The Lets Read Podcast - 152: WHY I DON'T CAMP ANYMORE | 25 True Scary Horror Stories | EP 140

Episode Date: September 13, 2022

This episode includes narrations of true creepy encounters submitted by normal folks just like yourself. Today you'll experience horrifying stories about House Parties, Camping, & Security Guards... 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 Toyo Tread Experts dealer near you at treadexperts.ca slash locations. From tires to auto repair, we're always there. TreadExperts.ca I'm sorry. The hood I grew up in was pretty rough. I was a pretty scrawny white boy and, believe it or not, living in the area that I did that made things even harder. Just after my 15th birthday, I started bulking up and the other kids began to look at me differently. I let the fear they now felt towards me go to my head.

Fighting, once a terror for me, became my way to express my newfound power over others. If I was even suspicious that a dude was scared of me, I pushed him to the point of breaking. When he threw the first punch, I quickly smashed him. Looking back on that time, I was a terrible person. The following is the story of what made me change. I know now, although every second was terrifying for me, it was exactly what I needed. This happened when I was 19. Me and a few of my friends were invited to a party after one of the high school football games. I think it was homecoming.

There were a lot of parties going on that weekend. Some of our friends had rented a hotel room earlier in the night. Instead of going to the dance, they stayed in the room and got absolutely blasted. Me and the two other guys I was riding with hung out there until about 11.30 and that's when we made our way over to a bigger party. It was at my girl's cousin's house. She had this big place on the edge of town. I don't remember where her folks were that night. When we got there, the place was so full the party was spilling out into the front yard. Some dude was on the front porch charging five bucks for

solo cups and all you could drink for a keg. We had gotten our beer and were sitting on a friend's tailgate and this is when it all started going downhill. This tall dude I didn't recognize walked by and bumped into my friend. He spilled his beer all over his jacket. We jumped up and pushed the dude to the ground immediately. He fell and I could see by his face he was scared. That was when I went on the attack. I called him all sorts of things that I really shouldn't repeat here and I figured that he would get mad but instead he said he was going to get some of his friends and come back. I burst out laughing. There was nothing about him that I took seriously for even a second.

I'd been around some rough dudes and this guy was not one of them. I just thought it was so funny that I just didn't even want to fight him anymore. We turned back to our beers and soon forgot about the altercation. I'd guessed about an hour passed. I was starting to get a good buzz. I was talking to a group of dudes when all of a sudden I got sucker punched from behind. I was starting to get a good buzz. I was talking to a group of dudes when all of a sudden I got sucker punched from behind. I managed to stay on my feet but I was for sure surprised. I was also completely out of my mind at that point, angry. I turned around already in the process of making fists but before I could I got sucker punched again from another side. I fell to my knees this time. At this point I was filled with rage.

I was ready to kill anyone that got in my way and I was about to stand when I felt a hard piece of metal push against my forehead. I think instinctively I knew what it was. My eyes came to focus on a dark pistol. I followed the arm holding it all the way up to a snarling, angry face, and it was the dude that I'd tried to punk out earlier. At his side stood what I assumed was part of his crew, some of the toughest guys I'd ever seen,

and there wasn't a shred of fear in their faces, and I could tell I didn't want to say anything stupid. The party all around me had gone silent. I was completely under my assailant's control, and he knew it. For a long minute, he said nothing. Then he let out a faint chuckle and started calling me the things that I called him earlier. I was unsure if I was about to die, but I knew my days of pushing around the week were completely over.

No one would fear me now, especially seeing this. Once a bully is shown for the coward he is, he loses all of his power, and I certainly just had. I was unable to focus on anything but that gun. When I failed to answer his question, he'd slowly pulled back the hammer with his thumb, and I panicked and yelled out that I am. I am what he called me, at the top of my lungs. And this reaction made my victims and his friends burst out laughing. I felt even more powerless now. My mind returned to the days when I was weak and a defenseless little child. I was instantly consumed with the shame at what I'd become.

He nonchalantly disengaged the hammer and lowered the gun. The group turned around and walked away, still laughing out loud. I was so relieved I just collapsed to the ground. The people around me were still totally silent. I was completely afraid to move. I kept staring at the ground until the sound of scuffling feet faded away, and when I finally got the courage to look up, I was completely alone. Honestly, I was relieved. I couldn't have faced anyone. I stood up and skulked away into the shadows, too embarrassed to ask for a ride, and I walked the whole five miles back to my home. The next morning marked the start of a new life in my eyes. Not a single one of my friends called to check on me, and that was all the confirmation I needed. I laid low for another nine months

before moving to a new city. It wasn't just that I'd been exposed for the coward I'd always been. I was ashamed of that boy. I never wanted to be reminded of him again. I got what came to me and I tried forgetting my past for another seven years into an unplanned encounter with a childhood friend. Like me, he had found himself going down the wrong path and had got off just in time. He and I created a non-profit that works with at-risk kids, and that's where I'm at today. There isn't a week that passes that I don't see myself and one of those scared little boys. Some have criminal histories,

and although I never strayed too far and never really got caught, I'm able to see where I was headed. If anyone reading this is on the same road, it's not too late to turn things around. If you need help, all you have to do is ask and look. I never want another boy to find himself on his knees again, helpless at the end of a barrel of a gun, begging for just another day or for another chance to make things right. My cousin's 18th birthday wasn't just the day he became a man in society's eyes. It was also the day he learned a terrible lesson.

Alex had been a handful from a young age. He was seven the first time he had a run-in with the law. It was nothing major, I believe he stole a piece of candy on a dare or something like that. Regardless of its seriousness, that day would be the beginning of a troubled childhood. Fights would follow along with a break-in or two. His parents were clueless as to what caused it and especially how to stop it. My uncle tried talking calmly at first but as time dragged on, he screamed more often than not. Things took on a whole new level when Alex began hanging with actual gang members. This decision confused many

who knew him. He'd grown up in a good family, in a good neighborhood, with two loving parents. All things gang members don't usually have. When Alex started talking about joining the gang, his father took one final gamble. One night, an intervention of sorts took place. Every member of the family gathered together to save Alex's soul, so to speak. One by one, they poured their hearts out to him, doing their utmost to make him understand he was loved greatly by all of them. Somehow, someway, it appeared to work. They managed to get through to the stubborn and rebellious teenager. Even he broke down and cried along with them.

Things looked like they were about to change for the better, and just in time. This meeting happened to take place a few weeks prior to Alex's 18th birthday. The family had planned a big to-do. It was to be topped by the unveiling of a special present for the honoree. The big day arrived and my aunt and uncle's house was crammed full of happy family. We began the festivities with a massive meal, followed by a cake made out of Alex's favorite ingredient, strawberries. As the time came to give him his present, a sense of excitement filled the air. His mother covered his eyes while his father retrieved his present. He was walking out and his eyes were uncovered.

Alex almost jumped off the ground when he saw what stood before him. A brand new Ford F-150. His dream car. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He even asked his father for reassurance. When he dropped the key into his hand, he knew for sure that it was all real. I guess in order to savor the moment, Alex slowly walked toward the driveway where the truck was parked. His younger sister ran close behind him. Trisha may have been more excited than Alex himself. As he looked through the interior and sat in the luxurious leather seats,

Trisha climbed around in the bed like it was a jungle gym. The family stood around oohing and aahing at this beautiful truck, unaware of the car slowly driving by. A loud series of pops broke through the air, glass shattering and crumbling all around. The family searched for the source while confusion quickly took over. In the distance, an unidentified car screeched away. It all soon became so horribly clear. Alex laid slumped on the ground, blood pouring from multiple gunshot wounds. The body of the shiny new truck was riddled with holes and glass shards littered the ground. My aunt screamed when she noticed her son's

bloodied body on the ground. Both parents rushed to his side. Amazingly, Alex was still conscious but quickly going downhill 911 was called within a minute and the parents did all they could to keep their son alive The rest of us could do nothing but stare blankly in shock As the sirens cried in the distance, another far worse realization was made Not until that very second had anyone noticed the absence of Tricia. My grandmother yelled out for her and panic exploded once again. The air was filled with calls of her name. We all ran about frantically in search for her. A heart stopping scream came from the area of the truck. I turned just in time to see my uncle lift

her lifeless body from the bed. She showed no signs of life and in that moment, we all knew the terrible truth. Nonetheless, her father fought against time, switching between compressions and breathing. All this did was increase the bleeding and soon my uncle was saturated in her blood. The paramedics worked all the way to the hospital, but once they arrived at the ER, the doctors pronounced her dead. My aunt and uncle were beside themselves, catatonic, but truly had no time to grieve. Alex was still in grave danger. The police questioned all of us present but as far as I know no one knew anything about him. The family took turns standing vigil for the next two days.

The doctors weren't able to give us a prognosis until the third. Alex would go through three surgeries in those first two days. Finally, the morning of day three, the doctors gave us good news. He would survive, but the road would be a long one. Later that day when he regained consciousness, Alex was told the fate of his sister. I think the shock could be the best description of his reaction. No one other than the police could get a word out of him for some time. He was eager to help. Although he didn't see the faces of the shooters, he was almost positive of their identities. The death of a young girl in a drive-by naturally made the headlines

and the police were put under a lot of pressure to catch the perpetrators. The investigation did consume a large amount of time and resources but eventually, the cops were able to get the driver to give up his partners. A trial was almost a year later in the making and Alex was still using a cane when he testified. The verdict was almost a foregone conclusion by then. Both shooters are currently waiting on death row for their day with the needle. In our state, they have a better chance of dying from old age, but at least are off the streets permanently. Alex has healed for the most part, completely. The limp he walks with will always be there. Mentally, however, he'll never be the same. He blames himself for Trisha's death. He hadn't

been completely honest with his parents about his relationship with the gang, and it turned out that he had been a member for some time, and the shooting was the punishment for walking away. He and I still speak from time to time, during the holidays and the like. One thing he said that will always stick with me was something about his father. Alex was around 15 or so at the time, and his dad was ranting at him about some trouble he'd gotten himself into. You may think you've gotten everything figured out boy. So far you've just gotten little slaps on the wrist. It won't always be that way. That's not the way life works. One day your chickens are going to come to roost and we'll all get what's coming to us eventually. You may end up in jail or God forbid dead, but it's your loved ones who end up suffering the most. I could see those words still haunt him as they do me.

For him, they must certainly be a fate worse than death. The End Until the new folks moved in at 523, our neighborhood was always a quiet and calm place to live. I'd lived there since birth. Between then and my 23rd year, I don't ever recall seeing a cop car on our streets. I was even looking forward to buying my own place around there when I finally settled down. Our new neighbors would do everything they could to undo that calm, almost as soon as they moved in. The word was out the second the new people arrived with the U-Haul. As we all peered curiously from our windows, there was no outward indication these newcomers would be a long-standing problem. Although loud, none of us got very annoyed about their housewarming party later that week.

The presence of motorcycles and the bikers that rode them were unsettling to a few, but this was a blue-collar neighborhood. More than a few of us owned a bike or two. The majority of us figured it would be a one-off occasion. There wasn't any reason to get riled up about nothing. Those of us who introduced ourselves came face to face with a friendly young couple. We welcomed them and went on with our lives. The next week, another raucous and unruly gathering occurred. Despite the many complaining posts on our neighborhood's Facebook page, everyone held their tongues. When things finally began to wind down in the early hours of the morning, I let out a breath of relief and slept

soundly way into the afternoon. More posts were written and it quickly became clear no one had the spine to confront them. Things were quiet for the next two weeks and we all were beginning to relax, until the biggest party yet was thrown that Saturday night. By dusk, the streets were so clogged with cars and motorcycles none of the residents could park in front of their houses. That event was more spectacle than simple party. I watched from my bedroom window as hordes of people came and went through the night. It was truly a thing to behold. I like it, one of those high school blowouts they always have in the 80s teen comedies. And it was around 2am and the party was still in full swing when I saw

the police cars pull up. I guess someone had finally had enough. Things were broken up after that. A few of the party goers were even taken away in handcuffs. The mess we all encountered that morning was unbelievable. I don't think a single person in our street got away unscathed. Beer bottles, broken and whole, littered our lawns. Trash in all forms filled the roads. One resident even had his car sideswiped. Probably the one to suffer the most was Barry. He had the unenviable position of living next door to this headache. In addition to massive amounts of trash, his trees had several broken limbs and his mailbox

had been knocked over more than once. I felt terrible for the guy. He was a single father trying to raise a pair of young daughters. He worked two jobs and still only barely made ends meet. He was a kind man. The last thing he needed was this mess. We couldn't do anything other than clean up and hope the festivities had finally come to an end. Unfortunately, it wasn't to be. The newcomers did lie low all through Christmas. While it was a good sign, we knew the true test would come on New Year's Eve. Sadly, they would fail. When the choppers and cars began arriving early that evening, everyone feared the worst. If the previous shindig had only been an ordinary Saturday night thing, seeing in the new year would be the destruction of our neighborhood.

