The Lets Read Podcast - 167: HALLOWEEN NEVER ENDS! | 23 True Scary Stories | EP 155

Episode Date: December 27, 2022

This episode includes narrations of true creepy encounters submitted by normal folks just like yourself. Today you'll experience horrifying stories about Infamous True Crime, Halloween & House Sitting... 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: INEKT https://www.instagram.com/_inekt/ PATREON for EARLY ACCESS!►http://patreon.com/LetsRead

If it's a flat or a squeal, a wobble or peel, your tread's worn down or you need a new wheel, wherever you go, you can get it from Tread Experts. Conquer rugged terrain with on-road comfort. Until June 15th, receive up to $60 on a prepaid MasterCard when you purchase Kumo RoadVenture AT52 tires. Find a Kumo Tread Experts dealer near you at treadexperts.ca slash locations. From tires to auto repair, we're always there at tread experts.ca slash locations. Everyone's got a pro need tires. I've got a pro car making a weird sound. I've got a pro.

So who's that pro the pros at tread experts from tires to auto repair. Tread experts is always there helping you with Kumo tires. You can trust until June 15th, receive up to $60 on a prepaid MasterCard when you purchase Kumo RoadVenture AT52 tires. Find your pro at your local Tread Experts. From tires to auto repair, we're always there. TreadExperts.ca I'm sorry. On October 31st of 1979, 16-year-old Shirley Lynette Ledford was making her way home from a Halloween party in the sunlit Tujunga neighborhood of the San Fernando Valley. Having been unable to get a ride home from the party, Shirley found herself having to hitchhike and was standing outside a gas station when she suddenly recognized someone who drove up to the pumps. His name was Lawrence, and Shirley knew him through his frequent visits to a restaurant where she worked as a part-time waitress. As Lawrence got out of his van to pump

gas, Shirley approached them, asking if he might be able to give her a ride home. He accepted, but when she opened the van's sliding door and climbed into the cavernous interior, she found she was not alone. Lawrence was in the company of a friend named Roy. As Lawrence drove Shirley home, Roy offered Shirley some cannabis to smoke. She refused, knowing she was going to be back in the presence of her parents at any moment. But as the van continued

to drive for longer than the journey required, Shirley began to wonder what route they were taking. Lawrence assured her that he was just avoiding heavy traffic, but when he stopped the van and announced that they'd arrived at their destination, Shirley didn't recognize the street outside the van. She turned to Roy, intending to ask where they'd taken her, only to see he'd produced a knife. He told her if she screamed, she was dead. Shirley looked to Lawrence. She knew him. He'd been kind to her. Surely he'd have the humanity to stop whatever Roy was threatening to do. But when she saw that he was a part of it, how she'd walked right into a trap of his creating, we can only imagine the kind of horror she felt.

Shirley was bound and gagged with construction tape, and Lawrence sat in the rear of the van with her as Roy drove them up to the San Gabriel Mountains. With the roar of traffic masking any noise, Lawrence removed the construction tape gag from Shirley's mouth before he began to torment her. He beat her, slapped her, and mocked her mercilessly, demanding that she say something. Shirley had no idea what he wanted her to say, and it's clear that what Lawrence wanted was to hear her beg. He wanted her to express the terror and the helplessness she felt. He wanted to soak up the agony of her torment. And when she failed to find the words, he found screams to be just as satisfying. He began torturing her with a claw hammer and a pair of pliers, smashing her elbows, twisting at chunks of her flesh until blood flowed.

When Shirley began to scream, Lawrence simply told her to scream louder, knowing all would be drowned out by the sound of the traffic outside. It was later discovered that Lawrence had smashed the flat side of the claw hammer into Shirley's elbow 25 times, and when it was completely shattered, she cried out in agony, and he asked her, what are you sniveling about? When Lawrence grew bored of torturing Shirley, he placed a wire coat hanger around her neck, which he then tightened with his pliers. By this time, Shirley was said to be almost catatonic and barely reacted as the coat hanger grew tighter and tighter around her throat.

