm happy I'm far enough away from that angry Cajun to resume my walking pace. I felt exhaustion setting in at that point too. I'm sweating through my clothes and I am completely and utterly lost. My compass

and phone still aren't working at all and the further I walk, the more I'm panicking that I'm not going to be able to get out of the swamps by sundown, in which case I would be really screwed. But just as I'm starting to feel relatively safe, I hear something like a twig snapping behind me, before I get this horrible feeling in my gut like someone is actually following me. I do a quick 360, making sure I can't see anyone, which I don't. The bayou seemed as still and quiet as ever, yet the filling didn't abate. I'm still convinced that someone is out there, just beyond my vision, watching me with unseen eyes.

I start moving more quickly again, bounding through the trees until I'm almost certain I can hear the sounds of a car driving in the distance. I was close to road, I was sure of it. But right as I start to move off in the direction of the sound, someone steps out from a tree just to the side of me. They were dressed in all black, bare chested with red brown skin that was riddled with strange looking tattoos. Over their face was a mask that looked an awful lot like the front section of the human skull, and in their hand was a huge black blade of some kind. To this day I have never seen anything as completely and utterly terrifying as whoever or whatever walked out from behind that tree. Whether or not they intended to do me harm or just scare me out of the area, I can't really say for certain.

But I sure didn't want to wait to find out. I forgot about the cottonmouths and just ran as fast as I could, sprinting through the trees as I heard the guy following me. It was horrifying. I could hear him panting just a few meters behind me, the whole way until I burst through this thick patch of bushes and onto the highway behind it. I ran out in front of a car which almost smashed into me honking its horn with the driver going crazy. I ran around to the guy's driver's window and begged him to let me in. At first he told me to screw off and almost drove off on me. But I begged the guy, I mean I really begged and I don't know if it was how haggard I looked or if

it was the genuine terror in my voice, but eventually he agreed to let me in. I told him what went back down in that bayou and I asked him if he'd ever seen or heard anything like that. He told me no, but also mentioned that he knew way better than to be walking around the bayou on his own like that and that I was an idiot for doing it. He was kind enough to drive me back over to Plaquemines to where my car was parked, and I thanked him profusely for potentially saving my life. I offered him some gas money, but he told me no, that there was no way he was about to take money off of me for just doing the right thing. That's something I never forgot about Louisiana, just how kind and generous people

could be. How the whole thing about southern hospitality was very, very true. But I've also never forgotten about that man in the bone mask. The man who haunted my nightmares for months after, and almost ruined my whole time at college since, like I said, I had to put my studies on pause just to get over what I'd seen out there. So please, don't ever go walking into the bayous of Louisiana alone, because there are people out there that are seriously averse to the intrusion of outsiders. For the longest time now, my one true passion in life has been fishing. I have a really high-pressure job as a stock trader in my hometown of Philadelphia, and nothing seems to help me unwind from a stressful week quite like a day's worth of fishing. I think it's the combination of the serene setting, the slow

steady pace of it and the fact that I'm reconnecting with nature when most of my life is spent in a office space staring at a computer screen. But there's always been one dream fishing trip that I've always wanted to go on but never really had the time to arrange. And that's bow fishing down in Louisiana. Ever since I saw a segment on it on the World Fishing Network, I was just dying to try it. I always wanted to try out some kind of archery too, so combining that with my passion for fishing just seemed like the obvious choice. I had mentioned it once or twice to the wife and being the great listener that she is, she ended up arranging a trip down into the

bayou for myself and a few of my buddies for my 37th birthday. We flew down to New Orleans on that Friday morning which I had no idea was named after Louis Armstrong, then spent the day hanging around Bourbon Street drinking cocktails and soaking up the jazz. Then after fighting the hangovers the next day, we drove down along the Mississippi River to this little place called Burris, where we found ourselves at Nola Bow Fishing Charters. The guys down there were awesome, sharing all their little tricks and techniques with us to ensure we'd have as lucrative a trip as possible. Then once the sun had set, we loaded up into the boat and set off into the swamps. It really was like a dream come

true to me. The landscape down there really is something to behold, but here's the thing. The shallow bottom boat we were on had these floodlights on them, just below the waterline. Most fishermen will tell you that this is basically cheating since the fish tend to be attracted to the lights like that at night time. But since we were using bows and arrows, I guess it kind of evened out the odds. However, having lights on your boat like that totally ruins your night vision. So as much as you can see the waters around you perfectly clearly, it blinds you to the darkened areas beyond, and that makes you feel pretty vulnerable indeed. There could have been anything out there in the darkness just watching us, and we'd have absolutely no idea it was there.

So we're eventually having a ball for the first hour or so, mostly just making fun of each other for missing our shots so much much but eventually we actually started getting the hang of the whole accuracy thing. We're pulling in all kinds of black drums, redfish, and flounder, which are absolutely delicious by the way, but I couldn't see any of the one fish I wanted to shoot and that was an alligator gar. I'd had my heart set on getting my hands on a big ten-footer to show the guys back at the office and I was worried the entire trip might pass before I got a chance to shoot one. But eventually one of my buddies is looking over the side of the boat, into the brightly lit but

murky waters when he calls out to me that he sees this big old gar hiding amongst some reeds just a few feet away. He knew I was after one, as was everyone, so everyone got out of the birthday boy's way so I could get a clear shot on it. So there I was, right up on the edge of the boat with my bow and arrow in hand, trying to steady myself to get a good aim on this gar. God, this thing was huge. I mean, it was easily a ten footer. The same exact kind of monster that I had been dreaming of getting my hands on and I really had to regulate my breathing to keep my hands from shaking too much. Only just as I start to get ready to aim on the thing and I'm about to fire the arrow in the water,

it starts to slowly creep further away from the boat, almost like the thing knew I had my eyes on it. But I wasn't about to let it get away, and as dumb as this was, I started leaning over the edge of the boat so not to lose it. That's when I lost my balance. I started wobbling, tipping over the side of the boat before my buddies could reach out to grab me and reel me in. Bow in hand, I crashed into the murky waters head first, getting absolutely soaked in the process. I can hear the guys in the boat laughing before I can even resurface and when I finally do, I gotta admit, I was laughing too. But as I look up from the water, they don't look so cheerful anymore. They're all just looking

behind me, staring at something with these looks of terror on their faces. I'm all like, what? What's the problem? Before I look behind me, seeing this pair of glassy eyes glowing in the lights of the boat just before they disappear under the water. It was a gator, and it was huge. I start scrambling to get back on the boat, trying and failing to scale the side of it before the thing got me. All my buddies rush to the side to try and failing to scale the side of it before the thing got me. All my buddies rush to the side to try and grab me but the bowfishing instructor rushes to the opposite side, grabbing one of two of my friends and imploring them to do the same. At least we tip the whole thing over and all end up in the water. Just as they get a grip on me and start dragging me upwards, I feel like intense pressure on my right boot.

It was horrible. I just started screaming that it's got me, it's got me over and over, feeling my leg beginning to stretch from the guys dragging me up and the gator trying to drag me down. Then suddenly, I'm free and the guys are able to pull me back up into the boat. But that didn't bring me any relief as in the moment, all I can think is how the gator had bitten my foot off. There was no pain, but I've heard in those adrenaline-fueled moments, you don't feel the massive injury that's been inflicted on you. I'm scrambling around the boat, trying to get a look at my leg,

half expecting to see a missing foot and blood pouring out the bottom of the boat. But to my instant relief, all I see is a soaking wet sock covering my still attached foot. The relief, the pure relief I felt in that moment I can hardly put into words, and it didn't take me all that long to figure out that a hangover had basically saved my life. Since I was feeling so rough that morning I hadn't bothered to tie my boots up all that tight, giving them enough slack to allow the gator to straight up pull it off my foot. It was without a doubt the single most terrifying moment of my entire life. Seeing that thing's eyes practically glowing in the floodlights of the boat put the absolute fear

of God into me and I know how lucky I am that I was able to walk away from a situation with all my limbs still attached. I could just as easily bled to death lying on the floor of that boat, thousands of miles away from my wife and kids while my buddies looked on helplessly. We took a fair amount out of the swamps that night and I suppose it was only right that the swamps took something back. I didn't manage to catch the gar that I'd been lusting after in the end, but that was okay by me, I guess. I'm just quick to remind myself that there are real life monsters out there, things that look like they're from a land before time, just watching and waiting for idiots like me to slip up, figuratively, or in my case,

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building up a fine collection of chains, brooches, and rings that he could turn a profit on. He built that business from the ground up, transforming it from a struggling run-down old dump into one of New Orleans' most successful jewelry stores. When he retired, he handed the thing off to my dad, who he trained up throughout his teenage years and early twenties. Then when my turn came, the tradition continued. I learned how to evaluate gold and silver, checking for purity and such like while other kids were finishing high school and going off to college, I was learning the jeweler trade. More than 50 years of hard work got poured into

that place, three generations of Louisiana blood and we were all extremely proud of it. But over the course of about 48 hours in August 2005, we almost lost everything when Hurricane Katrina hit the city. And, as it turned out, the actual hurricane was the least of our worries. Fortunately for my family, the suburb of New Orleans that we lived in at the time was just above the waterline, so we didn't get much in the way of flooding out where we lived. Sure, the winds and the rain were pretty scary but I didn't start to really worry until I heard about all the looting going on downtown

and how there was absolutely nothing in the way of law enforcement. I couldn't just sit there and watch it happen on the news so I got in my car and headed towards downtown with my pistol in the passenger seat. When I reached the area where the water started to accumulate, I parked up my car, got out, and began to slosh through the flood water towards the street my store is on. It was horrible seeing the city I was raised in having been so utterly destroyed and it didn't take long before I started to see evidence of the looting. I saw a guy with about ten pairs of jeans slung over his shoulder, wading through the water about a hundred meters or so ahead of me. I didn't say a thing, not because I wasn't outraged, but because he held a small revolver up high, just letting everyone know that he wasn't about to be stopped.