While I'm happy to say things weren't quite as littered and smashed as they had been before, something far more terrible would result from this party. Noise from 523 would fill the air for most of the night. However, to our delight, once the new year had arrived, the revelers slowly began moving on. When I turned in, only three or four cars remained outside. I felt much better about what my family and neighbors may have to face with the coming dawn. Although there was still a substantial amount of debris littering the yards, most saw no indication of any damage. I'm sad to tell you, none but the Honorable Barry suffered this fate.

I wish I could say that was the worst of what he discovered that cold morning. Before I get ahead of myself, I must tell you the incident as it appeared from my point of view. I had awakened just before 9am. My parents went on a shopping excursion, so I had the house to myself. Over a cup of coffee, I browsed the internet for any interesting news, and I happened to be browsing reddit when a series of loud pops came from outside. I assumed that these were backfires from an engine but when the screaming began, I listened closer. To get a better view, I ran upstairs to my room. I didn't see anything at first. The screams had stopped. Maybe some kids were making noise as usual. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a woman hobbling at a 523. It looked to be the wife of the couple.

I squinted, thinking I saw blood on the front of her shirt. I ran to my closet and pulled out my binoculars. By the time I made it back to my window the lady was laying on the lawn, face down. The blood was even more clear on the back of her shirt. She tried lifting herself but must have lacked the strength. I see Barry calmly walk out of the front door of 523 and I was beginning to breathe heavier now. My heart was pounding like a hammer in my chest. I was transfixed as Barry approached the woman and raised his gun.

I knew what was about to happen and wanted to stop it, and I watched as Barry calmly pumped three more bullets into the back of his victim. He stood over her and robotically stared. Perhaps he was watching for signs of life as none came. The odd staring continued for another moment or two before he raised his weapon and fired into his own head. I gasped uncontrollably. I had not expected that. When Barry's body hit the ground, it was like a spell had been broken. I dropped the binoculars and immediately dialed 911 as fast as possible. I watched as the first responders arrived. It was clear there was nothing for them to do. Police were soon crawling all over the place. Even though the urge to stay anonymous was strong, I knew I'd hate myself had I not spoken to them.

Reluctantly, I walked across the street and asked to speak to the head investigator. My description sounded almost fantastical to me as I recounted it to him. I returned home, still unsure if I felt any better for what I'd done. I still have dreams and I'm unable to watch violent movies. Perhaps the point is to do the right thing rather than do it just because it makes you feel good, don't ask me. Just because I happen to witness the tragedy, I'm certainly not suffering the most from its aftermath. Barry's daughter's lives will never be the same. The youngest of the two may forget her father in time,

but the oldest one who was seven will always be left with a hole her loving father once filled. While I'm on the subject of Barry's children, I should probably tell you what finally set Barry off. Early in the investigation, authorities released excerpts of a letter Barry left behind. I've already shared a little of what he went through living next to 523. Barry laid out some of the frustrations he was feeling in that letter. He'd been working as much as physically possible to make sure his daughters had a decent Christmas. The oldest had been asking for a new bike for years, but Barry just couldn't afford one. That year, a friend working in a local charity group made sure he received one of their donated bicycles. On Christmas morning, he unveiled

it to his daughter, and she was the happiest he'd ever seen her. The hugs she gave him that morning made all his sadness and despair go away. Even with snow on the ground, the oldest daughter spent all her waking hours on that bike. He stated that this was the happiest time in his life. Things had been very hard since his wife had abandoned them. Seeing the joy in her face made it all disappear. Unknown to the rest of us, Barry had confronted his neighbors several times about their parties. Every time they would smile to his face and say sorry, only to do the same thing. His property was always the most damaged and it was clear from the letter he was reaching a breaking point. The final straw was the discovery he had made that New Year's Day.

He was outside assessing the destruction left behind. Things appeared to be good, but as he reached the end of his driveway, he noticed deep car tracks across his yard. At the end of those tracks lay his daughter's brand new bicycle, mangled beyond all repair. Darren, the retired man who lived across from Barry, described his reaction to the wrecked bicycle as soul-destroying. He elaborated by saying Barry collapsed onto his knees and wept mournfully. He said it was so heart-wrenching to see. I found myself crying with him, all because of a wrecked bicycle.

But to Barry, it represented far more, I remember Darren saying. Suddenly, like a switch had been flipped, he stood up and wiped his face. He went back inside and returned a minute later with his gun, and you all know what occurred after that. The daughters would be shipped off to live with their aunt. I have no idea where they are now and how they're doing, but I'm sure, at least for the oldest, life has to be hard. In the years since the murders, the house has had two owners. I believe the second family are currently renting it out. Tenants don't tend to stay long once they find out what happened. One kid who lived there even

tried to convince me the house was haunted. The neighborhood itself has returned to its previous state as quiet and calm, and despite this, an underlying feeling of gloom remains. I don't believe this stems from the murders themselves. There's honestly not a single resident around at that time who shed a tear for those neighbors at the time. More for Barry, obviously, and their family. More than likely, we all harbor some amount of guilt. A good man was driven to a despicable act and lost his life in the process. Perhaps if the rest of us had done more, maybe expressed ourselves better, the people living there would have understood how serious the problem truly was. Maybe it's because two wonderful young girls were made orphans. It could all be those and none at the same time. Reasons tend to be no more than excuses. Heck, this could all be in my head.

I do know one thing for sure. If some other family or person happens to move into this area and become a thorn in the side of the community, I will go to them personally and relate this story to them. I never again want to wonder if I could have prevented a tragedy. On the off chance you move into a community and think you can run roughshod over your neighbors and be in all-around terror, remember this tale and remember it well. People in America take their peace and quiet seriously. They work hard to have a nice, clean, and quiet place to come home to, and they're willing to go to any length to maintain that peace.

It's a fact you may do well not to forget. The End Since I was very young, the Christmas holidays have been my favorite. Even though I'm older and much wiser about how things work, I still find myself getting excited around this time of year. When I was only nine years old, a terrifying incident involving a close family member almost destroyed my love for the holidays forever. When I was only nine years old, a terrifying incident involving a close family member almost destroyed my love for the holidays forever. I suppose I should give you all the relative facts that led up to it first. My family never ignored a chance to have a party.

Whether it was a child's birthday or the 4th of July, we were all brought together to celebrate. I remember these parties were always well-ed with adult beverages so to speak, but no one ever seemed to lose control. The worst that would happen was one or two people would get a little loud. A quick glance from my mother and they were rushed off to bed. Although the children weren't as involved in the festivities, we had fun nonetheless. A big spread would be laid out early in the day. My mom would make all of our favorite

foods. This included every sweet and dessert that we weren't allowed to have any other time. After we ate, I'd join up with my cousins and play games in the park until the sun went down. Most of us would be wiped out by then and we'd be rushed off to bed. This is when the adults really got to let their hair down. The incident I want to relate to all of you happened late one night after one of these parties had wrapped up. Earlier in the evening, I'd snuck out of bed to watch the grown-ups celebrate. It was Christmas Eve and all of us kids had been whisked off to bed early as I told you and I was curious so I snuck out of my room. When I peeked around the corner I

got a full view of my parents and their friends sitting around their big table. They all had assorted drinks and bottles of beer in front of them. All I saw was a group of people having a calm discussion. I was about to head back to bed when my uncle Johnny caught sight of me. Instead of getting mad he smiled and wagged his finger at me in a joking manner. I laughed and ran off to bed full of anticipation of the morning to come. I was eventually able to fall asleep. Then sometime in the middle of the night, I wake up and Johnny was standing next to my bed. I was confused but when I saw it was him, I figured he was there to say

goodnight. I remember how strongly he completely reeked of liquor. When he grabbed for the covers, I expected him to pull them out to my chin and maybe even give me a kiss goodnight. At that age, it was what grownups did at bedtime, especially as close as we were. Instead, he lifted them and told me to take off my nightgown. The request didn't make sense to me and I asked him why. He quickly told me to be quiet so I wouldn't wake up the others. I continued asking him, but he repeated himself. The scary part started when he began pulling at his own pants. He was so intoxicated he was unable to stand upright and

remove them at the same time. And somehow I immediately knew this wasn't right. I started getting scared. His next words will stick with me forever. Come on darling, take off that nightgown so Uncle Johnny can snuggle up real close. I scooted away from him as far as I could until I was pressed hard against the wall. This entire time, he's still fighting with his pants. Out of nowhere, the door flew open and the hallway light flooded the room. I looked out and saw my grandpa standing in his pajamas. He screamed at Uncle Johnny. My uncle started giggling, saying he was just comforting the girl she was having a nightmare, he says. Obviously he had forgotten his belt was unbuckled. Grandpa just gazed at him

with a sneer. Johnny began to laugh again and Grandpa just charged at him. He grabbed Johnny's collar and drug him out of the room. The last thing I heard was grandpa screaming expletives before the door slammed shut. I was frozen in bed listening to the struggle outside. At one point, a voice I think was Johnny's started actually begging for mercy. The rumble lasted no more than 20 seconds before I heard the front door slam shut. All the kids were waking up now and asking what was going on. A moment later, I heard a group of adults talking out in the hall. The bedroom door soon opened and my mom came in. She sat down in the corner of the bed.

The other kids started whining and asking her questions, and she calmly told them to go back to sleep. They soon shut up and did what they were told. She turned to me and asked me if I was okay. I said yes. I was still confused and wanted to ask her what had just happened. I could see the fear in her face. She wanted to ask another question but she was too scared. I'm okay, mama.

I was eager to make her feel better and when I said it, a look of relief washed over her face. She smiled, tucked me in and left the room. I must have sat awake another few hours trying to calm down and piece together what I had just experienced. At some point I fell asleep and didn't wake up until my cousins came and got me for my presents. I assumed the night before had been just some terrible dream. The adults were acting normal and nothing was said. My cousins and I tore through our gifts and spent most of the morning playing with them. After lunch, the rest of the family left for their homes and the three of us finally had the house to ourselves.

That was when my folks came into the room and asked to talk to me. For the next hour, they asked everything about the night before. Once they were convinced I was okay, they explained things to me. Most of it didn't make sense at the time, but I listened intently. After that afternoon, it would never be spoken of until I was much, much older. My mom was dying from cancer at the time and she wanted to be sure Johnny hadn't actually done anything to me and I assured her grandpa had stopped him before he could. I could tell she was relieved to hear this and I was happy to do anything I could to make her passing quiet and peaceful. As you can imagine, Uncle Johnny was never allowed back around the family.

From what I heard, he died a lonely drunk. Although I was somewhat saddened to hear of his passing, I was glad he'd been excised from the family. I can only imagine the fear I'd carry with me today having two girls of my own. I'd never be able to trust him again. You see, because when something so horrible is done, it can't be undone. Something so evil stays with you, and it stays with you forever. Blake and I had been friends at least 15 years. Although I don't recall much from my childhood, I can still see his crying face the day we met. It was our first day of kindergarten and Blake was bawling his eyes out. He wasn't the only one, but he made an impact. A lot of kids that morning

panicked at the idea of separating from their parents. I'm not sure why I didn't, but soon enough we'd all get used to it. Blake and I became fast friends. It stayed that way all through grade school. Since Blake was a bit of a joker, he spent a lot of time in trouble. I usually got drug into it by default. The teachers started to refer to us as the terrible twins. A few of them tried to separate us and one even sent a letter home to my parents to say I was a good kid with a bad influence for a friend. The school would eventually get their way, but we couldn't be defeated. Between classes and at lunch, the two of us still got to hang out together and cause trouble.

By the time high school came around, our days of troublemaking had long passed. We had discovered girls and spent less time together than we once had. On Friday nights, we'd meet up at the football game and catch up. I still viewed him like a brother and we had loads of laughs anytime we ran into each other. Naturally, graduation came around and we were accepted to different colleges on opposite sides of the country. Once or twice a month during the semester, he and I would call and share any news in our lives. When we came home for holidays, we'd meet up at Denny's to talk treason, as Blake put it, or go to parties with other friends. It was at one such party where a terrible accident would change our friendship forever. My final year in school,

I brought my soon-to-be wife home with me to celebrate Christmas. I was excited to be nearing the end of my schooling and hoping to introduce my fiancé to Blake. I had spoken to him the day before we arrived back home and he mentioned a party was being held by one of our friends. We agreed to meet up there and talk treason over some beers. When that night came around, I tried to get my wife to come with me. She decided to stay with my parents so Blake and I could catch up without distraction. I left my folks' place at around 8.30 and showed up at the party soon after. I brought my case of beer to the kitchen and ran into Blake as he told some story about his disgusting roommate. After he finished his story, he and I went to look for a quiet place to chat.

We chose the balcony. That Christmas was warmer than usual so it was a great place to chat. We chose the balcony. That Christmas was warmer than usual, so it was a great place to drink and smoke a little bud. We'd been outside a few hours and hadn't noticed how many others had joined us. When it got too loud, we decided to go back inside. I was the first to go in and when I counted the number of people out in that balcony, I was shocked. It wasn't very big, but there had to be at least 25 folks out there with us. I had closed the sliding door behind me. Blake was still outside picking up the beer bottles. All of a sudden, the whole group, including him, dropped from sight.

