The Lets Read Podcast - 113: Episode 101 | Missing Persons & New York Stories | 20 True Scary Horror Stories

Episode Date: November 16, 2021

Welcome to the One Hundred First 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 Missing Persons, New York & Someone In Our Attic... 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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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 30thth 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 Susan Walsh was an investigative journalist who conducted the majority of her work in New York City. Born Susan Young on February 18th of 1960, she took the name Walsh after she married Mark Walsh, brother of the Eagles singer and guitarist Joe Walsh. Despite her relative success in the field of journalism, Susan Walsh had something of a troubled upbringing. While attending William

Patterson University in her home state of New Jersey, Walsh often worked as a stripper or erotic dancer in order to help pay the hefty tuition fees required to continue her studies. But there are some who say that she only worked in such seedier lines of work in order to fund her habit of illegal drugs and alcohol. And those who knew her were only too familiar with her penchant for the party lifestyle. However, by the time she graduated in 1984, Walsh insisted she was clean and sober, ready to kickstart her professional life as a journalist. And perhaps it was her affinity with the darker, more sordid side of life that made Susan Walsh such an effective investigator into her chosen

subjects. But it seems that it was such an effectiveness that led her to uncover something she shouldn't, and may well have contributed to her untimely disappearance. Whilst working for the Greenwich Village-based alternative publication The Village Voice, Susan Walsh heard an extremely disturbing rumor through the journalist Grapevine. According to trusted sources, New York hospitalists were suffering from an unusual and frightening phenomenon. Human blood, used to replace that which its patients had lost through accidental or violent encounters, was somehow going missing. Susan's boss and mentor at the Village Voice, a man named James Ridgway, had suggested she investigate the strange thefts, as it would make for a spine-tingling story indeed. But after she spent weeks cross-referencing tips on the phone with various contacts from all over the East Village,

she went back to Ridgway with an explanation that seemed as ridiculous as it was unbelievable. Susan Walsh claimed that vampires were to blame for the stealing of the hospital's blood. Walsh claimed that a small coven of vampires, at first content to drink each other's blood in dark occult rituals that took place in cramped, dingy apartments after sundown, had taken to stealing it in bulk from the city's hospitals.

Ridgway read Walsh's initial report with one major concern. Given its fantastical conclusion, he was deeply suspicious that Walsh had slipped back into her old pattern of addiction and abuse. He could think of no other reason why she could have come up with such a bizarre theory when there were many other much more rational explanations. It read like a bad horror movie, he later said. I was hoping for a credible scoop, but I was only disappointed.

She got totally absorbed with the vampire thing, the theories, the energy flows. The article she wrote wasn't very astute. He asked Susan Walsh to rewrite the article and to reconsider her theories regarding vampirism, but she was insistent that she was onto something and promised to better explain her theories in a later article she would present at Ridgeway for his perusal. This is what she found. At the time that Susan Walsh disappeared, New York City had the largest Dracula fan club in the world, numbering it over 5,000 members. It had a vampire museum, a 22-year-old vampire research center, and even an after-midnight cable talk show for those with a fascination for the fanged bloodsuckers set to stalk the streets of New York after dark.

Vampire-themed nightclubs and even a vampire-inspired music scene may have given the subject a surface area of whimsical innocence, but Walsh found that the deeper she dug into the city's underground vampire scene, the more dark and disturbing it became. A journalist's contact of hers had put her in touch with a woman who owned a shop in the East Village, a place that sold glazed skulls, old clothes, occult books, capes, and coffin-shaped jewels. Walsh said she descended a staircase in an abandoned basement theater, a place where incense hung heavy in the air and the decor was an invariable jet black. There she met a woman who claimed she was the witch of the East Village

and who sold all manner of products to the vampire cult that lurked among the shadow underbelly of New York City. She stocked their pewter blood vials and tiny ceremonial knives used for breaking the skin of those they wished to feed on. Walsh was told that she was wasting her time looking for the vampire cult during the daytime and that although they were obviously not genuine, immortal, morphing-into-a-bat kind of vampires, they were just as dangerous as their fictional counterparts. Walsh said that she was gripped with a queasy anxiety as he was told that this underground vampire cult did indeed kill people to get their blood fix,

and that they had contacts at various hospitals around the city that could acquire fresh blood for them, for a price of course. After all, in New York City, it's frighteningly easy to simply up and disappear. Walsh later told her boss of how the Witch of the East Village had put her in touch with a young man claiming to have intimate connections with a vampire cult. He was from California and claimed to have a fang-making business that was frequently patronized by members of the cult. He also said he ran a vampire networking service that put curious people in touch with the cult, but only after they were thoroughly vetted.

He told Walsh that they were fashion vampires, those that simply masqueraded in gothic clothing while listening to dark music, but that there were also real vampires, and transcending into one was a long and difficult process. When she asked the young man about the culture of blood drinking that was prevalent among the cult, she was told that he indeed tried it on a few occasions, drinking a few ounces each time. He explained in deadly seriousness that it was an overwhelming sensation, almost like taking ecstasy and a deeply sensual experience. He claimed it was like a very special kind of wine, one you sip and that you can taste a person's lifestyle in their blood, as well as things like how old they were or what ethnicity they belonged to. He also explained that the vampire cult was very serious and professional, how they were tested for HIV every month or so,

and that the New York cult had connections with other such organizations in Philadelphia, Boston, San Francisco, San Diego, and Los Angeles. Their members included a Catholic priest, two pastors, lawyers, one of the top executives in Citibank, Republican politicians, as well as people who simply had a fetish for blood. He also confirmed that the cult did indeed have a contact working in a medical facility who tested bags of blood for infectious diseases before delivering them to the cult for large sums of cash.

The young man went on to explain how the vampire cult would meet at some secretive location every few weeks to conduct a feeding ritual, and not always in some dark subterranean hideaway. One week they might meet in the private dining spaces of an Italian restaurant owned by someone sympathetic to their inclinations, or someone who would keep quiet for the right price. There was also a strict hierarchy among the cult members that kept discipline and secrecy intact. There were the transcended vampires, the de facto leaders of the cult who in turn marshaled minions who would organize and facilitate the feasts. Finally, there was what's known as the herd, those who consented to be fed upon, who might also find themselves climbing the ranks of the cult in the hopes of one day becoming a fully fledged vampire. It was very similar to the BDSM community he explained in the sense that there are dominants and the submissives who serve them. It all seemed relatively

innocent to Susan Walsh at first, but the young man went on to tell tales of a much darker scene that existed, where he had witnessed considerably more disturbing things. He told Susan that he had once attended what was known as a sanctuary feed, where he saw a young woman who had been rendered unconscious and strapped to a table, with a series of tubes running out of her arms and legs. Those that attended the gathering could feed off of her at will, and the young man said that he had no idea what became of the girl, that it was too much for him and that he'd left the event before it had finished. It was over the winter of 1995-1996 that Susan Walsh was researching the vampire piece for the Village Voice. Around this time, friends and colleagues noticed that the pager she carried with her started going off a lot more. Not just once or twice a day with

messages from her boss at The Voice and other publications she wrote for, but every couple of minutes on some occasions. Walsh had always been popular with men and had made a considerable amount of money during her stripping days. Even after she divorced her husband Mark, he couldn't bring himself to move away from her and actually moved into the apartment below where she lived in New Jersey as a way of staying close to her. But whoever it was that was tailing her during that winter had set her on edge like nothing else had. She actually told some close friends that she was extremely worried about the situation and on more than one occasion referred to him as her stalker and was even too scared to reveal his actual identity, even though it was obvious that she knew who it was.

Walsh was even forced to visit a doctor over an apparent stomach ulcer brought on by the stress of her ordeal. Al Sullivan, the editor of the William Patterson University newspaper that Walsh wrote for back in her college days, was interviewed after her disappearance. He mentioned that Walsh showed a lot of promise, how she was always looking for a bigger story and digging deep into things that she was investigating. But he also mentioned how Walsh's charisma sometimes proved addictive to those that knew her. People don't stop falling in love with her,

he explained. People get addicted to her. Her boyfriends won't leave her alone. She once told me that she was being stalked by an ex-lover that was in the CIA. On July 14th, 1996, Susan Walsh's pager rang halfway through an interview she was conducting on a new project she was investigating. Oh, that must be my stalker, she apparently joked. But two days later, she was declared missing. The vampire cult angle might seem ridiculous to some, but upon their initial investigation, the police department in Nutley, New Jersey, the place she disappeared, announced that they were indeed considering so-called vampire cults as the cause of her disappearance. But the causes of Susan's disappearance might well be rooted in

the new project she had taken up, one that was also an investigation of New York's seedy underbelly. By 1996, Susan had become increasingly jaded with the stripping and erotic dancing she had once used to supplement her income and finance her education. Being on stage in front of so many people, being so intimately exposed Caused her to self-medicate with drugs and alcohol Then after a while, the lusty gazes of her customers began to lose their appeal entirely I lie on the dressing room stool staring up at the ceiling She once wrote of her time as a dancer

Running images through my mind Me taking a blade to a swollen member and slicing it up like a cucumber for a salad. She began to see this work as exploitative, cruel, and manipulative, and this set her on a crusade to expose human trafficking rings that provided New York's many peep shows and strip joints with their performers. And so, during mid-1996, Susan's research led her to a series of strip clubs that were apparently being run by the Russian mafia. She used her deep-rooted connections in the community she used to work in to organize secret meetings with many of the girls who worked in such places.

She subsequently discovered that they were indeed being trafficked from the former Soviet Union into the United States, where they were forced to pay off their debts to those they had aided their migration by working as strippers and worse, ladies of the night. In the chaos that had followed the fall of Russian communism, many young women had sought to flee the poverty of their homelands in favor of Western Europe or the United States, and the Russian mafia was only too glad to aid them, as well as exploiting them for profit. The article that Susan put together on the subject was as revealing as it was skewering and received a great deal of critical acclaim from all over the literary world. Suddenly her name was well known all over the Western world as being one

of the freshest, most exciting investigative journalists around. A documentary team from Germany traveled all the way to New York to seek her consultation and to interview her for a film they were making about Russian immigrants becoming go-go dancers. At the time of her disappearance, she was about to start work for the BBC on a similar program, who were also interested in the subject. But the dangers of investigating such things are very, very tangible. Susan Walsh apparently had numerous encounters with people who claimed to be the agents or managers of the dancers she was interviewing, telling her the dire consequences would await her if she didn't cease publishing what she had learned from her investigations. Anyone who has watched The Sopranos knows that strip clubs in New Jersey, which happen to have more than any

other state in the Union, are usually under mob control. Whatever faction that controls each club can vary from area to area, some under Italian control and some under Russian. Dancers under the control of such clubs are occasionally used as bait in deals, which can make them even more vulnerable to violence and abuse than usual. Walsh once interviewed a club manager referred to only as Marty, who said, some girls you don't see anymore. It's because these girls found something out or let in on it, or maybe overheard a conversation about something that was going down. Then if that girl wants to turn around and get out, they'll get rid of her or whatever.

Walsh had clearly involved herself with men who were not afraid to resort to murder to solve their problems. It was also rumored that her deep involvement in the investigation of vampire cults had also caused her to become romantically involved with someone who was convinced that they were themselves a vampire. But who exactly caused her untimely disappearance isn't clear whatsoever. All we know is that on July 16th, 1996, Walsh left her son in the care of his father before leaving the nightly apartment complex she called home with the intention of running errands to make a telephone call from a payphone house across the street from her. She was dressed in all black when she walked out into a scorching hot Tuesday morning.

