The Lets Read Podcast - 119: Japanese & Desert Cult Stories | 23 True Scary Horror Stories | EP 107

Episode Date: January 25, 2022

This episode includes narrations of true creepy encounters submitted by normal folks just like yourself. Today you'll experience horrifying stories about Japan, Stumbling Across a Desert Cult & Sinister Craigslist Schemes... HAVE A STORY TO SUBMIT?► www.Reddit.com/r/LetsReadOfficial FOLLOW ME ON - ►YouTube - https://www.youtube.com/c/letsreadofficial ► Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/letsread.official/ ► Twitter - https://twitter.com/LetsReadCreepy ♫ Background Music & Audio Remastering: Simon de Beer https://www.instagram.com/simon_db98/ PATREON for EARLY ACCESS!►http://patreon.com/LetsRead

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Find a Michelin TreadExperts dealer near you at TreadExperts.ca slash locations. From tires to auto repair, we're always there. TreadExperts.ca. Jack DeRicci was born in Sacramento, California on December 25th of 1930. His maternal grandfather was something of a pioneer in the area and had built the main hotel at the corner of M and 6th streets where his parents worked up until the time when Jack was 10 years old. But during the spring of 1941, when he was just a 5th grader at the local Lincoln Grammar School, his family received a letter from Japan saying that his paternal grandfather was gravely ill. Jack's father was the eldest of the siblings and was honor-bound to be at his own father's side during his passing. So it was decided that the family would take a vacation over to Japan to visit so that Jack could reconnect with his Japanese roots. Jack's

grandfather was living in the small village of Okugaitamura on the outskirts of a large industrial city. Fortunately, by September of 1941, he had almost completely recovered from the illness and was feeling significantly better. It was a great relief to Jack and his father, so they made the decision to return to the United States so that Jack could resume his schooling. But by that time, Japanese aggression in mainland China had pushed U.S. relations with the country to a breaking point. To their horror, the Daireki family discovered that there were no civilian transport ships heading back across the Pacific to their home in America. They were effectively stranded, but Jack's education was paramount and so he was enrolled in the local Japanese school to continue his studies, the same one his immigrant father had attended when he was Jack's age.

Then just a few months later, disaster struck. The Japanese Air Force bombed the American naval base at Pearl Harbor, killing and wounding over 3,000 American servicemen and women and causing millions of dollars in damages to U.S. warships. The Diariki family, there was no going back. For all intents and purposes, they were now prisoners on the Japanese mainland. Four years later, Jack had adjusted to life in Japan. He was attending a technical school in the coastal city of Kure when, one day, he and his classmates were given the news that they would have to put their studies on hold for the foreseeable future. They were to be drafted into the war effort to work in a munitions factory. Jack was assigned to the Toyo factory on the outskirts of the large industrial city that

he and his family were currently calling home, where he worked on a lathe which carved steel bars used in rifle manufacturing equipment. On the 24th of July, Kure, the city which he had just left a few weeks before, was burned to the ground by an American firebombing raid. A city which took 80 years to build was incinerated in just two hours, but Jack was grateful for the twist of fate that had allowed him to escape. He thought his new home would be safe from American air raids as it had not been touched during the entire war and was assumed to be a target of strategic insignificance. But Jack was wrong to feel safe, because the city he now called home bore a name that would become synonymous with the horrors of aerial warfare.

You see, the name of Jack's new home was Hiroshima. Early in the morning of August 6th, 1945, Jack was roused from his sleep by an air raid warning. He was living in the suburbs with his family, who got out of bed and headed to the family bomb shelter to take cover from the expected bombing raid. But like so many air raid warnings before it, that one proved to be a false alarm. And so at around 7am, Jack left for a nearby train station to join colleagues at the Toyo factory to begin their daily work. When he arrived at the factory around 45 minutes later,

he noticed a single aircraft circling the city. It was a spotter plane, scouting out targets for future bombing raids. By 8am, Jack had assembled with his colleagues in the factory courtyard to take part in the daily roll call. It was then that he looked up and saw three more aircraft circling in the sky, recognizing them as American B-29s from the sounds their engines made. Since there was

only a handful of enemy aircraft, Japanese observers concluded that no air raid was about to take place, so warnings were given, no sirens sounded that morning. But they were wrong. There was to be an air raid that morning, but only one bomb was to be used, the most singular destructive bomb in human history. At 8.16, Jack and his Toyo Factory colleagues were still lined up in the courtyard outside when there was a flash of light coming from the direction of downtown Hiroshima. To Jack, it was so bright that it seemed to be ten times brighter than the sun in the sky, lighting up everything for miles around in a way that seemed almost impossible to him. Then, he was thrown through the air by the blast wave generated by

the bomb's explosion, hitting the ground so hard it knocked the wind out of him. By the time he opened his eyes again, everything had gone black. The world around him was a maelstrom of dust and smoke. As he found his feet again, Jack heard hundreds of footsteps running from the nearby factory bomb shelter. He joined them, running almost blind for a moment or two before he reached the shelter's entrance. He could feel the heat of the blast on his back and in the seconds before he descended the shelter's stairs, he turned to see something that was burned into his memory for the rest of his life. It was an atomic mushroom cloud, an image familiar to many of us from movies, games, and TV shows. But Jack was seeing one with his own eyes, a vision of

destructive power so gargantuan that the gaze upon it was to lose a little piece of his mind. It was a column of fire that rose thousands of feet into the air above the obliterated city, the colors like nothing he had ever seen before, a tapestry of blood red, orange fire, sickly yellow, and burning azure. The entire city of Hiroshima was engulfed in flame and smoke. The factory workers sat in the darkness of the air raid shelter for over an hour, unable to quite comprehend what had just happened. To all but a handful of American scientists and military officials, the existence of an atomic weapon had remained a closely guarded secret. There was much speculation among the Toyo factory workers as to what had actually just occurred, but none could come to a complete

consensus. Confusion and terror were rife in the factory bomb shelter that morning. After a long while sitting in the darkness without instruction, Jack climbed the stairs of the bomb shelter and dared to peek outside into the conflagration. What he saw was without a doubt the most horrifying thing he had ever seen in his life. It was a young woman walking past the shelter's entrance. She had her arms extended, feeling out the air in front of her. She had been looking directly toward the center of Hiroshima when the blast had occurred, and the bright flash had blinded her completely. She was completely bald, the heat of the explosion having burned all the hair off of her head and her face was red and crisped from what became known

as flash burns. Jack could see her clothes hanging loosely from her burned body and extended arms, but as the girl drew closer, Jack realized with absolute horror that it was not her shredded clothes that he was looking at that were hanging from her body, it was her flesh. The heat and intensity of the blast had cooked and melted the skin of her arms, but despite what we can safely assume was intense pain, she walked slowly, as if in a daze, and didn't make a single sound, a ghostly image that haunted Jack for the rest of his life. After what he'd seen, Jack couldn't summon the courage to peek out of the shelter again until noon that day. He and a few of his colleagues looked outside and saw the mushroom cloud that had cleared from the above city.

In its place were huge, dark clouds that appeared as a steel gray ceiling in the sky. Thunder rolled in the distance and slowly it began to rain. The heat and pressure of the atomic explosion had caused tens of thousands of Hiroshima's denizens to become intensely dehydrated, and to them, the rain was a welcome relief. Those strong enough to do so walked out into the streets and droves, their open mouths raised to the sky to drink what little water they could that fell from the rain clouds above. But this was no ordinary rain. The raindrops fell thick and black upon those they landed on. The nuclear explosion had kicked

up tons of radioactive dust into the atmosphere, heating and irradiating the clouds that now poured a deadly poisoned rain onto those below. Those that drank the rainwater had no way of knowing it, but the deluge was killing them. Even those with no visible injuries began to contract radiation sickness. Their hair began to fall out, their gums began to bleed, and over the next few days, those who the black rain fell upon dropped like flies. But Jack was lucky. He remained inside the shelter and did not become a victim of the horrifying and deadly meteorological phenomena Since the Toyo Munitions Factory essentially fell under military control They were subject to the same strict discipline and command system as their soldiery counterparts They were not permitted to leave the bomb shelter until they had received orders to do so, and it took a full seven hours before those in charge of the factory gave the workers approval to head back to their homes.

As soon as he heard the order, Jack headed straight back towards the train station in the hopes of catching a train back to the suburbs in order to check on his family and assure them that he was okay. Harrowing scenes greeted him as he walked the streets. Dozens of injured people limped and crawled away from the city's center with all manner of horrific injuries. Residents of local neighborhoods tried all they could to render aid, but there were no doctors, no medicine, nothing that could prevent the suffering of those that had suffered the effects of the bomb. Surprisingly, Jack found that the trains in Hiroshima were still running, ferrying those escaping the destruction away from

the city in their hundreds. He jumped aboard one, but found it was an absolute horror show. The carriages were overflowing with the dead and dying who lay on every available seat, as well as all over the floors. They begged Jack for help, and he despaired that he could give them none. The horror soon became too much for him to bear, and he jumped from the moving train in a moment of desperation. He then began a ten-mile walk back to the village where his family lived. Jack was lucky, he was spared the worst effects of the bomb codename Little Boy, but when he arrived back at his family's house, he discovered that his aunt had not been so lucky. Shizuko was almost unrecognizable. She had been in downtown Hiroshima when the bomb was detonated, and the entire right side of her body, the side of her that was exposed to the impossible bright flash, was burned to a crisp. Japan's resources and the economy had been stretched to the limit by the war effort, and all medical supplies had been funneled to the Japanese military.

So there was absolutely nothing in the way of first aid to be found in the Dariki family home. So Jack's grandmother had to boil and mash potatoes in order to make some improvised bandages for her severely wounded daughter. The pain was so excruciating that she begged to die, and actually tried to end her own life a handful of times to end her own suffering. But each time, her family managed to restrain her and it was only their careful interventions that prevented her from slipping away both from her wounds and from her own feverish will to end the pain. By the time her wounds healed, her right side had been so badly burned that her fingers had fused together, and an operation had to be performed in order to free her fingers from the grotesque scar tissue mitten that they had formed.

Shizuko eventually recovered from her wounds and went on to have three healthy children, but as Jack put it, she was a shadow of her former self, little more than a ghost. It is estimated that just over 80,000 Japanese civilians died in the moments following the bomb's detonation. Over the weeks that followed, a further 112,000 died as a result of radiation poisoning and other wounds sustained during the blast. This is mainly because there was very little in the way of medical assistance to be found in Hiroshima after the bombing. Before Little Boy wreaked its atomic devastation, Hiroshima had 55 hospitals, 200 doctors and over 2,000 nurses. Afterwards, there were merely 3 hospitals, 20 doctors and just over 100 nurses that remained alive in the city. The bombing of Hiroshima was the single most destructive act in human history,

an awesomely terrifying display of scientific discovery combined with man's willingness to kill his fellow man. But it was still not enough to force a Japanese surrender, and so just a few days later, another atomic bomb was dropped in the city of Nagasaki. The Japanese Emperor, Hirohito, called on Japan to bear the unbearable and surrender to the United States. But the will to fight on was so strong among certain sections of the Japanese military that a group of army officers attempted a coup to remove the emperor and carry on the war. Fortunately, this failed and on August 14th, 1945, Imperial Japan officially surrendered. It took almost two and a half years before Jack DeRicci was able to return home to Sacramento, finally stepping foot on American soil in January of 1948. After graduating from the local high

school, he enrolled in Sacramento City College to study architecture, and for a long, long time, he never spoke about his experiences during the war. Jack simply didn't want to talk about it, and it suited him that nobody bothered to ask. Until one day, when his pursuit of a degree in architecture required him to take a drawing class. The class was allowed to sketch anything they wished and when prompted, Jack's memory of the mushroom cloud over Hiroshima came spilling out of him. It caused quite a stir and Jack was interviewed by local newspapers and radio stations regarding his experiences as the new Cold War with the Soviet Union had caused a huge surge of public interest in atomic warfare. Jack went on to have a long and successful life, designing houses, office spaces and hospitals throughout the Bay Area,

including the Kaiser Hospital in San Francisco. But he has always lived in the shadow of Hiroshima, as the Japanese call a hibakusha, a survivor of the bomb, a living witness of the darkest sides of humanity and the destructive power that can be unleashed when science and warfare intersect. And we can only pray that such destructive power will never be unleashed again. Phoenix Luna grew up in Tokyo's Tokigi Prefecture. He had a difficult upbringing and at one point was forced to live in a youth institution when his father abandoned his family and his mother could not afford to raise him. After graduating middle school, he gained work in the construction industry,

but after a few years quit due to personal issues and ended up homeless on the streets of Tokyo. At just 20 years old, he was penniless and impoverished, but being young and good looking he managed to find work as a bar host at a joint called Fusion by Youth. For those that don't know, Tokyo's Kabukicho district is home to a number of bars and clubs known as Hatsuto Karubu. These are places where female customers pay for male company, who are known as bar hosts. Male hosts pour drinks for their clients and will often engage in flirtatious conversations. These conversations are generally light-hearted, and hosts tend to have a variety of entertainment skills, ranging from simple magic tricks to the ability to tell engaging stories. A host's age usually ranges from 18 to 27,

and they will often take a stage name, usually taken from a favorite manga, film, or historical figure that describes their character or persona, hence why the young man in question is known here as Phoenix Luna, and not by his birth name, which he has kept a closely guarded secret. Men who become hosts are often those who either cannot find a white collar job or are enticed by the prospect of high earnings through commission. It was these prospects that attracted Luna to the hosting scene and the job saved him from a life of homelessness

and destitution. But it was through his work as a bar host that Luna met a person that would change his life forever, a 21-year-old woman named Yuka Takaoka. Yuka was employed as the manager of a so-called girls bar, the female equivalent of the kind of place Luna worked at. She worked long hours and found it very difficult to meet men she was actually attracted to and found herself frequenting host bars since they revolved around a concept she understood all too well. This was how she met Luna and upon meeting him in October of 2018, she was instantly smitten. Over the next seven months, she cultivated a kind of relationship with him and became one of his regular customers. Luna made her feel special, often telling her that he liked her and that he wished to be with her.