It was like the earth had swallowed them up. I was confused, unsure of what had just occurred, and when I ran to the door I flung it open and looked down. What I saw was terrible and to be honest, it still haunts me to this day. Below me, a mass of people, bloodied and broken, were writhing and moaning. Some laid silent and still. Panic washed over me and I yelled down for Blake, to no response. Most of the other partygoers had now crowded behind me. They were unaware of what had happened until it was too late. Gasp and muffled screams roared out from all around me,

and all I could think about was helping Blake. I pushed my way through the mob and ran downstairs. It was even worse than I'd seen from the apartment. Although one or two of the group were relatively unhurt, most were mangled. One uninjured guy helped me rummage through the pile of broken bodies. He was looking for his girlfriend, and we found her quickly. She was barely conscious and had others' blood all over her, but she looked to be okay otherwise. I helped him drag her away from the group and I returned to find Blake. I flipped over two unconscious bodies and saw his bloodied face looking back at me. He was unconscious and didn't respond to my shaking. Soon, several others from the

party arrived. Two guys helped me lift and set Blake aside. I was happy to feel his pulse, but I could tell he was in bad shape. He wasn't only at the very bottom of the pile, but he was among five others that landed on the sidewalk. I rode along to the hospital with the ambulance. The remainder of that night was filled with fear and grief, and witnessing people being told their friend or loved one had not made it, made it all the worse. Just before dawn I became one of them. Blake had just suffered too much, too many injuries to be saved. I knew it was a possibility, but I felt like the air had been knocked out of me all the same. And at the end of that following week the last person passed when his family made the harrowing choice to cease life support.

All said, six lives were lost and eighteen others would have their lives altered in different ways. Those left behind were left wishing they could have done something more or different. Their numbers are countless and I'm among them. 17 years have passed since that night and it still seems like yesterday. From time to time, some of us get together and discuss our feelings and at least attempt to help each other heal. I'm not sure if it does any good, but it gives me a chance to tell people about Blake. Whoever he is today, I'm sure he's causing all kinds of trouble. I hope I'll be allowed to join in the fun. I can't think of any better way to spend eternity than with my best friend. In my early 20s, I ran with a pretty rough crowd.

I met several of the guys when I was working at a liquor store. We were all around the same exact age except for Calvin, who was just over 30. I guess you could say he was kind of our leader. Most of us had grown up without fathers and Calvin seemed to fill that role. He'd been in the army when he was our age, seen the world and had far more experiences in life. When I joined the group, Calvin had just recently been released from jail on drug charges. He wasn't a heavy hitter in that world but he'd made enough waves to show up on the cops' radar. What we didn't know at the time was he'd shown up on another group's radar too.

In our city, a small number of dealers controlled the trade. From what I've read, they were all supplied by the same people. Everyone had their own little corners and peace was more or less maintained because of that arrangement. Calvin had begun to threaten that peace. Not only was it being supplied by another source, just his presence must have angered the wrong people. And on a dark rainy night in 2011, those same people put an end to Calvin's budding enterprise and I almost became collateral damage. Unlike most of my friends, I had a legit day job and no record. I had grown up in the same neighborhood in the same way, but I had a stronger mother who did all she could to keep me out of trouble. I listened to her most of the time, but I was young and stupid. I wanted to hang out with

the tough guys. Somehow, I managed to avoid trouble with the law. These days I chalk it up to a combination of luck and common sense. Some unidentifiable force would tell me to leave. I learned to listen to it and it kept me out of jail. I can't count the number of times it saved my neck at the last second. That rainy night in 2011 was one of them. Calvin and I crammed into his car with three other guys. One of the guys had been invited to a party. He said he knew which apartment it was in, but when we arrived at the complex, he was lost. This wasn't the first time he'd done something like this. He wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer. We'd been driving around over half an hour. Everyone in the car was getting touchy.

Suddenly, this guy points at the building and says he's positive that was the right one. Pretty general, I know. I was fed up with the games and decided to look for myself. I approached the building and didn't see or hear any signs of a party. I turned around and noticed another car parked alongside Calvin's. From my point of view, I couldn't see anyone inside. I took one step but that unknown force told me to stop. Something about all of it made me nervous. So I stepped back behind the wall and watched. I'm glad I did. No more than five seconds later, the driver of the other car opened up on Calvin. The shots lit up everything. I dropped down and cowered behind the wall. I was terrified

they were coming after me next. The shooting seemed to last forever. Eventually, I heard the squeal of tires and a car speeding away, and I wasn't sure I was safe yet. I slowly crept to my feet and leaned toward the corner. It was now or never. I pushed one eye around the edge, half expecting to get a bullet in it. Nothing was there but Calvin's car. I listened for something, a moan, anything. But everyone was dead. Or so I thought. I carefully approached the car. The smell of gunpowder still filled the damp air. I went around to Calvin's door and opened it. I'm not sure what I expected to see, but it was horrifying. Calvin was riddled with holes and blood pooled in the seats beneath him. I fought all I could not to vomit. In the back

seat, two of the three guys were slumped over the third. Sirens were now whining off in the distance. I was about to close the door when I heard a faint exhale from the back seat. It scared me at first, but I looked closer and realized Vaughn, the guy who dragged us out there in the first place, was still alive. I ran around to the opposite side and opened the door. Vaughn fell partially out. The police and ambulance arrived just as I was removing him. I left them treat him and I had spoken to the cops. I think they were skeptical of my story at first. However, the longer they looked around, the more it made sense to them. The next few hours were even worse, if that's possible. I was forced to sit off to the side as the bodies of my three friends were bagged up and wheeled away. The officers were kind enough

to give me a ride to the hospital. For the rest of the night, I waited with Vaughn's girlfriend for any news. And just before 5am This worn out looking doctor emerged to let us know that Vaughn would survive Although he'd been struck twice in his liver the surgeons were able to save him He was questioned a few days later but refused to identify the shooters Vaughn wouldn't even tell me Probably because he knew I'd go straight to the cops, and when it comes to my friends being killed, that whole no snitching stuff

goes out the window. Naturally, no one was ever arrested. I did hear last year that one guy who was involved actually did take his own life, and the news made me feel a bit better, a little bit of closure for a while at least. The murders would make me reassess my life. I slowly stepped from the rough set and found a new, less dangerous circle of friends. When my lease expired, I moved across town. This new neighborhood was a lot more neighbor and no more hood, so to speak. Although I do still speak to Vaughn and the other guys on occasion, that part of my life is behind me, and I hope to God forever. To be continued... There was a time after college where I was lost. I had no real direction or hopes for the future. Like most, I surrounded myself with an equally aimless group of people.

We slept our days away and spent our nights drinking ourselves into a stupor. My greatest ally in this time of debauchery was Stacy. We met her freshman year. We were put together in the dorms. Fortunately, we got along well, so when I moved out to my own place, she came along. It wasn't long before Stacy got a well-earned reputation for holding her liquor better than most guys. Weekend after weekend, the most macho of men bellied up to the table only to be put under it. I secretly admired

her for this but at the same time feared it may lead down a very bad road. When graduation arrived we both somehow had degrees but no prospects or jobs lined up. A year passed and neither of us were working in our chosen fields. While we slogged through the week working dead-end jobs, the weekend was still ours. In a lot of ways, not much had changed. Stacey was still drinking young men under the table and I was just trying to get by. As the months passed, I grew more and more unhappy. Drinking became a bigger part of my life. I became too focused on my own feelings to notice Stacey was actually destroying herself from the inside. In the years prior, she derived great pleasure from knocking these cocky guys down a peg or two. Since we'd graduated and the realities of life came flooding in, drinking became the only thing she enjoyed.

A friend from work was having a birthday party one weekend. On this night, all the years of abuse Stacy had put her body through came back to haunt her. Around an hour after we arrived, she found a new opponent. They swapped drink for drink for another few hours before Stacy began looking sick. I'd never seen her like this before. It wasn't that she was just intoxicated. Her face took on this yellow paler and she was sweating profusely. I asked if she was okay and was scolded for my effort. Another 30 minutes passed and out of nowhere she collapsed. Everyone was shocked to see her fall but I knew she was far from drunk.

I kept trying to wake her up but got no replies. I was getting very scared and I convinced one of the guys to carry her to my car and I drove her to the hospital. They wheeled her in and went to work and while I waited in the lobby all sorts of ideas ran through my head. All but the most obvious, the one I most feared. The hours passed. Around 1am my worst fears were realized. Stacy actually needed a new liver. Her years of endless drinking had destroyed hers. The doctor said she was only the second person he'd ever seen in their 20s to have such bad cirrhosis. When I finally got to see her she acted as if though everything was fine. I spent almost an hour trying to convince her of the seriousness of her condition, but she blew me off and within the next two years, she'd be dead.

Once she was released, she returned to her regular life. I did all I could to get through to her, but it was ultimately a waste of time. Seeing how our lifestyle was killing her, I had been convinced to change. I began working out and eating better, lost 30 pounds and felt amazing because of it. I couldn't watch Stacy take her own life anymore, this slow death, so I moved out. Our friendship drifted apart and other than speaking on the phone a few times we lost contact. As I looked upon her, motionless and stiff in her casket, I regretted our parting. While at the same time I knew my choice to change had been the right one, one I don't regret a single bit,

I do wish I could have convinced her to join me. Since those days, my life has improved greatly. The better things went, the more motivated I became to alter other aspects of my life. Now that I wasn't spending my days recuperating from drinking binges, I had the time and energy to volunteer. I began helping out with special needs students at a local high school. The principal must have liked my work, as she encouraged me to go back and get my credentials and then join their staff full time. Since then, I have been a teacher for almost five years and I love every day of it. I'm reminded of a time not long ago when I had a student ask me about my life prior to teaching.

I was reluctant to tell her how aimless I'd been then. However, I did want her to know the importance of a healthy routine. I told her, when we're young it seems like we have nothing but time to kill. Something I discovered was, the more free time I was left with, the more trouble I found myself in. That may not be the answer you wanted, but it's a great thing to remember. Now that I've said it, let's hope I can continue following my own advice. I used to roll with some really bad people. I grew up on Vermont Avenue in South Central Los Angeles, which for those of you that don't know, is the territory of the 8-tray gangster crips. And like many young

black men at the time, I fell into the corner boy life because there was just nothing else out there for me. This meant I got to know some of the most violent and sadistic people, not just in LA County, but maybe even the entire country. Looked at it this way, I was 17 in 1992, right on the cusp of being a man when the LA riots went down. Do you remember that truck driver, Reginald Denny? The dude who rolled through South Central in his truck, only to get dragged out and beat while the whole thing was being filmed by a circling chopper. Well, two of his attackers were actually big homies from the set I was with, guys who used all that anger and unrest to turn the area around 83rd street into their own little lawless kingdom. Now, I know it's a big cliche when people say that being gangster only ends up two ways, prison or the

morgue. But it's really true. No one ever truly gets out alive and if you try, lord above, some people won't make it easy on you. Because after I got a charge for slinging dope and decided to use my time in prison to change my life for the better and I got a lot of pushback. My homies said that they were gonna shank me, sell me to the Aryan Brotherhood or that I'd have to buy my way out of the set if I wasn't gone so bad. I won't lie man, that stuff had me stressed and to cope with it I ended up falling back into something I hadn't done since I was incredibly young. I got back into the sweet science of boxing. All that training, all that work. I could throw hands better than any homie in there and by the time I got to be the champion middleweight of the whole prison, what do you

know? My old running dogs weren't so quick to beef. It never really occurred to me how boxing might be the solution to my problems, but now I feel it's exactly the same way for a lot of young black men all over this country. The discipline, the respect, the self-control, those are qualities that are sorely lacking in our communities. Those ideas planted a seed in me that wouldn't stir until a few years later, but for the time being, boxing kept me out of trouble and helped me turn my life around. After nine years when I got out, my parole officer managed to land me a job working for

a landscaping firm but after a few days of my back hollering at me, I left that behind. That's when I hooked up with another of the homies from back in the day. He got himself out of the game when his baby mama got shot and never caught no bids So he hit a clean enough record to get himself a security guard job I didn't think that kind of work would even be an option for me But the homie said he could put in a good word for me Then what do you know? I end up getting a call from a guy who's willing to give an ex-con like me a chance.

He seemed a little sketchy at first and I can't blame him, but I must have given him all the right answers because all of a sudden he's offering me a probationary period to prove I can do the work. I was so happy that I started dancing after I hung up the phone. But the thing was, security guard work would be a hundred times easier than landscaping, and the pay was almost double what I was getting for mowing lawns. But like everything else in life, putting on that security guard's uniform and strapping on a belt brought its own set of problems, some I expected and some not so much.