It was the last time she was seen alive. There was such little evidence as to who might have taken her that Nutley Police Department declared the case closed just six weeks later. But it also is highly suspicious that when asked by police if they might conduct forensic tests in her apartment, her ex-husband Mark flat out refused. Apparently this was on the advice of his lawyer who insisted that such a search would make him suspect number one given that logically speaking her hair and fingerprints would be all over his home. But still, what could he possibly have to hide? Regardless,

it is absolutely terrifying that a well-known, well-liked person could simply up and disappear outside of her own apartment block and that no evidence and no body would ever be found. There is a place up in Vermont known as Green Mountain National Forest. It takes up around 50% of Bennington County, surrounding the Glastonbury Mountains at its center, and between the years of 1943 and 1950, several mysterious disappearances took place in its deep, dark forests. The disappearances became so prolific that the area took on a new name among frightened locals, the Bennington Triangle, due to some similarities with disappearances around the Caribbean island of Bermuda. Since that time, the disappearances became an entranced part of local folklore, and to this day, the area's occupants warn against wandering alone in the Green Mountain National Forest. Before the 18th century, the Glastonbury area was mostly uninhabited by European settlers.

The governor of New Hampshire chartered the town in 1761, and by 1791, just six families called the tiny community home. Yet today, merely eight residents remain within the ruins of Glastonbury's ghost town. It enjoyed something of a boom in about 1870 when it became a logging town, and as many as 300 timber workers moved into Glastonbury to harvest the surrounding forests. But overlogging of the mountain decimated the trees and eventually led to the town's economic decline. Perhaps the logging damage to the habitats of the local wildlife led to the Native Americans believing that the new industry had disturbed and angered the spirits of the forest, or maybe the Glastonbury Curse was something entirely more menacing. However, it is tough to discern just

how much of what people say about the Bennington Triangle is actually true. Details surrounding the various vanishings have varied over the years, even down to the particulars of those that actually went missing. But what is clear is that, for aeons before European settlers ever occupied the area, the local Native American people used the area as a burial ground for their dead. Believing that the spirits of their ancestors inhabited the forests and would curse anyone who strayed too far into the dark and isolated woods, they stayed well away from the area. But the same could not be said for those that traveled from across the Atlantic. it ate the souls of all that passed near, which to them, explained why the woods were so devoid of the typical sounds of nature, such as bird songs or the buzzing of insects, and why many

attested to such frightening sensations while hunting near the woods. However, there may well be some actual science behind such claims, as geologists say the area has an unusually large amount of sinkholes due to subterranean water erosion. But regardless, the list of those declared missing after venturing into the forest is long indeed, and these are just a few of them. In 1943, a man named Carl Herrick and his cousin Henry were taking part in a hunting trip just 10 miles northeast of Glastonbury town. The story goes that, at one point during the trip, Carl walked off into the woods to relieve himself. Yet after some time, Carl still hadn't returned to the spot that they were resting at, so Henry called out through the woods to him, only to receive no reply. For hours and hours,

his cousin searched for him, but Carl was nowhere to be found. Over the following days a search party scoured the woods for any sign of Carl Herrick, and eventually a body was found that was believed to be his, but his remains showed bizarre signs of having been crushed by some ungodly force, so badly that Carl's ribs had punctured his lung, but there were no signs of anything that could have possibly inflicted such wounds. Henry is reported to have said that the search party found that there were large bear prints around the corpse but a bear would not have squeezed a man like that nor would it have left fresh meat to spoil like that

being the occasional scavenger animals that they are. Something must have severely spooked that bear if it left a corpse alone like that. Just two years later in 1945, the Middy Rivers incident occurred. Middy was a very experienced and hardy outdoorsman, and very few people knew the forests around Green Mountain better than he did. One day, Middy was heading up a hunting party in a place known as Hell's Hollow, when he happened to stray a little too far ahead. Soon it dawned on his fellow hunters that Middy was no longer with them, but none of the hunters showed any initial concern. After all, Middy was probably the most skilled hunter and tracker that any of them had ever

known. It had to just be a matter of time before he found them again, yet no one ever saw or heard from him ever again. After a long and intensive search of the surrounding woods, the only trace of Middy Rivers was an empty rifle cartridge that matched up with the kind that he was known to use. There was no blood or shredded clothing left behind, no evidence of an animal attack whatsoever, and his corpse was never found. But perhaps the most well-known of all the Bennington Triangle disappearances is the case of Paula Weldon. She was a sophomore student at the nearby Bennington University, and on the 1st of December 1946, 18-year-old Paula headed out into the woods on a short hike intended to relieve the stress of her studies. Paula was wearing a light red jacket, not ideal for a lengthy hike in cold weather,

so it is safe to say that she had not intended to be out for a particularly long time. She was last sighted by a couple out for a walk on a stretch of land known as Long Trail. They witnessed Paula turn a corner, but when they reached the same spot, she had inexplicably vanished from sight, and it would be hard to miss such a bright red jacket among the dark foliage. The following day, when her classmates noticed her unusual absence, they informed the local police who commenced a thorough search of the Long Trail. The search party was a thousand strong at times, even included a number of light aircraft enlisted by the FBI, but still, not a trace of Paula was ever

found. Paula was by far the most famous case, but the most tragic was that of 8-year-old Paul Jefferson. Paul's mother was employed by the local garbage dump and on the 12th of October 1950, Paul accompanied his mother to work since he was off school for the holiday. They didn't intend to stay long at all, so Paul's mother told him to stay put in the truck while she popped into the dump's office to complete a few pieces of paperwork. But when she got back to the truck, Paul was gone. Much like Paula Weldon, Paul was wearing a brightly colored rain jacket that would be almost impossible to miss on the backdrop of the surrounding woods. But when another huge search was mounted, which this time included sniffer dogs from the local police force,

nothing was found. It was as if Paul had vanished into thin air. But analysis of local Abenaki folklore found a disturbing tidbit of information regarding the wearing of bright colors in the forest. Apparently it is extremely bad luck to wear anything but dark shades while visiting Native American burial grounds as it offends the spirits of the dead, a truly terrifying detail to consider. In the same month, October of 1950, a young woman named

Frida Langer and her family were on a camping trip near the Somerset Reservoir, deep within the Bennington Triangle. Frida and her cousin Herbert set off on a hike around the area, but less than a mile into their little adventure, Frida took a tumble and landed in a stream. But given that they weren't all that far from their campsite, Frida turned back to get a change of clothes while Herbert waited at the site of her accident for her return. After an hour or so of waiting, Herbert walked back to the camp, outraged that his cousin would leave him waiting so long, but when he asked after her, he discovered she'd never made it back to camp. Her disappearance was completely unexplainable and many puzzled over how a girl could possibly

vanish over the course of such a short journey. And by this time, the number of inexplicable vanishings meant that the woods had garnered quite the reputation as being mysteriously but undeniably dangerous. It also seemed like the power of the Bennington Triangle is not just confined to the woods. James Tedford, a veteran of World War II, was returning to his residence at a VA hospital in Bennington in 1949 after a visit to some of his family in nearby St. Albans. His journey was via a Greyhound bus that held no more than 14 other passengers. But somehow, when the bus arrived in Bennington, Tedford wasn't on board. Yet strangely, not only was his luggage still in the bus's rack, but personal items point on the journey In fact, they had seen him sitting in his seat at every single scheduled stop

Just not the one he was due to get off at, Bennington Since Tedford's disappearance was yet another in a series of mysterious vanishings in the Bennington area Police were eager to get to the bottom of the case as quickly as possible. But logically speaking, they could only settle on one solid conclusion, that Tedford had never boarded the bus in the first place. But this stood in stark contrast to the fact that not only was his luggage on board, but he had been sighted by many of his fellow passengers. Like many of the other disappearances in Bennington Triangle, Tedford's case remains totally unsolved to this day,

but there must be practical, tangible explanations for such vanishings, even if they seem fairly outlandish. One theory centers around the intense, unpredictable weather patterns that the New England area suffers from. Professional hikers and mountaineers alike insist that the disappearances are down to nothing more than poor weather. Since wind patterns in the area can be incredibly erratic, even those familiar with the area can lose their footing in perilous situations or suffer from serious disorientation in some cases. However, although this might account for one or two of the missing persons, it certainly does not account for all of them. Many visitors to the area have also reported seeing cougars in

the Green Mountain National Forest. These big cats can stalk hunters for long distances while waiting for an opportune moment to strike. Lone hikers are by far the most at risk, especially during the winter when the mountain line's natural prey is scarce, which also happens to be when the majority of disappearances have occurred. Because they can weigh more than 200 pounds, a powerful cougar can subdue and kill someone very quickly. But a mountain lion would most certainly leave behind traces of their kills, be it bones or shredded clothing, and in most of the Bennington disappearances not a single piece of evidence of the unfortunate souls has been found. However, another theory, one rooted in mental illness is much more feasible. One story tells of a bizarre character by the name of McDowell moving to Bennington in 1892

looking for work at a local sawmill. The man was a solitary, quiet soul brimming with male content and was viewed with suspicion and fear by the other workers. Then, after a few months of floating from job to job, he got into an argument with a foreman and smashed the man under the head with a hammer before slaying another that came to the foreman's defense. The man was ranting and raving as local lawmen cornered him in one of the town's taverns, and once he was in custody, he was confined to an insane asylum for

the foreseeable future. But the man was wild, violent, and cunning, and it didn't take long for him to escape the asylum and escape into the mountains to hide among their many caves and caverns. Some say the horrendous environment of the asylum, the callous abuse of the orderlies and doctors, had turned him well and truly feral. And every so often the man would descend from the mountains to terrorize the residents of the town, wearing only a long black coat with a pistol in his hand. McDowell may have been able to prey upon the town's residents during the early 1900s, but by the middle of the century, he will have been a much older man,

and may not have even survived the wilderness for such a considerable length of time. Perhaps it'll never be entirely certain what is to blame for the bizarre disappearances in the Bennington Triangle, but be it the weather, wild animals, or a deranged serial killer, the area is without a doubt one of the most inexplicably dangerous places in the entirety of the United States for those who were unlucky enough to find themselves alone among the trees there. It is truly chilling to think that these disappearances might never be solved, that the fates of those poor souls might be forever kept a secret, hidden among the dark trees of the Green Mountain National Forest. If it's a flat or a squeal, a wobble or peel, your tread's worn down or you need a new wheel,

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BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with iGaming Ontario. On November 24th, 1971, the day before Thanksgiving, a gentleman in his mid-forties walked up to the Northwest Orient Airlines counter at Portland International Airport in Oregon. He was a quiet, unassuming man in dark sunglasses, carrying a black briefcase and wearing a black business suit with a white shirt. As he used cash to purchase a one-way ticket to nearby Seattle, he told the clerk behind the counter that his name was Dan Cooper. Shortly after, Cooper boarded the waiting Boeing 727 and took a seat in the rear of the passenger cabin before ordering a bourbon and

soda. The sparsely occupied aircraft took off on schedule at 2.50pm that afternoon for the short 30 minute flight into Washington. Once the flight had reached altitude, flight attendant Florence Schaffner began to walk up and down the aisle, taking drink orders from the passengers. Once he reached the row where Dan Cooper was sat and asked him for his order, he simply handed her a note. Ms. Schaffner opened it up and gasped when she saw what was written. Written with a felt-tip pen and neat printed capital letters were just four words, I have a bomb.