The sixteen-year-old died with her eyes open that Halloween night, and as her body began to grow cold, Lawrence and Roy had to decide what to do with her. It was then that Lawrence had the idea to dump Shirley's body on the front lawn of a random family home, the goal being to generate as much media attention as possible. Roy agreed, and the pair drove to a house in Sunland where the men dragged Shirley's lifeless body from the van before tossing her into a bed of ivy. Roy Norris was the first to be arrested, albeit on a different charge. Yet the arresting police noticed how terrified he appeared to be while in their custody. All it took was being

confronted with some small piece of evidence from a minor crime he'd committed two months previously and Roy completely caved. Although it was clear that Lawrence was the driving force behind the murders, he admitted that they were both in the habit of driving around the Pacific Coast Highway while hunting for girls to abduct. Shirley Ledford, the only body the police had found by that time, was their fifth and final victim. The two men had been killing young women all summer long. Inside the van, the girls would typically be beaten, tied up, then driven to

locations deep within the San Gabriel Mountains. There, both Roy and Lawrence would take turns torturing and carnally assaulting their victim before their eventual execution by strangulation. During a search of Lawrence's motel home following his arrest, the police found several bottles of highly acidic liquid, liquid that was intended for use on their next victim. When asked why they sought out such creative methods of inflicting pain, Lawrence reportedly said, because it's fun.

Police also found hundreds of Polaroid photographs in Lawrence's apartment, many detailing his grisly crimes. But others were of seemingly random girls, taken when they were unaware. And it became clear that these were all potential victims, spotted and documented while they were on the hunt for fresh victims. Thankfully, around 60 of these women and girls were tracked down and it was found that no harm had come to them. At Lawrence's trial for kidnap and murder, the most haunting and damning piece of evidence presented

was the 17-minute clip of an audio tape he'd created, the one which detailed the brutal torture of Shirley Ledford. When it was presented to the jury on January 29th of 1981, prosecutor Stephen Kaye warned the jury, for those of you who don't know what it's like, you're about to find out. Just over a hundred people were in the courtroom when it was played, and a huge number of those present openly wept upon hearing it. Some even ran from the courtroom when the screams grew too intense, unable to listen to poor Shirley's screams any longer. Lawrence, on the other hand, smiled when he saw the reaction of the jury.

Even a hardened prosecutor like Kay had to walk out at one point, later telling reporters that everybody who has heard that tape has had it affect their lives. I just picture those girls, how alone they were when they died. Some question if the tape should have been played in court at all, and Lawrence's defense attorney had previously tried to get it banned. But when posed the question, Kay emphatically stated that, you're darn right it should have been played, the jury needs to know what those guys did. Yet when confronted with the depravity and suffering on the tapes, Lawrence claimed it was real funny. At the conclusion of the trial with Roy Norris already having confessed to his crimes,

Lawrence Bitteker attempted to defend himself. He not only claimed that the interaction with Shirley Ledford was entirely consensual, but also that she hadn't been tortured or killed in his presence. He claimed the last he saw of her was when Roy drove her into the San Gabriel Mountains, which was apparently on her route home. When confronted with the contents of the audio recording, Lawrence claimed it was evidence of nothing more than a particularly boisterous menage a trois. But the jury saw through his sadistic lies, and found him guilty of five counts of first-degree murder, one charge of conspiracy to commit first-degree murder, five charges of kidnapping, nine charges of carnal

assault, two charges of forcible oral copulation, one charge of sodomy, and three charges of unlawful possession of a firearm. This proceeded to a judge sentencing Lawrence to death, whereas Roy would be up for parole after serving 30 years of a 45-year sentence. It was the rap sheet of a monster, a creature who saw decent human beings in nothing more than just playthings. But the question remained, how did such a vicious predator come to exist in the first place? Lawrence Sigmund Bitteker was born on September 27th of 1940 in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, the accidental child of a couple who'd planned not to have children. Shortly after his birth, Lawrence's biological mother gave him