Hosts are generally forbidden from socializing with their clients outside of working hours, but Luna made an exception for Yuka. They often met at Yuka's fifth floor apartment in Shinjuku Ward, where they shared food and watched movies and after a few months of doing so, Yuka asked Luna if he would like to pursue an exclusive relationship with her. Luna replied that he would, but was taken aback when one of her conditions for doing so was that he quit hosting and find a regular job. She was adamant that he would have to stop flirting with other women, whether that be in a professional capacity or otherwise. This was something Luna could not adhere to. He enjoyed his work and considered his fellow hosts as a kind of surrogate family. Reluctantly, he was forced to decline Yuka's offer, but told her they could continue to see each other if that was something she wanted. Yuka was heartbroken. She adored Luna, and became increasingly depressed as a result of

his rejection. This depression morphed into jealousy and thoughts of taking her own life, and eventually, Yuka hatched a plan for the pair to be together forever. On May 23rd, 2019, Yuka asked Luna to meet her at her apartment to assist with some cleaning work. They agreed to meet at around noon but due to work commitments, Luna was delayed by around three hours. By the time he arrived, he was exhausted and told Yuka that he would like to take a nap before they commenced the cleaning work. Luna took a quick bath and then climbed into bed with Yuka where he fell asleep in her arms. He awoke a short time later with an intense

pain in his stomach. At first, Luna thought he was suffering from stomach cramps after eating bad food, but when he looked down, he saw the bedsheets were soaked with blood. That's when he saw a large kitchen knife buried into his gut, turning to see Yuka standing over him, her eyes wide with feverish anger. Coursing with adrenaline, Luna leapt from the bed and ran from the apartment to escape his obsessive attacker and to seek medical help, but Yuka gave chase. Luna managed to fight her off as they reached the building's elevator, but had lost so much blood by the time he reached the lobby that he collapsed to the floor and passed out. But before he lost consciousness, Luna saw Yuka kneeling over his body.

Please don't kill me, he begged. I like you. Yuka smiled, and the world went black. Police soon received a call that a man had been stabbed in an apartment complex in Shinjuku. They arrived shortly afterward to find the unconscious Luna with Yuka sitting by his body, covered in his blood and smoking a cigarette. A photograph was taken of this scene which quickly circulated online, a photograph that is still remarkably easy to obtain via Google image searches. Yuka was quickly arrested, putting up no resistance, and showed absolutely no remorse

for her actions. In fact, there is another photograph of Yuka that was taken while she was sitting in the back of the police car after she'd been arrested. A huge excited smile is etched across her face, which is extremely disturbing given that she had recently almost disemboweled someone she claimed to love so much. When police questioned her motives for the crime, Yuka told them, since I loved him so much, I just couldn't help it. I was sad and seeking to die and thought how I would like to go about it, she said. I thought I would kill him because I thought that was how I could be with him. I thought that expression such as I like you and I'd like to be with you would become a reality if we both die.

I did not want to go anywhere so I sat down at the outside staircase. I didn't call emergency services because I intended to end my own life after watching him die from the stabbing. In the aftermath of the stabbing, social media users all over the world fixated over her behavior, especially those with an interest in the Japanese concept of yandere, a name used to describe obsessive, jealous female lovers. Those with an interest in the phenomenon shared Yuka's Instagram account, one where she posted images of her dressed as various anime characters, which attracted all kinds of unsavory male attention from those who idolized her good looks and painfully overlooked her murderous psychopathology. Some even said she was too beautiful to be an attempted murder suspect.

Luna had lost so much blood in the incident that it took him five whole days to regain consciousness in a nearby hospital. Doctors have him a mere one in five chance at recovery when he had first arrived, but somehow he had beaten the odds and pulled through after a series of surgeries to repair the catastrophic damage done to his internal organs. At first I I had no voice, so speaking was not possible, and I was bedridden, so I couldn't walk alone for a while. Luna said in a statement to journalists, I also couldn't eat after the incident, and I got quite thin. When I thought back to when I was stabbed and considered what I'd do in the future,

I was unable to sleep due to anxiety and fear, and for that I received counseling. Yet bizarrely, despite his near-death experience at the hands of Yuka, Luna stated that he did not hold any ill feeling toward her. I did not hold a grudge. I think there's a reason for her to stab me. It was also thanks to her that I was able to achieve the sales that I did in less than a year since I'd become a host. The incident also had one unexpected result. After Luna arrived at the hospital, police sought to locate one of his blood relatives. I met my older brother and older sister for the first time in five years, he said. I'll be very happy to stay in touch with them in the future.

I think we can agree that the result is a heartwarming, wholesome end to a frankly terrifying ordeal and that Luna had showed an extraordinary amount of bravery to return to his job as a bar host. But surely, it is only a matter of time before another girl develops an obsession with him and we can only hope that it doesn't end in the same terrifying, bloody way. In the year 2000, on the morning of New Year's Eve, Japanese grandmother Asahi Geno traveled over to her daughter's house in the Setagaya Ward of western Tokyo to celebrate the coming of the New Year. Unlike many other eastern Asian cultures, the official Japanese New Year has been celebrated according to the Gregorian calendar on January 1st of each year,

as has been tradition since 1873. Asahi looked forward to these new yearly visits, which usually involved her grandchildren partaking in the Japanese tradition of New Year's kite flying, known as takoage, before the family sat down together to watch the final of the Emperor's Cup, the nation's association football elimination tournament. She had called ahead to confirm the visit, but was surprised to find that her calls couldn't be patched through. This was highly unusual, her daughter's family was financially stable and always paid their phone bill on time, so naturally she became suspicious and headed over to the house a few hours earlier than she planned to. Upon entering the residence, Asahi noticed that it was unusually quiet.

She called out to her family, but there was no reply from any of them. There were signs of activity in the kitchen and around the family computer. Someone had not only eaten there recently, but had also used the computer to surf the internet. But Asahi didn't start to worry until she saw that someone had wrenched the phone line from the wall socket so hard it had broken off completely. Feelings of dread began to build in her as she climbed the first floor stairs and peered into the family bedrooms. And when she laid eyes on the scenes that greeted her, she unleashed a blood-curdling scream so loud that the occupants of neighboring houses heard and quickly called the police. Her entire family had been murdered.

A grisly scene greeted the police officers that rushed to the residence. There they discovered the corpses of 44-year-old Mikio Miyazawa, his 41-year-old wife Yasuko, and their children Nina and Rei, who were 8 and 6 years of age respectively. Three of the corpses were soaked with blood, except Rei's who had apparently been strangled in his sleep. Police quickly determined that whoever had slain the family had gained access to the house at around 11.30pm the previous evening. They had climbed a tree to the rear of the house before carefully removing a window screen, after which they had free access to the bedroom of the sleeping Ray. Despite succumbing to the asphyxiation inflicted by the killer, Ray seems to have raised enough of an alarm for his father Mikio to rush up the stairs to confront his son's murderer.

Shocked and enraged by the horrifying sight that greeted him, Mikio set upon the killer in a vengeful rage and actually managed to injure his son's attacker before losing his balance. The killer then gained the upper hand enough to stab Mikio in the head with a sashimi boko knife, a kind of blade used in the preparation of sushi. Mikio was stabbed in the head with such force that part of the blade snapped off inside of his skull, and the killer was forced to set about slaying the females of the family with a broken knife, one of which was still soaked in their father and husband's blood. In a country where the murder rate is relatively low, news of the murders shocked

the Japanese public and caused national outrage. So much so that Takeshi Tsuchida, the chief of Seijo Police Station, was placed in charge of all investigations into the murders and remained in place until his retirement. The investigation that followed was one of the largest ever undertaken in the history of Japanese law enforcement. It involved almost a quarter of a million investigating officers who collected and filed over 12,000 pieces of evidence. The killer's behavior was brutal, merciless, and horrifying, but it was his apparent actions following the murder that the police found truly confusing. Instead of fleeing the scene,

the killer then seemingly spent the next eight hours or so simply hanging around the Miyazawa family's home. After treating their injuries using some medical supplies found in the family's bathroom, the killer then helped themselves to some barley tea and fresh melon, as well as some ice cream from the kitchen's freezer. Then, after using the house's toilet to relieve themselves, the killer had apparently used the family computer for a number of hours before actually taking a nap on the living room couch before seeing themselves out. Analysis of the family's computer revealed it had connected to the internet at 1am, shortly after the family was murdered and the killer had eaten. It had also connected to the internet at 1am shortly after the family was murdered and the killer had eaten. It had also

connected to the internet at around 10am the same morning, meaning Asahi Geno had arrived at the house maybe only an hour after the killer had departed. One thing was clear before any serious investigation had taken place. The police were dealing with a highly dangerous psychopath, who was not only so detached from their crimes that they could stomach food in the immediate aftermath, but so callous that they could actually take a nap after having murdered two children and their parents. The subsequent police investigation revealed a number of oddly specific things about the family's killer. Physically, the killer was estimated to be around 170 centimeters

tall and of a slender or athletic build. Police also deduced that the killer was 15 to 35 years old at the time of the incident due to the physical strength required to scale the tree at the rear of Miyazawa's house. After analyzing fecal matter taken from the Miyazawa's bathroom that apparently belonged to the killer, police were able to determine that they had eaten string beans and sesame seeds the previous day. They also discovered the killer had left behind their bloodstained clothes in the father's bedroom, after having changed into some of his clean clothes to avoid raising any suspicions as he escaped the scene. Analyzing the killer's sweater, they not only learned that it had been bought from a store in Kanagawa Prefecture,

but that only 130 of that particular item was made and sold. It was a pretty exclusive piece of clothing and it didn't come cheap, therefore the killer must have been employed at a fair well-paying job and at least had had an interest in fashion. But perhaps the most interesting detail gleaned from the investigation was that Trace's amounts of sand were found inside the hip bag that the killer left abandoned at the crime scene. These were sent to a laboratory for analysis where forensic scientists concluded that they had come from the Nevada desert, specifically the area around Edwards Air Force

Base in California. This fueled speculation that the murderer was either an American serviceman or had at least visited the area during the previous few years. Analysis of the killer's DNA and fingerprints also fueled speculation that the murder was committed by a foreigner. Neither the DNA nor the fingerprints matched any in the records of the Tokyo police, which could have simply meant that the killer had no previous criminal record. However, analysis of the type A blood found at the scene revealed that the killer was male, and indicated that their ancestry was that of a southern European country that bordered the Mediterranean or Adriatic seas. This discovery led the Tokyo

Metropolitan Police to seek help from the International Crime Police Organization, as it was entirely possible that the killer was no longer present in Japan and had escaped the country following the brutal murders. This would explain why, after such a thorough and widespread investigation, that not a single person was ever charged with the murders. In 2019, it was reported that 35 officers are still assigned to the case in the hopes of one day finally solving some of the most widely publicized murders in Japanese history. And every year since the murders, the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department makes an annual pilgrimage to the house for memorial ceremonies,

not only to commemorate the crime, but also to ask forgiveness that they have failed to discover the killer's identity and bring them to justice. We can only hope that one day the murderer is caught and punished for the truly horrific crimes they committed. But with every year that goes by, this outcome seems less and less likely, and that soon there will be a man walking among us who hadn't in them to take a nap after taking the lives of children. We'll be right back. Save up to $100 in rebates on select Toyo tires. Like Toyo's open country family of tires. Find your pro at your local Tread Experts. From tires to auto repair, we're always there. TreadExperts.ca Discover the exciting action of BetMGM Casino.