Cooper then invited Florence Schaffner to take a seat next to him, only it wasn't so much an invitation as an order. According to later statements, Cooper then showed the terrified flight attendant exactly what was in his briefcase. She saw eight large cylinders linked to a small circular battery unit with red insulation wire. Schaffner had never seen an explosive device before, but the one she saw that afternoon was very, very convincing. Cooper then leaned into her ear before whispering his demands. $200,000 in negotiable American currency, four parachutes, and a fuel truck standing by in

Seattle, one that was ready to refuel the aircraft once it had landed. Schaffner promptly walked down the aircraft's aisle to the cockpit, relayed Cooper's demands to the pilot, and assuring him she had seen the explosive device he was threatening them with. Captain William Scott, the aircraft's pilot, quickly contacted Seattle Airport, informing them of the grave situation on board. Not wishing to cause a panic, the pilot passed a message over the intercom to the passengers on board, telling them that their arrival at Seattle airport would be slightly delayed due to minor technical difficulties. On its arrival in Seattle airspace, the aircraft entered a holding pattern, circling the area

to ensure that local authorities had time to fully assemble the money and parachutes that Cooper had demanded. Meanwhile, the president of the airline in question actually relented to Cooper's demands, personally authorizing the withdrawal of the full $200,000 from company accounts and passing along the instructions that all company employees were to fully comply with the hijacker to preserve human life. A remarkable aspect of the hijacking was Cooper's behavior during the whole ordeal. Many aircraft hijackings during that period were hallmarked by the cruelty and political extremism of the perpetrators, such as the German Communist Red Army faction. But flight attendant Florence Schaffner later described Cooper as being well-spoken,

calm and polite, going so far as paying for his drinks and offering to provide food for the flight attendants when the plane landed in Seattle. At no point did Cooper relate any kind of political motive for the hijacking, and in fact did not communicate any motives for his actions whatsoever. We can only assume that Cooper was a criminal who merely sought personal gain, but one that showed an unusual amount of compassion and empathy for those involved in the hijacking. At 5.24pm, FBI agents on the ground at Seattle Airport who had gathered Cooper's money from a few different local banks relayed a message to the pilot that the aircraft was cleared to land.

Once it had landed, Cooper instructed the pilot to taxi the plane to a well-lit area of the runway before telling the flight attendants to shut all of the window shades on board to ensure the FBI snipers would be unable to get a clear shot on him. This is one of the first clues we get to just how much thought and planning Cooper had put into the whole operation. Shortly afterward, Northwest Orient Airlines' ops manager approached the aircraft in civilian clothing, delivering a set of backpacks that were stuffed with cash to one of the flight attendants via the plane's rear staircase. Once Cooper was happy that the delivery was sufficient, he told all passengers and a

handful of the flight crew to disembark, leaving only a skeleton crew to fly him out of there. It was during the refueling of the aircraft that Cooper informed them of their new course. They would be flying southwest towards Mexico City. But Cooper didn't only give them a new direction, he seemed to have an intimate knowledge of the aircraft's functionality, instructing them exactly how he wished the pilot to fly the plane, such as the speed and altitude he wanted them to fly at, even down to the angle at which he wanted the wing flaps to be deployed. He also instructed the pilot to ensure that the cabin remain unpressurized, telling him to leave the rear doors of the aircraft open when the plane took off. An official from the Federal Aviation Administration requested a face-to-face meeting with Cooper,

informing him that takeoff would be extremely unsafe given some of the conditions he had requested. It was a bluff. He was counting on Cooper knowing next to nothing about aviation, but Cooper knew far more than anyone had predicted, and argued in return that he would only lower the stairs once the plane was in the air. As previously mentioned, it seemed Cooper had planned and researched the operation in extreme forensic detail in the months or possibly years leading up to the incident, and came to armed with a frightening amount of knowledge surrounding

civilian aviation. There was, however, one thing that Cooper apparently did not have knowledge of. He seemed to have expected the aircraft to be able to make one solid flight down to Mexico City when in fact it only had a maximum range of about 1,000 miles. The co-pilot informed Cooper that they would have to make a refueling stop at Reno Airport down in Nevada. Cooper agreed but seemed bizarrely unconcerned by such a detail. About two hours after they had originally landed, the hijacked aircraft prepared to take off again with just five people on board, four crew members and the hijacker himself. However, at this stage, the plane was being tailed by two F-106 fighter aircrafts that had scrambled

from the nearby McCord Air Force Base, one above and one below the hijacked plane, so that Cooper would be unable to see them. After the plane took off, Cooper ordered the entire flight crew into the cockpit, leaving him alone in the cabin. One was later noted to have said that they had seen Cooper tying something around his waist before he began to lower to the rear staircase. At approximately 1.15pm, the aircraft's rear staircase was still lowered when the pilot landed the plane in Reno Airport. A large number of waiting FBI agents, sheriff's deputies, state troopers and local Reno PD began to surround the jet and quickly boarded to take Cooper into custody before he had a chance to get airborne again and escape to Mexico.

But as they completed a thorough search of the aircraft, they discovered that Cooper was nowhere to be found. All that remained of the man was his black clip-on tie, his tie clip, and two of the four parachutes as requested as part of his demands. The only possible conclusion to be drawn was that, somewhere between Seattle and Reno, Cooper had jumped out of the plane. What followed was arguably the most extensive and intensive search and recovery operation in US history. A series of composite sketches was developed with local police and FBI agents immediately seeking to question around 800 possible suspects. However, all 20 or so of these were quickly eliminated from the investigation. One of these suspects was an Oregon man by the name of D.B.

Cooper, who had a relatively small criminal history. He too was rolled out of the investigation as just one of the theories was that it was highly unlikely that the hijacker would have used his actual birth name to pull off such a daring heist. But thanks to the details of his questioning being released by reporters, the name D.B. Cooper stuck in public consciousness. Given that Cooper was thought to have jumped out of the aircraft just 20 minutes or so after takeoff, police centered their search on a certain area of Washington, specifically the land around the Lewis River in the southwest of the state. FBI agents and sheriff deputies from nearby counties searched large areas of the mountainous wilderness surrounding the Lewis River, on foot and by helicopter.

Door-to-door searches of local farmhouses were also carried out, while search parties ran patrol boats along the river and in surrounding lakes. But no trace of Cooper, nor any of the equipment he thought to have jumped out of the aircraft with was ever located. FBI then attempted to locate a trace of Cooper by releasing a list of serial numbers that were printed on the aircraft with was ever located. FBI then attempted to locate a trace of Cooper by releasing a list of serial numbers that were printed on the money they had given him, but this did little more than confuse the situation. In 1972, two men used counterfeit $20 bills printed with Cooper's serial numbers to con $30,000 from a Newsweek reporter in exchange for an interview with a man that falsely claimed was the hijacker. For all intents and purposes, the man who called himself Dan Cooper had successfully completed his criminal operation before he disappeared into thin air.

No evidence of Cooper was discovered until February of 1980 when a family vacationing in the Columbia River made a miraculous discovery. As they raked over a sandy riverbank to build a campfire, they uncovered three packets worth of the random cash that was delivered to Cooper on the tarmac of Seattle Airport. The bills had suffered serious water damage over the years and were heavily deteriorated, but were soon identified as the genuine article by FBI agents. However, none of the other bills had ever turned up anywhere in the world despite their serial numbers still being available online for public inspection. But who exactly was Dan Cooper? It might seem obvious, but his fictional situation was most likely extremely desperate. Why would a man take such an enormous risk otherwise?

But whether or not this was to pay medical bills, debts, or for something more material, can only be speculated on. One of the flight attendants told FBI interviewers that Cooper had been able to recognize the city of Tacoma from the air, and also noticed that McCord Air Force Base was less than half hours' drive from Seattle Airport, something that few civilians would have been aware of at that time. This has given rise to the idea that Cooper was an Air Force veteran, or at least had a background in aviation, a theory supported by Cooper's apparently expert knowledge of the nature of aircraft.

He was aware of flying techniques, engine placement, aircraft specifications, as well as local terrain. He may have also specifically selected the 727 model of aircraft, thanks to a recent innovation that allowed all three fuel tanks to be refilled at once. Cooper also knew that the rear staircase could be lowered during flight, a fact that was never disclosed to civilian flight crews since there was no situation on a passenger flight that would make it necessary. He also seemed aware that its operation, by a single switch in the rear of the cabin, could not be overridden from the cockpit. Some of this knowledge was only known by CIA

paramilitary units, so could Cooper have been former CIA or perhaps a rogue agent? One particularly interesting point is that Dan Cooper is a name shared by a popular Belgian comic book hero who enlisted in the Royal Canadian Air Force. Dan Cooper took part in numerous heroic adventures including parachuting. Yet the Dan Cooper comics were never translated into English nor were they imported over to the United States, so there has been much speculation that the hijacker may have encountered them during a tour of duty in Europe during World War II. The comics were not sold in the US, but since some copies were translated into French,

they were sold in Canada. Cooper could well have been a Canadian citizen, given that he jumped out of the plane in Washington. His escape plan could have been over the border to his native country, with the whole Mexico reference being a diversionary tactic. In line with this theory, much has been made of his specific demand for negotiable American currency, a phrase which some was determined as unlikely to be used by a U.S. citizen. Despite the fact that no dead body had ever been found,

the FBI has long speculated that Cooper did not survive his jump. Parachuting into the stormy Washington wilderness without the right equipment in such terrible conditions, it's unlikely he even got his chute open. And even if Cooper was lucky enough to land safely, survival in the mountainous terrain at that onset of winter would have been all but impossible without an accomplice waiting at an agreed upon drop zone. This would have required a perfectly timed jump, which would have required cooperation from the flight crew, and there is no evidence that Cooper requested or received any such help from the crew, or that he had any clear idea where he was when he jumped out of the plane. It was also revealed that one of the parachutes they had provided to Cooper had been a dummy, an unusable unit with an inoperative ripcord intended solely as a teaching

aid, although it had clear markings identifying it to any experienced skydiver as non-functional. However, the FBI stressed that inclusion of the dummy reserve parachute, one of four obtained in haste from a Seattle skydiving school, was accidental and not a deliberate attempt to kill Cooper. The search for D.B. Cooper officially ended on the 8th of July, 2016. It was on this date that the FBI announced that it was ending all active investigations, telling the public they needed to focus its investigative resources and manpower elsewhere. Local FBI field offices have stated they will continue to accept any legitimate physical evidence related specifically

to the parachutes or the ransom money that may emerge in the future. The 60-volume case file compiled over the 45-year course of the investigation will be preserved for historical purposes at FBI headquarters in Washington, D.C. On the FBI website, there is currently a 28-part packet full of evidence gathered over the years, and all the evidence is open to the public to read. So keep your eyes and ears open for a man with a little too much in the way of aircraft knowledge who has a little too much money for a retiree. There's every chance that D.B. Cooper might still be out there and it might be a listener of this very channel that finally solves the mystery

of the greatest airline heist of all time. In late June of 2014, a 28-year-old German man by the name of Lars Mittank took a vacation to the Bulgarian seaside resort of Golden Sands. Popular with tourists from all over Europe, Golden Sands is a major resort town on the northern Bulgarian Black Sea coasts, adjacent to a national park of the same name in the municipality of Varna. Located just over 15 kilometers north of downtown Varna, it is virtually connected to the city by a continuous swath of resorts and villa communities. On the 6th of July, Lars and his group of friends found themselves in a disagreement

with another group of young German men in a local bar. Lars and his companions were fans of the German football team Werder Bremen while the opposing group were Bayern Munich supporters. There is a rather high-profile rivalry between the two football clubs and the playful disagreement soon descended into a violent confrontation when one member of each group began pushing and shoving each other. The fight between the two of them quickly became a full-on bar brawl between the two groups. Chairs and bottles were thrown, pool cues were used as weapons,

and in the fray, Mittank suffered a ruptured eardrum from a particularly vicious strike. Mittank was forced to visit a local doctor to have his head examined. It was discovered that the injury was a particularly nasty one, one that came with a rather high risk of internal infection. So the doctor prescribed a course of the antibiotic cefriroxime and advised Lars not to fly for the next couple of weeks as it would risk seriously exacerbating the injury and cause a grievous amount of pain. He would also require another examination at the Bulgarian hospital in the coming weeks in order to ensure the wound was properly on the mend. This severely interfered with Lars and his friend's travel plans,

but Lars was not reckless enough to actually disobey the doctor's orders and so arrangements were made for him to fly back to Germany at a later date than was originally intended. Lars' friends insisted that they would stay with him if he needed them to, but he assured them that he would be perfectly fine on his own. Besides, a forced holiday extension wasn't the worst fate a young man could wish to endure. And so, Lars stayed in Bulgaria while his friends drove to the airport and flew back to Germany. He took a taxi back to the Hotel Kolarvarna, making reservations that would cover his recuperation period, then tried to spend the next few days relaxing and healing from his particularly nasty wound. But just a day after his friends left him behind in Bulgaria,