I started off slow at first, morning shifts at this little Korean convenience store to keep the fiends from emptying the place out before 9am. But after a while as the head of the firm saw that I could do the job and do it well, I started picking up more shifts here and there, guarding different stores at different times of the day. And there was one particular place that so happened to be a regular stop for some west side slobs. I wouldn't normally resort to using gang talk like that. Slobs is a disrespectful term for bloods. Like I said, I'm out of the game, but these boys, and that's exactly what they were, boys, not men, were just about the most low-down people I'd ever come across, even when I was about that life.

They were killers, straight up. The kind of people that would take a life, then take a nap right after. Now, me and my homie from back in the day, we knew this, and we knew not to start anything. A wise man knows to pick his battles, and a battle with a cold-blooded killer over a stolen soda just ain't worth losing your life over. But try telling that to Tyrone, who had an ego bigger than his gut and a brain smaller than what was in between his legs. Tyrone was a jerk, but he wasn't a bad person. He was righteous most deaf, but he had the mouth to match. And it's a long life out here for a man of few words,

in my mind. See, those Piru boys used to make a game out of hunking security guards and it went like this. One of them would ask for a bottle of Henny or a 40, which the nice Korean lady then had to fish out of a fridge or off a shelf. Then while her back was turned, they'd help themselves to whatever. Not even because they needed it, just because that's how they do, you know. Only they wouldn't just steal right quick and leave. They'd be eyeballing the security guard the whole time, as to say, what you gonna do, rent a cop? When I talked to the store owner, they knew well what was going on, and a little leak wasn't nothing if those boys paid for their alcohol and didn't try to finesse with no fake bills. I explained that they were bad men,

very bad, and they might hurt someone if I tried to stop them, but again, the store owner knew. He might have not been from around here and in his late 70s, but the guy wasn't no Mark and he didn't hold it against me or tell the boss so long as I did my job the rest of the time. See, we had a kind of agreement. An unspoken one but an agreement all the same. Only Tyrone didn't quite see it that way. Tyrone took it personal. So one night I get a call from the boss man asking if I can work the Korean store on short notice. I tell him sure I can work but I also ask him what happened to the other guy, be it Pookie, my old homie or Tyrone. He says Tyrone didn't show up to work for whatever reason but I don't really pay it no mind, not until I get

out of there and bump into those slobs I mentioned. They walk in clowning on me doing their usual thing only on the way out one of them stops like you spoke to your boy today rent-a-cop? I don't say nothing I just give them the look of step off you know and they start laughing like nah he ain't seen his boy ain't nobody seen his boy. I just fronted like whatever but inside I'm like, who are they talking about? My boy? They mean Pookie? Then boom, it hits me. They're not talking about Pook, they're talking about Tyrone. And how did they know about him not showing up to work? I wait until the slobs leave and tell the nice lady behind the counter that I'm going on break and then head out to the payphones outside to give the boss man a call. It was kind of late at that point and he wasn't shy

about angrily letting me know that I just interrupted some conjugal time between him and his old lady. But once I let him know about what the slob said, he gets real serious and says he'll call the Korean store back once he spoke to Tyrone. An hour goes by and nothing. This is a phone call that should have taken like five minutes tops and here I am worrying for over an hour before I finally get a call back. He called up Tyrone's house only for his mama to answer and all she does is wail about how Tyrone ain't come home that morning and how she's scared to death because people dying in these streets every day and she wasn't wrong about that. Bossman said she was too

upset to call the cops so he did it for her. But between you and me, bad things happen to people who call the cops out here, even if it's just because they're scared for their family. This thing's been long enough already, so I'll cut to the chase. Tyrone didn't come home that morning, and about the same time his mama was worrying about him, two LAPD murder police found a body down the river. It was so torn up that it took them 24 hours to find a relative. The door they ended up knocking on was Tyrone's mother's door. I heard you could hear the wailing from two blocks away when they told her and she ain't never been right since. But Herda wasn't so much her son's death that broke her, it was having to go identify the body that took her spirit away.

And from what I heard, it was all over some cherry lollipop. Tyrone stepped to one of the slobs after they palmed a cherry sucker and the man could only take so much humiliation. He started cussing, even laying hands on him, pushing them out the store. They don't do anything right there. They just laugh while the slob who's getting pushed starts talking a good game about how Tyrone's a dead man, blah blah blah. They was laughing cause they knew what was gonna happen later. A big brave Tyrone was gonna cry for his mom before they capped him. And from what I heard, they took their time over it too.

Did all kinds of messed up stuff to him when they just didn't need to. So that when it came to Tyrone's mama going to confirm the body, I think she just lost her mind there and then. I never saw the body and as much as some of the fiends swear they saw him with their own eyes, I don't believe a word. So there's no one, no one I know or would be cool with asking who knows exactly what they did to him. But that doesn't stop me from wondering. Wondering what they could have done to him to make his mama just lose herself like that.

I even heard she wears nothing but black nowadays, just sits in an armchair staring at pictures of him, so broke that people gotta feed her and bathe her and stuff. It's sad, man, I know. And what they did to Tyrone and, like, not really knowing. That's what really scares me. Last October, me and the wife went to have a look at a housing development in Lawnerkshire up here in Scotland. Torrance Gardens is a nice enough place. Some of the interior design was a bit tacky, but we definitely saw a few houses that we were interested in purchasing. There was one in particular that my wife really liked

because the dining table was right next to some patio doors leading out into the backyard. We could get all al fresco in the summer with them open, I remember her saying. It was the first time in my life I've ever heard al fresco before and just before I was about to ask who that was, I hear the sound of tires screeching from up the way. Me and the wife watched as a man in a white van started shouting out his window at some lads that were approaching him. I couldn't hear what he was saying, I mean it definitely wasn't very nice, but as one of the lads goes to rush his driver's side door, the driver tries to roll the window back up only to have it smashed in from one punch of one of the attacking lads. It was a truly shocking display of raw power but we didn't

find out until later that the lad had a pair of brass knuckles on. I think the driver was so stunned that he didn't put his foot down and try to get away when the lad threw open the driver's side door and started to grab for him. That or he knew that if he did lurch forward in that situation he might crash and hurt himself or an assailant or maybe even a few unlucky bystanders, me and the wife included. Either way, the bloke actually gets dragged out of his van where he does actually try to put up a fight. But as I said, the lad turned out to have brass knuckles, so the bloke who had been in the van went down like a sack of potatoes. There was no way he was going to get the upper hand in an uneven fight like that.

The fight was over in seconds, but the young lad who scored a knockout wasn't nearly ready to walk away the victor. I swear I'll never forget the oh no feeling I got when the lad looks around, sees the pile of bricks laying near a half-built house and then wanders over to them. Oh no, turned into, please don't do it, please don't do it, with the wife turning away saying she couldn't look when everyone realized what was going on. As soon as this lad brings a brick down on the already unconscious van driver, myself and a few blokes viewing Holmes started running over to where the fight was, shouting leave it, it's over, nay need for that. But this young lad had properly gone berserk, and he just kept hitting the unconscious bloke with the sharp of the brick,

right into the face too. Meanwhile, this little animal's pals had piled into the van they'd dragged their victim out of and were screaming at him to get in so they could get away. He jumps in, and the way the van is positioned it had its back to us and the unconscious bloke. As you can imagine, I'm thinking it's going to just drive forward away from the scene of the attack, so I'm still running from the unconscious bloke to see if he was okay. I just hear, no, no, no, really quick, and I have to run right back again to stop the van from hitting me. But I couldn't stop the van

from running over the bloke that had been driving it just moments before. Good god, the sound those tires made as they hit him, and the way the van seems to tumble and shake, all that weight and force applied, and it still had a hard time actually running over him. Then the van seems to tumble and shake, all that weight and force applied and it still had a hard time actually running over him. Then the van revs off and as the sound of the engine fades and a horrible silence descended on us, we could hear the bloke on the ground whispering something. I haven't the foggiest idea what he was saying. He looked foreign so it could have been a proper language but the state he was in I wouldn't be surprised if it was just gibberish. Laha, laha, laha was what it sounded like to me

but the way he kept saying it over and over again it sounded almost like a chant or a prayer or something. It was only later that I'd learned that the guy was Muslim and what he was saying was something in Arabic that means, there is no god except God. It's something they say on their deathbed when they know they're going to die. And that really messed with my head afterward. The clarity of him knowing that he'd had it, of just kicking into autopilot and saying his final prayer. I can't imagine being in that position, let alone facing the big sleep with such dignity. But the other thing that really messes with me, the thing that gave me nightmares for months afterwards, was seeing the damage caused by the combination of the brick attack and the van running him over. I think I know which did the majority of the damage

after all. The van wheel had completely squashed one of his thighs and blood was just pumping into the street from the mess of mushed flesh and crushed bone. But it was his face that gave me nightmares, or rather his distinct lack of one. I think that sharp edge of brick must have done some horrific damage but maybe the wheels finished the job on the way off because it was like he was wearing a half mask or something. Half his face is still there and the other half is almost completely peeled away to the point where I could see his teeth where this poor bloke's cheek used to be. The same sort of damage had been done around his scalp too. Something had just ripped all the skin away. It reminded me of the old cowboy films I used to watch when I was a baron,

and how the Native Americans would scalp the cowboys if they caught them alive. I think he died before the ambulance even arrived because the paramedics were doing CPR on him, or trying anyway, as they got him into the ambulance. And as much as I wanted to go home and forget about the whole thing, I had to hang around to give statements to the police who showed up not long after the ambulance. I could only tell them what I knew at the time, but in this case, I've had the chance to read up on exactly what transpired before the attack. You can google Scott Pearson, 22, which will tell you that Mohamed Abu Samor worked as a security supervisor at a housing development.

Then the despicable crew from earlier saw Mohamed's Osprey Works van and planned to steal it. What they didn't realize was that Mohamed was inside the van and sprang out and tried to chase them away, thus transpiring what I observed. But none of the articles will really tell you why these thugs did what they did. I read that he still denied all wrongdoing at his trial, admitting that his actions had led to the death of another, but refusing to accept full responsibility for it, telling the prosecutor things like he couldn't remember the events of the day. But that has to be the biggest load

of bollocks I'd ever heard. I can remember all of it like it was yesterday, and I was just watching from a distance, as this little toe rag expects people to believe that it all just slipped his mind. I don't know how he even sat through that day in court without trying to wrangle that little bugger's neck right there and then. I don't really believe in pure evil, so to speak. I think people are a complicated mix of good and bad. But that little monster is definitely leaning on the evil side, far more than anyone else I've ever encountered firsthand. In 1991, South Korean immigrant Soo-Yeok Kim was living in New York City with her husband and two young sons. A few years earlier, she and her husband, Soo-Young, had emigrated to the United States,

where they opened up their own clothing store in the Bushwick area of Brooklyn. Thanks to their hard work and dedication, the business became a roaring success, and it wasn't long before the Kims were able to open up a second outlet over in Long Island. Soon the money was pouring in, and the family moved into a lavish multi-story apartment in Queens. Despite their journey to America not always being an easy one, it seemed the Kims had finally made it. A wealthy, self-made entrepreneurial couple, living comfortably in a suburb of arguably the greatest city on earth, the essence of the American dream. But the Kims' dreams were not to last, and by happenstance, the nightmare that followed happened to closely involve a private security guard by the name of Joe Jones.

At around 3am on June 30th of 1991, Joe was patrolling the perimeter of an abandoned building in the Bed-Stuy area of Brooklyn when he was almost scared to death by the sudden appearance of an unexpected stranger. Joe would later claim that the figure appeared as a tall, blonde, twenty-something Caucasian male, wearing a white tank top and jogging shorts. He also claimed to have watched the man pulling something large and heavy from his trunk before lugging it over to a nearby dumpster and tossing it inside. As the stranger's presence wasn't permitted after hours,

Joe slowly approached him, telling the man that he'd have to leave. He also added that he wasn't permitted to dump his own trash into company dumpsters and could he kindly remove it before departing. The stranger didn't respond. He simply walked up to Joe, took out a $20 bill, and slid it into his shirt pocket. Joe didn't say a word, he just watched the man climb into his blue Nissan and drive away. Yet it wasn't so much that the money had bought his silence, it was the sight of the blood on the man's tank top that kept him from enforcing his polite request. All he could do was make sure to make a mental note of the man's license plate, and pray the situation wasn't the worst he could

imagine. After the man had departed, Joe found himself filled with dread as he approached the dumpster, noting the spots of fresh blood that were pooling on the ground close by. He knew he'd have to look inside the dumpster, even if it was just to make sure that wasn't the nightmare scenario he was envisioning. But his legs felt like they were made of concrete. He was terrified and he couldn't bring himself to do it. It was then that a co-worker of Joe's appeared on scene, having heard the Nissan's engine and he asked Joe if anything was amiss. He later said that he knew something was horribly wrong, just from the look of fear in poor Joe Jones' eyes. And when the pair of men approached the dumpster, threw open the lid, and shone their

flashlights inside, they discovered it was worse than either of them could have imagined. The inside of the dumpster smelled like death, and not just the usual rotten garbage funk that seems to hang around dumpsters like a cloud. It was a smell coming off the soggy, wet package that the tall, tank-top stranger had just deposited, and upon examining it, the pair of security guards found that it contained freshly butchered meat. Human meat. Flashback to around 5pm of the previous day, this would have been around the time that Soo-Ya Kim dropped her two sons off with her grandmother, freeing her up to do a little shopping. Her husband, Soo-Young, was still working at the time as he generally worked long 12-hour days to keep their two businesses' growth and profits up.