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please contact Connex Ontario at 1-866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge. BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with iGaming Ontario. I was born and raised in West Virginia, but I've always had a huge fascination with Japanese culture. Ever since the day I saw the movie Grave of the Fireflies, I was just obsessed with all things Japan. Which I suppose set me on the road to opting to pick Japanese as my college major and as part of the course, I spent six months in Japan just sort of immersing myself in the language and culture. It was probably the greatest time of my life. Every single day was a dream come true for me as it was something that I'd fantasized about since I was a little girl. The food was just out of this world. All the ramen,

sushi, and yakisoba I could eat and oh my god, the cocktail bars. Seriously, just take a moment and google Japanese cocktail bartenders for a moment. I'm not sure which is more enjoyable, watching those guys make the drinks or actually drinking them. I also made a whole bunch of friends there which laid the groundwork for me returning to work as a translator after my graduation. So for the past five years I lived in the Namba district of Osaka and used the subway system to get to and from work every day. Anyway, so this one time I'm walking towards the entrance of Nipponbashi's substation when I notice the homeless dude camped out on the sidewalk not far from the entrance. He doesn't seem entirely all there because he's just sort of muttering to himself, pointing the passers-by and saying things under his breath. But he also happens to have a little

tin cup looking thing near him with a sign in Japanese, obviously where he was collecting spare change from generous members of the public. I've always been one of those people who fulfills their good deed for the day by passing homeless people a few dollars or something, so I head over towards him to put a few hundred yen in his little cup thing. As I get closer and drop a few coins into his cup, I manage to hear what he's actually saying. He points at this well-to-do looking businessman walking past as he says ningen, which is the Japanese word for human. I mean, I figured he was kind of crazy so I didn't really think anything of it so I walk off before catching the subway to work. That evening on the

way back I'm walking out of the subway station when I see the same homeless dude sat there. He'd been there all day and by the looks of things, he was still pointing at people and muttering things under his breath. But as I walked past, I realized he's not just saying human over and over again. He's saying all kinds of different things like pig, cow, chicken, all Japanese words for different animals. I got into my head that he was categorizing people by which animals he thought they looked like which seemed a little rude but like I said, he didn't really seem like he had it all together. So cut to the next morning when I see this same homeless guy for a third time

and I decided to walk over to give him a little more spare change. I drop the coins in his cup and just as I do, he points at some elderly woman walking past and says, Noodles. My curiosity gets the better of me and I ask, Noodles? Why did you say noodles? The guy then raises a finger to his temple and starts explaining that he's a psychic and that he is blessed with the ability to know the last thing a person ate that day. So obviously I ask him to use his

abilities on me and asked him what it was that I had for breakfast that morning. To which he stares into my eyes for a moment before replying, bread. I was astounded. He absolutely nailed it as I eat and toast that morning my regular breakfast. So with this huge smile on my face I tell him he was dead on the money and I'm so impressed that I throw a few more coins in his little cup. He smiles as I wish him a good day before I head off to work. I'm serious, I was really, really impressed. Bread isn't exactly a common Japanese breakfast food as they usually eat things like miso soup, steamed rice, natto which is like

fermented soybeans or seaweed salad in the morning. I mean he could have had a little knowledge of western foods but even then it would have been a pretty good guess that I had toast that morning. It actually really brightened up my morning up until I remembered the first word that he'd said that day before. Human. He pointed at that businessman looking guy and said, human. He wasn't just stating the obvious, he was able to psychically determine the last thing a person had eaten and according to what I assumed was a pretty accurate ability, the last thing that business guy had eaten was human flesh. I know it's pretty silly of me but I was really freaked out. I couldn't stop thinking about it for the rest of the day like as much as I wanted to

just believe this guy was crazy, he seemed pretty cognizant when I actually spoke to him and unless it was the world's best guess, he did seem like he knew what I'd eaten for breakfast that morning. I couldn't get the idea out of my head that there was a Japanese businessman out there that was part of some terrifying cult or secretive club whose rite of passage was eating human flesh. Like I know it's pretty far-fetched but like I said that moment of realization really freaked me out for a while. I guess that's about the weirdest or scariest thing that happened to me while I was in Japan. The rest of my time there was amazing. I honestly can't wait to go back there on vacation and I recommend traveling there to everyone with an interest in Japanese food or culture. But if you make it to Osaka and end up running into some hideous cannibalistic cult,

don't say I didn't warn you. So I've never actually been to Japan, so I don't have any personal stories to share here, but I do know someone who has and who has plenty of horrifying and scary stories to tell about his time there, my grandpa. You see, he served in the marines during World War II and fought in the Battle of Okinawa towards the end of the war. My dad said that he never really spoke about his time in the Marine Corps when he was growing up, but his time went on, and the mental scars of war healed more and more. I guess he just got more comfortable with talking about it. He's told me a few crazy stories about being on the liberty in Japan, getting drunk, and fighting with other Marines, and some pretty

crazy gambling stories too. But as you can imagine they're not particularly scary. Same can be said for some of his combat stories too, like they're intense but nothing I'd describe as particularly frightening. But there's this one story he told me that's always stuck in my mind as being one of the most frightening things I'd ever heard, equal parts disturbing, shocking, and obscene. If there are any history nerds reading this, don't go too hard on me if I get like dates and stuff wrong. This is me telling his story second hand. But anyway, here it goes. So the way my grandpa tells it, he was just 17 and he enlisted in the marines, as he was allowed to do so back then if he got his father's

permission. He went through basic training, graduated as a rifleman, and was on a ship headed out into the Pacific on his 18th birthday, arriving within the main fleet in time for the evasion of Okinawa in April of 1945. My grandpa told me that the battle was only supposed to last a couple of weeks at most. The Japanese were weakened by that point and weren't expected to be able to defend Okinawa for very long. In the end, the battle lasted more than two months. The thing I always thought was messed up for my grandpa is that while the battle was going on, the marines there got word that the war in Europe had ended. He had a cousin in the

US Army that took part in the Normandy landings and for him the war was Europe had ended. He had a cousin in the US Army that took part in the Normandy landings and for him the war was pretty much over. The Marine officer that announced the news said that they should be happy but, according to Grandpa, no one in his unit seemed to care. They were still stuck in Okinawa, fighting an enemy that was like a thousand times more determined and psychopathic than the Nazis. At least, the Germans knew when they were beat, he once told me. So about six weeks into the battle, the Marines had the Japanese on the run, retreated towards this big old castle that they intended to use as a final layer of defense. But the whole time my grandpa's unit is advancing, there are snipers taking pop shots at

them. All kinds of booby traps and spider holes the Japanese used to try and thin their numbers out before the final defense. So at one point, my grandpa says his platoon reached this ravine type thing that sloped upward, basically the perfect ambush point. The officer in charge had the marines waiting like an hour for aerial reconnaissance, but the cloud cover is so heavy that it takes way too long to get any of the planes to fly over. Then right as they're about to start looking for a way around the ravine, my grandpa and his squad mates see this Japanese woman walking down the ravine towards them. As she gets closer, they realize that she's a little

wide around the waist but not from too many bowls of ramen. No, this woman is pregnant and looks like she's about to pop at any moment. The marines start beckoning her forward, but she can barely walk. She's leaning on rocks and cradling her stomach. What's more, she seems absolutely terrified. Eventually, the lieutenant in charge tells two marines to advance up the ravine while the rest of the platoon covers them so they can help the pregnant woman get to safety. They do so, squelching through the mud until they get to her

before putting her arms around each of the soldiers. That's when the rest of the squad sees what's under her jacket thing. Rows of dynamite, or some kind of other explosive. She's covered in them. They start screaming warnings to the two guys that moved up to get her, but it was way too late to save them. Suddenly there's a huge explosion that rips apart the pregnant woman and the two marines supporting her. The rest of the platoon is showered in chunks of flesh and gore when, out of nowhere, the Japanese open up on them with machine guns from down the ravine. It was a perfectly executed ambush.

For years, my grandpa hated the Japanese soldiers for all their dirty tricks and their savagery, he would say. But one thing was clear from the stories he told. He had this weird, begrudging respect for their warrior spirit. They were masters of war as he put it, about the toughest enemy any soldier could ever dread to fight. There was no fighting them that day. The marines simply had to pull back away from the ravine and call in fire missions from the big guns of the battleships offshore. Only when the shells had impacted on the other side of the ravine did the Japanese machine offshore. Only when the shells had impacted on the other side of the ravine did the Japanese machine guns fall silent and the marines were able to clear the

ravine and recover what little was left of their dead comrades. I'll always be haunted by the look in my grandpa's eyes when he told me about the shapes of body bags. How it was painfully obvious that there was a dead man in each of them. But the body bags they filled with the remains of their exploded buddies had no shape to them at all. They were just sacks of meat. That's not even covering the fact that he had to watch a pregnant woman die like that. How that haunted him for years and years. He told me he had nightmares we saw the woman's face. Where he could hear her crying.

Where he could hear a baby crying too. Cry crying because it never had the chance to be born. Like I said, that whole thing is probably the scariest, most disturbing thing I've ever heard in my life. Knowing that every word of it is true is even more disturbing. It's not like some creepy pasta or some over-the-top horror movie. It's real life. People actually witnessed that. People actually had the will to do something like that. And the fact that it actually happened to my grandpa just makes it all the more raw for me. And that's my story.

Or rather, not my story, but it's definitely still the scariest thing about Japan I'd ever heard. Like I'd seriously rather spoon the girl from the ring instead of seeing something like that for real. So this happened back when I was living and working in Japan as part of my job here in Australia. One evening after work, I was out drinking with a Japanese mate in Ikebukuro. We had to be up pretty early the next morning, so around 9pm we said our goodbyes and I headed off to catch the subway back to the company apartment. As I approached the ticket machines in Akebukuro station, I heard this loud thud, almost like a footy being kicked. Then I heard it again, but I'm a bit wobbly at the time so I don't react straight away. Only when I've gotten my tickets do I actually turn, seeing a crowd of Japanese people stood in a large circle. I peer over them as I'm walking past, only to see this skinny bloke lying on the white-tiled floor. Standing over him is this absolute unit of a guy with a shaved head,

who pulls back his foot before just welling the unconscious bloke as hard as he could in the ribs. The crunching sound his boot made was bloody sickening, but not a single person standing around them said or did anything. I learned pretty quickly not to try to impose Aussie values on Japan. It's a completely different culture, one where people tend to not get involved in each other's business or display an extreme emotion. Like I don't think I'll ever get over how bloody quiet it is in their subway cars, almost like if anyone makes a sound they'll be yeeted off the thing in

an instant. But dear god, you don't just kick a bloke when he's down and if you're in Australia and you do, expect someone to intervene sharpish. But suddenly I realize why no one is getting involved. I catch a glimpse of the kicking bloke's wrist as his sleeves pull back and they're covered in tattoos. Same with his neck, poking out from his shirt collar are all these traditional Japanese tattoos. He's Yakuza, a Japanese gangster. Then the Yakuza bloke does something mental. He reaches down and, with an obscene display of raw

strength, grabs the unconscious man by the hair before lifting him up with one hand, until he was just dangling in the air in front of him. He then whipped the man's head onto the tile floor as hard as he possibly could. The whole crowd gasped at the noise the bloke's skull made when it bounced off the tiles, and there was what I can only describe as an explosion of blood that started to pour out of the poor bloke's face. But the Yakuza fellow wasn't done. He actually starts kicking the bloke all over again, to the point where I was stood there thinking, this poor guy isn't going to survive this if someone doesn't do something. Then I do something that, in hindsight, seems

supremely stupid. I waded in and gave the Yakuza bloke a quick shove as if to say, leave it. I'm not saying I'm the bravest bloke around, and I know how daft it was to lay hands on a proper gangster like that, but there weren't any police around. There weren't even any JR station attendants about either, only the 20 or 30 bystanders who made it pretty bloody obvious that they weren't about to step in. In the moments after the shove, the Yakuza went absolutely beet red with anger and I honestly thought he was about to just knock my block off. God knows he could probably have done so with a single right hook. He then steps forward and tore about

six inches apart, then did something I was definitely not expecting. He lowers his gaze, nods slightly, then reaches his hand vertically. The Japanese gesture of sorry to trouble you as if he'd just stepped on my foot or something. Then he walks out of the situation and just disappears. Only when he'd scar of the situation and just disappears. Only when he'd scarpered did anyone actually do anything. Then everyone's on their bloody phone all at once, calling the police, the ambulance, or just friends to tell them what happened. I stayed by the unconscious bloke's body for a bit, just sort of trying to wake him up and check if he was actually still breathing. Luckily he was, but how he could have survived that kind of punishment was beyond me.

Only when the Japanese cops had turned up did I leave, but when they asked me if I'd seen anything I took a cue from the Japanese people around me and just sort of told them I hadn't actually seen anything then caught the subway home. When I got to my stop I went to the convenience store and bought a grapefruit chuhai to just calm myself down as I was still shaking with adrenaline. I couldn't believe I got in a way with shoving a yakuza like that and although I didn't get hurt it was definitely the scariest thing that happened to me while working in Japan. My friends and I went on a camping trip for three days in the desert last fall, 2019. We went out to hike, explore, and go shooting where we could without posing danger to anyone else. There were about seven of us in total, and of those seven, myself and two others are emergency medical

professionals. We'll call my two EMS friends A and E. We set up camp near the road in an area that had an embankment that would make for a good and safe range. The first day and night went well. However, I remember as the sun was setting, a truck slowly drove by with a large trailer in tow. Normally this wouldn't catch my eye, but I noticed the cargo, though covered, didn't look like it could be any sort of camping gear, and the truck bed was empty. The two men in the cab of the vehicle and I locked eyes as they passed. I gave a friendly wave and a smile, but they just stared at me, emotionless. After a moment they both turned away and floored it out of sight, trailer rumbling in suit. I didn't think much of it at the time so just went about my business for the night until bedtime. My second day was full of more hiking and shooting.