up to an orphanage, where he was subsequently adopted by a Mr. and Mrs. George Bitteker. George worked in the aviation industry, an occupation which required frequent relocations around the United States. Fully aware of his adopted status, the transient lifestyle further compounded Lawrence's psychological issues, and by age 12, he had already been convicted of minor larceny in a juvenile court. According to Lawrence, his bad behavior was an attempt to gain more attention from his adopted parents, who he felt starved him for affection. Following a high school aptitude test, Lawrence was found to have an IQ of 138, meaning he was deemed to have an above-average intelligence. But on the whole, he found his education to be tedious and dropped out of high school at 16.

At this point in his life, he and his adoptive parents had moved out to California, where Lawrence added a number of other crimes to his rap sheet, including car theft, a hit and run, and one incidence of evading arrest. He spent around a year inside as a result of these crimes, but when he was released from the custody of the California Youth Authority, he found his adopted parents had moved out of state without informing him. They had essentially disowned him, and Lawrence would never see either of them again. The abandonment seemed to have occurred at a kind of philosophical crossroad in Lawrence's life. There was a slim chance that, following his release,

he could have been rehabilitated with the help of his adoptive parents' love. But upon being abandoned, Lawrence dove headfirst into a life of increasingly serious crimes. Within just a few days of his parole from the California Youth Authority, Bitteker was arrested for automobile crimes and spent the next several years in and out of prison. While locked up on robbery charges, a prison psychiatrist was the first to label Lawrence as having highly manipulative tendencies, as well as having considerable concealed hostility. A few years later, Bitteker underwent further examination by two independent psychiatrists, both of whom classified him as a borderline psychopath, a highly manipulative individual unable to acknowledge the consequence of his actions. According to them, Bitteker explained to one of them that his crimes gave

him an inflated sense of self-importance, adding that his rough upbringing increased his compulsion to break the law. Bitteker was prescribed antipsychotic medication, but just a short while after his release, an LA supermarket employee had observed Bitteker stealing a steak and followed Bitteker outside and into the store's parking lot. The clerk confronted Lawrence and asked whether he had forgotten to pay. Bitteker responded by stabbing the young man in the chest, with the blade only narrowly missing his heart. Gary Louie survived the stabbing, and Lawrence was incarcerated at California Men's Colony in San Luis Obispo. It's there that he

met the man with whom he would later terrorize the young women of Southern California, Roy Lewis Norris. Born in February of 1948 to a poor father and drug-addicted mother, Roy was repeatedly placed in the care of foster families throughout his home state of Colorado. One of the most prevalent memories of his childhood were incessant false accusation of misbehavior. He was punished when he was guilty, punished when he was innocent, and was often depraved of food or clothing as a result. This twisted variety of discipline taught Roy that it didn't matter if he was good or bad, though he might as well act in his own self-interest, consequences be damned. At age 16, Roy apparently visited the home of a female relative who was just a few years older than him and began talking to her in an aggressive, carnally suggestive manner.

When her father chased him from theaway, yet on his return home, Roy's parents told him that he and his little sister were both unwanted children and that they intended to divorce when they reached their teenage years. The psychological impact of this is immeasurably destructive and possibly contributed to Roy's decision to later join the U.S. Navy. He would see four short months of service in Vietnam, but saw no combat and was discharged following his return home. Yet shortly after his return from Vietnam, Roy was arrested for his first known carnal offense, one of which included an attempt to force his way into the car of a lone woman. Norris was then diagnosed by military psychologists as having a severe schizoid personality

and was given an administrative discharge due to his psychological problems. It didn't take long for him to strike again because, in May of 1970, Roy began stalking a young woman on the San Diego State University campus. One night, after catching her walking home alone, he hit her over the back of a head with a rock to subdue her. Then, after kneeling on the woman's lower back, he repeatedly beat her head against the sidewalk, causing life-threatening cranial injuries. Roy was sent to prison for the assault, but somehow after just five years inside, prison doctors declared him no further danger to others, and he was released from the Atascadero State Hospital in 1975. It took just three months for him to offend again, attacking a 27-year-old