Lars began to act very oddly indeed His bizarre and erratic behavior was captured by the hotel's closed-circuit television security cameras He ran around the hotel, looking over his shoulder, accusing staff and guests alike of plotting against him A few of those encounters almost turned violent and on more than one occasion, the hotel staff threatened to call the police. Finally, once Lars' behavior had become unbearable, the hotel staff asked him to gather his belongings and leave. As such violent outbursts were strictly against hotel policy and could no longer be tolerated. But before he checked out of the hotel, Lars made a call to his mother back in Germany. She later stated that he seemed extremely upset and told her in hushed tones that four German men, possibly the same

his friend group fought with in the bar that day, were coming to kill him. He told her that he had made a significant withdrawal of cash to live off of and that she should cancel his credit cards. When she asked why, Lars told her that the men could use them to track his movements. Where he got such an idea is a mystery, but he seemed very, very insistent that this was the case. We know that on the 8th of July, Lars Mittang traveled to Varna airport in an attempt to travel back home to Germany, against the doctor's wishes. He attempted to purchase a ticket on a flight back home, but after looking around the airport and apparently seeing something, became so flustered and frightened that he abandoned the attempt altogether. Lars then sought out a medical services area of the airport

although it is clear that he did not ask for any medical attention and would not tell those inside why he wished to remain there. They later confirmed that he seemed jumpy and paranoid, as if though he was hiding from someone that was hunting him. About 45 minutes after originally taking shelter in the medical services area, the airport's CCTV cameras captured some kind of construction worker making their way over to the medical area. This seems to have triggered Lars into rushing out of the airport, having abandoned his backpack and luggage altogether. More CCTV footage shows Lars running across a two-lane highway, dodging speeding vehicles as he does so before reaching a large fence. Lars scaled the fence with frightening strength and speed, then sprints full pelt across a meadow before disappearing into a field of

sunflowers with a set of deep woods beyond them. Police investigated the incident thoroughly but found no evidence that Lars was being followed by anyone. They even contacted the group Lars' friends had fought with, but they all had alibis that confirmed that they were nowhere near the airport on the day of Lars' disappearance. Many theories about what happened are all over the internet. Some theories believe that he was being used as a drug mule. Some believe that he suffered a psychotic episode. Only two things are completely certain regarding this behavior and unexplainable incident. The first is that Lars did not suffer from any form of mental illness.

The second is that Lars was never seen again. Anywhere. Or by anyone. We'll put a smile on your face. Bet on the sports you love with BetRiver Sportsbook. Take a chance. Must be 19 plus. Available in Ontario only. Please play responsibly. If you have questions or concerns about your gambling or someone close to you, please contact ConnexOntario at 1-866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge.

The events of this story take place over the course of a few nights. Before we get there, I need to provide a little bit of backstory. My husband and I had just moved to New York City, like right in the heart of the city. The apartment was breathtaking. I kept thinking that it was a loft apartment you would see in a movie or a television show. My husband was fortunate enough to land a well-paying job that allowed us to afford this beautiful apartment. My favorite part was the view. At night you could see all the lights from the city out of the windows. It didn't take long for my husband to make some

friends at work. He's a very social person and being in sales for a decade makes it easy for him to strike up a conversation with anyone. Almost a year into living in the city, we had our weekend crew that we would hang out with routinely. We would have dinner, play games, or just have some drinks with Becky and Jim as well as another couple, Jason and Liz. But my husband's best friend from the city was a man named Eric. Eric did not have a significant other but never came alone. He always had a friend that he would bring. He would always joke with me and my husband. Don't worry guys, you never have to worry about me being the third wheel. This turned into a reoccurring joke and Eric was almost referred to as this third

wheel. One night after one of our little get-togethers, my husband and I were getting ready for bed. We talked for a while, but I'm pretty sure I fell asleep mid-sentence. I woke up at some point in the middle of the night. I didn't look at the time, but it was still dark, so before 5am if I had to guess. I heard a noise and I know that it's what woke me up. I just laid in bed feeling a bit uneasy and looked up in the dark room. I thought I could see a figure of some kind in the corner of the room. The more I tried to focus, the more and harder it was to see. I felt as if though I could almost hear something like breathing or wheezing. After a

few minutes I felt much better and chalked it up to some kind of vivid nightmare and rolled over back to bed. I was too scared in the moment to look and didn't want to wake my husband up for something that was probably just a giant overreaction. The next night came and same story. We went to bed at around 11. I didn't tell my husband about the events of the night before. Again, I was awoken in the middle of the night. This time I looked at the time and it was shortly after 4am. I could for sure hear breathing this time.

I looked around the room from the bed but this time I couldn't see any figures like I did the night before. I could just hear the breathing and it felt so close. I tried waking up my husband but he was out cold. I didn't try awfully hard because he had to wake up in about an hour for work. I didn't sleep well the rest of the night and I woke up with him in the morning and did not want to stay in the bedroom alone when he left. I moved to the living room and slept on the couch for a couple of hours. The day was miserable. I couldn't shake the weird feeling for the entire day. Around two in the afternoon I took a shower. When I turned the shower off and was drying my hair in the bathroom I heard something from outside the bathroom door. I froze in paranoia in the bathroom and listened with my ear to the door but

heard nothing. Finally I worked up the courage to leave the bathroom and felt a minor moment of relief when I was in fact still alone in the apartment. Shortly after five my husband came home from work and I told him about the events of the last two nights. At first he laughed as if though I were telling him a joke. Once he realized how freaked out I was, he then began to try and rationalize what I could have been seeing and hearing. I have to say I was insulted because he even suggested that maybe I had too much to drink, but that was not the case whatsoever. He then said in a reassuring voice,

Listen, if it happens again just wake me up and I'll search the room. This actually did give me some relief that I was able to talk to him about it. However, I was still anxious that I would hear or see something again. That night came quickly and I was so tired from the previous night that I fell asleep even though I was practically petrified to go to bed. Again, right around 3.30 in the morning, I woke up to the sound of breathing and it was undeniable at this point. I looked around the room and saw nothing, just like the previous night. I woke up my husband and told him to listen. He said he could hear the breathing too. He sprang from the bed and turned on the light. There was thankfully nobody standing

in the room. That brief moment of solace ended quickly when that nightmare came true. My husband walked over to the walk-in closet and emerging from under the bed was our friend Eric. He sprinted towards my husband who was now in the closet and tackled him. I screamed in panic, absolutely freaking out. I jumped from the bed and tried to make a run for the door. My plan was to just yell in the hallway until someone hopefully heard me. I didn't even make it to the door before Eric had caught me. I screamed as loud as I could and thankfully in that quick moment my husband sprang out and tackled Eric in return. I ran to the cell phone and called the police. My husband is a fairly large man and was able to get

Eric to the ground and keep him there and subdue him until the cops showed up. To the police's credit, they showed up incredibly fast. My husband only had minor scrapes and bruises but had a pretty big knot on his head. When the cops were arresting Eric, we could hear him saying, I didn't want to be the third wheel anymore. I didn't want to be the third wheel anymore. What's even more disturbing is that he told the police he was inside of our apartment for a couple of days. He had somehow stolen my husband's key and made a copy of it. He was apparently breaking into the apartment for weeks, but had been staying during the night for the last few days. I'm not sure why he didn't try anything while we were sleeping or any of the times myself or my husband were alone in the apartment.

It still freaks me out thinking that this man was inches from where I slept. We're now back in my hometown and not living in the city anymore. The terror you feel being trapped that high up in the sky with nowhere to run has made me extremely claustrophobic. You never know what people are capable of, even people you consider close friends. The police did inform us that Eric stated he didn't intend to hurt either one of us that night but the look in his eyes told us a completely different story. To be continued... mind. I am from a fairly bigger city in New York State, not New York City. Once a year, for as long as I can remember, I would travel up north to the mountains with my family and stay in a cabin. This was a family tradition that I kept long into my twenties and I still go today, well,

maybe not anymore. I am now 26 years old and travel to this beautiful cabin with my girlfriend Rachel. This place was beautiful. It sits high on the mountains and overlooked a lake. From the back deck you could see the lake and the surrounding trees. Escaping to this nirvana was the peace of mind I look forward to every year. This story starts about two hours away from our cabin destination. Rachel and I stopped at a rest stop to get some snacks and coffee for the rest of our trip. As we pulled away to get back onto the highway, we noticed a large white truck with two kayaks pulling behind us.

We laughed, assuming that this truck was probably just following us all the way to our destination as there is many spots to kayak up in that part of the state. Our theory, however, seemed to be accurate. We were just 10 minutes away from our cabin and the truck was still following behind us. This didn't set off any red flags because, like I said, this was a popular place for tourists, especially this time of year. We eventually reached our street, we turned on the dirt road and as we turned, we noticed the white truck kept driving. We jokingly laughed and said goodbye to our traveling companion. Our cabin was about a hundred yards or so down this dirt road.

The place was like a dream home. All wood finishes, high ceilings surrounded by lots of trails and as I previously stated, the beautiful view over the lake. That first night we were there was lovely. The weather was perfect. We sat on the back deck, stared at the stars and just listened to nature all around us. The next day Rachel and I went into town to see some local shops and get closer to the water. We had a bit of a laugh when, to our surprise, we saw the white truck. It was parked in a lot by the marina. The only reason why we knew it was the same truck was

because the same dirty kayaks were attached to the top. I jokingly said to Rachel that if the driver were there, I would have introduced myself, but there was no driver anywhere near the vehicle. Nothing more than just a crazy coincidence, we thought. After spending a couple of hours in town, we finally went back to the cabin to enjoy the scenery for the rest of the afternoon and evening. At about 7pm, I thought I had heard some rustling in the trees to the left of the deck. I grabbed my phone to take a picture of whatever animal emerged. I could not make out any details of any animals or anything of the sort. I could however clearly hear the breaking of branches and rustling of leaves but could not

make out anything. Then I thought I heard what sounded like a cough from my right side now. I immediately turned to my right and started looking into the woods from that side but again saw nothing. I suddenly had that sickening feeling that I was being watched. I sat like a deer in the headlights just waiting to be attacked on all sides but whatever was in the woods but nothing ever came. Later that night after we ate I told Rachel about the experience I had and she turned white as a ghost. She had told me earlier when she went walking through the woods, she thought that she had also heard coughing,

but just chalked it up to her imagination. We talked about maybe calling the property owner or even the police just in case, but we both agreed that we were being neurotic. That night we decided to sleep out in the living room in front of the fireplace. The living room was amazing. It had two huge sliding glass doors that overlooked the lakes and mountains. We figured we would sleep there, stare at the moonlight and stars, and then wake up to the sunlight shining in. Unfortunately, this did not go as planned.

We both were jolted awake shortly after 2am to a loud bang. I sprung from all the pillows and blankets we laid on the floor to witness one of the single most horrifying things I had ever seen. There was a man at the sliding door, at least I think it was a man. The figure was tall and menacing, but most frightening was his mask. He had an owl mask on, but the mask had antlers on it. The figure had one hand up, positioned on the glass door, almost as if he were waving. The other was concealed behind his back. Rachel screamed in a panic, and somehow was able to utter the words, Call 911. I could have gone out there, but I was too scared and had no idea if this person had a weapon. Then I remembered hearing noises in the woods from all sides, so I began to wonder if there were others out there as well.

I thought it would be safest to stay inside and just keep my eyes on the figure. The cops took about ten minutes to get there, and that was the longest ten minutes of my entire life. Rachel cried and screamed. I had a knife from the kitchen in my hands, and we just stood face to face with this thing like a western stare down. It didn't move. It just stood still with one arm up and the other behind its back the entire duration of the ten minutes. Finally, when we saw the lights of the car, the guy retreated into the woods. I ran out to meet the police officer who had no sense of urgency whatsoever. I tried to explain that we had an intruder and he ran into the woods, but the cop just kept telling me to relax and explain to him what happened.