Soo-Young usually arrived home at around 8pm and usually she'd call to say otherwise and she was usually there to greet him. Yet despite not receiving a call that day, Soo Young found that his wife was nowhere to be seen. He didn't worry too much initially, after all, she was free to do as she wished. But after he found that her car was still parked in the apartment building's garage, he began to grow increasingly concerned. But it wasn't until the following afternoon that Su-Young received the fateful call from the Brooklyn Medical Examiner's office, asking him to come down to identify what remained of a body.

The whole way down he prayed that it wasn't Su-Young, hoping it was all just a horrible mistake and that his beloved wife would be home before he knew it. But when the coroner's pulled back the sheet and Soo-Yeol saw the lifeless eyes of his departed wife staring up at the ceiling, his tears told the coroner all they needed to know. Back at Brooklyn PD, security guard Joe Jones was interviewed by detectives, where he gave a statement regarding his involvement in the discovery of Suya's body. He also agreed to sit through a polygraph test and gave satisfactory enough responses

to the questions given to him that detectives were happy to rule him out as a suspect entirely. They also thanked Jones for recording the license plate number of the vehicle that apparently transported Su-Ya's body, quickly tracking it down to the parking lot of the CW Post campus of Long Island University. When they found the dorm room of the vehicle's owner, the cops stacked up, ready to bring in their tall, blonde-haired murder suspect. But when they gained entry, they found the room was occupied by a clueless and terrified Taiwanese exchange student, who swore that she hadn't even driven her car since the evening of June 29th. What's more, she was more than happy to consent to the interior of the car being forensically analyzed, the results of which showed zero indication that it had been used

to transport human remains. Joe Jones was confronted with this, and accused of giving false statement to police. However, he swore that he must have mistaken a number or letter, maybe even misremembered one and that in no way had his statement been intended as malicious. Once again, Jones was released without charge, and the hunt for the tall blonde killer in the blue Nissan continued to no avail. For all intents and purposes, Soo-Yeol's killer was getting away with murder, and the longer he went uncaught, the less likely he would be to ever face justice for his crimes. And in one final heartbreaking twist of the story, Soo Young Kim was so utterly grief-stricken by his wife's murder that he simply couldn't bear the thought of living in the US or carrying on the business without her. He and his two sons returned to South Korea just two

years later, repatriating Soo Young's remains in the process. It was a bleak, soul-crushing end to the journey of a lifetime, one in which happiness had been snatched away by the cruel and thoughtless whims of another. And it shows all of us just how fragile our lives truly are. I used to work overnight security at a few different sites here in Chicago and one of them was a large corporate office building. It was basically no different from any of the other overnight jobs I worked but the thing that really sets it out is that I only worked there for three nights. Three nights and I noped out of there, settling for sucky unemployment before I could get another

position. First night wasn't so bad but the second started getting weird. Creaking noises coming from boiler rooms, static on the radio that none of the other guards seemed to hear. But the third night, I'm doing the rounds, checking doors, securing staircases, and I turn down this super long hallway, maybe 400 feet long, with offices and conference rooms lining both sides. Each has a window, some large and some small, and because they're dark I can kind of see my reflection in them briefly as I walk past before they're cut off by solid wall. So it's like wall, wall, reflection, wall, wall, wall, reflection, wall, wall, wall, reflection, and so on and so forth. The last window I walk past, I swear to god I see someone walking behind

me for a second. Like it was so real that I almost spun around in fright before I realized it was probably just a trick of the light or something. Anyway, I carry on the shift, pulling the same patrol about an hour later. I jokingly wonder if I'm going to see the ghost behind me again, and obviously I don't see anyone the second time, which confirms to me that it was just some illusion in my eyes. Then I actually get kind of curious, and start wondering how it made that kind of double reflection in the first place, which is just about the time I look behind me to the piece of glass in the fire door where my faint reflection looked like it has two heads. It was so weirdly subtle that I barely even noticed it, like the kind of thing you don't really notice at first but when you do, you

can't unsee it. And again, I swear to god it looked like I had two freaking heads, one just sort of splitting off from the other at the neck. Again, I shake this off as a trick of the light, albeit a pretty big coincidence getting two of those in as many hours. But hey, stranger things can happen, right? The big nope moment came when I got back to the security office a couple of minutes later and my duty partner asked me, who else was up there with you just then? No, we had quite the big team on the night shifts as like I said, it was a real big building and I know for sure there wasn't no one else up there with me when I did my rounds. I told the guy he

must have been pulling my leg but he swore on his mama's life that he saw someone walking behind me in the corridor. It was only for a split second but they swore they saw it, only like I said we had a big team so they didn't think anything of it. I quit at the end of that night. Three shifts in and that kind of nonsense was happening on like an hourly basis. I'd have to be going out of my mind to stay there a second longer. It isn't like Chi-town is short on security jobs either. A good one is hard to find, I admit it. But the tide you over money comes as easy as work ever wants to. Far too easy for me to stay in a job like that.

I've heard some people say they are just pulling a prank on me, hazing the new guy or whatever. But even then, working a security job where your buddies ain't got your back is kind of just asking for trouble in my opinion. From mid-2007 to 2012, I was part of the overnight security for the data center of a well-known international banking corp. I'm not even going to pretend to know everything about what went on in here or how it worked. I just know it involved a lot of money, along with the personal banking info of possibly hundreds of thousands of people. So, as you can imagine, the kind of security we had there was absolutely top tier, and most of the guys hired there were ex-army and ex-police. The guy who ran the company claimed to be former SAS, but

it was quite a big firm and I never met him, so I honestly couldn't tell you if that's true or not. Anyway, there were two particularly frightening things about the job. The first was the fact that every 15 minutes, I'm talking 15 minutes on the dot too, we had to complete a telephone check to confirm that everything was fine and dandy. I once asked what would happen if we didn't complete the phone check and was jokingly told, oh, you don't want to know. Before I was told all kinds of horror stories about how the police would turn up, armed to the teeth, assumed we were all robbers in disguise or whatever and bash our heads in if they didn't shoot us first. I honestly reckon that

they were just scary stories, granted I was relatively new on the job and obviously there'd be disciplinary proceedings if someone was found guilty of misconduct. But armed police? Nah, not in your life. Now, we used to have to complete the phone check using one of the site's landlines. For security reasons, we weren't allowed to carry our cell phones on us, so it's not like we could just put out a mobile and get it done. The report had to come from the site's phone number, so we were told anyway. So one night I finish my shift and I'm walking down the rear ground floor corridor towards one of the staff parking lots. As I'm approaching the door I see it wobble a little bit, like there was someone on the other side trying the door handle. Obviously I don't think much of this because there are people on the other side trying the door handle. Obviously I don't

think much of this because there are people coming in and out all the time, I just know someone is there as I approach. But when I open up the door I don't see another member of the security team, I see the barrel of a gun pointed right in my face. I swear to god before any one of us said a freaking word, he'd smash the muzzle of that thing right in my face so hard I had these white spots in my vision as I fell back. Only then did I hear the guy scream, arm police, get on the ground. I get that I must have given this guy a bit of a fright just appearing at the door like that, but almost breaking my nose with this weapon. Absolutely no need for that.

As it turned out, the guy whose job it was to phone in the checks that night had gone out for a smoke and like the idiot that he was, had only gone and locked himself out. He shouldn't have been taking a smoke break like that in the first place let alone gone somewhere without his key fob on him. As you can imagine, the company dropped him like a live hand grenade after that and it was the only time any serious negligence occurred in a company where 99% of the guys were darn good at what they did. It was definitely the scariest thing that happened to me while I was working there but I did get a couple of bucks from the police in an out-of-court settlement.

So that fella almost braining me turned out to have a little sweetener to it. But that leads me on to the other thing about guarding that data center, and those of you who have seen the Tenet films will understand. I thought it was a load of overcomplicated nonsense myself, but one scene really stuck with me, and that's the bit where they're doing a heist in the secure art depot at the Freeport. The tricky thing was the tenant, I think that was his name, and his friend had to practice holding their breath because once the fire alarm went off, the area would be flooded with non-flammable gas which would put the fires out without damaging the stock. And since all the servers and data storage units would be destroyed if they were

soaked by a sprinkler system, we had a very similar argon-based extinguisher system built into the data center. Every year, we had to undergo training and drills based around the event of a fire, which were basically no different than any other kind of fire drill a company might do. The only difference with ours was that, much like the stupid film, we had to take a deep breath, smash the glass alarm panel, then leg it over to one of those special doors that sealed all the air in while the room was flooded with argon gas. This would be repeated all throughout the building until the source of the fire could be identified and isolated. Every year we did that training, and every year it scared the life out of me because

as much as we'd trained and made provisions to stop anything like it from happening, there was a clear and ever-present danger of being trapped in one of those server vaults and being suffocated. We also had the responsibility of making sure that no other guards or staff were in the sealed off area, as if they didn't have the warning and the doors locked behind them. Well, you can guess what the consequences of that would be. I had bad dreams more than once about that. Not so much me getting hurt, but the idea of locking down and realizing there was someone trapped inside the server vault. It was always Terry too, I think because he was my best friend there and we both served together. I'd turn around once

the door slammed realizing I'd locked Terry in there with no way to override the system. All I'd heard was banging against the door, getting weaker and weaker until I heard the thump of his limp body hitting the floor on the other side. Thankfully there were never any fires in the four and a half years I was there and because of the nature of the system, we were never around whenever it was tested. It was a very well-paying position, I'll say that, and the head of security was on a safe six figures. But I found progression to be very, very slow and was only too glad to leave the responsibilities and the bad dreams behind when I found a similarly paid position with none of the deadly supervillain defense or extinguisher systems. But anyway, just a little look into one of the more bizarre security jobs I've had in my time.

I hope you all found this slightly interesting and it wasn't just some big wall of text. A few years back, I was working the second shift at Colonial Williamsburg. I had started at around 1pm but sometimes wouldn't finish until later on at night. Colonial Williamsburg is what they call a living history museum and it's basically that they kept a part of the city super old so it's like stepping back in a time machine without any of the paradoxical danger so to speak. I used to work there on the weekends when I was in high school so I was pretty low down the chain. And it was my job to turn off the lights at the governor's mansion and a few other places at the end of the night. This one night I had just clocked out and was walking to my car when my boss called me and said that I had missed a light. I was still kind of new at the time and the idea of burning down the colonial quarter was just about the most awful thing I could think of,

so I apologized a bunch and headed back to correct my mistake. Sure enough, a light way up in the attic was visibly on from outside. I facepalm super hard, head up there to the attic via the little ladder thing but once I get up there, there's no lit candles at all. I start applying any and all logic thinking the light we saw must have been a reflection from somewhere and besides, it's no big deal. I'm just happy I didn't actually leave a candle on to potentially burn down one of my favorite places in the entire world. So, I shrug it off, head back down the ladder and re-begin the walk to my car. But yet again, as I'm walking, I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket and once again, it's my boss asking if I'm actually going to do my job properly. I immediately text back that I did,

and get an incoming call in response. He actually seemed super angry, saying like, why are you lying to me, do you think I'm dumb? And a small argument unfolded before I turned around and saw that, sure enough, there was a light back on in the window of the old attic. That's when I realized something wasn't quite right, and I calmly asked my boss to meet me outside so we could both make sure the candle was put out properly, together. I'd been a diligent worker for the few weeks I'd been there, but I could tell just from this that my boss thought I was crazy, dumb, or both. I mean, I'd be thinking the same thing. Who can't put out a simple candle?

But as I wanted him to see, there was much more at play than that. So I meet him outside and once we've established that A, no one is playing a prank and that B, I obviously wouldn't just lie to him, we head over to the house with a lit candle in the loft. As we approach, each of us agrees that we can both see a lit candle up in the window, and by now my boss is past thinking I'm dumb and probably just curious to see what it was talking about. But lo and behold, when we head up into the attic, there's no lit candle, and I made sure to make sure that my boss goes up first so he couldn't accuse me of just snuffing it out like I'm gaslighting him or something. When I get up there, my boss has

actually turned pale when he turns to me and says, you smell that, right? And sure enough, the distinct odor of a burnt candle could be smelled, and the wick of the candle was still warm and sooty. We're both right on the verge of freaking out entirely, and my boss turns to me like, you swear you put that candle out the first time. But just as I'm about to promise him that I did, and that something seriously freaky is going on, we hear this noise from the old wardrobe that made both of us freeze in place. It was this wheezy, raspy sound, exactly like my little cousin made during a horrible asthma attack during her 7th birthday party. I was so scared that I could practically hear my own heartbeat in my ears. I wanted to bolt out, but for some reason I just couldn't bring myself to.