I reached my store and thanked God that it hadn't been broken into, but the inside was almost totally wrecked. I set about collecting up every valuable item that I could, intended to take it all up into the safe of the second floor where hopefully it would be safe for many looters that came by. But right as I was in the middle of doing so, I heard the sound of a boat engine just outside, along with a bunch of angry sounding voices. As soon as I turned around, I saw a masked man pointing a rifle at me through the wrought iron gating that I used to lock up my store. He screamed at me to drop the pistol, barking at me that he'd shoot me dead if I didn't comply. I knew if I did, that'd be the end of my store, but he started counting down from five like he was going to pull the trigger

when he got to zero. So I did. I dropped my gun into the water and watched as what appeared to be a well organized team of looters wrenched open the old iron gates in a crowbar and proceeded to break into my store. They were well armed, well equipped and all of them had body armor on too, like they'd seen the destruction and the chaos and just decided to take full advantage of it all. It terrified me that predators like that seemed to walk among us. One had a pistol to my head as the rest commenced to smashing the glass cabinets and emptying the contents in the plastic bags. I had to watch while they pretty much emptied the entire store, but even when they'd taken almost everything, they weren't satisfied. The guy with a pistol on my head started demanding I tell him where the rest was, that he knew I had a bunch more jewelry stashed away somewhere along with

some cash. He was right, but I lied and told him they emptied me out. That's when he started dunking my head under the water for longer and longer periods of time, telling me he'd sooner drown me than walk away at that point. It was pure torture. I felt like I was going to black out, so, in the end, I just told him about the safe upstairs. They dragged me onto the second floor and held that gun to my head as they made me unlock the safe, then emptied the entire thing into plastic bags that they were carrying. Almost five grand worth of cash and jewels were gone, just like that.

Then as quickly as they had arrived, they left, having completely emptied me out I'd gone downtown to protect my store, and I'd failed, miserably It was one of the most terrifying, humiliating experiences of my life But I'm glad I was able to walk away with my life It took a while before the store was up and running again. I had to fight with insurance companies who seemed unwilling to pay out, some claiming an act of God or some other nonsense, but in the end, we didn't lose the store entirely and were open for business again. Although there's not a day that goes by that I don't see that guy's face, I remember how that flood water tasted when that evil SOB almost drowned me in my own store.

I live in a place called Crowley, Louisiana, not too far from the city of Lafayette. It's a pretty boring town, not much really happens here at all. Perhaps the most interesting thing that goes on is the yearly International Rice Festival, which should basically tell you all you need to know about the place. On April 2nd of this year, I was sitting out on the porch of my parents' house at about 9 in the evening, just chilling and scrolling through Twitter. It was a quiet night, the sun had just set, and aside from a little low-volume music playing out of a neighbor's window, it was a peaceful, serene, Louisiana night. But then I began to hear something in the near distance, a sound that was weirdly familiar to me.

It was this blaring noise that got louder and louder the more I listened, until eventually it was so loud that people were coming out of their houses to check out what it was. It was a siren, this start-stop wailing siren sound that echoed all throughout our neighborhood. And although I couldn't quite work out where I'd heard it before, it was honestly one of the most ominous sounds I'd ever heard in my life. I was panicking over what it was about, so I called my dad onto the front porch to see if he knew what it was about. He didn't seem to take me all that seriously at first, and I'm pretty sure he was just as confused as why I found the sound of police sirens so alarming.

But when he heard the sound and recognized that it wasn't no regular police siren, he got this serious expression on his face and told me to get back in the house and go up to my room. I was already pretty freaked out but when my phone starts buzzing with notifications from my friends all asking if I could hear the siren sound in the streets. It was all over Crowley. That same horrible sound was blaring out all over our town and none of my friends seemed to know why. Their parents were freaking out too. Some of them were asking if it was a bomb siren or something and actually told them to go down into the basements just in case something horrible was about to happen. I heard my dad walking in the hallway upstairs and I peeked out to ask him if he had any idea what was going on.

And he had actually taken his gun out of the locker he kept it in. Now that really did freak me out. Seeing him panicking too was just the worst. Then I get a group text from a friend of a friend who texted a bunch of us letting us know that the siren that we were hearing was actually from that Purge movie. That's where I heard it before. There were some of us who actually really flipped at this point and said they knew the Purge was actually going to happen one day and tonight was the night it was going to happen. A few minutes after they started the sirens died down and although my dad kept watch downstairs with his gun, nothing terrible happened thank god. Then the next day it was all

over the local news that it was actually a siren that the cops had played from their bullhorn things to let everyone know that there was going to be a curfew in place. People were going crazy, asking why the cops had chosen to play a noise from a scary movie instead of just telling us that there was going to be a curfew in place. Apparently they tried to let people know that there was going to be a curfew, but I sure didn't hear anything about it. But then they used the sound from that Purge movie, I mean, what were these idiots thinking? The chief of police ended up releasing a statement a few days later saying he had no idea that the sound was from a horror movie and made a full and frank apology to the people of Crowley.

But, I mean, I felt kinda dumb having freaked out so much over nothing but seriously, for a few minutes, the whole thing was absolutely terrifying. This right here is a true story. It was in the news, so y'all can look it up if you don't believe me, but I'm telling you, every word is the truth. So I live here in Paulina, Louisiana, but part of my job takes me through Mississippi and into Nashville, Tennessee. I won't bore you with the details of my job, but because of all the traveling I do, I follow the Twitter account of the Tennessee Highway Patrol. It helps me stay up to date with all the news on accidents, road closures, anything that might make traveling slower or more difficult. If I get slow, I lose money. Simple as that. So I think it was back in September of 2016,

Tennessee Highway Patrol's Twitter posted a tweet that really caught my attention. They issued a warning to local citizens, one that I actually had to read back twice because it sounded so crazy. I thought it might have been a joke, something from one of those parody accounts or whatever, but I double checked the account itself and the whole thing seemed incredibly genuine and that freaked me out double when I realized that they were for real. The tweet told people to keep their eyes out for people dressed in clown masks. And get this, because these sick idiots were looking to lure kids into the woods, the cops had their suspicions that these people were some kind of predators that were actually out there hoping to lay hands on kids or something. I mean, can you believe that?

The actual highway patrol in Tennessee, but that out there. So you can understand why people went and took it seriously. So a few days later, it's Monday morning, and I'm doing some grocery shopping at the supermarket here in Paulina. I push my cart down an aisle towards the front doors, just minding my own business, and as I come out into the open, near the cash registers, I see these two guys by the front entrance. They were just standing there, not doing anything bad,

but what they had on freaked me out. I swear I'll never forget what they were wearing. They were both wearing these black jumpsuits with little strips of reflective tape on them, one with bright orange gloves, the other with these bright yellow gloves on. The taller of the two had a clown mask on, this really creepy one with a bright orange wig on it. I'm serious, the face on that one was one of the most horrible things I'd ever laid eyes on in my whole life. This big old wild smile with jagged teeth and stuff. The other one had a clown mask on too, only his was all black and white with this big black clown nose on it. Both of them were just

standing there, staring at people who were just doing their grocery shopping. I start freaking like right away, shouting at them to get out of Paulina before somebody shoots them. Other customers start noticing them now, some telling me to calm down, some wondering what was going on. But I was sure to let them know about the tweet from the Tennessee Highway Patrol that I'd seen. I start shouting about how they're a pair of child predators in town looking for kids to lure into the woods to do god knows what to. Then it's just not me freaking out. Almost the whole store is flipping their lid and telling them they about to get run out of town if they don't get themselves out of there. You'd think they'd get scared with so many people shouting their faces or whatever but they didn't. They didn't move a muscle. They just stared back at

everyone and I remember one of them looking right at me. Didn't move. Didn't get worried or nothing. Just cocked his head at me like he was sizing me up. It was only when the store manager waved his phone at them telling them that he was calling the cops they actually slowly turned around and walked out. Some of us tried to follow them out into the parking lot but they was just gone. Like they straight up just disappeared. I think that was probably the freakiest thing to ever happen in my home state or at least the only thing I can't really explain.

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Maybe she thought it would teach me the value of a dollar. Not sure. Whatever her motivations, I was hired to cover the phones. This was a test to see if I could handle the workload. I must have passed because I was moved over to cleaning once the school year began. Five days a week after school and all day, Saturdays, I followed her and the other girls around town cleaning people's homes and offices. This routine continued for four years of high school and college.

At the end of it all, I had a business degree and a 50% peace in the company. Another ten years would pass and, as mom would step further away from the day-to-day running of the operations, I would take on more responsibility. Until one day when she handed me her keys and wished me good luck. The business became mine and, with it it all its headaches and heartaches. I never completely stopped going out on jobs. The work kept me fit and in good standing with my clients. If I told you I enjoyed the actual job I'd definitely be lying. However by the time I left high school I'd become almost disconnected from it. After 20 years of cleaning toilets and kitchens, I figured I'd seen it all and nothing could ever

get to me. That was until the call for the Pearson job. The man who called sounded like a kind and amiable old man, if not a bit spacey. It took a moment or two for him to get to his point and it sounded like a run-of-the-mill house cleaning gig What I saw when I arrived sticks with me to this day I was met at the door by the old gentleman and led to a bedroom The acrid scent coming from the room punched me in the gut and caused me to retch While fighting the urge I balked at the horrifying image before me It appeared as if a tub full of blood had been

splattered all about the room. The bed was by far the worst, soaked in an almost purple-tinted goo. One wall appeared to have a vast spray of blood and grey matter coating it. The horror of it overtook me and I ran across the hall into a bathroom and barfed up my lunch. It took a few minutes to compose myself. I stormed from the bathroom and confronted the man about what I had just seen. He hung his head for a moment, at first mumbling an apology, then looking up toward me, quietly allowing a tear to fall from the corner of his eye. I'm sorry, young lady. I know it's an awful sight. I should have warned you. But I was afraid you'd turn around and leave.

My grandson... He took a long, ragged breath and began again. My grandson took his life this morning. He did it in that room. I can't even bear to go in there. I know it must be shocking, a shocking sight to see, but I didn't know who else to call. My insurance won't pay for it and the other company I called, the one the police gave me the card for, they wanted far more than I could afford. I knew my wife had used your company many years ago and I liked

it. I guess, I guess I hoped you could help me. I wasn't sure what to say. I felt horrible for this poor man, but this type of work was way beyond my ability, not to mention my comfort level. Crime scene cleanup companies made more because they had to deal with blood-borne diseases and pathogens and had the proper chemicals to dispose of bodily fluids properly. We continued to stare at one another unsure of what to say. His eyes were now filled with tears. It was obvious what I had to do. I asked the gentleman for the cleaner's card. I spoke to them a moment and hung up.