Long story short, the cop was no help at all. Basically, he told us that the locals don't like tourists and he was sure that this was just a prank of some teenagers from the town and we had nothing to fear. That was why the figure didn't cause us any real harm. Rachel and I were completely unsatisfied by this. The cop came, took our statement and essentially left. Rachel and I sat in the living room, still completely shook to the core with fear. It was now a little after 3.30am, and we decided this was enough. We were going to get our stuff and leave, probably stay in a hotel for the night and contact the property owner in the morning. We packed our stuff incredibly fast and made our way to the door and once again we were struck frozen in fear.

There at the front door were two figures, smaller than the first one but still wearing owl masks. Out of fear, we turned and ran to the back door and the figure from before was there. The taller figure with the owl mask and antlers. We called the police again, but we feared we didn't have ten minutes to wait this time. In unison now, all three figures tried to open the doors. We ran to the master bathroom, which had a window in it. We began to climb out. We tried to be as quiet as we could and ran down the dirt road. It was pointless to scream for help because there was no other houses anywhere near our cabin. We got to the main road and called the police again. The cop met us at the side of the road.

We said we were not going back to the house. The cop agreed to take us to a hotel in town and as we began driving, several yards down the road both Rachel and I became frantic. There parked in the thick brush on the side of the road was the white truck with the kayaks. We told the cop, who still seemed a bit apprehensive, but took the statement. The next day we went back to the house with some police. It made us sick to our stomachs. The entire house was ransacked and destroyed.

All the windows were broken and all the decorations smashed up in the cabin. It made us sick to our stomachs. The entire house was ransacked and destroyed. All the windows were broken and all the decorations smashed up in the cabin. In the master bedroom where all of our luggage was, it was completely destroyed and thrown all over the room. When the cops went back to investigate the white truck, the truck was gone. Luckily, the property owner had some cameras on outside of the property and saw the three figures stalking the outside of the house for hours. Even more terrifying was the entire day and night before they were stalking the house as well. I'm just so thankful we somehow got out of this situation unharmed.

The police unfortunately had no answers for us, couldn't locate the truck or had any leads to the people who did this. To a degree, Rachel and I actually wondered if maybe they were in on it. Rachel and I are still trying to recover from these events and I hope one day I can find a place that can give me that comfort of peace and tranquility again. Whenever I tell people that I'm from New York, they assume New York City, but in fact there is plenty of other beautiful places in the state to live. I live out of state now, but during the events of this story, I still lived in upstate New York. Anybody who is familiar with upstate knows that there are some absolutely amazing places to hike.

About three years ago, my friend Summer and I decided to go on a hike. We drove about an hour or so from our hometown and found a nice long trail to explore. What was nice about our hike was that we found a really secluded place and dove almost right into the woods. There was a couple of beat down trails on the road, but nothing that could have stopped us or made us feel like we were trespassing. Summer was really good about navigating forests, being able to identify poison ivy and just keeping exceptionally good bearings, which is good because I was absolutely horrible at all that kind of outdoorsy stuff. We traversed for about 40 minutes or so off the main road into the woods. It was gorgeous exploring these woods that looked untouched by humans.

Then out of nowhere the most peculiar thing happened. 40 minutes off the main road in the woods was a bench. But the bench was completely destroyed and dirty. If I were to sit in the bench it would probably collapse. We took photos of the strange forgotten bench and continued on our journey. Probably about 50 yards away we approached a small chain fence that seemed to stretch for a couple of yards. Behind the fence were these small huts. That's really the only way I can describe them.

The huts were built with wood, metal, wire fencing, street signs. Pretty much anything you could think of was used for walls for these tiny little buildings. Pretty creeped out at this point, Summer and I approached the small buildings. They were completely taken over by nature and inside there was a single chair, some lockers, and tons of decay and debris. We kept walking and eventually approached these two giant black tubes that almost looked like pillars of some kind. Against our better judgment, we kept exploring and asking ourselves the question, what is all this? The compound, or whatever you want to call it, really opened up after the black tubes. There were now dozens of these small little huts. Our next big moment of disbelief was in the giant pile of debris that sat in the middle of all these huts

There were telephone poles, all smashed up and broken But on these wooden beams that lay in the dirt there were light switches and wire Whatever this creepy place was actually had electricity at some point The only thing that gave us some peace of mind was that there was no way anybody could have lived here now. It looked like it had been abandoned since the 60s or something. I only say that because there were statues, trash, and items that were really looking like that style. We started to look a little bit more in depth in some of these small huts. There were statues of Santa Claus everywhere, religious iconography and fake flowers.

At every turn there was something different and strange. There was a bus that seemed like it was cut in half. Inside it was furnished with chairs and lights that were completely covered in moss and vines now. On the far side of the compound was severely overgrown weeds and parked in the weeds was an old truck. Again, this truck had all sorts of weeds and bushes growing out of the windows and doors. We made our way to what seemed like the end of all of this craziness, but then it just got weirder. There were tons of naked mannequins all over the place. They were hanging in trees, in the weeds, half buried in the dirt.

They also had no heads, which was deeply unsettling. Coming from the other direction, we saw a somewhat bigger hut than the others. Just to give you a bit of context in case I wasn't clear, these huts that I'm describing are maybe big enough for a small child to live in. They were smaller than most cars, but this one hut, this one was slightly more than double the size, and on the far side of the hut was what appeared to be a hollowed out oil drum. This small building was filled with tons of religious statues and carnival equipment like old circus items. The feeling Summer and I had at this time was that of paranoia and fear.

We decided we'd seen enough and it was time to go. As we approached the first set of huts, we heard shuffling coming from within the small compound. We froze completely in our tracks. We were so far off the road and in the middle of the woods, clearly nobody could be here, but we heard the shuffling. This could have easily been a deer and any other number of animals that made these woods their home, but her and I both had this same feeling. A feeling of just darkness and pain. We didn't want to wait and see what it was, and we decided to move rather quickly and run from this place. We made it back to the car in about 20 minutes, which is half the time it took to get to these huts.

We got to the car and actually were greeted by some cops. The cops told us somebody called in complaint that some kids were trespassing and up to no good. We explained to them what was in there and even tried to show some pictures but they were not having it one bit. Basically they told us to leave immediately if we didn't want to get detained which we both thought was extremely excessive. If anybody out there had ever seen anything like this, any idea what it could be? We thought maybe some kind of home for a circus, perhaps workers of some kind. The only thing that made it so outlandish was how deep it was into the woods

and how far away it was from any kind of town or city. I've never been back and I have no desire to ever go back. I'm writing this in hopes that somebody has stumbled across something similar and may have some additional information they could share. Anybody who has ever camped up in the Adirondacks area of upstate New York knows just how breathtaking and beautiful it can be any time of the year. Last year I stayed with my family in a cabin that rested in the mountains. I had recently split up with my long time girlfriend and it seemed like a wonderful place to go to clear my head. At first my theory was correct. It was therapeutic and beautiful being out in nature, and it was nice spending some time with my family. One of the really nice

things about this cabin was that it was truly separated from any other residence. The closest cabin or campsite was probably at least a mile or more away. This meant we had total and complete privacy, or so we thought. One late afternoon, probably around 5pm, we heard some shuffling coming from the front of the cabin. We were sitting on the back porch and heard some movement that sounded like footsteps. A little on edge, my brother and I got up and got ready, just in case we needed to leap into action. All of a sudden, two middle-aged men walked into the back where we were sitting. I asked in a very abrasive and annoyed voice, hey, what are you doing? Can I help you with something? The men just looked and

laughed and said in a cheery voice, well, hello there, young man. My name is Louis and this is Tito. We just really wanted to check out the view at this place. We've heard so many wonderful stories. The man seemed sincere, but something just didn't seem right to me. I still looked at them with an uneasy feeling in my stomach, but my mother, who was a very friendly person, made small talk with the man. Perhaps the most unsettling thing of this entire interaction was the friend Tito who was just standing around looking at the house with seemingly no facial movement or anything. Louis was charismatic, smiled a lot and made lots of eye contact, where Tito was almost the opposite. After several minutes of

small talk, they vanished back into the woods. I was not a fan of this at all and quickly let my family know about it. Where were these guys coming from, I thought. As I stated previously, the closest place was about a mile or so away and that place belonged to the guy who owned the cabin we were staying in, so Louis and Tito must have been hiking for a little while to get to our cabin which is not unlikely up in the Adirondacks but something was off about that entire interaction. It bothered me all night. Around 11pm my family went to bed and I sat around a fire with my brother and his fiance. Every little noise I

heard caused me to jump. My brother told me not to worry about it and I was just worrying too much over nothing. I pretended everything was okay but really I was still uneasy about our unwelcome visitors. Shortly after midnight it was just my brother and I around the fire. We decided to let the last few logs burn out before we went inside. This is when Louis decided to pay us another visit, but this time he was not so friendly. My brother and I jumped out of our chairs and were now facing Louis and Tito who were coming out of the woods. They looked crazed. Louis did not have that same charming personality as before. His eyes were bulging from his head, and he flashed his pearly white teeth in an almost sadistic way. Tito, who was almost

a statue earlier in the day, stood next to Louis, also smiling, and slowly approaching me and my brother. Louis started to slowly approach us and said, This cabin is lovely. I think we'll be staying here now. He reached into his bag as if to pull something out. Tito, who was slightly behind him, was already wielding some sort of bushwhacking sword. Not trying to take any chances as to what Lewis was pulling out of the bag, my brother decided to tackle the man. He went down with relative ease.

As Tito approached my brother with the sword, I ran over and pushed him, strictly only using adrenaline as my motivator. Both men got up and backed away. Lewis, now standing about ten feet away, kept saying, You have no idea who I am and who you're messing with. I built this house. This is my land. After repeating this a couple of times, Tito finally spoke up as well and said in an almost robotic voice, We shall have our land back. We must wait for the right time. Tito grabbed the shoulder of Louis and they both ran into the woods. Remember, this is after midnight, in the middle of the woods,

so it was pitch black other than a soft orange light from the dying fire. We put the fire out rather quickly and went inside the cabin and made sure all the doors and windows were locked. My brother and I stayed up all night and basically watched the property to make sure they didn't return. I've never been so happy to see the sun in my entire life. The next day we went to see the property owner and told him about the entire night. He said he had never heard of the two names before and assured me that no Lewis ever built that house. The owner who we were renting the cabin from told us that he built the cabin ten years

ago. So who were these two that claimed that they built the cabin? The owner was kind enough to refund us for the rest of the nights we were supposed to stay at the cabin. I know this could have ended much worse for us. In all things considered, I am very lucky that I left with no more than some minor psychological damage. Be safe everyone, and always lock your doors. You never know who could be creeping around outside. To be continued... a few hours of sightseeing. It was a one night overnight and only possible because my hometown was approximately 3-4 hours outside of NYC. There was a substantial number of chaperones on the trip but we did have some independence. We were able to stay in our rooms but we had assignments for who would be staying in what rooms. The hotel itself looked like it had been converted from

an old apartment building The outside was completely brick and didn't look like any hotel I'd ever seen before The inside looked nice and seemed clean Our room consisted of me and two of my close friends, Tim and Joey I remember that during the day it was extremely sunny outside So much so that I think I got sunburn on my face Joey was the one in the friend group that could make anyone laugh the day it was extremely sunny outside, so much so that I think I got sunburn on my face. Joey was the one in the friend group that could make anyone laugh. He was always busting everyone's chops or trying to pull off a prank. I remember we brought a video game system to try and hook

up to the hotel TV, but we either didn't have the right cords or the hotel TV didn't have the right adapters to allow us to hook up the gaming system. With that plan out the window, we quickly became bored and were looking for something to do. Probably for 30 to 40 minutes, we all just sat with our faces buried in our phones, probably texting our other friends who were on the trip. Joey suggested that we go walk around the hotel and kill some time before we were ready to go to bed. We agreed, but knew we had to be quiet because I think technically we weren't supposed to leave our rooms, I don't honestly remember. I remember feeling really cold in the hotel. It was probably a mix of the temperature dropping and getting burned by the sun earlier in the day. I grabbed a hoodie before we left the room so I

could throw it on in case I was still feeling cold while we walked around. We began by just walking around our floor, waiting to see if we saw any other kids from our class who had the same idea as we did. The floor was actually pretty quiet. We didn't hear much of anything except for a super loud ice machine. The ice machine had some vending machines near it, and we decided to grab a few sodas and some snacks. That way, if we got caught out of our rooms we could have just said we needed something to eat or drink. Just as we were about to head

back to our room Joey decided that it would be hilarious to take my hoodie and throw it down the trash chute. He grabbed the hoodie from my hands, opened the chute and dropped the sweatshirt in and closed the door. All of this happened while Tim and Joey were basically crying with laughter. Joey then told me to relax and that a hotel certainly wouldn't have a garbage chute that dropped garbage either outside or to a basement. Yeah, he opened the chute door back up and wouldn't you guessed it, my hoodie was gone. I could tell that Joey was genuinely shocked and felt really bad. I told him to forget it and started to laugh so he wouldn't continue to feel terrible about the situation.