My boss turns towards the wardrobe like, is anyone there? And then in response, we both just heard this sandpaper voice growl, get out. Me and my boss almost knocked each other over trying to get to the ladder, tearing through this old colonial house that we normally treated with kid gloves. Like I think I'd have honestly smashed my way straight through a wall if I'd had the strength to, I was literally that terrified. Me and my boss ran to my car, him jumping into the passenger seats and me in the driver's, and we took out of there, not even caring where we were headed, just as long as it was

away from Colonial Williamsburg. As I'm driving, I feel my phone start buzzing in my pocket again. I can't answer because I'm driving, but from the call ID, I can see it's from the overnight security guy. I realized that he'd probably just seen, either on camera or in person, me and the boss sprinting out of the house before speeding off in my car and was wondering what the deal was. Only I realize we've also left him back there with whatever was in the wardrobe, so I'm panicking and telling the boss, Call Terry. We have to warn Terry. So, he does.

And right as my boss is telling Terry to get out of there, I just hear like, Terry, are you kidding me? You literally just scared us half to death. And that's when it hit me. Terry had been hiding up in that attic, lighting the candle, and then putting it out again when he heard someone walk into the house. And I guess scaring the life out of us was his idea of fun, as bored as he must have been. And let me tell you, that was not funny, Terry. Not funny at all. I used to work graveyard shift security at a group of residential slash commercial buildings that had been converted from old factories.

Old like 1800s old, and some of the buildings still had a few features from when they were industrial buildings, one of which was the old style of architecture. Some of the interiors had these massive intricate stone carvings and murals in them and they wouldn't look out of place as a location for a horror movie, meaning some of my walkarounds could get pretty creepy later at night. The first building I worked at was commercial only and was almost always completely empty at night after a certain time. It had this old, dusty antique of a freight elevator at one end of the building that honestly seemed like it was

around at the time of the founding fathers. It was squeaky, creaky, and made noises that you definitely didn't want to hear out of an elevator, but was otherwise safe and functional. Then at the other end was a loft that contained the roof hatch, a hatch which the maintenance guy would sometimes forget to secure and on windy nights you could hear it banging around. When it was left open you could also hear the elevator machinery from the floor below when the elevator was in use. Also this building has two floors and laid out as more or less a straight line from end to end so no one can come or go on the floor that I'm on without me noticing. Anyway, so this was one of the first shifts I had after getting the job there. I was doing a foot patrol of the building and was at

the loft end of that building and I could hear the roof hatch door banging and the buzz of the freight elevator machinery starting up. Obviously I'm the only person in the building, so after almost having a heart attack along with a metaphorical change of underwear, I went to check the far end of the building to see what was up. There's no one there, but the elevator has moved between floors. No one came out of any of the commercial spaces on the second floor to call the elevator up there, and I know that for a fact because I would have heard them opening and closing their door and moving in the hallway. Also, there's nowhere to go because it's a straight line, except for the fact that this is around a corner, so like I said, if there was anyone else in the

building with me, I'm almost certain I would have seen them. It can't be someone on the first floor messing with me because there's a call button on each floor but no way to control the elevator from outside other than that. In order to control the elevator, you have to be inside. There's no way about it. So, I would have either seen them in the hall or found them standing in the elevator. Also, this particular elevator is one of those really old manual concertina style ones where you have to open and close the doors by hand. And if you know the kind I'm talking about, you'll also know how that's absolutely impossible to do quietly.

Also, the elevator doesn't move at all until the doors are closed manually and the last time I had seen the elevator, I'd have been on the first floor with the doors open. So unless I had legit ninjas in the building with me, something seriously weird was going on that night. Sintra To understand my story, you sort of have to know a tiny bit about trespassing laws in our country, in that we don't have any so long as you're respectful and non-destructive. You can walk over any hills you like and, in my case, camp on any beach of your choosing so long as once you leave the area, it's how you found it. I used to love camping when I was little. Our family would go multiple

times a year with a large group of my parents, friends, and their kids. On average, there were maybe 10 of us at a time, which was a bit of a logistical challenge since we always headed out to this one really remote beach on the coast. Actually, we weren't the only ones. There's always yachts bobbing just off the shore with people in them and other campers lining up and down the beach. Most of them also had children or teenagers, so it wasn't a wild party scene. It was very much an informal family holiday spot. There was even a small building with toilets and showers installed nearby even though this was in the middle of nowhere. I guess the local council must have figured it out and got sick of people

peeing behind bushes. We took a trip up in spring of 2011. I'm really bad with time but I know this because I got my dog in winter of 2010 after picking her out that November from the shelter as a birthday gift from me to me as I paid for her adoption fee. Now I know you all love dogs and she will be very important to the story later on so let me tell you a little bit about Parmesan. Parmesan came to me as a six-month-old puppy who had been rescued from a dogfighting situation. We're not entirely sure what breed she is exactly, but my best guess is a lurcher-staffy mix. She is a wonderfully well-tempered dog with people and most dogs, but you absolutely do not threaten her. She'll have you. So by the time of this camping trip, I had Parmesan for a few months. She'd never come camping with us before, but as far as my family was concerned,

dogs go on camping trips. So when we all piled into the car, she came too. Unusually though, none of the family friends could make it, so it was only me, my sister, my dad, and my mom. I didn't mind. I wasn't that attached to the other kids. I'd rather play with my dog and I'd still have my sister. The drive took the best part of six hours and because we'd left a bit later, although I don't remember why we'd left later than normal, we arrived at sunset. Not a good time to be building a tent but we'd expected to arrive to other campers already set up and the beach illuminated in campfires. But the beach was empty.

In spite of this, my parents started taking stuff out and trying to build the tent. They asked us to fetch some of the lighter bags from the boot of the car while they sat pointing a flashlight at the sand to see properly. I rolled down the window of the car for Parmesan before getting out. It was pretty hot for that time of the year and I wanted her to have air. Always got to be looking out for my furry little homie. As we're fumbling about in the dark on a beach in the middle of nowhere, it's pretty spooky. The one road that led to this beach was circular and had a bridge over the water, meaning you could basically circle around the bridge like a big zero shape if you felt like it. I wasn't really paying any attention to the road. I was complaining I was tired, as kids do, but my mom was. After maybe 15 minutes

of my dad trying to nail the tent into the sand, my mom asks him had he seen that car driving around. It's been a few times. My dad kind of shrugged her off. He sort of liked that. I don't know if he said anything back to her but after a few more minutes a car pulled up next to ours on the road and someone got out. It was maybe 15 or 20 feet from the cars to where we were and the light was pretty low except for the torches. We weren't expecting to see anyone else here at this point and I think my mom said it must be the security. I don't know why a random beach would have security. I think what she meant was the wildlife trust or something as they do

occasionally come down to do their nosy work. The guy was walking pretty unevenly. He must have been drunk or high because he had that stagger to him. There was absolutely no way this guy was sober. Great, I thought. A junkie. Not an unusual find, but it's rare to see them in the wild. As he walked into flashlight range, we realized he was carrying a large knife. Maybe 15 inches. Although I was small at the time so maybe my sense of scale was off. I don't like my dad but credit to him once he saw this he got up immediately holding on to the camping mallet and put us all behind him. The man began to shout wildly at us that we can't camp here and he was just letting us know. My dad tried to initially be a bit low key with the guy and told him that was fine, we'd leave but this didn't work.

He kept coming closer to us so my dad started shouting and the man kept shouting back. My sister and I were crying. I remember shaking. I was utterly terrified as I'm sure anyone would be in that situation. It really did seem like this guy and my dad were going to fight and I'm going to be honest, I didn't fancy my dad's chances. While it's grim to consider, I'm absolutely convinced he would have killed my dad and possibly us as well once he was done as I don't think my mother would have had the common sense to run with

us. I love her but she always put dad and her relationship with him above us. This isn't how it went down. A bolt from the black like a wolf descended upon its prey and took us all by surprise but most of all the man with the knife. In that moment, Parmesan was the apex predator. She got him good by the arm and clamped down hard, ripping his jacket and shredding the skin underneath. He dropped the knife as it had been in the arm she had got him by. He kicked her, he punched her and eventually got her off. He grabbed the knife from the sand and ran back to his car and drove off. Parmesan didn't follow him. She stayed with us, muzzle covered in blood. Quickly as we could, we gathered our things and all got back into the car, all pretty shook up by the incident.

I looked Parmi over and she was okay, but the car's windows were much more open than I'd left it. We think what happened was when the shouting started, she must have put her paws on the gap that I'd left for her. As it was an old car and had the rolly down windows and on an electronic button, we think she must have been able to hit it with her paws and force it down enough to squeeze out. But this isn't the end of the story. We were all pretty scared and since we had the dog with us, we couldn't book into a hotel for the night. My parents decided just to drive home so we could all feel safe but first had to drive into the nearest town for petrol as they were kind of low. I spent the time trying to clean Parmesan up a little. I'd always loved dogs but what she'd just

done for me really blew my mind. As we drove into town we came across a petrol station but it looked closed. My dad drove up closer to get a better look and stuck his head out the window to get a better look at the sign. My mom asked him what on earth he was doing and he told her he was trying to see when it opens. Never. My heart sank. Parked in the corner behind a van, so we hadn't seen him at first, was the same man with the knife. He was sitting on the hood of his car, using some tissue paper to clean up his arm. It looked pretty bad. Without stopping to refuel or look anywhere else in town, my dad just drove right out of there. We decided to go to the next town over but that was impossible as the next town over apparently was 60 miles away.

It didn't have that much petrol and we realized as we began driving we were probably going to break down. That's fine, dad said. We had AAA coverage and they'd come tow us home or at least somewhere acceptable for the night, better than staying in the last town. After driving for maybe five minutes, lights flashed us from behind. Another car. The same car the man had been driving. It was him. He was following us, and he must have realized that we were low on petrol. The next half hour was one of the worst half hours of my life. I had a complete and utter breakdown, as did everyone else really. I could tell my parents were trying to keep it under wraps so it wouldn't upset us, but we weren't

really little kids. We were both double digits. We knew how dangerous this situation could be. Dad turned off the radio to pay attention and the man followed us for 55 miles before he peeled away onto another road. Our fuel meter was on the big red E for empty for the last 10 miles we were basically driving on fumes. I don't really believe in God but if he does exist, that was definitely one of his miracles. And once we got there, we drove into a petrol station and refilled to a full tank before driving the rest of the way home. My sister and I slept in the car after that. I only woke up once and we made it all the way home, just grateful nothing worse had happened than that. After getting some sleep, my mom phoned

the non-emergency line for the police and reported what had happened. They never got back to her after that, but apparently the woman she spoke to said they may wish to in the future as he matched the description given of a suspect wanted in relation to an actual murder charge. No idea if he actually was the guy or just some random psycho. As I said, they never got back to her. So what's the takeaway then? Other than crazy man on the beach, let's not meet obviously. Well for me, it's that I love Parmesan. She's still with us now, old as the hills and twice as grizzled as one of my mom's friends likes to joke. I don't know why she did what she did that day. I couldn't tell you what her thought process was. What I do know is that this poor puppy was born

into an environment where they abused and neglected her, only to be rescued and taken to a shelter where her mother and siblings all found homes before her. Despite how badly people had treated her, when I took her home she forgave but never forgot. I think the saying is I never trust a person who doesn't like a dog but I always trust a dog when they don't like a person. They have a very good understanding of human body language and I think she must have understood how much danger we were truly in. If you're able to, please adopt. You'll find yourself in a situation like mine one day. I promise you, if you're willing to save a four-legged friend's life, they will pay you

back tenfold if they're able to, without a thought for their own safety. I paid 78 quid for Parmesan's adoption fee, which is a lot when you're a kid, but it chills me to my bones knowing if I hadn't been so insistent on a dog, I might be dead. To be continued... Back when I was attending a university, I used to work on campus at one of the dining halls during the dinner and night shift. I lived in the next town over since it was cheaper to live in a terrible little apartment out of town than to live on campus in the dorms. But I didn't own a car so I had to take the bus. One night I had just gotten off a shift at work. My feet were killing me and I was completely exhausted as I slowly made my way to the bus stop. I noticed a man much older than me sitting on one of the two benches at the otherwise

empty bus stop but I didn't pay too much attention to him. I simply sat down on the second bench and listened to some music while waiting for the bus to arrive. The first sign that things were starting to get weird was when I kept noticing out of the corner of my eye that he was staring at me. At first I thought I might be imagining it, so I looked over and caught him quickly turning his head to look away. Okay, so he was staring at me. This wasn't completely out of the ordinary since being a young college girl seemed to gain a bit of attention from older men. So like usual, I just ignored him, and that was a mistake. Again, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him look at me, but instead of just staring this time, he got up and walked over to sit next to me instead. I continued listening to my music, hoping that he'd see the earbuds and take the hint that I wasn't interested in having a conversation. Instead, this man literally took the earbud out of my ear.