We stopped at around dusk as to not disturb other nearby campers with loud gunfire As darkness fell, we made our bonfire and cracked open a beer and just talked for quite some time Amid the conversation I saw a slight reddish glow drop behind a nearby hill and vanish I brought it up with the group and asked Did anyone else see that? No one else had seen what I did so I excused it as mistaking it as an ember from the fire. Around 10 minutes go by and I see it again except it was high in the sky and deeper into the desert. It's a flare, said one of the group, an emergency flare maybe, I added. We decided that if we see another one

go off, some of us would go see if there was anyone in need of help as we brought advanced medical supplies. A few minutes go by and sure enough, we spot another flare, a little bit west of where the last one was seen. We made a plan, A, E, myself and another one of our friends who we'll call J, and we would venture out in A's truck to find whoever needed help. Now certain areas of the desert we were in has been used by cartels as hidden transport routes before so we also brought some of our firearms just in case we needed to protect ourselves from an attack. We loaded up our medical equipment, hopped into the truck and began driving out, leaving the others to keep watch if whoever needed help came to the camp. We headed in the

direction of the last flare seen, windows rolled down, listening for calls for help as well as announcing that if someone was in distress they should call out to us. Continuing on, another flare shot up further west than the last, illuminating the rocky hills in a dim red hue. I called out the direction and we found a small dried ravine that we could use as passage. We turned down the dark ravine and drove for some time, the only light being that of the truck which only seemed to make the overwhelming darkness that much more imposing. All while calling out but hearing nothing in return another flare came up close by but still too far to see anyone. We continued forward until we hit the end of the ravine which led to somewhat of a natural cul-de-sac surrounding by rocky hills on three sides. We hopped out and searched the area for

a bit with our flashlights. We yelled at it again, but no one responded. It was empty, but we could have sworn this was where it came from. After searching a bit more to be thorough, we decided to check another area down the main road. The end of the ravine was tight for the truck, but there was just enough room to make a U-turn. Jay and I decided to hop in the truck bed for the search so we could see more than what the back seat would allow. As we turned out, a large cloud of dust and gravel hit me with a loud accompanying hiss. What the F just happened? yelled A. Think you blew a tire there buddy? I replied. We hopped out and inspected and found that his rear passenger's side tire had blown but

I noticed something a bit off. The blow was on the wall of the tire and clean, not on the bottom and jagged as would be if it hit a sharp rock. I brought up how suspicious that was but they reasoned that it must have just been a larger sharp stone. As they got to work replacing the tire with the spare I stood watch. There was some difficulty with changing the wheel, the tire iron bent and so did one of the lug nuts. As they worked, I heard something approach me quickly from the darkness. I immediately turned and drew my pistol, turning the light towards the sound. A large rock had rolled down one of the jagged hills to my right and stopped about ten feet from me. I shone my light up to the top. I didn't see anything but some small rocks and gravel still

tumbling down the slope. I almost laughed at how I reacted small rocks and gravel still tumbling down the slope. I almost laughed at how I reacted but then another rock began tumbling down towards me, a few feet away from the same area. I shined my light again but saw no one. I became a bit paranoid. Those rocks were too big to be moved by any animal and they both came from the same direction. I relayed the information to my friends but they blew it off saying I was getting too paranoid. I agreed that was a possibility but I never let my guard down. My gut feeling was telling me something was wrong.

I was on edge the whole time, even thinking to myself that the flares might be some kind of trap or lure. In the meantime, we were cracking jokes about our luck. Hey, this situation sucks, but I'm glad I'm in it with y'all, said A, and the feeling was mutual. My buddies had just finished up replacing the tire when yet another flare rocketed off in the sky near the ravine entrance we took and fell back down to earth nearby. We called out as we loaded back up into the truck but once more we were met with silence. We drove back down to the beginning of the trail and saw no one. We began to doubt if anyone was in trouble and if it was just some dumb kids playing around with a flare gun which is illegal to misuse. With that said, we weren't

going to give up that easily. We began driving deeper into the desert on the main road when another flare was spotted. This one was what puzzled us. Up until then, they were all in roughly the same area. This one was way further northwest of the last one. How are they all the way over there now? I wondered. If these are some idiot teens doing this, we needed to tell them that they can't just go off causing worry like that. It's really irresponsible, said E. We did agree that if that's the case, we should talk to them and their parents. We don't take emergencies lightly. We pushed on towards the last seen light, which led us to something that puzzled us even more. We arrived at a dark campsite surrounded by two hills. The headlights revealed two tents,

scattered belongings in an old fire pit. We exited the vehicle and began our approach on foot, but something was wrong. The tents were unoccupied but still had a load of gear inside and out, and the fire pit was clearly stomped out with coals just barely glowing. It looked like it was quickly abandoned. Even if they went hiking or out on a walk, they left their equipment. Shoes, packs, everything. As I searched, I found an even more unsettling sight. Shotgun shells.

12 gauge and they weren't old. They had to have been fired recently. There was no dust on them. Even after half a day in the desert, they'd be covered in dirt carried by the wind. And they still smelled of gunpowder. I showed my buddies and they agreed this was too odd. We later found deep tire marks, like someone left in a hurry. And that's when I saw it.

It was an ominous orange glow coming from over the north hill that overlooked the abandoned campsite. I asked E to accompany me to go check it out. As we ascended the hill we heard a small noise grow louder and louder. Once we reached the top, we looked down into a barren valley to see what I couldn't make out at first. What's that? asked E. I didn't answer him at first as I was focused on what was before us. Roughly 50 yards away there was a large circle of dark figures in hoods and robes, arms stretched to their sides and all of them vocalizing in a low chant. In the center was a wide ring of fire,

and in the center of the flames, revealed by the fire's light, was an immensely large black pyramid frame. I mean, this thing was giant, a bit off behind the group, the truck and trailer I saw earlier with some other vehicles. I think it's a cult, I replied. As I spoke those words the chanting stopped and the group of what must have been 50 people all turned towards us in silence. At that moment I realized I never turned off my flashlight. They all raised their arms once more and let out a horrifying and loud wail. First just one,

then they all began to join in until the sound was overtaking my own thoughts. We gotta get the F out of here now! I told E in a hushed but anxious tone. We turned and booked it down the hill. Start the truck, E yelled. A and J looked at us confused and almost amused. Why is that? chuckled A. It's a cult, and they know we're here, I explained out of breath.

A and J could see that we weren't playing, and so he ushered us into the truck and we hauled it out and back to camp. As we got back onto the main road something happened that made A&J fully believe us and confirmed my suspicions about the flares. From every hill along the main road, flares shot up into the sky from all sides, illuminating the desert around us. Either a warning or a threat. As we would drive, more and more would fly above us, encompassing the sky above until we got far enough away and the flares fell and faded behind us.

We got back and explained everything to the rest of camp, happy to be back with our lives. They looked as though they didn't fully believe it, but they also knew we wouldn't just make something up like this. We speculated that that was either some kind of lure or a warning system for the cult. We slept close that night and kept firearms nearby. When we awoke, we cleaned up and got ready to leave. I was clearing debris from the range when I stumbled onto something that wasn't there before. A small wooden pyramid frame, charred black and still smoldering. I called attention to it and we promptly left. We got back and went on with our lives. I think back to this event every now and then and I'm thankful that my friends and I

weren't harmed and I hope the owners of that abandoned camp were able to escape unscathed. I have no idea what that cult was or who those people were. I have no clue if they were a legitimate cult or just some people trying to prank campers. I'm fortunate that I've not had any other run-ins like this but I now know there are some strange people in that desert. To be continued... involved. I just want to tell you my story, not to start any beef with anyone, but I don't mind legitimate questions. Thank you for understanding. Now context for the story, I am a strange case with schizophrenia. You see, people usually develop it when they're older, but I actually had all the symptoms for it growing up. It's still possible for children to get it, but it's rare. For me, I did hear voices and see things but it truly got

worse when I was 16 and before I fully start there isn't really a distinct timeline, I'm just telling you all the events that have happened. Now the story, it was a build up to this day. For years I kept hearing voices and seeing the same people over and over. And one day I was at school in Spanish class and it happened. My first episode. Everything went black and I was alone in a room and there was a light over me. Then a black figure walked up to me slowly. It didn't make any noise and next thing I knew my friend sitting next to me tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I was okay. She saw that I was sweating and looked horrified.

I looked at her and grabbed my backpack and walked out of class. My teacher asked me where I was going and I ignored him. I went to the bathroom and those voices that really didn't sound like anything before started telling me to end my own life. Murder someone. And worst of all, you're worthless. After that, I went straight to the counselor's office to talk. I walked in and he looked at me and asked what happened. I broke and said everything. He looked horrified and I refrained enough to not tell them what they were saying but instead I was just hearing them. My mom came and picked me up and she is a mental health nurse and I told her everything.

She wasn't really surprised to hear and told me she suspected as much and took me to a psychiatrist. After hearing my symptoms he diagnosed me with paranoid schizophrenia and he helped get a therapist and start taking medications. This was the beginning of an eventual downfall for my sports. Before all this I was an elite athlete in both football and lacrosse. I was a 4 year varsity goalie and a 3 year varsity nose guard. At the time I was 6 foot 240 pounds of muscle and was running a 630 mile, benching 250, squatting 360 and deadlifting 320. The reason this is important is for what happened next. The medication I was prescribed had a major side effect of weight gain and within 30 days I went from 240 pounds of muscle to 300 of fat. It was impossible to maintain anything. I was getting hungry all the time and my diet to maintain my body blew me up and working out like crazy didn't help.

I went from being a D1 five-star athlete to not even going to college. I quit football senior year and finished lacrosse because it was my favorite but before my senior year let's go back to my major events. Did you know one of the main symptoms of a schizophrenic is false memory? Well I actually believed for a period of time that my mom was verbally abusing me. Sadly this ruined my relationship with her for years but it took me until three months ago to realize it was a fake memory. I'm happy to say I fixed my relationship and we are closer than ever. Other things I went through were reality distortion, meaning I lost touch with my surroundings. You know in the movies where mental people are saying the government is making them

do this? Well that's real but mine were different. I believed a random person was trying to murder me and really hurt me. My paranoia was bad. I couldn't be home alone without having an anxiety attack. I was afraid of living in my own home. I was afraid of being in a car. And I was afraid to sleep as it made me completely vulnerable to being killed, so I thought. I didn't leave my room for a month at one point and yes, I missed a month of school. Lucky for me, I was originally a top student, never was late, had a 4.0 and was an athlete so the school was worried about me and it was a lot to explain. I went back to school and finished my sophomore year and junior year started and it was getting worse. I was losing hope for my life. I was paranoid that I wasn't living a real life and one day I'll just wake up in the hospital bounded. I thought my friends weren't even real. A breaking

point was during English I lost touch with reality and saw the black figure grab my arm and was trying to break it and I started screaming in agony. My homie Mac saw it and pulled me back. Everyone was staring. Mac being an amazing guy grabbed my backpack and walked me out, called my dad and I left school. That's the thing I was blessed with, my friends. All of them never left me. Instead, they supported me and always reached out. I still thank them to this day, though I was still struggling a lot. As time went on, new voices would form. At first, it was three voices and a shadow man. One voice was aggressive, with it telling to kill and another to end my own life, and another told me I was worthless. The reason

that hurt was the false memories of the verbal abuse. My mom told me that and it still hurts hearing that word. I eventually formed two new voices. One was a woman constantly screaming and telling me everything is okay and to trust her. I don't. The last one became the alpha voice. I actually named him Trey. No reason, it just felt right. But he was an actual manifestation of a man. A man that has many qualities of people I know and he actually is always around. He says whatever he wants, but it's always a back and forth of destruction in life. He would say stuff like, your family hates you, you lie, you're an embarrassment to them, your friends are just using you as a sob story and then say things like, it's all okay, you're stronger than this,

you're loved. He does scare me the most but since he appeared a lot of the others took a back seat and haven't been too active. Now the second semester of my junior year I got homeschooled, but I dual enrolled into that and my high school so I could continue sports. However, I had a rough junior year. For lacrosse I actually still finished 10th in the state of California. I regressed, but it was still good enough. For lacrosse I actually still finished 10th in the state of California. I regressed but it was still good enough. My GPA took a huge hit and I became a 3.2 student, my lowest I hit was a 2.8. I was still getting offers but a lot of the top tier ones were pulling out seeing me drop

so drastically. A thing though I didn't want to change was throughout all of this my lacrosse and football team didn't know I had schizophrenia, only my friends who played sports with me. And I was actually helping my teammates out with their issues and some were bad too. I was happy that I could use my issues to help and understand others and it was homeschooling that was helping dramatically. I was in a good space for a bit but still having a hard time and my senior year came and I quit football as the season before I tore the ligament and tendon in my right thumb and it's still damaged to this day. I was out for

eight months and I healed luckily before lacrosse season but I was done with football. Another main reason for quitting was to pursue art, specifically comics. During all of this, I was trying to make a comic book, but I took a pause on it. But my experiences now are being used to fuel my comic, and drawing throughout all of this was keeping me together. Sorry for the runoff, I just wanted to say that bit. To continue, my senior year started and my homeschooling was doing good, and so was my health a bit. But that came back to bite me. I started to lose touch with reality a lot more, and I almost hurt someone in my life who was precious to me. I saw them as a murderer trying to kill me, and I was about to attack, but I pulled myself out of it before anything.

They hugged me and told me it was fine, they understood, and I cried really hard. I couldn't believe I almost hurt my sister, though after that day it got better and I managed to squeeze through my senior year without a freak out. I thanked my coach beyond anything as he was like my second dad and helped me out as much as he could. I finished my lacrosse career 7th in the state and 20th in the nation. I was awarded an MVP award, I was known as the true heart and soul of the team, someone who helped everyone and always was there for my teammates. I gave a speech at the banquet about my story and I got a standing ovation. I was highly respected and my story spread in the lacrosse community as I was already respected and now people saw me as a true inspiration.

The story doesn't end there, however. After my senior year, I got accepted to the Los Angeles Film School and studied animation, but my illness had one last thing to do. I almost ended my own life in my sleep. I thought I was dreaming but instead I just lost touch with reality. I had that attack and it was the last I had until now. After that I dropped out of school and took time to fix myself. I started to coach goalies in town and have been very successful in it I'm only 19 and already got a goalie committed to a college My mental health took a lot of time to fix and a lot of power to control

Yes, I still have bad days, but I know I'm strong I know I can get through it I tell myself every day I am where I am because I'm strong No one can bring me down now I just recently got my comic book published and am the town's very own goalie coach. I work a lot and think a lot to help keep focus on other things. I still have a long way to go before I feel comfortable doing a strange act called dating as I want to be the best man to a girl as I can be.

I have to thank my friends, family, doctors, and even my homeschool teacher, love you Mr. Davidson, for helping me get to where I am. Yes, I'm a college dropout, but hey, I'm happy as I could be now and nothing is stopping this momentum. One last piece of advice. I wrote a quote during the dark times that really helped me and hopefully it can help someone else too. Worthless people can do great things because they're trying to prove to the world that they are in fact not worthless. To be continued... My family tries to spend every other Christmas together and we rotate on whose house will host the entire family. That year it was my mother's turn. It was dinner time and as you can imagine with so many people in one house it can get pretty crowded at the table. Mostly everyone decided that we're going to eat in the living room, something my mother didn't mind considering the fact that our kitchen table only sat four.