As we got another 20 steps down the hallway, heading back to our room, I stopped in my tracks and started padding my pockets. My phone... where was it? Oh man, it must have been in the hoodie pocket or in my hands when Joey grabbed the hoodie. I stopped both Joey and Timmy and told them I think my phone accompanied my hoodie down the garbage chute. At this point, Joey's face turned ghost white. I knew it was an accident and he had no idea, but that was Joey. Anything for a laugh. We started to think about what we should do.

Should we tell a chaperone? Should we go to the front desk? We figured it would be best to try to find it ourselves to avoid getting into any trouble. I remember that the elevator had a button for the basement so I figured we could hopefully head down there, find it, and turn to our room before anyone noticed. When we got to the basement, it was really dark and we couldn't find any light switches. We used the light from our phones to try and navigate the area. It was still pretty difficult to see, but we were able to make our way around. I had Jolie calling my phone constantly, but I always kept my phone on vibrate so it was unlikely we would be able to hear it. We probably walked around 5-10 minutes but

all we were really able to find was washing machines and what looked like linen and cleaning product storage. We made our way back to the elevator but when we got there, there was an out of order sign on the elevator door. How could the elevator have stopped working in such a short period of time and how did someone put a sign up there without us hearing? The out of order sign also had a smiley face on it which we thought was kind of weird. At this point we just wanted to get back to the room. Yeah, I'd be in trouble with my parents for losing my phone but we were starting to get a little freaked out and decided it was best to get back to the room before someone noticed we were missing. We started walking around the basement again trying to find a door or an entrance to get us to the stairs so we could get out of the basement and back to the lobby or our floor.

After a few attempts we did find a door that led to a flight of stairs, however, the door to get out of the stairwell to the lobby was locked. Starting to panic, we had to see if we could find a way to get outside. Thankfully, we were able to find another door that led us outside rather quickly. Breathing a deep sigh of relief, we figured we would just go to the lobby, ask if anyone had reported a missing phone, and then head back to our room for the night. As we pivoted to head back to where we thought the main entrance would be, Joey yelled, Hey, look over there.

There were two dumpsters and one of them had my black hoodie hanging on top of it. Joey grabbed the hoodie and started feeling around to see if he could find the phone. Unfortunately, he couldn't feel the phone but began climbing it to see if we could hear the vibration or see it light up. After a few attempts, I told him it's probably gone and we should just go inside. I'm going to lie at this point. I started worrying that maybe I just left it in the hotel room and how angry Joey and Tim would be if that was the case. We got back to the room seemingly unnoticed and got ready for bed,

reflecting on our experience that we had just went through. We had some laughs and started to doze off to sleep. I was jolted awake by Joey shaking me violently. Once I realized what was going on, he said, Why are you messing with me? You think this is funny? Me, barely awake and having no idea what he's talking about, just gave him a confused look. Joey showed me his phone and he had two separate texts of me from 1am. The first one showing a picture of the out of order sign on the elevator

and the second saying come find me. It took a few minutes convincing Joey that it wasn't me messing with him. Once he realized it wasn't me, he became concerned as to who would be sending the messages I told him to just block the number and go back to sleep I told him I would tell my parents my phone was stolen and that I wanted to change my number After about another half hour of talking about the situation, we back to sleep until our wake up call in the AM. Apparently Joey disregarded my advice and didn't block the number. When he woke up he had one more text from my phone that said, good choice, with a smiley face. We didn't really talk much more about this instance as we didn't want the story getting around to the class, the chaperones, and then eventually our parents.

I'm still very close to Joey to this day, and sometimes every once in a while we talk about that night. I always ask him if he was just messing with me, and he always denies it. I wonder who ended up with my phone that night, and I wonder if we had continued looking for it if we would have been in any real danger. New York City is a gigantic, sprawling place with people in just about every corner of the area. There aren't too many rural or non-crowded areas, so when you find places that seem untouched for years, it comes as a bit of a shock. I'm writing this story down for the first time to share my experience. My friends and I were pretty good kids for the most part, at least that was my perspective. We didn't really get into too much trouble, probably due to the fact that what we thought our parents might do if we did get into trouble.

Over the summer, before many of us were going to be heading all over the country for college, we decided to spend as much time as we could together. One of our hobbies that summer was to explore the nooks and crannies of the city and take loads of photos. We would find and explore all sorts of buildings that were abandoned, old tunnels, and run-down houses. This specific summer night, we met up as we usually did and found this old building in a lesser populated area. At first, it was no different than any other building that we had found in the past. The inside was completely decrepit and filled with trash. It was always nice to try and imagine how the building would look before they were completely condemned or abandoned. We would usually try and research the location after we took pictures and kind of do a before and after. We took a couple

of dozen photos and then noticed something strange on the far side on the main floor. There was an old tipped over bookcase but the style of the bookcase did not match anything else in the building. It was almost as if the bookcase was too new for the space. Just out of curiosity I lifted up the bookcase and there was actually a trap door underneath the banged up piece of furniture. After very little deliberation, we decided upon opening the trap door and exploring underneath the building. It was a small ladder that led to an even smaller landing. From the small landing was a staircase that led down to a dark room. The only light was the illumination of the trap door we had left open.

We did have some flashlights and once we reached the bottom we all turned on our lights and looked for a switch. It didn't take long for us to locate the switch and to our surprise it had power. Similar to what you would see in the warehouse we flipped the switch. One by one each light turned on to shed light on a massive underground room of some kind. The room was largely empty for the most part, except for two things. Several feet from the bottom of the stairs was a desk with pens. That was it. No paper, no books, or anything else. Located all the way at the very end of the room,

completely adjacent from the stairs, was a sort of vault of some kind. Incredibly curious, we decided to check out the vault, to see if it was open or if it was just a large door of some sort. Just to give you an idea of the scope of this room, the vault was probably close to 20 yards from the staircase. When we got to the vault, it was obviously sealed shut. At first, we just took a couple of pictures and then started to bang on the vault and try to open it. And that's when we froze in fear. We heard something bang back on the vault. Scared out of our minds, we started to bang frantically on the vault door and the banging from the other side got more intense as well. We thought maybe it was some kind of

echo or something like that, but this theory went out the window when we started to hear other noises coming from the vault. It sounded almost like a siren or maybe even a scream. We weren't sure but decided to sprint out of this building both in shock and fear. Once outside of the building we made sure to get away as soon as we could in case we actually did set off an alarm. From what we understand the police did show up but found nothing in relation to the vault. Apparently we were the only ones who were potentially breaking the law. A few weeks later against our better judgment we decided to go potentially breaking the law. A few weeks later, against our better judgment, we decided to go back to the vault. We carefully made our way to the open room, but to our surprise,

this vault was actually now open. I admit we were intrigued as well as scared, but decided to look inside anyway. It was a huge vault. Inside was empty crates that looked like it was made of damp wood. Blankets filled most of the floor and lots of paper plates that had food scraps on them covered the remaining floor opening. The space inside the vault was big enough for several adults to fit in comfortably. We took some photos and left. The place was just too creepy for us to spend any more time inside. After that night, we started coming up with all sorts of theories. Was someone living or squatting in there? How was this vault door closed the last time we were there? Was someone trapped inside? The next summer when all of us were home from college, we decided to go back one more time, but were stunned when we

arrived at the building. The building had burned down and there was nothing left but rubble. We tried to locate the whereabouts of where the trapped door would be but could not locate it through the now wasteland of debris. We have no idea what we heard that night and still talk about it to this day. We often come to the consensus that we're happy we didn't end up on the other side of a closed vault. I work for a local health facility in western New York and for the last three to four months, I have been able to mostly work from home. This has caused a significant change to daily operations, but I'm thankful to be fortunate enough to still have a job.

Due to financial difficulties in the organization, we have had to restructure and consolidate certain departments. Instead of working strictly for my local department, I now also fill in for one of our satellite locations that's about an hour away. Even though I am mostly working from home, I do have to go into the office both locally and at the satellite location a few times every couple of weeks. The first time I went to the satellite location, I was introduced to the staff and the layout of the office. They surprisingly had more people in the office than I expected, but it was a large department where they could accommodate the appropriate social distancing guidelines. Everything went well and the team was very friendly and welcoming.

As I was getting ready to leave, a gentleman named Jared ran up to me and apologized that he had not been able to introduce himself. This seemed nice enough, but he was pretty close to my personal space and everyone else I encountered had done a great job of keeping their distance. I backed away slightly and told him it was no problem and it was nice to meet him. He then followed up with, nice to have a female around here. Not knowing how to respond, I just kind of gave a fake laugh and said, well, I better get going. As I began to walk away, he didn't say anything. That is, until I got to the door and I heard, I'm sure I'll be seeing you soon.

Accompanied with an arm flailing wave. Fast forward to two weeks later where I had just gotten home from another commute to the satellite office. This is when I began to notice some weird occurrences at my house. As soon as I got home I noticed that the door to my shed was completely open. That was odd, because I always kept it closed so that my dogs wouldn't get in there and it also had a padlock on it to prevent anyone from going in and stealing anything out of it. I went outside and noticed the padlock was gone, but everything in the shed looked intact and nothing seemed to be missing. I closed it and put a reminder in my phone to pick up another padlock the next time I was out. Over the next few days, I couldn't shake a feeling of being

watched. I felt this weird sense of paranoia and anxiety. I have a window in my home office and could have sworn that I saw the same black car drive by my house at least a dozen times. I brushed it off and got back focused on my work as it was starting to pile up. I worked until about 5.30pm that night and decided to take a break to eat some dinner. When I got back at around 7pm, I noticed that the light near my webcam was on. I checked to make sure that it wasn't on because I had left one of my meetings open from earlier in the day. There were no active meetings open, but the light remained on. I freaked out and covered it with a piece of paper and tape.

Shortly after I covered the camera, the light went off. I decided that it was time to go to bed and that I would call IT in the morning to make sure that nothing was wrong with my computer or the system. I got into bed and fell right asleep, only to be awakened by what sounded like a door slamming coming from outside my window. My dogs had clearly heard it as well because both of their heads were perked up and pointed towards the bedroom window. When I looked out the window, I got a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. It looked like the same black car that I noticed going up and down my road over the last few days. I couldn't tell if anyone was inside the car and now my dogs were walking around the room wanting to go outside. I let them out

into the backyard and as soon as the sensor light went on, I saw that the shed door was open again. The dogs ran, barking like crazy towards the shed but as they approached they seemingly lost interest and made their way to the other side of the yard. Terrified at this point, I knew I was going to have to look into the shed and to make sure there was nothing or no one in there. I called the dogs over to be near me just in case, but as far as I could tell there was nothing in there. As I went back inside, I peered out of the front door window and noticed that the black car was gone. I went back upstairs and locked the bedroom door and tried to go back

to sleep. I got up very early and contacted IT to let them know what happened with my computer. After some investigation, the IT guy who seemed very annoyed that he was working said that they had already received a few complaints on this issue and that an internal employee had been terminated for attempting to gain access onto other colleagues' computers. When I pressed for further details, he said that I would have to reach out to HR for more information. I didn't reach out to HR and figured I could just continue to monitor things and report anything out of the ordinary. Plus, my mind was still distracted from the night before. Two days later, I went back to the satellite office. After a long day of work, and as I was getting ready to leave,

I overheard two people talking about Jared. They were saying that he was no longer with the organization, and that the rumor was he was accused of stalking and trying to access other employees' work computers. For a moment I thought about joining the conversation and asking for more details, but I decided against it. As I began the hour drive home, thoughts began to race through my head. Was what I had been experiencing over the last few weeks caused by a deranged co-worker? Was this all just one big coincidence? I don't know if I will ever have that answer.