woman after offering her a ride on his motorcycle. When she declined, Roy grabbed the woman's scarf, twisting it around her neck before dragging her into some nearby bushes. Fearing for her life, the woman did not resist and later reported Roy to the police. He was arrested, convicted, then ordered to serve out his sentence at the California Men's Colony in San Luis Obispo, which as we know, is where he met Lawrence Bitteker. By the time Lawrence arrived in prison, Roy was already associated with a group of hardened criminals from a series of one-percenter motorcycle gangs. Roy later testified that Lawrence had intervened on two separate occasions when fellow prisoners had been intending to harm him. This led to the pair becoming fast friends, and after discovering they both held misogynistic views

as well as a mutual interest in carnal violence, they began to plan out their eventual murder spree. The peak of their depraved fantasies involved an elaborate plan to murder one girl of each teenage year from 13 through 19, and after becoming fixated on such a scheme, the pair agreed to put their plan into action following their mutual release from prison. Following his conviction, Lawrence Bitteker granted several interviews from his cell on California's death row. In one of them, he stated that the only remorse he felt was that he'd been caught, and sometimes signed off replies to fan mail with the name Pliers Bitteker. He also seemed to enjoy how close he and Roy were, despite having very little in common.

We've got a heck of a lot in common now, he told one reporter, laughing as he spoke. In the end, Lawrence Bitteker would die of natural causes on December 13th, 2019, aged 79. Roy Norris also died in prison, passing away at the age of 72 in February of 2020. He too gave several interviews while imprisoned and repeatedly made the claim that Lawrence forced him into participating in the murders. He also claimed to have contemplated reporting their activities to the police, and also that he'd actively worked to dissuade victims from entering the van the pair nicknamed the Murder Mac. I didn't enjoy killing, he said, but that was Lawrence's favorite part, watching the women struggle to live, knowing he'd soon be taking life away. Yet despite his attempts to defer

responsibility, legions of investigators and psychologists have asserted that Roy derived extreme gratification from the domination, abuse, and torture of his victims, and insisted he was just as culpable as Lawrence was. Stephen Kay, the prosecutor at Lawrence's trial, still considers what the media refer to as the toolbox murders to be the most disturbing criminal case he'd ever handled. He publicly stated that Lawrence Bitteker was more deserving of being executed than any other inmate on California's death row, and that even two years after the trial, he was haunted by reoccurring nightmares in which he would be rushing to Bideker's van to prevent harm coming to the girls, but would always get there too late. Paul Bynum, the case's chief investigator, took his own life in December of 1987.

In his note, Bynum specifically referred to the murders committed by Bitteker and Norris as haunting him, and of his fear that they might hunt him down after being released from prison. The audio cassette detailing the torture of Shirley Ledford remains in the possession of the FBI Academy, and is used to train and desensitize FBI agents to the raw reality of torture and murder. When the courtroom heard those very same tapes, the horror they produced affirmed the toolbox murders as some of the most sickeningly disturbing in American history. And what's clear is that Lawrence Bitteker knew what he was doing when he chose Halloween as a night to hunt innocent young women. He knew the date would compound their terror and exacerbate their misery, so much so that he brought along a tape recorder to remember it by. The small city of Napa, California is perhaps most well known for its stunning scenery and

magnificent vineyards. It's also a remarkably safe and quiet place to live, which is what motivated 26-year-old Lauren Meanza and Adrienne Insonia to rent an apartment there. They were soon joined by another 26-year-old woman named Leslie Mazzara, and on the night of Halloween 2004, the three girls entertained themselves by handing out candy to the throngs of trick-or-treaters which roamed the streets. By 11pm, all three women were tucked into bed, ready to get up bright and early to face the working day ahead. Adrienne and Leslie slept upstairs in their Dorset Street house,