I was sitting at the table next to my aunt with my small body. It was easy for me to sit on one side of the table with her. I had just stuck a large piece of broccoli on my fork and attempted to shove the vegetable in my mouth when it fell off my fork landing in the cup of juice that I had been drinking. I was disappointed but did the most rational thing in my mind. I got up with the intention of dumping out the drink in the sink. But before I could move my aunt stopped me, questioning as to what I thought I was doing. I told her what happened and showed her the broccoli that was quickly starting to break apart in my drink. I turned to go dump the cup down the sink when my aunt stopped me again, telling me

not to be wasteful and fish out the broccoli and drink the juice. I laughed thinking she was joking, telling her, you're crazy, in a joking manner. But she didn't take it that way. Oh boy, did she not take it that way at all. My aunt went eerily quiet and her face goes blank. I can instantly feel a cold chill run up my spine and I honestly had felt like I had stepped on a landmine. My aunt tells me in a low tone, don't call me crazy. My smile had long been wiped away and I tried my best to backpedal explaining to her that I didn't think that she was actually crazy, that it was just a playful spin on words. This didn't go over well either, because she grabbed my arm and leaned in closer, repeating, Don't call me crazy.

I instantly know that if I don't apologize, something bad would happen, so I quickly apologized to her, and that seemed to satisfy her. She made me sit down and hovered over me until I ate the now extremely soggy broccoli and chugged down the cup of juice. Now this might not seem terrifying or scary at all. Well, that was just the setup for the events that were to follow that evening. Later that night most of my family had gone out. I can't remember where but the only people in the house were myself, my older sister, my aunt and her daughter, my second eldest cousin. I was sitting in my room watching TV when I started to hear yelling from the room over. It quickly got louder

and I knew it was my aunt and cousin. I'm not sure what had started the whole thing but I do know why it had escalated the way it did. The two were having an argument over something when my cousin told my aunt she was acting crazy. Yeah, she did the same thing I had done earlier but unlike me, my cousin didn't apologize. She tried to explain to her as I did but just like before, she wasn't having any of that and my aunt exploded. I'm sitting in my room terrified when a loud bang from the wall causes me to jump. After the bang came my cousin's screams of pure terror. I was too scared to move until I heard rushing footsteps. I look at my door and soon see my sister running by. Next thing I know I can hear my aunt screaming and ranting at the top of her lungs,

my sister pleading and begging her to stop, and the sobs of my cousin along with a loud thud noise. I finally get enough courage to leave my room and look into the next room and what I saw was an image seared into my mind to this day. My cousin was on the bed in a fetal position trying to make herself as small as possible, just sobbing. She cried so much that she left a large wet spot on the bedspread. My sister is laying on top of her using her own body as a shield and my aunt is hovering over the two just screaming like a madwoman and in her hand is one of her shoes. It was one of those woman loafers with a hard sole and slight heel. She was

using the shoe to beat both my sister and cousin, swinging away trying to make contact with any amount of skin. She was really just trying to get my cousin but didn't care that she was hitting my sister in the process. I'm frozen in absolute fear, never having seen anything like this before. Sure my mother got mad at me and I got the occasional spanking but nothing like this. I'm afraid to even say anything in fear that my aunt will turn at me and I got the occasional spanking but nothing like this. I'm afraid to even say anything in fear that my aunt will turn on me and start attacking me. I slowly start to back away when I look to the ground that caused my eyes to widen. On the floor was my sister's jewelry box. It was all wood and had magnetic drawers to prevent the jewelry from spilling out if you

knocked it over. It was just laying on the ground, all the drawers open and jewelry spilled on the floor. I looked at the box, then to my aunt and quickly figured out what that loud banging noise I heard earlier was. Yes, my aunt had thrown my sister's jewelry box at my cousin. Luckily my cousin dodged it and it hit the wall, but she had thrown it with so much force that it caused all the magnetic drawers to pop open. That's when I truly realized my aunt had lost it. I turned and ran back in my room locking the door behind me waiting for my mom to come home. I wasn't old enough to have a cell phone and we didn't have a house phone so there was no one I could call.

I stayed in my room until the shouting stopped. Turns out my aunt had just gotten tired of hitting and yelling so she went outside to smoke. My sister hugged my cousin comforting her until everyone else got home. What bothers me most is that the entire incident was just brushed off. No one said anything to my aunt, nor reprimanded her for her behavior. I think my aunt had made it all seem not like a big deal, that my cousin deserved it and so did my sister for defending her cousin when she was in the wrong. She was believed over us because we were kids and she was the adult. I know this isn't really as scary or terrifying as what other people have experienced but out of all the messed up things that have occurred in my life this had one of

the bigger impacts. I can't even look at my aunt without thinking about it. I will say this, my family is finally starting to recognize the true person my aunt is, that her so-called discipline was actually abuse. They refuse to condone her behavior anymore, especially my mother. Despite the fact that I'm an adult now, my aunt still scares me. But at least now I have my family raised in South Carolina. It was always tough living there because I'm an African American lady. My family and I grew up in an upper middle class neighborhood. Both my parents are immigrants who worked hard to give

my siblings and I a good life. So it was a Saturday evening when my parents went out on a date. I was 14 at the time and they trusted I would be able to babysit my little brother and sister. I'd done this a million times before so I wasn't worried. They'd left the house at around 8 and promised to be back no later than 11pm. Everything seemed perfectly fine at first. My brother was in the first living room playing on his Xbox, I was on the couch near him using my phone and my sister was upstairs in our room messing with her tablet. Now the layout of the house was something like this.

You open the front door and immediately to your right you have the first living room. That leads into a dining room which leads into the kitchen. The kitchen is open and leads into the second living room. From there you can access the backyard and door to the garage. On the left of the front door you can go up the stairs to the bedrooms. On one side of the hall you have my sister and I's room and a bathroom and on the other you have the master bedroom and my brother's room. I'm sitting on the couch with my brother. I then hear the garage door being opened. It was only around 9pm and I knew my parents would never come back home this early.

So I got up to meet them at the door and see why. Whenever they leave I always make sure the door from the garage is locked so I usually have to let them in. I walk up to the door and just as I was about to open it, I stopped. I felt kind of anxious for whatever reason and didn't want to open up the door until I heard it was them. I see the doorknob wiggle violently and I got scared and stepped back. I called out. Mom? No response. Dad, is that you?

Stop messing around. Nothing. I started to get really scared. Dad, if this is you, please say something. I'm getting scared. After I said this, the wiggling got way more violent. It looked like the door was going to burst at any moment. By this point, my brother stopped playing his game and ran into the kitchen. Fearing for our lives, I ran into the kitchen, grabbed one of the biggest knives we had,

took my brother's hand and ran upstairs. There I grabbed my sister and ran into my brother's room. By now I heard the door burst open. I locked the door and hid my siblings in the closet while I pushed the dresser in front of the door to barricade it. After I did that I sat on his bed and called the cops. The operator got all of my details and said the cops would be there in five minutes. As I sat on the bed I felt absolutely terrified. My mind was completely blank until I heard running up the stairs. The light sobbing in the closet from my siblings turned into fearful screams and I had my back against the wall shaking as I held the knife in front of me. I heard them bust through each door.

Eventually they got to the end of the hall where my brother's room is and tried to open the door. They got angry and started banging and yelling at us to open up. I could tell by the voice that it was a man. Eventually he's able to bust the lock and slide the door open. We lock eyes as he tries to get past my little makeshift barricade. I get a good look at his face and his features. He couldn't have been more than 5'10 and had a stocky build and a very deep voice. He had, at least to me, very obviously gotten cosmetic surgery.

His face looked incredibly artificial. His skin had this unnatural smoothness to it. He had these glossy big lips and his eyes seemed to be just a little too big. And I was on the verge of tears when I just yelled, Don't come any closer! The police are on their way! That seemed to stop him in his tracks. He took one last look at me when he ran down the stairs and out the front door. I ran to the closet to check on my siblings and see if they were alright.

They were pretty shaken up but other than that, they were okay. I heard the police finally pull up to my house about a minute later. An officer came in and yelled to see if we were alright. I remember being taken to the station with my siblings and calling my parents on the way too. We filed a report but nothing came of it. I remember being so to the station with my siblings and calling my parents on the way too. We filed a report, but nothing came of it. I remember being so angry about it. There couldn't be that many people who looked like that in South Carolina. How was it so hard to find someone who left the crime scene within minutes before them arriving? This story takes place in Santa Clarita, one of the safest towns in America.

During the story, I was between 10 and 17 years old, I'm now 19. Some context, we lived in a two-story house that had two bedrooms downstairs and three upstairs. My family consisted of mom, dad, older brother, older sister, five dogs, and me, the youngest. Last thing my family believed, my sister and I had a third eye since we could predict a lot of stuff But for now, we're only going over the spirits part of it Now we begin The experiences started pretty much right away when we moved in One night when I was taking a shower, I saw a little girl outside of it, looking at me She looked to be around 6 or 7

She had long straight black hair and was wearing white pajamas, but after that I got out and she ran away and I followed her. She disappeared completely when she went to my sister's room and I actually saw her later that night in my dreams. She told me her name was Alice and she needed mine and my sister's help getting rid of two bad men. I agreed but first she needed my sister to see her. So she played with my sister's stuffed animals and then my sister asked me if I touched them. I told her it was Alice and that Alice wanted to talk to her. Of course my sister freaked but she'd meet Alice later that night and my sister agreed to help. The last request Alice made was not to tell anyone else as once I do, they will all be able to see the men and her. After that talk I immediately saw one of the men.

I went to the bathroom and walking back from it I saw a really tall white sheeted figure standing in the loft. He looked at me and I felt so much fear, anxiety, and dread. He came after me and I ran to my room and closed the door. I cried hard, really hard. I couldn't stop because I was feeling pure terror course through me. After that I questioned if I should even bother helping but I still tried. Time and time again I would run into him and he would chase me. He never really made noise but he would tell me to stop running and I never listened. It took a few months but I finally broke and told my family. They all believed me as they were feeling the pressure from him and were all getting stressed from it. Well after that my

father saw the white figure. He was facing a corner of the loft and looked back at my dad and it terrified him. For my brother however he never saw anything at the house. He only felt certain pressures but he did manage to record my guardian angel one time opening his room door and checking on me. I'm still sad that the phone that had the video was destroyed in an accident. Now moving to my mom, she was actually able to communicate with the man but doesn't remember a single thing he said as most of the memories in that house disappeared from her mainly due to my mom's mental illnesses. But my sister did manage to see my mom talking to the air but it was weird.

My sister heard a deep male voice that had a lot of authority to it next to my mom. However, she recognized the voice was coming from her mom and it scared my sister very badly. After that incident, time went by and my tia, my aunt, and my nina, grandmother, moved in with us and they had experienced numerous things. First, my tia kept on hearing running upstairs when she was home alone. She would hear thumping and bangs and even two male voices talking. My Nina, on the other hand, met Alice but sadly couldn't communicate with her. The last story with them is about my Tia. She got up really early every morning to go to work like four in the morning and one time when

she was going upstairs to use the bathroom, she bumped into someone really hard that was knocked down and there was no one around and realized she didn't even hear anyone else make a noise or fall. Those are the only stories I have of my Tia and Nina but moving on. So I got five dogs at the time of all of this and all of them would look upstairs and growl, bark and just watch it very intently. One time my poodle went upstairs and something hurt her very badly. We had to get a cast for her paw because it seemed that something had crushed her paw. Last small story before we get back to the main story is about my friends. They to this day say that the night that they spent in the loft is the scariest moment for

all of them. You see there were four of them and the first time they came over was when everything barely started happening. I had them sleep in the loft and they all said that a tall sheeted man was harassing them all night and scaring them. At the time they were the only ones to see his face and they said half of his face looked cut off. My friends would come over almost every weekend but after that moment refused to go anywhere near the loft. Now to get back on track, after some time I started to see visions in my sleep of Alice's death. She was taken by the sheeted man and brought to another man who wore a very dirty suit. He looked very disorganized but

he had Freddy Krueger type gloves and slashed Alice. I kept seeing this over and over until one day I saw the killer. When I had to take a shower I would have to cross the loft and there I saw him, crawling on all fours, stared at me intently with so much hate. He gave off an even more sinister presence than the white sheet. He was pure evil and something I didn't want to deal with anymore. Unlike the white sheet, Killer never attacked anyone, but he was just a terror. Have you seen the movie Insidious and the scene where the medium draws the demon on the ceiling? He's similar to that and he even would crawl up walls like that. After he started to show himself, my dad saw him and actually started to sleep downstairs instead of his room because of how often he was seeing him in the room and scaring my father.

My sister was getting super stressed from everything and told Alice she wasn't helping anymore. My sister never saw Alice after that. For me there wasn't anything I could even do. I was too scared to even look at the men and I was getting mentally drained from seeing them all the time that I told Alice I was done too. I was 15 then and Alice looked sad and disappointed at that and told me goodbye. I didn't want her to leave but I couldn't stop her and she vanished and that was the last I saw her and the two men. Things actually calmed down a little bit but my family started to break down. My parents divorced because my brother almost died in college and my dad refused to travel to see him and my mom never

forgave him for that. My sister suffered with major depression and bipolar and even PTSD from everything. As for me, the events from Alice and the man and other personal stuff drove me to a breaking point and I developed paranoid schizophrenia. The paranoia of not seeing the man anymore, the feeling of dread, and death lingered drove the development. The spirits mixed with anger and hatred from everyone built and broke everyone We decided we need to move on from that house so we moved to where we are now Now everything seems to be fine My brother is in good health My sister lives in Seattle pursuing her dream of music producing

My mom and dad decided it was best to live together still and me who had moved on professionally. Things really hit the fan in the old place and it almost tore my family apart. The anger and fear that the old house had was too much for us to handle. Now we still have paranormal activity but a complete 180 compared to that old house. If I were to give advice to anyone about spirits, never help them as sometimes they will pull you and everyone else into something none of you have the power to help with. To be continued... From having to do CPR on a man that hung himself and no one noticed for an hour, to seeing a dude cut his junk off. But just the other day, we had something that would stick with me forever.