Before I could get the words out, I began to get choked up myself. I cleared my throat and began once more. It's all taken care of, sir. Your family's been a good client in the past and it's the least I could do. At that moment, I didn't actually remember the family, but it seemed an easy way to explain what I was doing. Although right that second I wasn't sure why I was doing it. You don't have to worry about it. Consider it a thank you for the loyalty to our company. The old man's eyes lit up when I said this. His face was now one big wet mess. I don't know how to thank you, young lady. I didn't think there were kind people like yourself around anymore.

He lunged upon me and wrapped me in a mass of arms. I did the same and we stood there for the next minute locked in our mournful embrace. In an instant, we released one another and I bid him goodbye. From the day I started my first job, I worked hard with the future in mind. I was determined to give my children a better life than I had. You know, the American dream and all that. When I was fortunate enough to stumble upon my wife and we discussed what we wanted from a marriage, I would discover she had the same future in mind.

As we jumped ahead to the arrival of our first child, we quickly learned that between work and taking care of the needs of a newborn, we had zero time to take care of small things like keeping the house clean. We had two choices before us. Allow a stranger to raise our beautiful daughter or hire a housekeeper. Naturally, we chose the latter and called a maid service. The years passed and along with the birth of the second child, the housekeepers would come and go, some great, some terrible. Then we were sent Dania and she quickly became part of the family. It only took a few months.

She brought so much more to the family than just being a servant. The connection she formed with us all, but especially the kids, was priceless. They were calling her Grandma and Donia almost as soon as they could speak. About a year in, we asked her to come work for us and for the next 15 years, she spent five days a week making our lives a bit less hectic. That's why her murder would hit us all so hard. This all goes back to 1993, a time before she had come into our lives. Donia met a man named Joe and they had a son named Antonio. Their marriage wouldn't survive the century, but she, along with Antonio, would carry on as well as she could, sometimes working three jobs just to put food on the table. When she began working for us,

Tony, as we called him, was still young. On the occasional days she was unable to find a sitter, we were more than happy for her to bring him along. He and the kids would play for hours, giving her the time to work, unhindered. Unfortunately, as Tony grew older, he began getting in trouble with the law and banging heads with his mother. Tony was still coming along with Donia every now and then, but his attitude towards us had gradually soured and we learned to keep our distance. Our lives would be changed forever on a rainy February morning in 2015. I was the last out of the house for a change and I'd left Donia to do her thing. According to later testimony, Tony had arrived about an change and I'd left Donia to do her thing. According to later testimony, Tony had arrived about an hour after I'd left. He was there to ask his mother for a loan but she refused. He had borrowed almost a thousand dollars in the last few months and had not paid any of

that back. An argument soon broke out and Tony became so angry he pulled a large chef's knife from our knife block and stabbed her multiple times, around 20 to be exact. Once he came to his senses, he fled and went into hiding. Perhaps the most horrible part of the attack was that Adonia had not died instantly, but instead probably lived another 10 minutes, left to slowly bleed out on our kitchen floor. Thankfully, it wasn't the kids who discovered her body. Instead, Melina, my wife, came home for lunch and found her. The paramedics were called, but that was just a formality at that point. Tony became the prime suspect almost immediately, and the police worked day and night to track him down. We were left to mourn her loss, a process I myself am still going through.

I come to see Donya as a second mother and her death hit me like a truck. Tony was found eventually and given life without parole. Short of death, it's a sentence I'm happy with but no matter the time he's given we're never going to get Grandma Dania back. Life at home was never the same after Dania's death, and once our daughter moved off to college, Melina and I began looking for a new home. For the both of us, no matter where we looked, everything was a reminder of her death. Our one-time dream home had become a nightmare, a constant reminder of a young man's selfishness.

When we finally found a buyer for the house, we took up residence in a two-bedroom condo on the beach. Life continued to drag on for a few more years, however, our son will be leaving for school soon and will be free to take the tour of Europe we've been planning for twenty years. We had hoped to bring Donia along, a present for being a loyal and loving member of our household that is sadly no longer possible. Although she may not be able to join us in the flesh, I have no doubt she'll be there in spirit, looking down and guiding us just as she had all these years, sharing her love and making our family content and complete. I've sat down and tried to tell this story many times over the years.

Somehow, I've always found some excuse to stop. I tried to convince myself it was too complex of a matter to explain in written form, but the real truth is that deep down, I'm a coward who's terrified of being punished for what I've done. I'm sending this in anonymously as that should be a big clue. The story began in 2006. As a family, we'd been well off for several years because of my wife's flourishing vet practice. Up until 1999, I'd been in corporate headhunting. I never enjoyed the work and had harbored a dream of going into business

for myself. In October, I got the okay from my wife and started taking in jobs. I've been doing work on my off time until then and had converted a spare room into my workshop. Since I was the one at home all day, I was put in charge of replacing our housekeeper. I set up a series of week-long interviews and was beginning to lose hope. Then, after lunch on a Thursday, Sylvia arrived. I'll admit she stole my heart from the beginning. Her big brown doe-like eyes and innocent bearing blinded me to her lack of experience. In hindsight, I believe she caught on to this and got flirty with me to get the job. I hired her on the spot.

The next twelve hours was agonizing. I couldn't think of anything other than her and I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach the entire time. Despite my obvious adoration for Sylvia, I had zero intent on sleeping with her. I loved my wife more than life itself and I couldn't imagine doing anything to hurt her. That's the way it would remain for a long time. Regardless of my intentions, I would eventually give in to my desires. She had continued with her flirting, something at first I saw as harmless. However, as the months passed, it became more brazen and I began fantasizing about her. Although I harbored

an enormous amount of guilt, the fantasies continued until I finally acted upon them. We found ourselves face to face in the hallway. It only snowballed from there. Afterwards, I was left with nothing but guilt. I couldn't look my wife in the face. When we spoke, I felt like I was laughing silently at her and any attempts to act as if it never happened were thwarted by Sylvia. In her mind, we were now lovers.

My attraction to her never waned, but our infidelity had made her designs clear to me. On one hand, I burned constantly with lust for her, but at the same time, mine and her actions made me sick to my stomach. When I informed her it would never happen again, she took the news poorly. At the same time I got the impression she doubted my resolve. It didn't matter. I buried myself back into my work and did my best to avoid her. This worked out for the most part but as time went by, I became mired, deeper in guilt. I couldn't focus. Nothing took my mind from the wrong I had perpetrated upon my wife. It all came to head one evening before dinner. My wife was especially happy.

Her joyful ignorance was eating a hole in me. I no longer cared what became of our marriage and fully expected to be thrown out on my tail. The truth spewed from my mouth like some form of verbal diarrhea. I couldn't look her in the face for a long time. When I did, I was shocked to see a smile on her face. This confused me and my expression must have shown it. She chuckled then explained how she had all but expected it to happen. She wasn't happy it had but knew me well enough to know I'd be consumed with guilt if I did it. We continued to talk for hours. By the time the next day dawned, our marriage had become strengthened, stronger than it had been in years. Now we only had one thing left to do.

When Sylvia arrived at 8am, we sat her down and explained the situation. We were going to have to let her go. The health of our relationship relied on it. She tried being smug, but her self-assured mask eventually slipped and she unloaded on the both of us. I had apparently led her on, tricked her into bed. My wife was also a deceitful cow. Neither of us lashed back at her. She was young and after all, we'd kind of ambushed her. She was young and after all we'd kind of ambushed her. She finally stormed out of the house with the last of her pay and we assumed we'd never hear from her again. The wife and I, we'll call her Eve, began our new life together.

Part of what had caused us to grow apart were Eve's long hours at work. She decided to bring in another vet to help out and her and I got to spend a lot more time together. For the first time in years we tried to learn about one another's dreams and interests. I discovered Eve had long loved foreign films. We spent our evenings watching old Italian and Japanese ones, namely those by Kurosawa. Most of what I saw blew my mind. I told her about my fascination with photography. I could tell her enthusiasm for the subject was lacking but regardless of this, she would assist me in the dark room developing my photos late into the night. I guess I should have expected something would get in the way of our fun.

The phone call started. I answered them in the beginning. Sylvia came across as repentant initially. She apologized for the way she'd acted and asked if we could be friends. It didn't sound like a good idea and I said so. We left at that and I hung up. Things went downhill quickly after that. When Eve was the one who picked up the phone, she'd hang up. The last call I answered, Sylvia tried to get me to come over, threatening to end her own life if I didn't. I had no time for drama. I hung up and hoped she would eventually lose interest. It wasn't to be.

The voice messages began and were shocking in their strangeness. One day she would be saying she was sorry for her behavior. The next she'd call repeatedly, cursing us, only to beg for her job back the next. For the most part, we didn't take anything she said seriously. Then she went too far and began threatening my family. I know where your daughter goes to school. Even if she was full of it, I couldn't take the chance. She had shown over the past months how unstable she was becoming. Eve and I immediately made drastic changes to our lifestyles. Any pattern we'd had in the past months how unstable she was becoming. Eve and I immediately made drastic changes to our lifestyles. Any pattern we'd had in the past was stopped. Perhaps the most important alteration

was to our daughter's school. It may not have been the best time to do so, but her safety was my greatest concern. After having gone through all these safety measures, the phone calls stopped. A month or more passed and we began to believe the danger was over. All of this activity just happened to coincide with the winter holidays. We celebrated Thanksgiving with my folks, returning home the following day. Eve's parents flew in that Saturday and agreed to look after our daughter so we could shop for her Christmas present. As usual, everything she wanted was impossible to find. We spent most of that day going from store to store. The sun was already beginning to set when we were headed home.

I was the one doing the driving. We were about five miles from the house when I noticed a familiar looking hatchback following close behind us. No sooner did I see it, the car began ramming the back of ours. Eve, who had been sleeping in the passenger seat, jolted awake. The car rammed us once more before pulling alongside us. I was horrified to see it. It was Sylvia driving the car. A wild, crazed look crossed her face and she was screaming.

Although I couldn't hear her words, the way she bared her teeth and spit made me shudder with fear. The ramming would continue, only now it was Eve's door taking the brunt of the damage. I did all I could to not lose control. The second contact caused the window to explode all over her face. The shards left tiny cuts on her cheek. The sight enraged me. Before I realized what I was doing, I cut the wheel to the right, smashing into Sylvia multiple times. On the last hit, she must have lost control. The car veered off the shoulder, suddenly disappearing from the roadway into a deep creek.