while Lauren slept in a converted bedroom on the ground floor. All was quiet, with the spookiest night of the year seeming to have come and gone without incident. But around 2am, that peace was to be shattered, quite literally, when Lauren Mayonza woke up to the sound of glass breaking up stairs. She cautiously climbed out of bed, exited her room, and crept toward the staircase to investigate. But Lauren was stopped dead in her tracks when she heard a blood-curdling scream come from one of the upstairs bedrooms. Her instinct was to run upstairs and see what was going on, but after hearing heavy footsteps on the landing above her, she knew something terrible was going on.

Whoever was up there, it wasn't Leslie or Adrienne. They were hearing boots, and they were big. Lauren ran back down the stairs and hurtled into the backyard, hiding among some bushes where she sat perfectly still. When she heard the sounds of the same heavy footsteps padding away from the home, she began to summon the courage to walk back inside to survey the damage. When she did so, she could already hear crying coming from one of the upstairs bedrooms and sprinted up the stairs to help. The sight that greeted her was one she would never forget.

Twenty-six year old Leslie was laying face down in a pool of blood, while Adrienne was crouched down behind the bed, alive but gravely wounded. Lauren said there was so much blood that she slipped when she hurried to call 911, and when she finally got to the phone, she found the line had been cut. Rushing to use her cell phone instead, the EMTs that arrived shortly after were tragically unable to save either Leslie or Adrienne. Both girls had been stabbed many, many times. As part of the initial investigation, local law enforcement launched an intensive search of both the house and the surrounding area. They found a number of cigarette butts laying in the dirt outside, but it was discovered that neither Lauren, Leslie,

nor Adrienne smoked. They were thus determined to have belonged to the killer, who had evidently smoked them while laying in wait for his prey to let their guard down. But this also led police to believe that he may well have been dressed in a Halloween costume in order to blend in with the hordes of hungry candy hunters. When news of the murders reached Napa's residents, they were stunned. There hadn't been a single murder in the county for two whole years, and both the cold calculation of the murders, as well as the outright savagery, had citizens looking over their shoulders in fear. What's more, the lack of a decisive resolution led to a swirl of vicious rumors, some of which blamed the victims themselves for allegedly being involved in the narcotics trade.

Another one suggested that Francis Ford Coppola, who owned the winery Leslie Mazzara worked at, was involved with the Italian mafia, and that the ladies were collateral damage. Officials were quick to assert that these rumors had absolutely no basis in truth, and that the official line was that Leslie had been the primary target of the attack. She had been attacked first, with a shocking level of brutality, and evidence suggested that she had been sleeping when she was first stabbed. Following the initial wound, Leslie had awoken before attempting to escape her killer by running into Adrienne's room. Adrienne had then tried to defend her friend, sustaining the fatal stab wound in the process. But the question remained, who would have the motive to commit such a horrendous act of senseless violence?

As with most homicides, detectives looked at those closest to the girls as they're likely a source of suspect, and they began to scour the backgrounds of Adrienne and Leslie. Shortly after being hired by the city, Adrienne and Sonia had started dating a man named Christian Lee. Their relationship proved intense, but volatile. She wanted a long-term commitment, whereas Christian preferred something casual. But other than this small-time relationship drama, there was very little else of a negative nature occurring in Adrienne's life and her social circle was relatively small. In contrast to Adrienne, Leslie Mazzara had a much larger circle of friends. The former South

Carolina beauty queen had moved to California just a few short months before she was murdered and was debating pursuing a career either as a teacher or an attorney. Needless to say, she adored California and what began as a summer job at Francis Ford Coppola's winery turned into an all-consuming passion. She proved to be a popular girl among her co-workers, and Leslie was also popular with the opposite sex, and friends noted that she dated around during her first few months in Napa. In fact, when two of her South Carolina friends visited her out in Napa, she told them she was dating two men at the same time, one older and one younger.