It was just a normal day, as normal as prison can be, that is. I had came in early for some overtime, and the first shift was going fine for the most part. Shift change was happening, and I had been moved to a first responder on the yard. I went to switch my gear and let central control know I had switched my gear over but then, I need ERTs to the woodshop, two inmates fighting, I hear over the comms. Now mind you, I've been in these situations more times than I can count, the oddity being that this was in the woodshop, where nothing ever happens. So I start running down to the woodshop, halfway down I hear over the radio, we need a gurney. So I run faster.

Passing my other responder who was grabbing the gurney, I kept pushing my way to the woodshop. I run into the door, my sergeant who was already here by this point I kept pushing my way to the woodshop. I run into the door. My sergeant, who was already here by this point, is clearing all the inmates out. My sergeant motions to me that there is someone over by the desk. I couldn't really see, so I walked over to the desk. This is the most haunting thing I'd ever seen in my life, burned in my memory. A man sitting on the ground, covered head to toe in blood, who was looking right at me with the most fearful expression I've ever seen. His eyes were so wide. God, those eyes. I immediately ripped open my ERT bag and took the cloth out and wrapped

his head, yelling, I need towels, someone get me some towels so I can apply pressure. No, I know who this inmate is, so I immediately call him by name and he looks at me. I then tell him to say where he was at so I can get an idea of how much is going on in his head. This man couldn't say a word. We get the towels and my other co-worker had finally brought the gurney down and we put him on it. I'm noticing a lot of damage to this man. His ear is torn, puncture wounds to the head, a broken arm, head concaved. We get him upstairs to EMS where I'm notified by my lieutenant that I'll be riding with him in the ambulance. I spent the next seven hours with this kid, being stapled together,

seeing the damage done to his brain, and so on. The doctor said the area of the brain that was damaged was that of speech, meaning that if he does pull through, he'll likely never speak again. And I later found out the details. Apparently another inmate beat him over the head with a 15-pound metal bar clamp 13 times and stabbed him with a sharpened screwdriver 6 times. I watched the camera footage and it was

brutal. Today I saw his mother and told her what I did. She cried and said, you might have saved my son's life. Thank you so much. This kid is still in a coma and might die. I've seen my fair share of stuff, like I've said, but I will never get the look on this kid's face out of my mind. It will haunt me for the rest of my life. I've always grown up a loser and not liked by kids at school. I've been heavily bullied since kindergarten, which ultimately me leave school then go to private school then leave private school and try about two more schools then just ending up going back to the original school I left in kindergarten. I had a neighbor, we'll just call them the Cranes. The Cranes were never nice to my family and I.

In fact they were extremely vulgar and rude and we ended up calling the police on them multiple times. But about five or maybe six years ago, my sister and I were playing outside, and my ball rolled under my fence and onto their property where their children grabbed it and gave it back to us. My sister and I were stunned because all the interactions we ever had with them ended up in them calling us white trash and other nasty names. Ever since that day, the family clicked and we suddenly became great friends with them. My sister and I would go next door and always ask to walk their bulldogs. Anyways, they ended up moving away about a year ago. Now back to school, I would always say that I was able to see ghosts and spirits and I would scare students.

This carried on into my sophomore year. Everyone would always call me a liar and a freak, even my own sister, but she's probably the most horrible person ever. Although I was severely bullied about my ghost stories, I never gave them what they wanted. I never would say that my claims were lies because quite frankly they weren't. One day I came home and since my parents have always favored my sister they would always tell her the full truth of everything. So when they told me our neighbor died from a heart attack I was suspicious. The man was a husband, father, surfaced, and a dentist but he was on the younger side so I was obviously very suspicious about my

mom's heart attack story. So then my sister told me after a while for me not to tell my mom or dad but the man, we'll call Alex, had hung himself in his office. I was very shocked and confused because he just never seemed like that type. But as someone who struggles with a rare mental illness that no one exactly ever suspects, I guess I can understand. I had always been very hyper aware of my surroundings and would always see Alex in dreams, the backyard and in my house. But today something truly scary happened. Today I was sitting outside enjoying some soup for the Jewish holiday,

then all of a sudden the door that was behind me, which was locked, alarms went off and I turned around to the door, wide open. I was so confused. Until I remembered the one time about two years ago Alex and some other neighbors were cleaning up the neighborhood, until Alex and I sat on the front stoop of my house eating soup, and all of a sudden the door opened and scared us. Reading and listening to these stories has brought up an old memory that I thought might be interesting to share.

This happened when I was 15 years old. I would like to say I'm a female and definitely did not look older than my age. In fact, most people thought I was younger. I had just moved about 4 hours away from another state and one of my friends from my old school was visiting for the week. We decided to start this trip by shopping at a large mall close to my new house. Thanks to me being an avid Pinterest user at the time and us being teenagers that wanted to look cute, we decided to dress nice just for fun. I was wearing a somewhat short skirt and knee-high socks. Yes, I know that sounds

somewhat like a stripper, but it was all the rage on the fashion side of Pinterest at the time. My friend, who I'll refer to as Haley, was also wearing a skirt. My mother and younger sister was also in the mall, but we had gone our separate ways. As like most teenagers, we wanted to be be independent We started our shopping at the store Pink Which if you don't already know is a branch off of Victoria's Secret But for teenagers rather than adults The store only sells clothes for girls focusing on teens I've always been paranoid and I'm the type of person that is always scanning the people around me

Just because I like to be aware When we entered the store I instantly noticed just because I like to be aware. When we entered the store I instantly noticed a man who looked to be in his mid 30s to 40s. He stood still, not shopping around and he looked nervous. You could see that he was sweating. My first thought was that he was a father to some teenage girl and was maybe uncomfortable with the type of clothing the store sells. Either way, he made me feel uncomfortable so I moved to the other side of the store and Haley followed. As I was shopping around I turned to my left and saw the same man. Only this time he was looking at a pink hoodie as if shopping. Red flags instantly popped up.

The man had not been shopping around before and now was looking at hoodies made for teenage girls. I couldn't say for sure if he had followed us but something in my gut said he did and that I needed to get away. Without saying anything to Haley, I simply walked out the store and right into the store next door. Haley was obviously confused and asked me what was up. I told her I thought a man had followed us around the store and I wanted to get out. She told me I was being dramatic and it was probably just a coincidence, almost as if on cue. Right then the same man in the store we were in started to look at female shoes. I pointed him out and told her that was the man and as soon as he noticed that we had seen him he left the store. Haley took me more seriously now but still didn't really believe he was following us.

I on the other hand was already freaking out. Abercrombie was right across the mall, maybe 40 feet from the store we were currently in. Haley said we should walk into Abercrombie so that if he follows us inside we know for sure that he's following us. Scared out of my mind to leave our little store we quickly fast walked into Abercrombie. Once inside we walked a little into the store so it wasn't so obvious and waited. We then saw the man casually walking around the mall making a big loop, I'm assuming to not be so obvious, and headed right for us. At that point, even Haley started to panic. We started to walk further into the store while discussing our options.

It's crazy how alone you can feel during situations like this, even when you're surrounded by people. Haley wanted to go somewhere like a dressing room to hide from him, but I didn't want to be anywhere out of the public eye. We decided to go to the back of the store where the checkout area was and tell one of the employees. If you've ever been inside of Abercrombie, it's split into two sides, the male side and female side with the registers in the back. As we moved, we saw the man clearly start walking into the female side of the store, confirming even more that he wasn't simply shopping around.

Both Haley and I were shaking at this point while rushing to the back. We ran up to the first male employee we saw and told him that there's a man following us. He started to ask us a question, I can't remember what anymore and right then we saw the creep turning the corner into the area that we were in. We quickly pointed him out to the Abercrombie worker and as soon as he saw we were talking to someone he took off. The employee happened to actually be the manager and was completely shocked when we told him what had happened. He walked us up to the front of the store and we looked for him but didn't see him. He told us to walk around for a minute and come back while he watched to see if the man is still around. Thankfully the creep didn't see him. He told us to walk around for a minute and come back, while he watched to see

if the man is still around. Thankfully the creep didn't come back, apparently deciding dealing with the manager was too much work. We eventually went on our way and tried to enjoy the rest of the day, but I was scared the whole time and really just wanted to go home. I called my mom after the whole ordeal and told her what had happened, and at the end of our shopping trip she took us back to Abercrombie to thank the man who helped us. This story seemed like it was a perfect happy ending, but that's just not how this world works. While talking to the manager inside Abercrombie we noticed someone walking around the mall in a familiar hoodie. That's right, the same man was walking around casually, holding a drink in his hand, looking like a normal guy. We all watched in horror from the store window as the man turned to

walk back into the store pink again. I don't know what happened after this, I believe they called mall security on the man, but I'm not sure what followed after that. I'm still so grateful for my paranoid self noticing him as soon as I did, and for the amazing manager at Abercrombie for saving us. So back in 2015, I was a freshman in high school. On one weekend, I went to go down to my friend Andrew's house to meet up with other friends to go into D.C. We had a great time in D.C., but now it was getting dark outside, so we all started getting back on one of the trains. At first it was all nothing, not becoming unnerved at first until we stopped at the Bethesda station and four guys came in were singing obnoxiously loud in the train and trying to intimidate people on the train. One of my friends Gabby was starting to get a bit scared. The loud singing woke up my friend Andrew.

He immediately knew something was up as all of my other friends knew as well. The final stop where we got off was the stop the four guys got off as well but they were ahead of us so we thought that it was over. After that we started heading towards the parking lot but my friend's mom wasn't there to pick us up so we all stood there to wait. We were all talking in a circle then out of the blue the four loud guys from earlier were walking towards us but with more people this time. This now big group of people were walking around us and circling us trying to intimidate us. We didn't know what was going to happen so we all stood there just to wait for them to make their first move. This group started then trying another intimidation tactic which was

starting to low-key scare my friends Gabby and Kimmy but we all didn't make the first move. They broke into our social circle and were getting close to all of us and even was stepping on some of our shoes and one of them said, so y'all like reading books huh? My friend Andrew was slowly pulling out and trying to hide the fact that he was pulling out a knife and so was I but one of them saw it so we were expecting to have a fight start to happen but thankfully they all realized this possible robbery attempt might not be easy because some of us weren't going to go without a fight. Thankfully they all realized this possible robbery attempt might not be easy because some of us weren't going to go without a fight. Thankfully they all started heading away but it was still a very unnerving experience. About a week later a local news station posted on Twitter that a man was beaten to death and robbed at that same metro station.

I still wonder to this day if that was the same group of people we had encountered a couple of weeks prior. My friend flew into town to LA to visit me from the UK. She had a few stops she wanted to visit while in town, starting off with Hollywood Boulevard and the stars. We were walking down, trying to find her favorite ones. I really didn't care, I live here, I can see them anytime and not really paying attention. Our only thoughts were of the stars that we saw and photo ops taken. We didn't notice being approached by a single harmless looking man in a suit until he approached and actually initiated conversation with us instead of just kind of continuing on his way. He asked us if we wanted

to take a personality test and she was rather interested. He never mentioned that he was from the Church of Scientology or that we would be there for literally hours taking this test. It had to be at least a hundred pages and at one point I was starting to get cranky and hungry. He'd interrupted our dinner plans of which I told him we had plans and needed to be leaving. The truth was I was getting nervous. They had specifically split up my friend and I and tried to appease us with a strange cheese plate in the meantime while we finished. Her phone didn't work since she was from the UK so I couldn't just text her and tell her we needed to leave and the place was creepy. I sped through the test, just making up nonsense answers for every answer just to get through it so I could say I was done and needed

to see my friend. They told me I could not. This was the point where I started to get really freaked out and they brought me to the small room to try to hard sell me on their program. I told them I had no interest but the hard sell continued and at that point I stood up to leave and the secretary boxed me in. I told them I'd call the police if they didn't allow me to leave and to have my friend back. Fortunately they released her quite easily and it didn't ramp up. She was from the UK, they could not get money from her. They didn't care as much as they did with me. And needless to say, we ran away fast.

We didn't look back, nor did we give our real names in the first place or any real contact information. We at least had enough sense to do that. And in summary, never accept strange cheese plates from cults. So I know you might not read this or put it in your video, but I have a crazy story that I have to get off my shoulders. About six to seven years ago, I was 11 years old, going to middle school down the street from my home. One day I'm walking home and everything was fine. I got home and I laid down in my bedroom, was at the front of the house, and my sister was directly across from mine but her window faced the backyard. I was playing on my iPod I used to have because my parents refused to get me a phone

so I'm lying down minding my own business and I hear a really loud boom and five seconds later my sister comes running into my room asking if I heard that and I said yes. Being 11 I really didn't think much of it and just looked out the window and saw fire and a lot of smoke coming from the building near my house. Being young and not really caring I just ignored it and went about my business. Seven years later I found out that they were cooking meth and some other drug I can't remember now and someone used a wrong ingredient and exploded the whole building killing about 20 to 30 people working there. Still to this day I pass by that place

and it gives me chills. To be continued... so he decided that he would try and find one in better condition. He asked me to help him look for one as my dad had a van and we would need to use that to transport the sofa. So we went on Craigslist to have a look at what other people had for sale. We came across one ad that stated Three-seater cream leather sofa, great condition, free to first viewer. There was a picture of it and it looked in perfect condition. Now the ads had been up for a week so we had thought that maybe it was already gone and that they just hadn't taken the ad down yet.