Hey there, sweetheart, he said as my head snapped to look at him in shock. I should have told him off for touching my things and demanded he leave me alone but I was sort of frozen and didn't want to make him mad. Oh, hi, I replied quietly. He started introducing himself as Mike and telling me that he lived in the area and it was always nice to see pretty girls like me at the university bus stop. He explained that he was a real man, unlike the boys I went to school with, and that I should go home with him that night. I was shy, scared, and I'd never had a man as bold as this in my face. I say to my face because I had certainly gotten my fair share of unsolicited private pictures online by that point, but I digress. I didn't know how to respond so I didn't.

But that didn't stop Mike from continuing to explain to me all of the fun things he wanted to do with me at his place that night. He went into graphic detail. The things he described started out with basic things he'd expect and escalated to him asking if I liked being choked until I turned purple and passed out in bed. I wish there were anyone else at that bus stop, but it was just the two of us, in the dark, as I counted the seconds until the bus would arrive. Then Mike took things to a different level of shocking by telling me, listen, the demons want me to ask for your phone number,

and they say you should give it to me, or you won't like what happens. He actually had the audacity to start stroking my hair. His hand was gentle, but I didn't want him touching me at all. This was shocking for a number of reasons. The demons? I wouldn't like what would happen. Why was he touching me? What was this guy talking about? As though he could read my mind, Mike went on to explain, My therapist knows the demons are real. I told her about them, and she says I'm not crazy and

the demons are real. He laughed then abruptly stopped. Now give me your number like they said. He demanded and as his hand stroked my hair for the last time, he stopped and gripped the back of my neck. Still gentle but even more terrifying. I was scared and obviously didn't want him to have my phone number. But he was taking out his phone and I knew he was going to call the number I gave him to make sure I wasn't lying to him and he still had his hand on the back of my neck, so I reluctantly gave him my real phone number. Stupid, I know, but I was right and he immediately called to check. All I could think about was just not making this guy angry long enough to get away from him then block his number. Thankfully, the bus came moments

later. I sat down as close to the front of the bus near the bus driver as I possibly could since the bus was basically empty. Mike decided to sit directly across from me. At this point, I had tried listening to music again, hoping that being on the bus and him having my phone number would signal to him the end of our conversation. However, he decided to reach over and unzip my sweatshirt, revealing my work shirt and the name tag which I had unfortunately forgotten to remove in my haste to leave work that night. I hadn't told him my name yet. Abigail, what a beautiful name. Our daughter will be named Celeste.

I shouldn't have been shocked at this point, but I was. I stopped listening to music again and zipped my sweatshirt back up, which made him laugh. You won't need that soon, anyway. He said and winked at me, implying how he planned to undress me even further that night. At one stop, Mike tried to convince me to get off the bus with him. I told him no, that I was tired and just wanted to go home, so he said okay and stayed on the bus. I knew that had been stopped, so the fact that he was staying on the bus worried me. I was sure this meant that he was planning on coming home

with me instead. Baby, Mike whispered to me. I tried to ignore him but he repeated himself louder. Baby, he had the most unsettling smile on his face as I asked, what? He laughed and told me, The demons say you smell nice. I was terrified and I felt like I was going to throw up by the time my bus stop arrived. I lived in an apartment alone and didn't want him to know where I lived. Despite my body being exhausted and sore from work, adrenaline kicked in and I bolted off the bus and ran straight home. I made it inside and locked the door. I looked through the peephole and didn't see him so I went to carefully peek out of the window

and saw him standing near the bus stop looking around. He took out his phone and sure enough, I started getting a call from an unknown number since I hadn't saved his number. I ignored it. When he hung up I started getting several texts, asking where I'd gone, how he didn't like hide and seek, and how the demons just wanted to have fun but I was being a little baby about it. I was so scared because he knew which apartment building I lived in, where I worked, where I went to school, my phone number and my name. The only thing which made me feel slightly relieved was that he didn't know which specific apartment I lived in.

And that's when he started yelling outside. There was no specific word said, just wordless yells of what I can only assume were frustration and anger. I blocked his number and kept all the lights in my apartment off as I cried with my back to the front door. Maybe I should have called the police, but my brain was so frazzled that I didn't even think of that until the next day and by then all I knew about him was that he was a mentally unstable man, probably named Mike, who hadn't actually done any physical harm to me so I didn't think it was worth it. In hindsight, I know that I made a lot of stupid mistakes during this experience. I ended up moving away entirely at the end of that term of school for unrelated

reasons but until then I switched to day shifts at work and was paranoid every night. Thankfully, I never saw that deranged man again. Let me start off by letting you know that I was living close to a metropolitan area for a little over a year before moving back to my tiny 10,000 population hometown. Before that I was at college, other places, etc. and didn't interact with anyone from my hometown besides family for many years. I even deactivated Facebook for a few years. Anyway, fast forward to fall of 2020, I moved into a house in the tiny town. One chilly fall night, I decided it was the perfect night to chill and get inebriated off of my many glasses of wine. I was relaxing on the couch with my girlfriend when we suddenly heard someone knock on the

front door. It was around midnight so she immediately told me not to answer the door. I immediately got up to pull up the blinds on the glass portion of the door to see a meek looking girl, probably younger than 20, standing on our porch with a blanket and bag. I was shook by this because in a town like this in the Midwest, there literally are no homeless people or because the town is so small, people usually have a support network when things go sour. I asked her what was going on and she said she was homeless and needed a place to stay.

My drunk self thought this would be an amazing time to fulfill my need of helping the world by opening my front door to let her stay in the guest bedroom. My girlfriend immediately sat her down and was asking her questions and her answers were pretty vague thinking back. Eventually she told us she knocked on every door down the street to find a place to stay because she got into a fight with her mom. So she wasn't homeless. It is also odd to think a young girl would do that considering the danger. Eventually I find out that she went to the same private school that I went to from first to sixth grade,

except the college extension to the same private school that I went to from first to sixth grade, except the college extension of the same campus. We were kind of bonding on talking trash on the campus because it's this new age nonsense school run by boomers, but then she mentioned that she had a no contact order for sitting at the same table as someone at the school. My drunk self didn't register what no contact meant or restraining order. So we're talking and she says that she recognizes me from Facebook. I was alarmed, especially because I have never seen this girl before in my life and we have an almost 10 year age gap. She told me it was because I posted a local rental on the Facebook home share. It was for my mom who is a realtor without Facebook.

Okay, that's reasonable, small town. But then she tells me that she knows my mom. This is alarming because my mom and I have different last names and she doesn't have social media or any way to connect us. Another thing my drunk self registered only the next morning. Fast forward to the morning, she says she's going to leave and I ask her if she wants a ride home because it's cold out. As I drive down the street several miles, I realize she does live on the same street, but she also would have had to have passed at least five developments and many rows of houses to get to my house. Was I really the only one to answer the door or did she target my house? The next day my girlfriend and I both

discussed how odd that was and how many things didn't add up. Later in the day we come back from the store and we see the girl in front of our house again. I'm panicking because I'm horrible with confrontation and my girl said, you let her into our house, you deal with it. She stays in the car and I ask the girl what's going on and she asks again if she can stay with us. I panicked and asked her to come out of the car and my girlfriend told her that she didn't know if she had a gun or who she was and she could only stay with us if she opened up to us about everything and why she's not going home. We sat her down in the kitchen and nicely grilled her only to get vague answers. To be honest, initially I was concerned it was an abuse situation, but it turns out it wasn't. At this point, she's in our house and we don't know how to get her out. By a stroke of good

luck, she says she's leaving to go to the dining hall and will come back later. We quickly tapped signs on both the front and back doors that read, landlord won't allow additional tenants, best to go back to your mom's. It's later in the evening and dark out at this point and we hear banging on the front door, then we hear banging on the side door, then the back door. Finally it stops and we're upstairs and we knew it was her so we just waited it out about an hour. I walk downstairs to check because we're starving and wanted to use the kitchen. I decided to take literally one finger and slide one blind shade up from another to peek through the kitchen glass doors. And she's standing there, facing me, in the pitch black on my back deck.

After an hour, I looked her dead in the eye, and then turned around and went upstairs. Time passed, and she eventually left. When I opened the door, we noticed she took the handwritten notes. As the next day rolls by everyone's mom and cousin is lecturing and laughing at me about opening my door to a stranger which to be honest I would never do normally. But the whole thing wasn't sitting well with me and I needed more information. I posted something on Facebook about it and a boy I went to elementary school with messaged me and asked me if it was insert name here because she had an obsession with him that led to a restraining order. He advised me that she's probably harmless and not to respond to her. She hasn't come back since and I still have no clue why she truly showed up or how she knew me. It cost me the purchase

of a ring security security system, but I suppose it could have gone worse. I am a single mother to an obnoxiously adorable 7-year-old boy. This happened when he was 5 years old in the summer of 2018 and the what ifs still haunt me. There was a beautiful park on the river that my son and I used to frequent. On the summer evening we decided to picnic in the park for dinner. When we arrived there were lots of families playing with their children on the playground. We found a spot in the grass near the water, laid down on our big purple blanket and began to eat. I was facing the playground, just people watching, when I noticed a group of three children that seemed to be alone. There were two boys and one girl and they looked

to be between the ages of 9 and 12. You know that bad feeling you get when something just doesn't feel right? These kids gave me that feeling almost instantly. I brushed it off because, well, they were only kids. My son and I were almost done eating and ready to play when some dark clouds came rolling in. We live in Florida and this is standard for a summer evening so I decided to wait it out and see if it would pass and it did. Everyone cleared the park with the exception of the group of children that I mentioned before. It was at this point that I realized that they were definitely alone. I figured they must live nearby. I took my son on the swing and these kids were just sort of hanging around near us and staring but not saying anything. Then the youngest

looking boy came up to my son on the swing and stood in front of it so that my son almost hit him while he was swinging. He just stood there. I asked him what he was doing and he didn't answer. It made me super uneasy so I took my son off the swing and over to the jungle gym on the other side of the playground. My son and I were playing on the other side of the park and I didn't see the other kids anymore so I thought they must have left. I sat down on a bench near the jungle gym and watched my son as he played. About ten minutes later I looked over toward the parking lot and noticed the same group of kids were actually still at the park and were over there talking to an older man with a dog. This went on for another five or so minutes and then the man and the children parted

ways. The man walked down the street in the opposite direction and the children came back to the park and over to the jungle gym where my son was playing. I was still sitting on the bench which was probably about 10 feet away from the jungle gym when those kids started hanging around and talking to my son. They were asking him lots of questions like how old are you and where do you go to school. He was answering while climbing around and didn't seem to be paying a whole lot of attention. I was watching the other kids the entire time this was going on because they just gave me an unwavering bad feeling and after a few minutes they got off the jungle gym and began walking toward the road.

I was so fixated on the top of their heads as they were walking away that I didn't realize my son, who was tiny, was walking with them. They were almost to the street when I screamed my son's name and he turned around and bolted back to me. I asked him where he was going and he said, they said they had to show me something. We left immediately. I really don't know if it was sinister or not but I can't explain the kids trying to lead my son out of the park and I often think about what could have happened if I wasn't paying attention. Was the old man somehow involved? I spoke with my son about following the stranger danger rule with anyone he doesn't know

Even if they are kids like him We don't play at that park anymore I drive by that park on occasion and I've seen that old man a few times But I haven't seen those specific children Sintra This night took place a few years ago while my father and I were living in a small rural town in Alberta. I was fairly new in this town and didn't know anybody but my dad and co-workers. I had found a job as a key holder in a liquor store that closed every night at 2am. My store was located in between a pharmacy and a grocery store, a place well lit where I felt safe most nights, not knowing yet that this town was actually known for its drug problems and

random creeps. This particular night, my coworker and I had been working late. We needed to finish unloading pallets of liquor since we had another shipment coming in the next morning. At the end of the night at around 3.30 am I told my co-worker that she could leave and that I was going to take care of closing down the store which basically meant counting the till and cleaning up as she was exhausted and that I had the keys to the store anyways. After she left I quickly finished my tasks, took all of my stuff and called my father. At the time I didn't have a car and my dad would come pick me up every night and bring me back home which was maybe a 5-10 minutes drive to my workplace. I have an amazing father.

In return I always made sure to be ready and to wait outside of the store for his arrival. I didn't want him to have to wait for me because I knew he didn't have much time left to sleep since he had to work in the morning. I got ready to get out of the store, set out the security system and lock the door behind me. Now, you have to understand that I wasn't supposed to finish this late at night and once the alarm system was on, I couldn't go back inside because the regional manager would receive a security call if I had opened the door and the alarm would automatically start to ring and I didn't have the code to shut it since I had never worked a morning shift yet. The store policy mentioned that if you forget something inside, you would have to wait until the next day to get it back. As I was waiting for my

dad, standing in front of the store, I heard some noises coming from my left. It sounded like someone was breathing loudly. The pharmacy that was right next to my store had these big red columns in front of the entrance and I thought the noise was coming from around these columns. I looked to my left but didn't see anything so I brushed it off thinking that it was probably the wind or just my very tired self imagining stuff. It was almost 4am after all and I had worked really hard that evening. After a few minutes I heard the noise again. I started getting nervous. It was definitely coming from my left and this time I knew that it was not in my head. At that moment I noticed a movement and realized that I was not alone.