Eve and I turned to each other, meeting eye to eye but saying nothing. Then just as quickly, our eyes broke away and focused back on the road ahead. No one spoke for the remainder of the journey and neither of us mentioned what had occurred to Eve's parents. Then just as quickly our eyes broke away and focused back on the road ahead. No one spoke for the remainder of the journey and neither of us mentioned what had occurred to Eve's parents. We managed to avoid the subject until well after the new year. Now with her parents no longer in the house, Eve felt it was time to discuss the crash. I was afraid she would want to go to the police but we turned out to be of the same mind. Good riddance as far as I'm concerned.

The way she said it gave me a shiver. I'd never heard her be so cruel. I didn't blame her exactly but I feared the experience had made her bitter. I wasn't about to argue. There was no love in my heart for Sylvia. She could stay at the bottom of that ravine until the end of time as far as I was concerned. We considered the matter closed and tried to start our lives over one last time. And that's the way it stayed.

At least until the dream started. I didn't need a shrink to tell me what was causing them. Eve had always known it. My conscience rarely lets me be. The past year has been one nightmare after another. That's the real reason why I'm here. Hiding from her wasn't a possibility and she doesn't seem to be the same considerate person she once was. She no longer seems to understand why I have to do this. More than once she told me to let it go. I love nothing more than be able to and I hope that by sharing this story

even from behind in an anonymous account I can relieve myself of this burden once and for all. Maybe then we can finally have the happy family I've always dreamed of. While I wouldn't normally disclose my shortcomings, what happened to me on a business trip to Phoenix needs to be told. In the spring of 2007, I was sent as a representative of our company to Arizona. A convention of sorts, more like a large get-together, was being held. The company I worked for provided inks, specialty stationery, assorted other stuff for smaller bookstores across the country. It wasn't my dream job, but the bills got paid and I was able to afford the first new car I'd ever owned. My flight landed late on a Friday and I spent the remainder of the evening in my room.

I had a few beers and ordered a pizza finally crashing around midnight. I rose with the sun and headed out just after 8am. It wasn't until 11.30am when I stopped to buy a coffee that I realized that I'd left my cash on the bedside table. I'd thrown it down after paying for my pizza and forgot about it. I'm one of those people that can't stomach putting $6.50 on a credit card. Besides, my room was only three floors up. I knew it would only take a second. So, I ducked out and headed upstairs.

When I arrived at my door, the maid must have just left my room. Her cart was sitting outside my neighbor's door and the towels that I'd left on the bathroom floor were gone having been replaced with fresh ones. Also the trash was empty and my bed had been made. Strangely there was no sign of my money anywhere. Maybe I knocked it under the bed or something. I looked under every piece of furniture even in the can, but it was nowhere to be found. The idea that the maid may have mistaken it for a tip crossed my mind. I went into the hall and found her where she was doing something with her cart. Speaking in a voice as kind as I could muster, I asked if she had seen any money on my bedside table.

I could tell she was unsure of what I was asking and restated my question in Spanish. A slight look of guilt flashed across her face. I thought my suspicions may have been proven correct and she had mistakenly believed it was for her. I felt bad and quickly followed up by saying that I was sorry for creating any misunderstanding. I usually left the maid's tip when I checked out along with a little thank you note. I'd then explain I'd left it there by mistake and needed it back. Because I felt so guilty, I apologized again. However, instead of laughing it off and apologizing like usual in an awkward situation such as that, she got a disgusted look and cursed me for accusing her of stealing. I knew darn well that she understood me. What she didn't realize was when I mentioned the money, she had touched the pocket on her apron.

Most people have some form of tell in their body language. I'd been playing poker since I was a little boy with my father and he taught me how to recognize them. Nevertheless, I tried one more time to diffuse the tension and explain that I wasn't accusing her of taking it on purpose. I thought maybe she was embarrassed and this caused her to lash out. You don't have to be embarrassed, I'm not going to tell anyone. I ended with a slight chuckle. It did no good and she began yelling again, thrusting her hands in and out of her pockets. I'd had enough. She'd been given more than one chance to save face and get away without raising my suspicions. Her overreaction to my questions betrayed her guilt to me.

I calmly said, If that's the way you want to play this, and headed toward the front desk. I asked to speak with the manager and was invited into his office. As clearly as possible, I explained the situation and my interaction with the maid. We talked with another for the next 20 minutes or so, during which she asked me several questions. At the end of the meeting, he called the maid downstairs and she joined us in his office. He informed her that I had made a complaint that she had stolen $46 of cash from my room.

He then asked if she had and she denied it. She began defending herself, talking about her loyal service to the hotel and its clients, the entire time fiddling with her apron pocket, all but confirming my suspicions right there. When she finally stopped, I told the manager that I knew exactly what the money looked like and could prove she had taken it. She turned to me and screwed her face up into a sneer and let out a huff. Before I began, I let her know I derived no pleasure from what I was about to do. Then I began describing the bills. Two twenties, one five dollar bill, especially noteworthy because of the words, Kilroy was here written on it with a blue ink pen and a one dollar bill with

a tear spanning a quarter of the way down the center. I could tell by her expression she was beginning to get concerned. She kept quiet, avoiding any eye contact, just staring at her lap. I took a long breath before finishing my indictment. Oh, and one more thing. Almost 100% positive my money is hidden in her apron. This must have caught her off guard. Her head shot up quickly with a shocked look, only for her to bring it back down quickly when she realized what she'd done. The manager's gaze moved from me to her, her eyes now fixed on her fumbling fingers.

Well, is Mr. Wallace correct? She said nothing, acting as if he had never spoken. I sensed his patience was beginning to wear thin. Answer me. The words blasted from his mouth and even caused me to jump slightly. He must have gotten through to her. She jammed her hand into the apron pocket and threw the money at me. I calmly picked up the bills and thanked her.

The hotel manager then asked me to return to the lobby while he spoke to her alone. I agreed and took a seat facing the office door. They spoke by themselves for a few minutes before she stormed from the office, crying and walking out the front doors. I assumed he had fired her. Although it's not a result I wanted, I can't pretend to feel sorry for her. The manager then waved me over to his door and confirmed my suspicion. I've terminated her for theft. I just want to tell you once again how truly sorry I am for this. I can assure you this has never happened as long as I've been manager here and I'm determined it

will never happen again. Because of the terrible inconvenience you've been subjected to, I'll be comping your stay and hope this awful event will not prevent you from staying with us in the future. At this point, I'd gone way past caring long ago. I thanked him for his assistance and headed back to my event. In no time, I put it out of my mind and made friends with a group of guys. Once the presentations ended for the day, we all hit the town. After a long dinner, the five of us decided to visit a gentleman's club or two. It was a blast, but by 1.30, I was wasted and looking for a place to lay my head. I had a cab drop me at the hotel and staggered up to my room. The last thing I can remember, I was fumbling with my keycard through foggy eyes.

I eventually got the door open and that was when I was jumped from behind. It really wasn't as much being jumped as getting knocked over the head and pushed into my room. I'm going to be honest here and say I never saw my attacker's face. I was already laying face down on the floor and since I lost consciousness rather fast I never got a chance. While I consider myself somewhat lucky for passing out before most of the damage was done, the pain I was left with was just as bad. When I did open my eyes my attacker had already fled. Turning over was a miserable undertaking. Breathing wasn't much easier. I had to crawl around on the floor to find my phone. In the scuffle I must have dropped it and it slid under

the bed. The pain I felt with every breath told me I probably had a pierced lung. A concussion was almost a given. The beating must have sobered me up. I had no problem telling 911 where I was. The paramedics got me relatively fast and I had to spend two and a half days in the hospital. Even after being discharged, I nursed several broken ribs and multiple other injuries for another month. If you've been paying attention, it won't take you long to figure out who I believed was responsible. Not that I think this diminutive little woman did the attack herself. She more than likely took her complaint to a male family member. No matter how much it irks me that it happened, I had no proof of her involvement and that's what I told the police. There's no way I was going to point the finger at someone I barely knew.

Beside, there's always the off chance the maid had nothing to do with it. I had to return home with an aching body and no resolution to my case. I never expected my attacker or attackers would ever be tracked down, I guess. However, when it comes into my mind, even all this time later it still eats at me regardless. If I could offer everyone one small bit of advice based on my experience, I'd recommend growing eyes in the back of your head. The next time you anger a woman, your tale might not end as well as mine. The saying, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,

exists for a reason, even when they brought it upon themselves. I'm a prime example. I recently left my job at a private hotel in a nearby town. In the past few years I have worked as a housekeeper in more than one small establishment, and they all operated in your average pay-by-the-night type of way. This last place was a little different. Considering I'd become accustomed to the ways things had worked in the past, I wasn't expecting anything out of the ordinary. I suppose in hindsight, I could have paid a little bit more attention during my orientation, referring to their guests as family should have been a clue.

Although I'd heard of long-term living hotels before, the area I live is way too far down on the economic scale to have anything fancy as that. Just to find this job I had to drive 50 miles south to a metropolitan area. Initially I believed my new workplace was this type of business. The building itself was a bit older and verging on run down, but it appeared to have been recently renovated on the inside. The tenants were obviously wealthy and most dressed very well. This probably explains why the job paid so much and I was required to sign an NDA upon employment. I figured rich and powerful folks always guarded their privacy in such ways so I didn't bat an eye. However, the longer I worked there, the clearer it became, things weren't the

way I'd thought. The first clue was the large number of young people coming in and out at all times of the day and night. Despite being accompanied by an adult, I got the impression they weren't with their parents. The poor kids never looked happy to be there, but I always hated visiting family at their age too. The few times I attempted to say hi, I was ignored and given a nasty look by the adults. Although their behavior struck me as a little rude, I didn't think much of it. I grew up in a small town where folks are much friendlier, but I'd always heard city people were rude so I let it slide. It seemed wiser to just mind my own business and not rock the boat. I put my head down and did my job, at least until that became impossible.

It was a normal Friday morning, around 10am, and I was cleaning a tenant's room. I could hear a ruckus coming from the neighboring room but tried to ignore it. A few minutes passed and I completed my work. I set my little spray bottle caddy onto my cart and headed down the hall to the next room. As I passed the same neighboring room's door, I could hear what sounded like a child's screams. I was naturally concerned but didn't want to cause any trouble, so I ignored it and continued pushing my cart down the hall. I got about three doors down when I heard a door behind me, the very same one I'd heard the screaming coming from, thrown open. I turned around to see what was happening and saw a nude boy, maybe 12, running toward me and screaming for help. It took a moment to process before I realized what I was seeing.