So my friend contacted the seller and nearly instantly got a reply saying that they still had the sofa and it was available if we could collect it. I was a bit wary that it was still available, I mean, a free sofa in perfect condition that had been up for a week and nobody had taken it yet? We thought that maybe there was something wrong with it that could only be noticed when viewing the sofa that was maybe hidden from the pictures.

It was a weekend and we had no plans, so we decided that we would go and check out the sofa. My friend contacted the seller back and organized a time and place to meet up. They decided on a local McDonald's car park at 9pm as the seller said that he was in work until about 8pm and would need time to get ready after work. The seller said that he would be driving a green Honda Accord with a trailer. So we pulled up to the McDonald's car park at about 8.50pm. There was loads of people around so we had no reason to think that we would be in danger or anything.

At about 8.55 my friend got a text saying that the cellar was about 15 minutes away and they asked him to describe what vehicle we were in so he described the van that we were in to him. About 5 minutes after he had texted the seller what vehicle we were in, an overweight man around 50 years old with a grey scruffy beard and greasy grey hair approached the driver's side window of the van, which was my side as I was driving the van. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt with what looked like food stains all over it with black jeans with holes torn in them and dried mud stains all over them along with a pair of black steel toe cap boots also

covered in dried mud. He knocked on my window so I rolled it down a bit. You boys here for the sofa? He said in a gravelly voice. It sounded like he needed to cough but couldn't get it out. Uh, yeah? I said to him. Rob's car had broken down just down the road and his phone battery had died. I was with him and I walked up to get you guys. He's with the car waiting for AAA but you can come down and collect the sofa off of him. Me and my friend looked at each other, unsure of what to think. Can I get in the van and we'll just go back to rob together? The guy asked. How far down the road is he? I asked before he replied.

Not too far, but I need to show you where to go. At this stage, my friend pretended to get a phone call. Hello? Yes? No way, really? Alright, well, we'll be right there, he said before pretending to hang up his phone. He looked at me and said, we gotta go, my dad needs us to help him with a flat tire. I nodded, knowing that it was a fake call just to get us away from this creepy guy. We gotta go now, but we'll contact you tomorrow about the sofa. The guy just stared at us as I rolled up my window and started to drive away. Me and my friend looked at each other like, that was creepy, I got bad vibes off of that guy. My friend said, yeah, definitely.

We decided to drive around the back of the car park to see if we could find out if the guy was up to something or not. We could see him standing in the same spot where we left him and he was on the phone. He put his phone down and about two minutes after that a car pulled up with three men in it and he got in. My friend's phone started ringing and it was the number of Rob, the guy who was supposedly giving away the sofa. He answered, hey can you meet tomorrow and I can hold onto the sofa for you until then? As he was on the phone I noticed one of the men in the car that had collected the creepy guy was also on the phone. My friend told Rob that he would contact him tomorrow and that he was busy and couldn't talk right now.

At the same time that my friend hung up the phone, the guy who was in the car also finished his phone call. At this point, I explained to my friend that there was probably the car also finished his phone call. At this point I explained to my friend that there was probably no car that had broken down and that creepy guy was trying to lure us somewhere so the guys in the car could do god knows what to us. We drove home and my friend blocked the number of Rob and we never heard from them again. We reported the ad and it was removed the next day. When I was about 8 years old, my parents were going through a divorce and me and my older sister used to spend a lot of time at our grandparents' house. It's a long ranch-style home on a corner in a very nice neighborhood that's a 10-minute walk from a gas station, grocery store, and a few fast food restaurants. The streets are long and lined with well-manicured houses cradled by big scenic California valley hills all around. We were never very wealthy, but my grandpa

bought it as a fixer-upper many years ago, and the property value had skyrocketed since then. As you can imagine, it's a very safe spot, and although there weren't many other kids in the neighborhood, it wasn't uncommon to see neighbors walking their dogs or pushing a stroller down the sidewalk outside her house. Although my mom was especially protective all our lives, this particular neighborhood was densely populated and my family knew just about everyone who lived there. She grew up in that neighborhood herself, so she was understandably trusting. She would once in a while let me and my sister walk to the rotten Robbie gas station on the other end of the block to grab a snack. I would always get a ring pop and my sister would grab a Three Musketeers before we made our way back home.

My sister was about 11 at the time and this small amount of freedom was a really big deal to us. Nothing compared to walking down the street all by ourselves in the summertime, laughing and joking around, a couple dollar bills in our pockets. I felt like I owned the world. The one oddity I ever noticed around the neighborhood was a small camper parked from the side of the road opposite to the gas station, right along the backside of the fence of another house. It sat there in the shade like a permanent fixture, all the windows constantly covered by opaque beige curtains. I can't explain why, but it was always giving me this deep sense of foreboding when I'd pass it. I was almost positive someone was living inside it because at times I'd hear the air conditioning running as it sat stagnant in that same spot. The hairs on my neck would always stand

on end as I passed it, particularly as I passed the camper door and I'd always keep an eye on it for the fear that one day it'd swing open just as I came to pass by. I think what bothered me the most was a drawing taped to the door from inside. It was extremely messy, a sketch of odd lines in a brown colored pencil that was frustratingly indiscernible. I could see the outline of something, a vague shape, but could never make out what it was intended to be. I never had the nerves to stop and stare long enough to really investigate but each time I walked by I'd steal a glance. A year prior to the incident I'm about to describe I was walking with my mom past the camper in the shade. We had just gone to the park nearby and unfortunately had to pass the camper before we could cross the street and continue walking. I didn't want to seem afraid so I kept on walking right behind her

and didn't object when she walked past it. This time I felt a little more brave. I was frustrated not being able to decipher the drawing for so long. While my mom was feet away, I stopped in front of the camper door and took a moment to really look at the drawing. Upon closer inspection, the paper was filthy. I remember doing a project in elementary school where we soaked printer paper in black coffee to make it look aged, and that's what it reminded me of. My mom walked on without noticing that I'd

stopped following her, but my eyes stayed fixed on the indistinct mass of dirt-caked scribbles until I could make out what looked to be a tiny, malformed face. My stomach turned. I immediately felt cold and disgusted as my eyes trailed over the rest of the image. I didn't know what kind of creature it was at the time, but now I can look back and say that the drawing was a badly deformed fetus inside a mass of large, perfect circles like those made by a circular ring ruler. Its face was contorted as if in pain. It was so graphically disturbing and seemed to portray this odd sense of suffering that stuck with me for days. As a child, I didn't know how to process it, and the mental image still makes me sick to think about. I've never

seen anything like it before. Adrenaline flooded my body and my chest hurt with fear, but I selfishly thought of my glorious little trips for ring pops and said absolutely nothing as I followed behind my mom. This was, in retrospect, a classically terrible idea. It's one of those things you scream at main characters in movies for. Ever since my ill feelings towards the camper had been elevated by the drawing on the door, I thought about it every time we drove by, and about a month later my mom once again graced us with several bucks and permission to walk down to Rotten Robbie and grab our respective snacks. I thought about telling my sister about what I'd seen on the way

there, but she was older and braver and I was terrified she'd make me cross the street with her to check it out. It was a bright sunny day and I told myself with false certainty that nothing was going to happen. If I didn't acknowledge it, maybe it'd go away. We walked past the camper and it was thankfully uneventful. On the walk back, I was feeling more comfortable and was focused on fighting to open up my candy wrapper while my sister walked alongside me. We passed the camper a second time, but I didn't give it half as much a thought as the first time. I don't remember what we were talking about, but I recall being interrupted mid-sentence as my sister softly yet firmly said my name.

There was a distinct fear in her voice that immediately set me on edge like a bucket of ice water. All my senses heightened and I became aware of everything, including the sound of haphazard footsteps about ten feet behind us. It was accompanied by a heavy rustling sound like a heavy backpack and nervously I half turned my head to look. A man with a long unkempt beard and wearing many layers of ragged clothing stood behind us, eyes unmistakably burning into our backs as he walked. His movements weren't normal. It was a drunken shuffle like each of his feet were unimaginably heavy and needed to be moved one grand effort at a time. His shoulders were skewed, head tilted downward with a strange arch of his neck. I could hear his shoes scraping the gravel with every step, but rather than seeming genuinely intoxicated,

it was as if he was intentionally meandering our direction like a zombie with a direct effort to frighten us. Behind him I saw the camper door was wide open for the first time in all the years we'd spent living there and realized this was the man who had been living inside. He's following us. I choked out, my eyes filling with tears. My mind was spinning as I stared straight ahead again, the wide streets and sidewalks abnormally empty all around. My sister grabbed my hand. She squeezed it hard enough to hurt without looking my way, speaking carefully under her breath. On the count of three, we race home. She told me in a very serious tone of voice.

I couldn't reply through the growing lump in my throat but every single cell in my body understood we had to put some distance between us and this man as quickly as possible. She began to count steadily while we walked faster and the most terrifying part is that he started running before we even had a chance to. He must have heard her directions to me and tried to get a head start by sprinting our direction before she got to three, but his footsteps were noisy and we bolted like deer the instant we heard him behind us. I'll never forget it. The chase felt like you imagine in your nightmares, the fear your pursuer is inches away from grabbing your arm or a fistful of your hair. I pictured myself being dragged into the van with nobody around to see or hear me. We ran so fast we didn't even have the breath to scream and peering back behind me about 10 seconds later I saw him running our direction with

absolutely none of the impairment he showed with those zombie-like steps moments before. I think back on it now and he may have been deliberately pretending to be handicapped to lower our guard so we wouldn't start running. The thought is terrifying but I can't rationalize it any other way. We made it to our grandparents' house and, without looking behind us, yanked open the stubborn old door before slamming it closed and scrambling past their excited dogs to get as deep in the house as possible. I don't even think we locked it, as our main goal was getting within the line of sight of any adults as quickly as possible. My mom was talking to my grandpa at the table and gave us an amused look when we bounded into the living room. Since we were kids, running around wasn't anything out of the ordinary and

she didn't ask what happened as we out of the ordinary and she didn't ask what happened as we collapsed on the couch and tried to catch our breath. The inside of the house felt so safe and felt in such good spirits that I didn't even want to bring up what had just happened. Like waking up from a nightmare you didn't want to talk about, I was desperate to go back to normalcy. I wanted to forget it entirely, to unwrap my candy and act like everything was completely normal for the sake of my own sanity and that's exactly what I did. I asked my sister a few years back if she remembered this incident, I'm 25 and she's 28 now and her response was strange. She remembered immediately without the need for me to provide

details but she quickly waved it off and insisted he had to have been a bored homeless man looking to spook some kids walking home with no real intent to harm anyone. I don't know. I'd like to believe it was some innocent misunderstanding but like they always say about gut feelings, they're rarely wrong. I feel in my soul that he wanted to hurt me and my sister that day. I never told her or anyone else about the strange drawing on the door and I'm not sure if my sister saw the open door and connected him to the camper or not. It's one of my biggest regrets as I would

hate for any other children to have been less fortunate after innocently walking past the camper in the shade. I believe he may have chosen the spot between the park and gas station deliberately due to the number of children walking around the area. I never saw the camper again. I'm not proud of how I handled this and would encourage anyone who finds themselves in a similar situation to contact authorities immediately for the safety of others around. I don't know if maybe this whole story comes off as melodramatic, but it was very real and very frightening in a way I can't forget. Transgender Women because they consider that to be talking illicitly and they will straight up ban you so I state and said that I'm a huge proponent of trans rights. So this guy messaged me,

he lives about an hour away. Kind of cute in a mildly creepy way like something seems a little off about him but people can't help how they look so I give him a chance just like I would want. I discover he's a smoker but he says he's trying hard to quit and only does when he's really stressed or upset. We have a nice conversation and finally he asks for my number and without thinking about it I give him the number but tell him I'm getting ready for my evening classes so I'll be slow to respond. A few minutes go by and I get, hey it's him from POF, plenty of fish. Now usually I send standard quick messages like, hi it's Ali, so just to be clear since my profile might be a little vague, I am a trans woman, I know that's not everyone's cup of tea,

so if you're not interested I completely understand. About 20% of the time the guy isn't interested and gets rude and needs to be blocked and the other 80% is split between immediate inappropriate questions and certain pictures, casual acceptance or dead silence. But like I said, I was getting ready to go to class so I hadn't sent the message yet. A few minutes go by and I'm about to text him my standard when I get another text. Who the F is? And saying my full dead name. Why is he paying your cell phone bill? Where did you even get that name? I ask.

Answer the question, who is he? I'm honestly stunned at this point and I realized he must have paid one of those shady websites that offer personal info for a fee. Well, if you must know, I'm trans and that used to be my name. I was about to tell you when you pulled that stunt. Please do us both a favor and lose my number. It's incredibly invasive and I don't want to talk to you anymore. Do you still live that? And he listed my address in my hometown. I'm coming to see you so we can talk about this in person.

Me, lying? No, I moved a few months ago and I'm getting ready to head out like I said. You need to leave me alone. Don't contact me again. Since you have something to hide, I'm going to run a full background check on you. You lied to me and I don't appreciate that. I'm sending screen caps of this conversation. You're plenty of fish profiling your photos to my two best friends who work in law enforcement in your town and my ex-boyfriend who I'm still on good terms with who works for the local sheriff's office.