A few meters away on my left, someone was crouched down behind one of the columns. I couldn't see his face, only his hands holding one side of the columns while he was slowly moving his head to look in my direction. I was terrified, completely paralyzed with fear. I knew my father couldn't be very far away from the store at this point so I grabbed my phone to call him. My dad answered and I told him to hurry up and explain that someone was hiding next to me and that I was petrified. My dad said that he was going as fast as he could and told me to grab my keys and to get inside the store. I was trying to find them inside my bag but I was panicking too much, my hands were shaking, and I couldn't find my keys for the life of me. I felt completely horrified when I realized that the man had stood up, still hiding behind one of the columns,

only a few meters away from me. My voice filled with fear. I asked my dad where he was. He shouted that he was almost there. I started to slowly move towards the grocery store that was on my right, never turning my back to him. The very tall and imposing man looked at me again but this time he got out of his hiding spot and started to walk in my direction with the biggest smile on his face. I can still recall thinking that this was it. I was going to die. I was trying to decide if I should start running for my life or if I was better to face and fight him if need be, but suddenly I heard a big noise coming from my right. I turned around and saw my

dad driving as fast as he possibly could into the parking lot, honking and turning his high beam headlights on. I believe this startled the man. My feet finally decided to move and I ran as fast as I could and jumped inside my dad's pickup. Tears coming out of my eyes, I watched this man looking straight up at us and slowly waving at my father for what felt like an eternity but really was only a few seconds. The creepy man started walking towards us and as he got closer, my father finally got a good look at the man and said, Oh my god girl, I guess you haven't met Peter yet. I didn't understand. My dad started laughing, tears coming out of his eyes while I looked at him,

still in complete shock. To me, there was absolutely nothing funny at that moment. A few seconds before, I thought my dad wouldn't get there fast enough and that I was going to be murdered right there in front of my workplace. My father waved back at him and we drove off slowly. On our way home, he explained that Peter was a very nice man with a cognitive disability. He said that Peter lived in town and that every morning, he would sit inside the Tim Hortons that was located in the same parking lot as my store and would ask people if they wanted to get a hug. He apparently did it every day and everybody in our small town knew him. My dad told me I should give him a big hug the next time I would get a coffee

at Timmy's since I probably scared the poor man to death. Either way, Peter the hugger. I'm sorry, but let's not meet again. Well, not while I'm alone outside at 4am anyways. To be continued... This happened quite a while ago when I was home alone with just my dog. After all this time I'm sure what happened was really strange and I have no idea what this man actually wanted. I was watching television one night at about 11pm when I heard a car pull up outside and the engine shut off. I figured it was obviously a neighbor but nosy dog wanted to have a look and went to the window. He's kind of messed the blinds up when he went to look so I got up to fix them. When I did, I noticed a car parked on the street across from my house and my neighbor's house. I couldn't really make out any details but it looked like the driver was still sitting in the car. I didn't really think anything of it. I got a drink and went back to

watching TV. Quite a while had passed since I fixed the blinds but I'm not sure how long, I'd guess maybe 15-20 minutes. Out of nowhere I thought I heard tapping at the door. Not a knock, it was much lighter and very quiet. My dog had to sit up to look at the door and I paused the TV when the same tapping then started on the window. I opened the blinds a little and saw a man standing there. I couldn't make out his face properly and he immediately walked back to the door and started tapping at it again. This doesn't sound very frightening and I'm not sure why but I suddenly had a really awful feeling. I felt absolutely terrified and I had no idea why.

The tapping at the door never stopped but something in my head was saying if I opened the door to him then something really bad would happen. I went upstairs to open the window to ask what he wanted. It felt safer after doing this. He said in a really quiet voice he was delivering pizza and told me how much it cost. I felt so stupid for being frightened and told him I didn't order pizza. I guess he was speaking quietly and knocking lightly so he didn't disturb my neighbors. My dog had followed me upstairs and was letting out the odd growl and bark which isn't really unusual for him. I was trying to shush him when the man downstairs told me he had the correct address and I better get downstairs now and open the

door to pay what I owed and collect my food before it got cold. I was really confused because I most definitely didn't order any food and began telling him that again when I noticed he didn't even have a pizza. He wasn't carrying anything at all. I told him again that he had the wrong address and he started getting really angry. He kept demanding that I open the door. He was going between angry and sort of trying to persuade me to go back downstairs. I asked him where the pizza was. He said he had a hold of it.

It was really dark but he definitely didn't have anything in his hands. My dog was really making quite a bit of a fuss at this point and the stranger had turned into a broken record. Come downstairs. Open the door. Come downstairs and open the door, come downstairs and open the door. All the noise must have alerted my neighbor who did open his front door, and the man didn't say a word, but practically ran across the street to the car that I had heard pulled up a while ago. He went back to the car empty handed.

I had no idea what he wanted, but he certainly wasn't a delivery driver. It really freaked me out as well that my dog is quite obviously a large breed and the man saw him through the window and he wasn't deterred at all. It seemed even stranger and less random that he actually drove to my house as though he'd planned on showing up. I never thought about sharing my experiences, but since a few people were interested in my last post, I thought I'd share one that still haunts me to this day. It happened last year in October. I was 19 years old and I live in the UK, so around this time of year it gets pretty dark early.

I finished college at 3pm and decided to make worth of my college gym membership so I headed over to the other college building where the gym is and spent about an hour there so by the time I got out it was dark. As I left the building a man approached me around 6 foot 45 years old with dark hair with bits of white going through it. And this is how the conversation went. Do you go to this college? Yes. Do you know my daughter, Samantha?

No, there are four college buildings. I don't know everyone. Well, she's lost. I called her and I can't find her. Um, you can go to reception and give her full name and they should be able to tell you where her timetable is and what time she left or something. Can you help me look for her? No, sorry. It'll only take ten minutes. I don't know this area. Can you show me where girls like you usually go? No, sorry, I have to go. Just go to the reception. It's right there.

Okay. At this point I knew something was very wrong, and I knew I shouldn't have interacted with him but sometimes people are truly genuine. Anyway I started walking down the one-way street which I might add only had one lamppost to light it and I used my phone's reflection to look behind me and see this man was nearly running at me. So I started voice recording and sent a voice note to my boyfriend but acting as if though I was on the phone with him as well, and I did this until I was around other people and ran over to my bus stop where I felt a bit safer since other people were there. I put my phone back in my pocket and turned around,

seeing the same man staring right at me and if looks could kill, I'd be six feet under. I turned back around and put my back to the wall so this way he couldn't go behind me and I could watch his every move and he just kept walking past me. I had missed four of my buses at this point because I knew he was trying to see what bus I was getting on and in the end he walked off out of sight and as soon as he did my bus came thankfully and all I could do but run on and call my mom. My mom was obviously furious and told me she would meet me at the bus stop with a knife in case he had followed me but thank god for me he didn't and thank god for him he didn't because he would have either ended up in the hospital or dead with the way my mom is

with her blades. Ever since, I've been really anxious going to that college and back since I still go to the same place. I no longer go to that gym and thankfully the building he'd seen me exit from wasn't my own but he did see my bus stop and since then, I always have my earphones on really low in case I ever hear someone walking behind me. Years ago when I was a freshman in high school, I was in a foreign language class. The teacher assigned a class project and let kids pick their own partners. There was nobody in the class I was particularly wanting to work with but I ended up picking the guy in the back of the class, Chris. Chris was

about 6 feet tall and 300 pounds and had a horrible stutter so nobody would ever pick him. I worked with Chris for about 35 minutes on the project and the teacher said, Okay class it's almost over. Exchange cell phone numbers so you can work on the project and the teacher said, okay class it's almost over. Exchange cell phone numbers so you can work on the project outside of class because I won't be giving you any more time to work on it in class. So we swapped numbers and Chris turns to me and says, the short girl chose me today huh? This would be interesting and walked out of class. I tried to brush this off but was admittedly a little weirded out by it. So I'm waiting to get picked up after school by a friend and notice that my

cell phone has a new voicemail that's just shy of 4 minutes long. I listen and it's Chris's mother saying how she's so excited that Chris has a new girlfriend and how we can get married whenever she would take us. Mind the fact that we're both no older than 15 at the time and I've only talked to this guy about a school project for a period of about half an hour. I was really creeped out by it but it was a weekend and my teacher had already left school so I thought I would talk to her on Monday. All weekend Chris was trying to text me, asking what I was wearing, where I was going, and even if I could come to his house so he could brush my hair when I was sleeping. I had this dude in like three other classes too so I felt

pretty stuck and I was freaking out. I had told him to stop texting me and not to worry about the project that I could finish it if he just left me alone. On Monday, I instantly booked it to my teacher's classroom when I arrived at school. The teacher was just walking into her classroom so I walked up to her and said, Hey, I need to talk to you about my partner. When we both turned on the lights when we entered the classroom, Chris was sitting in a desk waiting for us. He looked at me and said, I won't let another short girl get away with this. I turned around and started running down the hallway and I looked back and he was following me close behind with the teacher a bit behind screaming at him to stop. He got close enough that he was able to trip me while

I was running, resulting in me landing on my arm funny and completely breaking my thumb. He was laughing hysterically and trying to pin me down when the teacher came and pulled him off me as security pursued shortly after due to the commotion. I went to an urgent care and got my thumb casted and didn't go to school the following day. But when I did come back, Chris wasn't there and it was never discussed again. It still creeps me out to this day. This happened nearly 20 years ago, but I will never forget it for the rest of my life. I went to college in a very small town in northwestern Maryland. Our school is set at the foothills of the Catoctin Mountains,

and my friends and I would drive around the mountains smoking. We got very comfortable on the roads and knew them very well. This story takes place before we knew the roads when we just got to school. Several of my girlfriends and I went out for a ride at night. The roads are winding and narrow, some parts drop right off the side of the mountain. It was night time so we were taking our time. We didn't see many cars when we would ride around which was perfect. That night however as we pulled out of the parking lot, another car did as well. We didn't think much of however as we pulled out of the parking lot another car did as well. We didn't think much of it as we thought it was another student. We enter the back roads and

the car is no longer behind us. As we go deeper into the mountains a car comes up behind us. The car was very close to us and we were getting freaked out. Mind you we didn't know these roads yet and they were back roads, unpaved and nowhere to turn around. I'm trying to drive as quickly as I can in order to get away from this car. All of us are freaking out and are convinced that this person is out here and is going to kill us. Finally, we see a chapel with a parking lot so we pull in, turn back to the main road and watch a red haired man drive past us slowly, staring directly into our souls. We book it down the mountain, park our car and call public safety to tell them what had happened. A day later we had an email from campus security telling us

to look out for a man with red hair, glasses and a beard. He had been trying to get into the campus' dorms and was following women around the campus. So I was female, 18 at the time, and going to apply to get my driver's license. I wanted to go to a center a bit out of town so it would be quieter and decided on a place that was a walk and two different train routes away. I could have possibly asked my dad for cab fare but I don't like asking for things so. So I checked on google maps beforehand and it seemed really close to where the train stop was but once I got out all I saw was a giant road and the area was very industrial. The area was dodgier than I expected

and I didn't want to be on my phone. I decided to go up to a small group of women selling fruits since they would know the area and it seemed like a safe option to ask for directions. At the stall there was a man and he said, I actually work there and I'm on my way and I'll show you. I felt a bit nervous but he seemed confident and friendly. He walked me out of the station and down the road telling me a long story about how he was late for work and he was going to get in so much trouble and about being late before etc. His story was getting more and more detailed and he started to seem nervous and almost talking too much. Once we had been

walking down the road a little I realized we were walking in the wrong direction so I asked where is it from here and he pointed way ahead of us to a warehouse. I knew the center was definitely not that far away so I just initially nervously, with him saying again and again it's not far from here, and then eventually assertively said I want to be safe and thank you but I'll just take a cab. So I ducked into the closest business, which happened to be a veterinarian, and I called a cab. When it came, it took me in the completely opposite direction. This was definitely incredibly creepy and I have no idea what his plan was once we got to that warehouse. But I know for certain, it couldn't have been good. To be continued... alerted of all future narrations. I release new videos every Monday, Wednesday, Friday at 7pm

Eastern Standard Time. If you got a story, be sure to submit them to my subreddit, r slash let's read official, and maybe even hear your story featured on the next video. And if you want to support me even more, grab early access to all future narrations for just $1 a month on Patreon, and maybe even pick up some Let's Read merch on Spreadshirt. Thanks so much, friends, and I'll see you again soon. Discover the exciting action of BetMGM Casino. Check out a wide variety of table games with a live dealer, or enjoy over 3,000 games to choose from like Cash Eruption. We'll be right back. gamble responsibly. If you have questions or concerns about gambling or someone close to you, please contact Connex Ontario at 1-866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge.

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