The poor little child ran into my arms, begging me to save him. I reacted like any decent woman would and did my best to comfort him. Not 30 seconds after, a middle-aged gentleman came down the hall in a calm and smug manner. He approached us and tried to take the boy by his shoulder. I wasn't having it. My days of ignoring the strange things around me were over. Before he could get a good grip, I pulled the child away and asked him what was going on. The man gave me a disapproving sneer and told me to mind my own business. The boy looked up at me with a terrified stare and begged me not to let him go.

There was no way I was going to and told the man so. He let out a frustrated huffing noise and said, well you just lost your job. I couldn't help but laugh. Even if he did have that power, I didn't care anymore. The degeneracy going on around me wasn't going to continue as long as I was there. I couldn't allow it. The man walked off and returned to his room, slamming the door behind him. I pulled a clean towel from my cart and covered the boy. We took the elevator to the lobby and I called the police. When they arrived, I explained what I had witnessed and answered some questions. While this was going on my boss was sitting in his office watching with an angry snarl.

A CPS worker showed up a little later and took the child with her. Once the police questioned everyone I returned to my job. If I was leaving my boss was going to have to fire me. About an hour later that's exactly what happened. My boss called me to his office and informed me I had violated the privacy of a tenant and was being terminated. I was not sure how he expected me to react, but when I said, thank you, he looked surprised. Maybe he thought I'd beg. I left that office happier than I'd been in almost a year. I was eager to come home and share what I'd beg. I left that office happier than I'd been in almost a year. I was eager to come home and share what I'd experienced until I remembered the NDA that I'd signed. Any happiness that I'd felt soon faded away.

I feared those sleazebags in that place would make everything disappear and the victimization would continue. Then the story broke on the local news and the hotel was shut down. I wanted to kiss everyone involved in its demise, but I had to settle on a few dozen roses and a thank you card. Although each of the offenders' charges vary and they probably won't go to trial for some time, my inside source is all but certain those that haven't copped pleas will be given at least 20 years just because of the nature of their charges. I'm not sure if I'm technically free from the restrictions of the NDA now, but I'll wager they have more important things to worry about. Hopefully all those

monsters will get the full extent of what's coming to them, but perhaps more importantly, I pray all the children who were robbed of their innocence in that hellhole are able to get the help that they need to live some semblance of the happy life they've always deserved. This is something I didn't find out about until a few years ago. It happened to my mom while she was in her early 20s. She had just moved out to Los Angeles from Arizona to pursue an acting career. In between cattle calls and waiting shifts, she was always on the search for a better paying job. A girl she met at an audition told her about this high-end hotel that was looking for beautiful young women to be housekeepers. Mom had this in her bundles, still does to be honest. Right after the audition,

she headed to the hotel to see if the story was true. And true it was. The managers asked her to return for a second interview and at the end of it, she was hired. The pay was far more than she'd ever made before, but with it came some things that she had to get used to. Like any average American girl, she gets all giddy every time she saw a famous person. You can imagine in a position where you serve them on a regular basis, this might get annoying. After a talk or two from her boss, she had to learn to view stars like normal people. That would all blow over rather quickly and the job became just like any other eventually. A few times, she hinted at some odd behavior coming from these people. While never being specific, her descriptions of the perpetrators all but identified who they were.

For instance, a very well-known singer checked in with his also-famous wife, only to spend the majority of his time hanging out with kids. On another occasion, she accidentally caught a famous actor who was married to a beautiful actress in bed with a man. Perhaps the strangest aspect of this is they are members of a famous religion that's well-known for frowning on such behavior. I grew up hearing tons of crazy stories like this. However, it wasn't until recently that I heard the craziest one. And it just happened to involve my mother.

Mom had been at the hotel for around three years. She'd been in a few national commercials and took extra jobs as often as possible. The work day had been an average one, but she remembers it was unusually hot for some reason. She knocked on a guest door and received no answer. So, like usual, she entered the room to clean it. It was a suit-type setup where the bedroom is separated into its own area. Looking around her, nothing seemed strange. The main room was relatively clean, so she moved on to the bedroom. When she opened the door, she got a horrible sight. A woman, still in her nightgown, laid lifeless on the bed room to see if she was still breathing. She was leaning over the bed, searching for a pulse, when she was grabbed from behind. The attacker, a heavy set man she didn't recognize, grabbed her by the throat with both hands. He pinned her down to the bed and started choking her.

She said this was the moment she realized her life was over. She also remembered the feeling of pressure in her head, like it was about to pop. She lost consciousness much faster than she expected and recalled feeling relieved she wouldn't have to suffer much longer. That's when it went dark. She was shocked to wake up. At first she thought it was all a dream, somehow caused by the lack of oxygen to her brain. The only problem with this was the pain in her head and the difficulty she had breathing and swallowing. She searched the room for her assailant, but only her and the dead woman remained.

She wasn't sure if she was out of the woods yet, so she stumbled out into the hall looking for help. At first, she tried to scream, but a gruff croak was all she could manage. Soon, a guest exited from the elevator and caught sight of her crouching at the end of the hall. He ran to his room and called the police. The paramedics arrived just before them and rushed her off to the hospital. Her next two days were spent there. Luckily, she wasn't left with any long-term damage except for a new grittier edge to her voice.

An edge I never considered strange. I knew she had smoked before getting pregnant with me and believed this to be the cause. As new facts came to light, the dead woman was identified as the wife of a low-level producer. The same man who had killed her and attempted to do the same to Mong. His name was released to the press and law enforcement agencies around the world. Despite an exhaustive worldwide search, no trace of the man was ever found. It's thought he escaped to Europe and faded away into the newly dissolved Soviet Union. A few officers are of the belief that he never made it out of the country, choosing to take his life out in the middle of nowhere.

I personally don't care where he went to or is today. I just hope he never comes back and if he's dead, I hope he burns forever. Can you blame me? High school was when I discovered it. The first time I visited a wealthy friend and saw they had things like maids and personal chefs. I knew right then I wanted to grow up to be rich. The famous part wasn't as important, but I wouldn't turn down the adoration of the public either. Another thing I found around the same time was YouTube. Being able to peer into millions of humans' lives every day intrigued me.

I toyed with the idea of starting my own channel for a while, but didn't get around to it. When I discovered that you could make money doing it, I began taking it seriously. The thing that made me get off my butt was when I found out just how much you could make. I created my channel that same day. I then dedicated many hours to watching every video I could find outlining how to become successful. Many of these tips would pay dividends and then some not so much. Either way, my channel grew into a somewhat successful venture within a couple of years. The checks I would get from AdSense would soon outpace those of my parents. So what did I do then? I did what every successful YouTube YouTuber does and moved to LA.

My house was a beautiful place on the beach. After spending a load on furnishing it, I realized I forgot something. My fantasy of having a housekeeper. My first call was to a maid service. I told them what I wanted and two days later, I got a call saying that they had found someone. The woman, a quiet middle-aged Latina, arrived and got to work. Because of the language barrier, we didn't speak to each other very often. When we did I got the impression she didn't like me very much. I wasn't sure if this was really the case since I couldn't understand what she was saying much of the time so I gave her the benefit of the doubt. Things went okay for a month but when I pointed out that she had missed some dust on a shelf

she had a violent outburst. What I think was cursing coincided with a weird stomping and shaking of her finger. This behavior of course scared me and I apologized. The apology seemed to calm her down a little and I gave her the rest of the day off. I didn't want to lose such a great maid so I decided to keep her around. When she returned all appeared to be forgiven. She got to work and did a good job as usual. Life went back to being peaceful. We tried to avoid getting each other's way and nothing happened for almost two months. However, one day I couldn't hold my tongue. After using soap to clean something, she left a bunch of soap suds in the sink. I pointed this out to her and asked her to clean

up after herself, that's all. Instead, she just stared at me for a few seconds and started snarling. All of a sudden, she exploded and grabbed a kitchen knife from the block. I made the mistake of not running. She slashed across my cheek and began cursing at me again. Now, I ran for my life. She was close behind me when I ran out the back door. I made my way toward the beach. No one was around to help me, so I waited for my life. She was close behind me when I ran out the back door. I made my way toward the beach. No one was around to help me so I waited in the water.

I was hoping she couldn't swim. The salt water stung my face a lot. I hadn't gotten out very far when she tripped and fell. This looked like a good opportunity. Maybe she'd drown. I didn't actually care. The surf began carrying her out. She tried to doggy paddle but wasn't doing very well. It looked like my chance to get away and I waded back onto

shore. I ran from my neighbor's house and begged for help. A young woman let me in and asked what was happening. I was about to tell her when Mari saw my maid appeared at the door and began banging on it. She tried to open the door but it was locked. The young woman called 911. She must have seen this and the maid ran away. I didn't see where she went, I was just glad she was gone. When the police showed up, I told them what had happened. Then the ambulance took me to the hospital to get my face fixed. I got stitches at first, then a few days later went in for actual reconstructive surgery. This was the first time I realized I'd be horribly scarred forever. At the time I figured my life was over. The doctor did a very good job but the injury had

obviously ended my YouTube career. After all, you can't exactly be a beauty YouTuber with a big gash across your face. The police would eventually find Mari Saul hiding at one of her family members' houses a couple of days later. She made a bargain with the lawyers for a sentence of five years. None of it mattered to me. The damage had been done. My only hope is that she doesn't hurt anybody else when she gets out. Since I didn't have a way to make money anymore, I packed up my things and moved back home. Now I spend my days watching other YouTubers and coming up with ideas for new money making enterprises. Until I can afford to move back

out on my own, I'll have to wait on getting another maid. For now, my mom will have to do. This is my first post and although this happened back in December 2019, I still think about it on a daily basis because it was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. I hope it offers some sort of enlightenment on what to do, not to do, if you find yourself in a similar situation. Back in early December, I had ventured out to do a bit of late night shopping. I'm a 31-year-old stay-at-home mother of two young children, so once my husband got home from work, I like to take some time to myself and go shopping, take a drive or run errands, kid free. It was around 8.30pm when I arrived at the target that I frequent.