All I know is that several weeks have gone by since these events occurred and I haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary. The anxiety and paranoia have subsided but I hope I don't have to experience something like this again. So I work for a very major retailer you've all heard of. This was from a year and a half or so ago back when I worked in the electronics and photo departments. One afternoon I answered the phone and spoke to a customer. He wasn't very direct about what exactly he was looking for.

At first he said he was looking for a gift for a family member that he hated. He said he wanted it to be something that they would accept because of the obligation but would absolutely hate. I asked if he was looking for a type of gag gift and he dodged my question. Instead, he started asking me what I would buy if I wanted to get a gift for a family member like that. I said I wasn't sure, but maybe a movie or some music they didn't like would be a good choice. Then he surprised me by asking what type of movies I like watching. I said it wasn't anything that would really fit what he was looking for as I usually watch anime. Next he asked if that was something I'd want to watch over dinner.

I said I certainly do watch it while I eat dinner sometimes not knowing where he was going with this Then he said no I meant with me I laughed nervously and told him no Then I quickly changed the subject back to what he was looking for and asked if we had a certain TV series in stock I told him I'd go check By this point I was feeling pretty uncomfortable but I wanted to keep my customer service and not disappoint the customer by being rude. So I found what he was looking for and then told him the price and how many copies were in stock. After this, he asked me some other question about myself,

and I told him that perhaps I wasn't the best person to help him, so I handed the phone off to a male co-worker. I walked away from the desk at that point and made my way back to the photo department where I felt safer as I wasn't in the direct view of customers who were walking around. I took a moment to collect myself before I left. The next part was of my co-worker's interaction with a customer on the phone. My co-worker introduced himself in the usual manner and asked how he could help. The man said, oh man, where did that cute bubbly girl go? My co-worker replied with an improvised response of, oh, she's actually our photo associate. She doesn't know as much about electronics. To which the customer responded, oh, I'd like to see some pictures of

her without clothes on. To which my coworker did not know how to respond. The customer then said it would be easier to just shop in person that he'd be back later to see me and hung up. I asked my coworker if he was able to ever get the customer off the phone. He told me what the customer had said and I felt literally sick. I was also so terrified of coming into contact with this customer that I went to management and reported the issue to them. They just chuckled and said that there wasn't anything they could do as it was likely just a prank caller. I was worried about spending any time on the sales floor but I still had to complete my shift. That evening I was terrified. I politely asked a male co-worker to walk me to my car. He obliged and thankfully we saw no trace of the creepy guy anywhere and we've never heard

from him ever since then. In high school, I was the weirdo. Always reading classic literature, hair dyed, listening to punk and ska, etc. I had a small group of like-minded friends, but other than us, it was a very straight white school filled with very closed minds. Until the arrival of Mr. X. Mr. X was different to all of the other teachers. His clothes were unkempt, but in a cool, edgy sort of way. His hair was long and scruffy, and he had an air of rebellion about him. He was, of course, an English teacher and immediately we became friends. I say friends because I'm now old enough to know how inappropriate that was.

But I'd spend lunch times in his room talking about Oscar Wilde, Mary Shelley, feminism, etc. We'd listen to cool music and talk about concerts we'd been to. He'd often say things like, I can't believe you're only 14. You're so mature. I was flattered and felt like he truly saw me for who I was. Reading this 20 years later, I feel embarrassed, but I guess that's how it was. A few months after he joined the school, something changed. Mr. X started sitting too close to me during our lunchtime hangouts. He began asking me to meet him at a local nightclub, famous for letting underage girls in, and I started to view him less as a lone wolf Jack Kerouac character and more as a bit of a sad and desperate individual.

His conversations turned very inappropriate. Little comments like, no one could ever call you flat chesteded and I bet you're more experienced in the bedroom, etc. And any air of mystery or intrigue I'd previously believed he had soon disappeared. Eventually I stopped hanging out with him and moved on. I would think about him occasionally but more with a shudder than anything else. Two years later, I opened the local newspaper to see Mr. X's face on the front page. He had been discovered hiding in school, in a female student's toilet cubicle with mirrors glued to the tops of his shoes.

He would basically upskirt whoever was in the next cubicle. Added to that, he was discovered to have recordings and photos of numerous students, all taken without permission. I have no idea if any of them involved me, but there were thousands of them found. The police arrested him and he was put in jail for over ten years. The slight irony is that I am now an English teacher. The love of literature never went away in spite of all this creepiness. Before I begin, I should state that this was a few years ago and I'm a tiny woman. Back at this time I looked like a teenager so I've always been mindful that I seem an easy target or easier to fool. I had seen a job interview for a small business looking for a secretary.

No experience needed as they would provide on-the-job training and as that's the kind of thing I was looking for I applied. I heard back quickly and was invited to an interview. When I arrived I was excited. It was a bit of a journey from my home but it was in a beautiful old building on the third floor with a modern layout inside though you could tell it was very new as it was bare bones and very little had been unpacked. Still though if you have to work somewhere might as well be a nice building, right? Anyway, the interview seemed normal. I only encountered female members of staff and they were all warm and lovely. The woman interviewing me was amazing and even sat

talking to me for a while after getting to know me. When I get home I wasn't in the door long before I get a phone call from them. I nailed the interview. Awesome I thought and I was off for the job. I was about to accept when I was told on the phone, okay you'll come here tomorrow and we'll have the van drive you to where you'll be working. And I was like, what? Confused about what they meant. They then told me that I'd be meeting with customers on their behalf and talking and selling stuff. I was not comfortable with this as it wasn't what I was interviewed for, but I gave them the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they had a second position that they thought I'd fit in better with. It wouldn't be that weird as a new company and while not what

I was comfortable with I should hear them out. So I asked more questions and the woman on the other end of the line is getting more snippy and tense. Gone was the nice friendly woman from earlier and she would not reveal where I would be going or who I would be meeting with. By this point plenty of red flags were going off, so I had to decline the offer pretty quick. For anyone curious as to what had happened, I reported this as it seemed very dodgy, but when they were checked in on, the floor was no longer occupied by them. They'd apparently just rented it for a week and we're gone. It was probably only after my close call that my mind really started to run away with what could have happened were it not for my dog.

I'm a 26 year old female. I live with my fiance, my two cats, and my dog Rowan. Our house is literally less than a minute away from a huge farmer's field that is frequented by many dog walkers at all times of the day. Me and my significant other often take turns walking Rowan around the field throughout the day. It was only around 7.30pm and it was still really bright and sunny. Rowan was letting me know it was time to go for a walk so while my partner was tinkering in the garage, I grabbed his lead and headed to the field. Let me quickly tell you about Rowan. He's a two-year-old Rottweiler who is very loving and playful, if a little daft, but would not hurt a fly, not a bad bone in his body. He's also extremely well trained. We made sure to put the effort in

as he's a big dog breed with a bad rep so wanted to make a point of not feeding stereotypes. I'm very much of the opinion of there's no bad dogs, just bad owners. Unfortunately we've had some run-ins with some not-so-good owners so Rowan gets a little nervous when meeting new dogs and people but we're working on it. Now back to the story, we're walking around the farmer's field. Rowan is off sniffing and peeing on every blade of grass in sight. I always keep an eye out for other walkers anyway due to Rowan being a little nervous and I clocked a guy on his own walking down the path towards me fairly far away. At first I thought nothing of it as plenty of people walk this route without dogs. We were just coming out of lockdown in the UK. As the guy got closer I

noticed he was in a full tracksuit with the hood up which was odd as it was like 23 degrees so shorts and a t-shirt weather. He then took a small path off the field leading through some bushes. It was a public-made shortcut rather than an official public footpath, but it was well enough used so I kept walking, thinking nothing of it. At about 15 meters away from the path he took, Rowan shot back to my side immediately dropping the mouthful of dirt he had been pretending not to eat. He's not the smartest. I pet him and noticed he was standing super alert staring at the path entrance.

When I looked up I caught a glimpse of the man peeking around the edge of the bushes that concealed the entrance. I stopped out of my tracks and Rowan's fur stood on end as he positioned himself in front of me. It took me a second to realize that this man had been watching and waiting in the bushes for me to approach. My current route would have meant that I'd be walking right by the path opening. My stomach dropped as I realized we were the only ones around on that field. I had this weird moment where I was almost trying to convince myself that I was overreacting, but then the guy whistled. Not a wolf whistle but as if to try and get my dog to come to him.

Rowan was having none of that though and I definitely took that as my cue to trust my stranger danger instincts. I immediately turn and sped walk back the way we came simultaneously pulling my phone out and dialing my partner's number. I ended up having to clip on Rowan's lead on to get him to walk with me and he was not taking his eyes away from the path. He was even growling a little which was so out of character and put me on edge even more. I glanced back and the man had edged slightly out of the bushes watching me walk away. My partner answered the phone after a few rings. I was only halfway through stammering out the story and he was already sprinting up the field to meet me telling me to stay on the phone but to keep an eye on the man. The man in the tracksuit now fully came out of the bushes and just stood staring at me, walking away. I dared a quick look away from him towards the entrance to the field to see my

fiancé jogging towards me. He was relieved I was okay but was also immediately pointing and shouting, is that him? Clearly furious at what this man might have had in his mind had Rowan not picked up on him hiding in the bushes. I eventually convinced my fiancé not to confront him as he was still stood staring, almost taunting us. You never know what people might be capable of or have concealed. We came off of the field and took Rowan on a different walk which he was more than happy about. I've never been so proud of him for stepping up and protecting me. Safe to say he got plenty of treats and fussing when we got home. I was 14 years old when I had to live with my grandparents.

I had to live with them because my sister was in college and my parents were divorced. They lived in this old bungalow type house. It was one story and we have stairs that immediately go up to an attic. An attic which no one really uses. We just put stuff in there. It's too hot and stuffy up there. The sole window up there didn't really help either. The attic had old creaky wooden floors that I remember that I had to polish

with a coconut shell because that's how we do it here in the Philippines. That and my grandparents are very traditional. My room's door was near the stairs leading up to the attic. Like you open my door and then face right and the stairs would immediately be right there. I hated that every time I left my room because I would expect that something would be immediately crawling down from the attic. Just some silly creepy thought. One night my grandparents had to pick up my aunt's family from the airport. But because of terrible traffic here they had to leave at 7pm and their expected arrival back home would be by almost 5am. So a 14 year old girl would be alone at home the whole time.

But I reassured them that I would be safe here. We live in a gated community, we have tons of guard dogs and everything would be okay. Or so I thought. Before they left we already had dinner so I was stuck with cleaning the dishes and all. As I was doing that, I could hear a bunch of neighboring dogs bark a lot. I didn't really think much of it because the dogs always do that. When I finished cleaning up from dinner, I immediately had to lock every door and window and close all the lights before heading to bed. When I entered my room, the lights were open and it looked normal. My anime posters were on the wall, my closet was untouched,

my bed was next to my barred tinted windows. We had to tint them because I was on the first floor and my grandparents wanted to make sure no one would peep in a young girl's room. They were barred too because my uncle, who used to use the room, always escaped through there to go to parties. This was my grandparents' solution to that. Nothing was out of place to alarm me. Everything was normal. Until I turned off the lights. As soon as I turned off my lights, a silhouette of a man was illuminated by the street lights outside.