Don't text me again. I didn't hear anything else from him for a few weeks. I made sure my doors and windows were locked and the aforementioned friends and ex would check up on me from time to time. Eventually it just became one of those weird things that makes you laugh uneasily. And then one day I thought I saw him at the local grocery store. Same dark hair, thick glasses, frames, and just a creepy guy staring at me, watching me as I shopped. I texted my ex about it and as an upswing on things, my ex and I got back together in a casual sort of way and he stayed the night a few times a month, off and on. One night when I was alone though, I just kept getting this weird feeling and smelling smoke.

I lived in a little apartment complex that were three separate apartments that shared walls but no plumbing or air ducts. I don't smoke and I'm very sensitive to the smell thanks to asthma. The apartment had a wall unit AC so I turned it off since it was apparently pulling air in from a neighbor's guest who must have been chain smoking so I thought. I had an ASL video due the next morning so I was up all night practicing and recording the video, signing the same story over and over again until it was almost a dance rather than a narration. A couple of times I had to restart the video because my cat was going nuts. Finally at around 7 am I had the video finished and sent in and was ready for bed so I double checked all the doors and windows that they were locked, set an alarm and went to sleep. I woke up and got ready for school, was running a bit late and had to hurry out the door but

I noticed something weird but didn't have time to stop and register it. Classes went smoothly, I got an A on my ASL video and I stopped for groceries on my way home from class. As I got home I saw what had been bugging me. Each apartment had a small garden on each side of the porch. Mine was nothing but gravel and pavers the previous tenant had put in but it was tidy except for a pile of cigarette butts that had looked like

someone had dumped their car ashtray in my garden. There was no other trash just that pile right in front of my bedroom window. I don't think anything about it at first and just get a broom and dustpan and sweep it up. As I'm doing it, my neighbor, an old man, comes out and asks if my boyfriend ever got a hold of me. I ask him what he means. He tells me there was a young man waiting for me on my front porch off and on for a few hours last night and that he'd seen the guy around before and thought he was my boyfriend. I ask what he looked like. Dark hair, thick glasses, chain smoking. I text the on again off again ex, cops take statements and I give them the screenshots. I move out of state a few weeks later for unrelated reasons and have

legally changed my name since with closed records. I don't give guys my number anymore. Ladies and my fellow queer family, use a texting app until you get to know someone because for like five dollars, creeps can get everything from your number. Since the moment I started working at this restaurant six months ago, the alleyway behind the restaurant has always given me an uncomfortable feeling. To gain a layout of this restaurant, it's located in the middle of downtown, five minutes from the Mexican-US borders since we're located in the tip of Texas in the Rio Grande Valley. The alley itself is not located right behind the establishment. You must walk past its patio, then past our garage,

until you reach the side back door that you have to prop open as the door locks behind you once it's closed. During the day I'll usually see people walking back and forth across the alley when I go to take out the trash. It's typically a safe location though it is also prominent for its homeless population. They're usually harmless despite a few that are noticeably mentally ill My colleagues have even gotten to know a few and have given leftovers whenever possible I work as part of the kitchen staff at this restaurant and most of the time will work past 10pm At night my boss usually never lets the women take out the trash just to be safe Especially a petite 5 foot Hispanic 28 year old female Anyway since the lockdown started our kitchen staff had become quite small just to be safe, especially a petite 5 foot Hispanic 28 year old female.

Anyway, since the lockdown started, our kitchen staff had become quite small, so I'll usually help take out the trash with one of the other men working. This night was pretty slow and my fellow co-workers and I were encouraged to clean up and leave early. At around a quarter to ten, I decided to get two of the slightly full trash bags and take them out back myself, assuming someone will see my actions and take the other two after me. As I walked past the patio to the garage, my gut began to fluster. I got to the back door and paused. Hmm, maybe I should wait, I told myself, but the smell protruding from the bags was nauseating. I pushed the door and propped it open with a brick we usually kept nearby.

The alley was dark and silent. The air felt menacing. The only light illuminating was from the bulb above the door. I walked quickly to the bins and lifted up the top and dumped the trash. Then slowly a man stood up from the other side of the dumpster. He wasn't very big but he looked a lot older. He was sweating but his demeanor seemed agitated. He must have been crouching and waiting for some time. I jumped back holding my hand above my heart that seemed to be pulsing through my chest. The man looked at me, eyeing me as my steps moved backward. He shook his head, motioning me to stop.

He was far too close for me to outrun him. I looked at his bushy dark brows and dark black eyes. Most of him were still cloaked in the night that surrounded us. His clothes didn't look homeless, but I still assumed he was since it was common for them to be out here at this hour usually waiting for food. I told him I had no leftovers but he shook his head again and took out a medium sized knife. My eyes widened as I took in a breath. The following exchange took place in Spanish but I'll translate. I don't have my purse, I was working. I'm still working. Just come with me, he said using his knife as a pointer. My mouth grimaced.

Having no idea where this small amount of courage came from, I said, My friend's coming right now with the rest of the trash. No, come now, he said more hurriedly and stepped closer and I stepped back again, speaking again with a little more tenacity They all saw me come out here, there's more trash and he's coming right now He's outside right now, I just, all I need to do is yell You're not gonna scream I'll gut ya

To this day I don't know what came over me but I replied with Watch me We looked at replied with, Watch me. We looked at each other, daring each other, and we both heard footsteps coming from inside the garage, and he ran past me. I stood there breathing again. I didn't even know how I was holding my breath. I turned to see my friend, John, come out of the door. We're almost done over... He stopped after seeing my face.

What happened? I explained everything as tears ran down my face. My friend decided to run down the alley to try to catch him even though I told him not to and that he's gone by now. It was about five minutes until he came back. John relayed to me that no one was around except for some homeless guys we were familiar with. He asked them if they saw anyone running from the alleyway and they said yeah but they didn't recognize the man and he took off in the opposite direction towards the border. John took me back inside and told our boss what had happened. They called the cops whose station was pretty close by

They sent someone to patrol the area and gather a description from me which I gave My boss let me leave early and John walked me to my car He told me it's too bad we don't keep a camera back there It would have been cool to see how I handled the guy I smiled slightly but my stomach was still in knots. He looked at me and apologized. I moved my hand to stop him and told him I'll be fine. Unfortunately I still work there but I've been excused from trash duty from now on. Obviously they never found him. I don't want to think about what would have happened to me if I was more complicit.

Something gave me the courage to argue back to him and thank God that my friend came out just in time. I finally decided to post what happened to me four years ago. At that time, I was 17 years old, and I was living for a few years in a small house with my mom after my parents divorced six years ago. The house wasn't huge, but we had one floor with our bedrooms and a small garden. We also have a dog who isn't really scary, it's one of those small dogs with a lot of hair. His biggest default is that he barks a lot during the day every time someone is close to the garden. That annoyed me and my neighbors a lot. It's important to know that my dog never barks at night and always sleeps in my bed with me. One night in the middle of the night I had a dream where I heard a

constant dog barking. In my dream I felt like it lasted a thousand years and I think it only lasted for a few seconds. When I came out of that nightmare I didn't feel the weight of my dog on my feet. It felt like something was wrong and I then realized my dog was actually barking and growling. I didn't understand what was happening. I just looked for my dog and saw him on top of the stairs. His head turned towards the front door. The door opening the garage was actually on the side of the front door. I jumped out of my bed.

I rushed to the top of the stairs where my dog was. There was the side of the front door. I jumped out of my bed. I rushed to the top of the stairs where my dog was. There was the shadow of men standing just at the bottom of the stairs next to the front door. I wasn't even able to shout. I just took my dog in my arms by reflex and ran towards my mom's room. My mom was just waking up. She takes medication to sleep so it's very hard to wake her up. Thank god the door of her bedroom can be locked with a key. Even though I was shaking incredibly hard I locked the door. My mom understood what was happening when we heard footsteps coming from the stairs. We froze in a corner of her bedroom and she grabbed her phone to call the police. While we were trying to reach the cops, the guy started shaking the door handle and then punching the door.

After a moment he stopped and this psycho laughed. That's when my mom and I had the good idea of shouting that we had called the police and for him to get out. After a moment we heard him going down the stairs. It didn't sound as if there was anybody else there and he was still laughing. We didn't dare to move until we heard the police officers. When they arrived no one was there. In the living room on the table there was a note where he wrote, See you soon, in French.

They said later that apparently the guy had gotten in and out by my garage which has a back door that at the time was always let open. Immediately after that we went living with my grandparents for a while and moved out in a new house a couple of months later. We never heard of this guy again but we always checked every door making sure that it's locked before going to bed and I have trouble falling asleep ever since then. For almost a year after, I would wait until about 4am to go to sleep, just to be sure he didn't find us and try to sneak into our home again. To be continued... probably 15 to 17 and I joined a group of builders and skyped with them every weekend for hours. We all became close fast and trusted each other enough that we followed each other on Instagram.

I became particularly close with one of the builders in my friend group named Peter. Peter was in the same grade as me and we ended up texting quite a lot. I heard rumors that Peter might have a crush on me. He denied them, which I found laughable because it was the internet and brushed it off. Everything was fine for a while until something began to feel off when I talked to him. I was starting to constantly catch him telling small lies. This bothered me, so I figured it was time to distance myself from Peter and stop talking to him. Cut to a few months later of no contact and Peter out of the blue texts me that he's going to be possibly transferring to my high school so he can get in-state tuition for college. Peter's plan is to somehow live completely alone

and support himself while in high school. My stomach drops when I read the text and I know this feels very very off. I try to be calm I know this feels very, very off. I try to be calm and tell him that his plan is crazy. I tell him that it's oddly convenient that he chose my random suburb. Peter insists that his plan will work and it's just a coincidence that he's going to my high school. I'm trying to call Peter's bluff and hoping he's just screwing with me because I cut him off. Peter says he bought the plane tickets already and is going to stay in my town and visit some high schools in the area. Fear washes over me and I realize Peter definitely has some very unhealthy attachment to me.

Peter was not bluffing. To my horror, he posts a picture on Snapchat at the airport. Peter asks me to meet up while he's there and I of course decline. Later I see on a Snapchat story that he is taking a tour of my high school. Peter's taking lots of videos and pictures probably hoping that I can see. Luckily I'm stuck at home with pneumonia. I spend the next few days on edge and I'm afraid he was going to ring my doorbell at any moment. Luckily he was not smart enough to find where I live and he flies home and does not follow through with his plan. The baffling part was none of my old group on the Minecraft server thought that he was doing anything creepy. I felt

like I was going crazy for thinking that this was weird. I thought my rejection for this meetup and continued no contact would be the end of it but about two years later and I just committed to my dream college. I still stupidly follow Peter on social media because I wanted some warning if he came to my area. Once again Peter did. I see him posting in front of the library at my college with the caption saying, transferring here is definitely the move. Cut to a few months later, Peter finds out I had a boyfriend and directly contacts me for the first time in two years. He starts asking strange questions like, will he protect you? I shouldn't have answered but for some reason I did. I finally blocked him and stopped following him on social media out of fear. He's not tried to contact me since.

Definitely made some mistakes because I was young and scared and had others telling me it was not a big deal. To be continued... My 11th grade year of high school is when this event took place. It was within the first two weeks of school and I was a bus rider and we had a new bus driver. Me being a very social person, I always thanked him for his service and was always super nice to him and I believe that's where I messed up. One day after school I was riding the bus. I was always one of the first to be dropped off so when I realized that I had been on the bus for an extra 10 minutes I was a little curious and just chalked it up to the fact that bus routes get changed all the time. At this point I had been on the bus for about 30 minutes and there are two kids left on the bus, an old friend of mine and of course myself. This friend of mine lived in a very remote location and there was absolutely no cell service out there so when we dropped her off I couldn't call my parents to let them know what was happening. My friend tried really hard to convince me to get off at her stop.

Little did I know I should have listened. As we were leaving this area the bus driver pulled into a cemetery and told me to look out my window. When I did I saw a torn to shreds baby deer. My whole body went into shutdown mode. I didn't know what to do. My initial reaction was to pull out my phone and call my parents when I remembered I had no signal. I immediately got up and ran to the back of the bus. Keep in mind I'm the only kid on this bus. We sit by that deer for a good 10 minutes and the whole time I'm in the back and my blood is absolutely boiling. It took everything in me not to run off that bus and look for help. When we started to leave, he just started talking about random stuff,

like how he loves his wife and loves his new job as a bus driver the whole time he's barely paid attention to the road. I get on my phone and go to Google Maps. Thank god that they worked even without service. I realized my house was 15 minutes from where we were and I was super excited to be going home soon but boy was I wrong. This guy then decides to take a ton of back roads and keep talking to me the whole time I'm sitting in silence still with no service on my phone. So about 20-25 minutes later I start seeing landmarks that are around my neighborhood. I look down and there's service on my phone. I immediately call my dad, he doesn't answer. Not even 2 minutes later we pull into my neighborhood and he drops me off at my house.

I wanted to run but for some reason I just stood in my yard and stared at him, frozen in fear. Eventually he pulled off and when he did I took off running into my house. My parents were in their room freaking out about where I was. My mom started grilling me about where I was and what I was doing. I got out of school at 2.15 and got home at 4.45ish. On a normal day, I would get home at like 2.30 so my mom was very upset. My dad's phone was dead because he tried to call so many times. I began to cry and tell them everything that happened. My dad was furious and called my school and used my mom's phone to record the whole conversation between my dad,

the principal, and myself. My principal was extremely livid about what had taken place, as was my dad. My mother was just cuddling me, asking me if I was okay and if anything else had happened. I didn't go back to school for about two days. There was no formal investigation. The school handled it themselves. The bus driver denied everything and when they checked camera footage, the camera happened to be covered by a sticker or something of the sort. Thankfully, nobody believed the school bus driver and he was fired. And I haven't rode a school bus ever since. To be continued... you got a story to submit, submit them to my subreddit r slash let's read official and give

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