I'm by no means a paranoid or anxious individual but I have attended several seminars in college on human trafficking and have done plenty of research on my own learning to identify red flags and what precautions to take when out in public alone, especially at night. I carry several self-defense items on my person at all times. Kubiton, alarm, and universal handcuff key, just in case. I parked directly in front of the store next to to a cart caddy, and took a mental note of the vehicles parked nearby again, just as a precaution. I was taught at an early age to always be observant of your surroundings, and being a control freak just naturally makes you that way. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary that night, and the parking lot was actually quite empty,

most likely because it was a weekday. As I entered the store I began browsing like usual, following the natural flow of the store departments, following the main aisle around. I had been browsing for only 10-15 minutes when I noticed a young gentleman, mid-twenties maybe. He was tall, skinny, dressed in a dirty grey two-piece sweatsuit and brown work boots. He looked over at me, smiled and said hello but his facial expression was blank. He looked like he may have been high on something by the look in his eyes but he didn't seem to care for my gesture and he quickly moved on. At first glance there was nothing in particular that alarmed me about him except I took notice

at the fact that he was just wandering down the main aisle with no cart or basket, hands in his pockets and didn't seem to be with anyone. I continued shopping with no second thoughts and made my way to the next apartment. Several minutes had passed and that's when I noticed a second young gentleman wearing the same grey suit and similar pair of work boots, again, no cart, no basket. He too glanced at me then quickly darted his eyes away when he realized I was looking directly at him. I became a bit more alerted but still remained composed and continued on browsing. Another 15 minutes or so passed and that's when a third older man caught my attention and you guessed it, same grey suit and work boots with no cart, no basket, just his hands in his pockets.

I assumed they were in some sort of work uniform, maybe construction workers, but why weren't they walking around together and why didn't they have any items to purchase? At this point it was difficult to focus on browsing. I had a bad feeling about these three men and it became clear that something was a bit off. Over the next 20 minutes or so I felt as if though I was being monitored by the three of them, as if they were all communicating my whereabouts as I continued to make my way through the store because each department I entered, it didn't take long for me to notice one of the three men pass by whatever side aisle I happened to be in, making their presence known to me. I stayed completely vigilant while

trying not to panic or allow my suspicions to overwhelm me. Something about their presence felt very heavy and dark, so I decided to test their intentions to prove I wasn't overthinking the situation and my bad gut feeling was valid. I began picking random aisles and traveling back and forth between departments in a very unorganized and random fashion to see if the men would continue to pass by me as frequently as they had been. With every aisle I popped into, it was just a few minutes later one of them would make an appearance, staring me down as they passed by. It felt as if though I was being surrounded like a wild animal. Hunted, even. They were no longer trying to be inconspicuous which was the scariest part of it all and everything instinctual was screaming

at me to get out of there. I gripped my cart so tightly and I figured if they got too close I could use the cart to push them away or at least create distance between us. By this point I had been shopping for about an hour altogether, maybe a bit over and was ready to purchase my items, but honestly I felt too uncomfortable to continue browsing even if I wanted to. The man had been following me all that time, and I was becoming more annoyed if anything. The store was pretty empty around this time, one of the main reasons I like shopping at night but that made this particular situation even more unsettling. Two preteen girls were wandering around by themselves which

quickly caught my attention because the men had bypassed them, making similar advances but the girls were seemingly oblivious. So I quietly got their attention and asked them to go find their parents and stay with them, trying not to freak them out. The mother in me was on full protection mode. I couldn't imagine having my young children with me on this night. Thank God they were home safe and sound. As I made my way to the checkout, I noticed one of the men coming up from behind me, walking at a quicker pace this time, so I immediately stopped and turned to lock eyes with him as he approached. I will never forget the darkness in his eyes. An eerie smirk formed on his face as he nudged my shoulder continuing to stare me down,

walking backwards to hold his sinister gaze as he exited out of the store. I had lost sight of the other two men and I hated the uncertainty of it all. He made his message clear in that very moment. My stomach dropped and my entire body began to shake, and it was a feeling I hadn't felt since I was a kid getting lost in the supermarket, a feeling of desperation. I quickly walked to the checkout, discreetly asked the cashier if I could speak to a manager, and told them what had transpired over the last hour, politely asking them for a male employee to walk me to my car

and for them to alert their security team member. When I told the manager what happened, her face sunk as if she had already known about these men, and once I described them she confirmed she knew who I was talking about. She expressed that several of the female employees had found the men unsettling in the past and assured me that someone would escort me to my car. She made a report about the incident and said that she would alert the authorities. I was still shaking but felt relieved that she believed me and showed concern for the other young female patrons in the store. She took my information, then a young male employee walked me out to my car. What I saw as I exited the store made me so sick to my stomach, solidifying

all of my suspicions. A white, windowless van was parked in the lot directly behind my car, about a three parking space distance between us. One of the men seated in the driver's seat and the other two leaning against the side of the van facing my car attempting to hide out of view. I mean, how cliche and obvious can you be? Your license plate might as well have read, Lady Snatchers at that point. Whatever their intent, it didn't seem pure. I pointed them out to the male employee and said,

There they are. Which then prompted the men to scurry into their van and speed out of the parking lot without hesitation. I truly don't know what would have happened if I walked out to my car alone, and I'm so freaking grateful I made it home safe and sound and lived to tell the story. Over the following week, I had heard that there were several abduction attempts in the shopping center parallel to that target, and I'm almost certain it was the same individuals. So my part of the story starts in 2009, and I was a junior in high school.

I lived in a small town in Ohio. In the fall, I started dating my first real boyfriend, John. John was a senior and many of his friends were dating my friends and he's well-liked and funny at school. I'm thrilled about the relationship, especially because my strict parents seem to like John as well. He's pretty quiet around them but always polite and appreciative in their presence. Since it's a small town, John lived literally down the street and we hung out all the time. My parents were actually getting divorced at the time so I like spending time at his place more than mine. John lived with Chris, a man who wasn't his biological dad but someone he had lived with since around age 13 and often called dad. Chris was an adolescent counselor who knew John because he had been in foster care and he had taken John in. Chris was an amazing human who was fun to be around and it was just the two of them

and their pug Murphy at the house. I didn't know much about John's childhood at first other than it had clearly been rough enough for him to be involved with children's services. Anyway, we spent a lot of time together and always had a good time with Chris as well. Eventually John confided in me that he often had thoughts about ending his own life. I was shook by this and I told Chris about it as well. We continued to date and I did my best to support him. So the next year I'm a senior and John has graduated and he's not really doing anything. He didn't go to college and his plans to join the military weren't really working out so he's just living with Chris and working a part time job that my dad had gotten for him. I've always been into school and extracurriculars and I felt like John was kind of holding me back.

Our relationship was going downhill in many ways but I was scared if I broke it off with John, he might actually go through with ending his own life. He had threatened to do so when I tried. In May 2011, I graduated high school and decided I had to leave the relationship behind. I was having my own depression issues and John was having a detrimental effect on my mental health. I finally told him we had to break up and he needed to stop contacting me, threatening to self-harm. I mostly cut off contact and a couple of months later I got an apartment with a friend about 30 minutes away from home and beside the college that I was attending. On Friday night in April 2012, I'm in my hometown

to see a friend and I pass John's house where I see police cars everywhere. I'm shocked and I assume that John must have gone through with it. So I immediately call our mutual friend Kyle. Kyle has no clue what's going on with John and he says that John had hung out at his house the day before. Kyle said John seemed like he was in a good mood, especially because he was driving Chris's Beamer at the time, which he loved to do. Anyways, Kyle was actually chilling in my apartment with my roommate. This was normal as he had a crush on her, so I just keep driving that way. When I get to my place, Kyle hasn't heard anything, but my mom calls me with a scoop. She's friends with the cops' wives, small town stuff.

It turns out that John murdered Chris and was on the run somewhere. Someone had called for a wellness check after not hearing from Chris for a while and the cops found his body at home. I was shocked and a little scared, as were Kyle and my roommate. So we all decided to stay at my roommate's parents' house for the night. By morning, the cops had luckily found and arrested John. He had taken the beamers, so it was easily spotted at a run-down motel about 15 miles from his home, about 12 miles from our apartment. When the details came out, the whole thing was even more horrifying. It was a brutal homicide, and it had occurred days before the body was found, which means that John was just hanging out at Kyle's house between committing this act and getting arrested, just nonchalantly playing video games, telling jokes to Kyle's little sister, acting like everything was fine.

In the meanwhile, he had stuffed Chris' body in their freezer at home. It's insane to think about how someone could be such a psychopath, and there was really no explanation given. John initially tried to plead insanity, but he was eventually deemed competent and then pleaded guilty. He got 30 to life in prison. I've obviously told this story from my perspective, but the person who really matters in this is of course the victim. Chris was truly a saint of a human being. He had been my role model for so many years and you just wonder how could something so horrific happen to someone so good. And at the hands of someone they had given everything to. Someone they had loved, trusted, and had seen as a son.

It's horrifying. Chris spent his life advocating for kids like John, and the local center he worked at is actually named after him now, as is the street that it is on. As I said to begin, I often wonder about the why of it all. Chris and John got along almost all of the time, and though John clearly had mental issues no one thought that he would hurt anyone but himself. But clearly

something was very wrong with John that we missed. They say hindsight is 20-20 and I can definitely look back and think of a few strange instances with John. Sneaky, manipulative and angry, he eventually showed all of those traits, but I was lucky enough not to experience any violence at his hands. I wish I could say the same for Chris. I'm thankful for the time I did spend with him and the positive impact he had on my life during that time. I know he had a positive effect on so many other lives as well. And may he rest in peace. This happened about 11 months ago when me and my wife got married in June.

I'll never be so grateful that I have a habit of locking doors. Our wedding day was coming to an end. Family and friends were slowly starting to depart as me and my wife, Diana, took pictures and chatted with some of the guests who stayed a little longer and were just having a good time. It was a great day and a lot of fond memories were made, but what was least expected is what happened that night as we were on our way to our honeymoon. As me and Diana said goodbye to the last of the guests around 9pm, we got into the car and headed home. We had our bags packed prior to the wedding day for Cancun and were ready to go.