He looked like he had thick, curly hair and a skinny build. I thought I was having hallucinations. So I turned the lights on again and he was gone. Turned them off again and he was back. Turned them on, gone. Turned them off. Now he was gone. I sighed in belief.

I was just tricking my mind I suppose. Or something else was casting the shadow. I double-locked my doors just to be safe, with the doorknob locked and one of those door latch-type locks. Then I tucked myself in. It was hard to fall asleep when a lot of dogs were barking outside. They weren't our dogs, they were the neighbors, but I was finally starting to fall asleep when I heard something from above me moving. Something in the attic. I pushed down the thought, just having a trick of the mind again. I hugged my pillow. It's just rats, I said to myself. These rats seemed heavy and were also pushing furniture around up there, it sounded like. My heart sank when I heard them hurriedly go down

the stairs and stop at the bottom. I covered myself with my blanket and I waited for something. I was also wishing that my parents had given me a phone at a time like this but I only waited in bated breath. Suddenly I heard my doorknob begin to gently fiddle. I wanted to vomit when I heard a click, followed by a quiet turn of the knob. The knob turned, but it didn't budge. When they noticed, they tried to push it. This time I had finally stood up, shaking. I was just a kid, home alone with no phone, no means of defense.

All that was keeping me safe was this thick old door. I softly pushed my body up against the door and locked everything up again. I didn't want to make a sound. I didn't want to scream. I didn't want him to know I was here. I don't know why he stopped, but he just did. I didn't go back to my bed, I just sat there at the door, waiting. It felt like forever. I heard footsteps go up the stairs, but I still sat there. I saw something move out of the corner of my eye, there out the window. The shadow was back, and I forced myself not to look. All I could think of was, thank god they were barred. I don't remember what happened after that, I think I fell asleep or I was too scared to even think straight.

I just remember the next day when my family and I were finally having breakfast. I casually brought it up. Lo, my grandfather. I think I heard footsteps up in the attic last night. My grandfather scoffed. It's probably just rats. I never brought it up again. I didn't want them to worry. But I do know this. Our dogs were caged up near the gates and were far from my room, so they wouldn't have seen anything. The only dogs who were near my room were the neighbors. Also, there was nothing

outside my window that could cast a shadow that looked exactly like a man. I have aged since then. I do not fall for these tricks as easily as I did then. I still hope for the good in people, but I usually doubt it's there for a while. I went to beauty school just after high school, so I was just learning what it was like to be an adult, work, go to school, and socialize all at the same time. If you've ever gone to beauty school, and socialize all at the same time. If you've ever gone to beauty school, you know the hours are pretty lengthy, and it's a lot of work in a short amount of time. You also know that you're mostly crammed with a lot of women of different ages and a few boys. If there's a straight man in school and he's even

mildly attractive, obviously considering you're attracted to that type of person, most women in school are just so at awe because it's the only male person we are seeing during most of our weeks. That takes me to Dave, a few years older than me, tall, drives a Ducati to school, mysterious and handsome. Every girl was always putting on a little extra makeup, turning their hips towards him, flirting when he was around. He was cute, quiet, and always knew what to say. I wasn't as interested in catching his eye till he randomly asked me to meet up with him for a bite one day after school. I was single, needing to experience dating for the first time, and he didn't seem that bad to

hang out with. Things started off very sweet and genuine. He'd send goodnight texts, joke with me at school, and even genuinely seemed like he wanted to hang out more and more. We'd go to bars, and he knew everyone, so I could just get right in. I was underage at the time. We'd go eat, see shows, two-step, drink. I felt like I was starting to feel like an adult, enjoying the life and being wooed by a handsome, slightly older man. We'd drive around on his bike. He'd take me to nice, quiet dinners, always offered to pay, and even did little things like hold his arm out when I walked downstairs or off a curb. I'd never experienced this type of gentleman before, but as quickly as the sweet dates came,

so did a very weird, calculated, and controlling behavior. He would start to ask why I didn't smile with my teeth. Was it because I was embarrassed of myself? He would sit behind me working at school and taunt me about how slow I was. He'd say things like, don't sit like that, or say things that way, that's not what ladies do, and I'm a lady, right? Don't wear that lipstick, it's trashy. But I guess maybe I was being inappropriate. Maybe he's right. I should act more like an adult than a child, be better at school, look more like an adult. He brought me to his house one night, a place he rented a room

from. Suddenly this stoic Edward Cullen type turned into a person I didn't recognize outside of the random mood shift. His room was filled with clothing and garbage like old Gatorade bottles filling the floors. There was a TV and a bed, of all the things I could really make out in the room. He brushed dirt off of his bed for me to sit down. I hung out for a while and he oddly confessed he never brushes his teeth. Okay, well, looking at this room, I could believe that. He also mentioned that he just bought new clothes when he needed them and never washed the dirty ones, just left them there. This was all in the first two to three weeks. Kind of a red flag if you ask me. The lights were off at one point and

we're watching a show and I see a light like a cell phone right outside the window behind the TV. I jump and get his attention but he had to have seen. He brushes it off saying it must just be a roommate though I notice he's texting someone at the same time. I let it go for the night, eventually go home but still feel uncomfortable. Then the phone calls start happening and the stories of his ex. They'd lived together, she was 10 years older than him and had a 6 year old kid. She was crazy. If he and I would hang out, I'd suddenly start getting calls from

an unknown number the minute I walked in my door. They would ring till my voicemail got them and no one would say a word till the message ran out of time. They'd happen every ten minutes for three or so hours. I asked him about this, if it was him, and he said it may just be his crazy ex. But how would she have my number? He'd say, well, I have to give her some of her things and she stole my phone at one point, must have taken your number. Still, the gentlemanly dates would happen and the gifts, oh the gifts, sending roses and coffee to my work, showing up with a massage and spa packages every week. We still saw each

other at beauty school almost daily and he'd be kind but it was always hush hush until it was outside of school. I was torn. Is this person lying? Or is this the first kind of person to want to date me? Maybe he just has some flaws and a crazy ex. Then the texts and Facebook messages started coming, clarifying it was her. He's told me about your messed up life and secrets you've told him. I know he just saw you. I know you were at his house. I was outside his window looking in. Your red dress was nice. He laughs about you. Poor you. Just a stupid little girl. And stuff like that over and over. I'd block her, then she'd have friends send me the same BS. She freaked me out and he always denied it and

apologized for her behavior. Then there were days he wouldn't show up for school and she would text me during the day saying they were together sending pictures of him. I tried to confront him but he always denied having anything to do with her and repeating that she wanted to ruin his life. Then she started going to my work, telling my co-workers she was my friend and would color things on the kids menus like my name plus Dave, heart, her and tell them she wanted me to have it. She'd send me a random picture of him in a booth at my work

and I'd put the pieces together when I got there and got her notes, asking my co-workers where she was sitting and what she looked like. It was gross and embarrassing, let alone scary. My car was broken into at school and nothing was taken from it but a bill that had my address on it. I then was so scared. I'd come home at any point in time and she'd start calling me over and over as soon as I closed the door behind me. I felt trapped. She would call my work and school saying she was my mom and try to get more info on me or call them as a customer trying to get me fired. My roommates finally kicked me out because they were rightfully freaked

out so I turned to the police. They put me in contact with the detective who I handed all of the calls, texts, and messages plus notes she left at my work. I never answered the phone or responded to a single message from her. I had hundreds of calls, texts for at least a month. They came in every day from the same number. I never blocked that number after the first few were blocked so I could keep a log of all the attempts. Plus I kept a journal of every incident leading up to me coming to the police just in case. I watched a lot of crime documentaries. He told me that there was nothing he could do to trace the number back to a specific person and since she hadn't threatened my physical safety his hands were tied. The very next day he calls me

and is furious, telling me he can't help me if I'm harassing her back. I was confused and when I asked what he meant, he said, you're calling a mother non-stop throughout the night, terrifying her and her kid. Because I was the 20 year old and she was 36, of course he's going to believe the adult, but I never called her. He asked me to come to his office to show me his evidence he has against me. She's forwarded him tons of texts, saying things like, well I can't really say them here, but they were just toxic, just full of malice, and I just broke down. I would never say some of the things that she had said that I said and I know I didn't send these tons of texts especially overnight when I had school the next day. He didn't believe me and completely dismissed me. He ultimately turned against me and

was now on her side and this was crushing. I broke things off for good with David, basically told him to screw off. We still had to go to school together and he was terrible. I embarrassed myself in front of my friends defending him so long. My work, my school, who I had to beg to make sure this girl didn't come around again, and a detective who ultimately didn't believe a word I said, just to get some peace. My friends were tired of seeing me scared, stressed, and constantly talking about this weird situation happening to me. I was over it all. She finally left me alone once I moved, got a new car, new phone, deleted social media,

but it still freaks me out that we all live in the same town. She messaged me a few years ago from a different account when I was back on social media and said she was sorry, that she was manipulated by Dave and that they did this to too many girls. This was disturbing and gut-wrenching to me. Did a mother of a six-year-old really have nothing better to do than play messed up mind games with a sociopath? Maybe two sociopaths together. When I was 11, almost 12, the woman living above me was a coke dealer. The night of my 12th birthday, she went missing.

Not long after, her boyfriend came down to ask if he could use our phone. This was 2004, so having a cell phone was more of an exception than a rule, at least in my area. For a little context, I was home alone at the time while my mom was at work about a five minute walk away. My mom had let our neighbor and her boyfriend come in to use our phone several other times before so I assumed nothing was wrong with it and let him in, bringing him into the living room which is towards the front of our apartment to use the phone in there. He picks up the receiver, dials a number, waits a few seconds then hangs up the phone. He does this a couple of more times before the front door of the building opens. You can easily hear the front door open from where we are. It's a very

heavy door, the walls are thin and the way our building is set up it's a small old single family house converted into apartments. My and my mom's apartment was the only one on the first floor and our upstairs neighbor's apartment was the only one above us. Irrelevant but there was also a much smaller apartment below us. My neighbor's boyfriend looked at me, put his pointer finger to his lips like he was trying to shush me and told me not to tell anyone he was there before speed walking to my room at the other end of the apartment. I watched my bedroom door close right before there was a loud hard cop-like knock on the door. My jaw dropped as I opened the door to see a police officer. He asked if my neighbor's boyfriend was there and being scared I stammered out,

yeah he just went into my room. The officer asked if he could come in which I agreed to and as he was coming in he asked if he could let his partner in the back door and lead them to my room. We walked together to the back of the apartment and I let his partner in. The back door to the apartment was right next to my bedroom door but we had to walk around the kitchen table to get there. There was just barely enough space between the two doors to fit a narrow rectangular table against it without blocking the path to either door.

As I let them into my room I watched as they pulled my neighbor's boyfriend out of my bedroom closet. As they brought him out of my room and towards the back door, which just led to an enclosed fire escape, they told me to go wait in the living room while they brought him out the back door. I walked back to the living room and after they closed the door I could hear what they were saying and I could hear the distinct sound of metal clicking and quickly realizing that he had been handcuffed. Still scared, I waited for the police car to drive away before grabbing my keys, making sure that the back door was locked and locking the front door on my way out before running to my mom's work, crying. Pretty sure I cut the five minute trip into about two minutes and I've never been a fast runner. I was fueled entirely on adrenaline and fear at that point and

I just wanted my mom. When I told her what had happened, my mom was so angry that he had used me the way he had, hiding out in a child's bedroom closet of all places to try to keep the cops from finding him. She gave me a short but gentle lecture that night about not letting people in to use the phone, telling me that I was not to let people use our phone even if I knew them unless she was home. I don't want to know what exactly he was wanted for, nor do I want to know what would happen if the cops had not shown up I don't know if he had known that the cops were on their way and had come to my apartment specifically to hide from them

or if he was up to something else and knew it was the cops when the front door of the building was opened To be continued... And if you got a story, be sure to submit them to my subreddit, our Let's Read official, 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 to always smoosh your cats. Thank you.