I live in Washington and we were in a bit of a hurry because instead of flying out from Seattle airport and SeaTac like normally people do, it was a lot cheaper for us to drive up north to Canada and fly out from a Canadian airport. Also, me and my wife thought it'd be fun to have a little road trip to Canada and then fly out from Canada to Cancun. Plus, it was only a three and a half hour drive for us and cheaper, so we headed out around 12am midnight. We had a great time driving, blasting music, talking about Cancun and just being excited about the new chapter in our life. Diana slowly started to fall asleep. Being exhausted from the wedding and whatnot, we were halfway to Canada. At this point, we were no

longer in the city area, but more a wooded area with fewer cars and fewer people the more we drove, practically seeing no one on the road. By that time it was around 3am. We had some extra time on our hands and I was starting to fall asleep too so I pulled over to a gas station to get some Red Bull to keep me awake. I pulled into the gas station that was completely empty and parked the car to see Diana asleep. I told her I'm taking the keys and locking her inside and then I'd be right back. Not sure if she could hear me, but she kind of motioned her hand around

like people normally do when they're too tired to care. I came back around six minutes later to find my wife shaking and crying. I was confused and freaking out a bit because I wasn't sure why she was crying. She couldn't even get words out at first. Later, when she calmed down, she told me this. Apparently, she did hear me when I told her that I'd take the

keys and be right back, and as she was sleeping, she was awoken by a tapping on the driver's side window. Being too tired to get up or even open her eyes, she lazily went for the unlock button on the passenger side of the door. As she was going for it, she froze. A thought passed her mind, and then she remembered. Didn't he say he had the keys? Why would he need me to unlock the door for him? That's when she heard a woman's voice mumbling from the driver's side. She turned herself around to look at the window and saw a woman, long black hair with wide eyes and a crooked smile on her face.

She couldn't hear what she was saying at first, but when she heard what she was saying, she kept repeating in a mumbled tone, Are you tired? Are you tired? Are you tired? Over and over and over again, are you tired? She freaked out and told the woman to leave her alone. The woman laughed and told my wife that she was tired too. The woman never took her eyes off of her and tried the door handle. At this point my wife was close to tears and attempted to call me but as she did she heard what sounded like a phone buzz and realized I left my phone in the car. Out of options my wife started to honk the horn trying to scare off the women while also maybe getting my attention. The women

still had her gaze on her and started mumbling more while laughing and trying the door handle again and she mentioned something about someone named Sarah and asked my wife if she knew her. After a few more minutes of mumbling, she left. To my wife's words, the minute she left, I came out of the gas station, so my wife broke down. I don't know how I didn't hear the honking of the car and I still feel bad for leaving my phone in the car. My wife also added that one of the creepier things about that woman is that she didn't look homeless or dirty or anything. In fact, she seemed normal and well-kempt. My wife said that she'll never forget the woman's wide eyes and the gaze that

she had on her with that smile. It also chose me to think what would have happened if my wife never realized that I had the keys or if she never heard me talking about locking her inside and open the door while faced the other way. I don't know what those women's intentions were, but if I couldn't hear the knock of a horn, I'm not sure if I'd hear screams. This happened when I was 14, well over 10 years ago at this point. I grew up in a mid-sized town with quite a few suburbs and industrial areas kind of mashed together. The downtown was nothing special except for an overabundance of coffee shops and some historic buildings. I went out alone a lot after school because I liked having independence, avoiding being home and listening to music. I typically

left my house before my mom got home close to 5pm and was back before dark which, depending on the season, was anytime between 7pm and 9pm. I had a cell phone, a flip phone at that time, so my mom felt safe letting me go out alone as I could call her anytime. For most of my time as a 14 year old, I would go to the same coffee shop, getting something filled with sugar and caffeine and try to draw or write while listening to music. I went there so often that they knew my order and the approximate time I would come in. I was also the token goth kid around town and I looked older than I was, the curse of developing early, so I guess I was easy to remember. One day, I was hitting my usual spot at a table by the window trying to draw. I'm not very good of an artist and I can see some guy staring at me from the booth facing my table on my left. I'm pretty used to this feeling so I just continue drawing. A little while later the man comes up to me and asks to borrow my pencil.

I smile and give him one of mine and just go back to what I'm doing. Shortly after that he comes up again and asks if he can talk to me and wants me to join him at his booth. At this point in my life I had already been approached by men who typically backed off once they learned my age. I also was terrified of making a grown man angry because in my mind it was better to pacify someone than provoke them. I figured an angry man might be more prone to hurt me, so I acquiesced and sat at his booth with him. He slid into the booth beside me which was uncomfortable, but he hadn't made physical contact with me. He gets to talking and tells me that he's so nervous talking to women and that I'm the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. I try to take compliments quietly and laugh them off, waiting for my opening to tactfully tell him that I'm basically a child.

I ask him what he does for a living and how old he is. He responds that he's in construction and he's 21 years old. Then he asks me what I do. I say, well, I'm still in high school because I'm 14. He's taken aback by this just a little bit and I can see it on his face. Mentally, I'm preparing to make my exit because now that he knows I'm a minor, I can get out of this. Well, I was wrong. He doubles down on telling me that I'm the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. Then he proceeds to tell me that he remembers every outfit I've worn since he first saw me two months ago. Since I go out almost every day, it's a lot of outfits, and he describes them to me and tells me what his favorite outfit of mine is.

I take the same route to the coffee shop from my house every day, so he must hang out somewhere along there. Did he follow me to the coffee shop? Has he been stalking me? At this point, I'm freaking out on the inside, but I'm trying to keep my cool until I can figure out a way to gracefully exit the situation. We make small talk. I'm still scrambling for a way out and I try to distance myself from him in the booth. He puts his arm around my shoulders and a few moments later says, I keep forgetting you're 14. I can feel myself tense up at this point. I try to stammer through something and laugh it off. I notice that it's getting dark out and say, oh well, I really need to get home, my mom would be worried about me. Trying to play it up that I'm still pretty much a kid. He resists and says that I should come to

the park with him and his friend. The park is on my way home so I tell him that I can walk past it but I should really get home. His friend was already at the coffee shop unbeknownst to me but sitting further away so he introduces us and we all leave. I don't really remember the walk to the park but when we get there he vehemently tries to convince me to walk down the hill into the now very dark park with himself and his friend, two adult men. I tell him that I really have to get home, that I have school in the morning and that I'm sure we'll run into each other again. I finally make my exit and begin feeling some relief. I'm maybe a block away from the park when

his friend comes chasing after me and tells me that they have coupons for tacos and goes on about how much his friend likes me and wants to take me out. I'm kind of incredulous at this point. He's trying to impress me with taco coupons? I tell him no, that I'm a kid and that I have school. Luckily, the friend backs off and I safely make it home. I start changing up my route and didn't go to that coffee shop for a while after that. I run into the guy and his friend separately a couple of times after that. The guy himself pulled up to me in a minivan a few months after the incident and offered me a ride home. Luckily, I was pretty close to my house and managed to negotiate my way out of it,

and his friend struck up unrelated conversations with me in the library almost a year later. I'm an adult now, and that was far from my last encounter with adult men that didn't care that I was a minor. The creepy guy who wanted to hook up with 14-year-old me, I hope you never meet another minor that you try to impress with free tacos. My skin still crawls thinking about this guy. He saw me shopping for school supplies and things for my new apartment one evening during my first week of grad school and decided I was his mark. I had just moved to my new college town, didn't even have a cell phone yet after leaving the one my folks paid for during undergrad behind. I was grown and could take care of myself. I rule. What a nitwit I was. As I left the parking lot

with my purchases, I noticed this truck pull up behind me at the exit. It was late and there weren't too many people out. I pulled out and so did he. It was a few miles down a long retail street with lots of stoplights before my turn. As I drove, I realized the guy in the truck was trying to get my attention. I was in a relationship so I ignored him. Over the next few miles, he kept trying to get me to look at him. Some red lights he would end up ahead of me, some behind or beside. At every light he positioned himself so he could stare at me either directly or in one of his mirrors. His gaze was unwavering and my anxiety rose. He was driving oddly, speeding up close to my bumper, hitting his brakes when he was in front of me, swerving close to my car a couple of times. Finally,

at a red light where he was beside me, I glanced over and absolutely started to panic when I was met with an unbelievably empty, unwavering stare and realized he was fiddling with himself. He was getting off on the fact that I was terrified and he was following me and he was trying to force me to pull over. At one point, I scooted through an intersection on a hard yellow a couple of cars ahead of him, thinking I could shake him. Nope. He went around the cars at the light and ran the red and got back in front of me. A freeway entrance ramp came up, and I tried to fake him out by putting on my signal and getting into the merge lane for it. He took the bait and started up the ramp. I quickly got out of the merge lane and continued straight.

Again, I hoped to lose him, but he drove his truck down the embankment to keep following. Another light where he was beside me, I pulled through the light and then turned at the last possible second. He made a U-turn and ran another red to follow me. My panic really ramped up at that point. With no cell phone, no sense of direction, in a new city, I really didn't know what to do. So I turned on classic rock and forced myself to sing along and force myself to go the speed limit so I wouldn't crash out of terrified stupidity. I decided to drive to the supermarket across town because I remembered it had a police station in it.

He followed me all the way there. He burned out of the lot as soon as he saw all the cop cruisers parked out front. I filed a report and asked for a police escort home. I insisted because something told me that this creep was waiting for me to leave the police station. He was. As soon as I pulled out, I saw him. I pulled over and told the officer following me and he went after him but the truck had taken off and the cop couldn't catch him. The police got their surveillance video from the first store. It turned out this jerk had been

dogging me the entire time I was shopping. I saw him on surveillance footage following me through the store. I saw him follow me out, close enough to grab my elbow. I saw footage of him circling the lot in his truck waiting for me to pull out when I took too long to unload my cart. My heart sank. I was able to remember six of seven digits of his plate and the make and model of his truck. In the end, the cops did nothing. They said it was a he said she said since the surveillance video didn't catch him doing anything particularly unlawful and was a losing case to try to charge him with anything. I ended up trading vehicles with a friend for a couple of months to try to feel safer and went on with my life. I had no idea what this monster had done just a handful of months later, until almost 15 years had passed.

I was watching a Discovery ID show about the kidnapping and murder of Sandy Jeffers. I almost fell off my seat when I saw the mugshot of her killer, Aaron Lee Skeen. It was him. I was so disgusted that law enforcement did nothing in my case that I tracked down the investigator in the murder case and after verifying some things about the vehicle that were changed in the TV reenactment to weed out people making stuff up, she took my contact info and official statement. She could neither confirm nor deny that my run-in was with Skeen, but qualified her statement by

saying at least you don't have to worry about him anymore because he got life without parole. I only wish something could have been done when he terrorized me. Perhaps things would have been different for Sandy. This happened when I was 15 over a decade ago. Boy, I'm starting to feel old. I've told this particular story to friends for years, but I've never posted it online. There were a lot of long stretches of industrial area in the town that I grew up in. Large plazas with big parking lots stuck next to one another, and wide open stretches of road and highway. The majority of my town felt like

the area before an airport. Flat, grey, functional. And as a depressed teenager, I used to go out after school a lot by myself. First it was within my neighborhood but it escalated to me leaving the quaint residential areas to walk an hour or two in any direction. I'd usually make my way home before dark and I had a trusty flip phone at the time to call my parents if I needed to. Generally I felt pretty safe walking on the main streets because of how populated they were. There were always plenty of cars on the road and there were quite a few pedestrians out and about. One early summer evening at about dusk, I was making my way home from one of my walks.

It was a route I'd taken a lot and that was about a 40 minute walk from home. I was just passing a parking lot when a car pulled out in front of me. I stopped about two feet from the vehicle to let it turn onto the road, but the driver rolled down his window. Hey, how are you? He asked me. The man looked to be in his late 40s and greeted me with an unsettling enthusiasm. I wasn't sure how to respond, but since I couldn't pass his car, I hoped he just needed directions or something. Uh, I'm okay. How are you? Before I can even finish my response he says, I love your style. Goth girls in boots are one of my fetishes. And I'm not paraphrasing. Now, as I said, I've been approached quite a few times by creepy men, but this guy was beyond bold.

I had absolutely no idea how to respond. Just as I was going to try to formulate a response, a car pulled up behind him, meaning that he was blocking another car from exiting the parking lot. Um, there's a car behind you trying to get out. I tell him, relieved that I now have a way to get out of this conversation. I'll meet you in the next parking lot, he exclaims, and as I try to tell him no, that I need to get home, he drives off. In my mind, there was no way he could be serious. I continued walking, but sure

enough, he's in the next parking lot. The parking lot he'd entered was down a bit of a hill and he was standing beside his car. As soon as he saw me he started waving me down. I'd been followed by cars before and I was generally afraid of the idea of making a man angry and being stalked to my home. I assessed the situation. He was parked about 10 feet from a dive bar and there were about 15 men outside on the patio which meant that they could see me and would be in potential earshot if I screamed. I weighed the options between going down to meet him versus potentially being followed home and made the stupid decision to walk down the slight incline. I honestly don't know why I didn't just pretend to be on the phone or call my mom.

I don't remember what he said when I approached, but I kept my distance from him in his car so I wouldn't be easy to kidnap. He walked around to his trunk and I felt myself tense up and take a step back. He then pulls out a pair of women's boots and approaches me slightly to show them to me. They were laced up, about mid-calf, maybe size 9. Nice, aren't they? He asked me. Uh, yeah, I responded hesitantly. They were not nice, but my brain was on autopilot. Wanna try them on for me? He asked, grinning. I'm absolutely stunned. More than scared, I'm completely baffled that this is actually happening. I think I'm a little too young for you. I manage to stammer out. No, you're what, like 20? I'm 15. All the blood leaves his face and he finally realizes that he's made a mistake.

He quickly puts the boots back in his trunk and says something to the effect of, oh I'm so sorry you're just so hot I should have been saying that you're you're 15. I kind of laugh him off and exit gracefully. He drives out of there well above the speed limit. I'm relieved but left absolutely bewildered and creeped out. Why was he carrying around a pair of women's boots? How many women did he approach? What just happened? What would have happened if I was over 18? Why did his brain think that what he just did was okay even if I had been old enough? I still can't wrap my head around everything that happened and if he thought that it would actually work even if I was an adult. I'm in my late 20s now which means that if he approached me today he probably would be more insistent. This happened when I was a bartender about four years ago,

but I think about it often and have changed the way I operate throughout life. Now I refuse to go to any store alone after midnight. For the story's sake, I will tell you that I was 25 and an attractive, slender blonde at the time. On a busy Friday night, I was bartending with the bar manager and he had noticed that we were very low on some bar necessities after the dinner rush. Lemons, limes, bitters, that kind of thing. So I was sent out to go to a 24-hour grocery store down the road to pick up the odds and ends that would require to get us through the weekend. I picked up everything that was asked of me without trouble at the store

until I got to the liquor aisle. There were two country looking guys that were probably around my age in the aisle and they were staring at me and whispering to each other in a way that made me feel uncomfortable as I assumed that they were making comments about me. All pretty innocent so far. Before they could approach me I grabbed what I needed very quickly and power walked to the self-checkout. I really booked it out of there because when you're a bartender, it's kind of like you're on stage and are required to be charming and interact with people that you would otherwise absolutely wouldn't be able to tolerate unless you're getting paid. Thus, why I'm not a bartender anymore. I get to the self-checkout and hot on my tail are the two guys. I'm scanning my stuff and

they use the scanning station next to me. I get a better look at them now that they are right next to me. One is taller, muscular and average looking, the other is shorter and more plump. They both looked dirty and their eyes were completely bloodshot. Not sure if they were high on something or already had been drinking for a while. They continued to stare at me and our eyes awkwardly met, so I did the pleasant, mid-western-y thing to do and flashed them a quick, half-closed-lip smile to be polite. The taller ones started trying to talk to me. Hey, looks like you're ready to party, huh?

I replied with something like, yeah, something like that. It's not for me, though. They walk closer to me and ignore their responsibility to scan their items. Must be for your boyfriend, huh? I flash that awkward tight-lipped smile again and roll my eyes slightly. Like this is your hint that I'm not interested, fellas. The taller one continues to try to talk to me. You could come hang out with us tonight. We could show you a real good time if you know what I mean. I reply with, no thanks, I'm good. I got plans already. Well, the tall one starts to get upset that his moves aren't working like he'd hoped and starts using a more threatening tone and moves

very close to me, like two inches away, but I ignore him, staying focused on the scanner. I don't think he had showered in a few days by the smell of him. He gets a little louder and says, I see how it is. You probably only mess with doctors and rich men like that. You think you're too good for us. We can show you that you aren't. We could teach you a lesson. Now I'm not sure in what context he meant, but it definitely wasn't good. Still not looking at him, I turn away so my body is blocking his view of my purse, which I set on the scanner to grab my 4-inch pocket knife out and slide it up my jacket sleeve in case I need to protect myself, acting like I am

searching for my wallet. I do this, however, in view of the self-scanner worker standing at her podium and look at her with wide eyes, trying to communicate that I don't feel safe and I might need help. I turn back to the machine and slide my credit card to pay, while the creepy and hostile guys are practically standing on top of me. The machine malfunctions and starts beeping. The lady worker comes over immediately and the guys standing next to me change their expressions from, I'm planning to torture you for a couple of days and toss your body in a creek, to just your friendly good old country boys making polite conversation over here. They actually tried to act like I knew them and we were friends so the worker wouldn't be alerted to their ill them and we were friends so the worker wouldn't

be alerted to their ill intentions. I tried joking with the worker saying I was stealing something and that's why the machine went off. The worker was definitely not buying it. She was a 6 foot tall woman with some muscle on her by the way. I wouldn't mess with her on my best day. But anyways, she presses a few buttons on the screen, shooting the guys a very unimpressed look when they were trying to act charming and cancels the order completely. She turns to me and says, I'm sorry for the inconvenience, ma'am. This machine seems to be not working correctly. Why don't you gather your things and I'll ring you up at an actual register. She puts her hand on my back and gives me a wide-eyed look like I gave her a minute earlier, letting me know that she sees I'm in danger.

I pick up my things to follow her to a register that is near the security office. The guys linger around the self-scan, still glaring at me, and eventually complete their purchase but stand at the exit, assuming they're waiting for me. I felt like I would be walking to my death if I made my exit in that moment. The worker keeps a close eye on the guys and scans my items. As she's scanning, she tells me there really wasn't anything wrong with the machine I was using. It just misread my credit card. She said, I had a bad feeling about those guys from the moment they walked in,

and then I saw them getting aggressive towards you. I already rang security to be ready to walk out to the parking lot and make sure you left safely when you were ready to leave. Then I saw you take that knife out and put it up your sleeve getting ready to protect yourself. Good girl. As much as I'd like to see you show them that they picked the wrong chick to mess with, I'm glad I was able to pull you aside and make sure you're safe. I see them waiting by the door for you. I'll just keep pressing buttons on the screen and act like I'm having trouble with your order until they give up and go outside.

Our security officer and I both are still going to escort you to your vehicle when you leave. I thought to myself, this woman seriously deserves a raise. I thanked her over and over again and told her what they said to me and I was getting afraid because I don't know what these guys are capable of. As I'm talking to her, my bar manager calls me to see what's taking so long. I explain what was happening and he obviously was very concerned and ready to come up there himself and kick some butt. A sweet sentiment indeed. By the time I hang up, the guys had given up and walked out to the parking lot. The worker said to give it another few minutes because she had a feeling that they

may still be in the parking lot waiting for me to walk out and see which vehicle was mine so they could follow me. My instant thought was, no way, they gotta be gone by now. I was wrong. The worker and security guard escorted me out and as it was after midnight you can imagine how empty the parking lot was. Towards the back of the lot there sat an old big pickup truck running with the lights on pointing towards the store. It was a huge parking lot and it wouldn't have made sense for them to initially park like that so I'm assuming they moved the truck to sit that way so they had full view of when I exited the store to go to my vehicle. It was like being stalked by very hungry lions. When I unlocked my car and they saw that me, the worker, and the guard were looking directly at them and I wasn't getting in my car until we watched them leave, they then peeled out of the

parking lot. I mean they seriously did a burnout and established that they were angry and trying to intimidate us or something. Ah, poor creeps didn't get their way. Boo hoo. I thanked the worker and the guard over and over again, as I am certain that they had just saved my life, or at least saved me from having to live with whatever those guys were planning on doing to me. I did write a long letter to the store manager and to their corporate location describing how their employees protected me and how grateful I was. I really hope that earned her a promotion, bonus, or raise. She didn't know me at all and was ready to protect me, which really isn't her job, but she went through with it anyway. 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. And if you want to support me even more, grab early access to all future narrations for just $1 a month on Patreon, and maybe even pick up some Let's Read merch on Spreadshirt. And check out the Let's Read Podcast, where you can hear all these stories in long compilation form and save huge on data, located anywhere you listen to podcasts. Links in the bio.

Thanks so much, friends. And remember...