Then, in an incident which left them distinctly shaken, the older man stopped by at Leslie's apartment and was furious to find flowers sent by the younger of the two men. According to her friends, Leslie was a heartbreaker, but it was purely unintentional. She was a kind-hearted young woman who had a way of making everyone feel as if though they were her best friend. Police then began to examine Leslie's computer and upon doing so, discovered an email from an ex-boyfriend. The two had broken up years earlier after he proposed and she turned him down, but he reached out to her not long before her murder.

But Leslie was also in communication with a number of other men, some of which had treated her to some rather expensive gifts, including a Caribbean cruise and a brand new car. Another of her hometown friends remembered her joining them for a wedding ceremony back in South Carolina, where she toted a set of luxury luggage, all apparently purchased for her by yet another of her admirers. This friend would later claim that on the same night she was killed, the father of one of Leslie's spurned loves had repeatedly tried to get in contact with her, but had not been able to do so. This led police to believe that she may well have dated someone who had

become so dangerously obsessed with her that he had resorted to the unthinkable. If I can't have her, no one will. This was supported by the fact that the killer chose to gain access to Leslie's room via her window, eschewing all other potential points of entry. In the course of their investigation, police officers interviewed over 1,500 different people. One of these interviewees was Christian Lee, one of Leslie's on-and-off-again boyfriends. Several other of her admirers were questioned, but the investigation failed to progress. The lack of arrests understandably frustrated the victims' families and friends, who felt they had to defend their daughter's reputations in order to keep the investigation going. But as time passed,

the hope of those closest to the victim began to fade. Some, such as Adrienne's best friend Lily Prudhomme, were heavily affected by her death. It made them realize that life was fragile and has to be enjoyed while it lasted. She soon made arrangements to wed her long-term boyfriend, a young man named Eric Koppel. One of Adrienne's parents attended the wedding where the Maroon 5 song, She Will Be Loved, was played in honor of their much-missed daughter. It was a bittersweet moment for all involved, with both Lily and Eric expressing their sorrow at the loss of Adrienne. Then almost a year later in September of 2005, detectives from the Napa City Police's Homicide

Department were still working on the case when they received a pair of unexpected visitors. It was Lily Prudhomme, now Lily Koppel, and accompanying her was her husband Eric. Eric was somber-faced, while his wife seemed distraught, and after asking to speak to the detectives working their deceased friend's case, Lily Koppel looked to her husband with a look of hatred in her eyes and spoke, Go ahead. Tell him what you did. The detective who took down Eric Koppel's confession was stunned at the revelation, an emotion shared by all who learned of the scandalous turn of events.

There was no question of his guilt, as Eric's DNA had been found both on the cigarette butts that were found outside the home, as well as the blood samples that had been obtained from the broken window. The only real question that remained was why. In January of 2007, before he was sentenced to life in prison, Eric Coppel was allowed to read out a statement. He apologized to the Insonia and Mazzara families, weeping as he did so. But then to the other confusion of all in attendance, he claimed the murder wasn't in the least bit personal, instead blaming his bloodlust on the death of his grandfather.

Lily confirmed that Eric's depression was to blame for his behavior, and despite her claim that nothing he could do could lessen her love for him, she did later file for divorce. But why did Eric really kill Adrienne? Was depression really to blame? Or was there some other considerably more sinister motive at work? The actual date of Leslie and Adrienne's murder, November 1st, has a huge degree of significance to it. Remember when we touched on Adrienne's death motivating Lily to finally tie the knot with Eric?

Well, they'd actually planned to get married the previous year, and the date they had chosen was November 1st. But Lily had backed out of the wedding, telling Eric that she and Adrienne would discuss the possibility of their marriage before she made a definitive decision. This might have given Eric the idea that Adrienne was behind Lily calling the wedding off in the first place, enraging him to the point of deciding to kill her. It could have also been some kind of passive-aggressive attempt to push his fiancée. If he couldn't kill her, he'd kill her best friend. Both Lily and Eric would later go on to appear in the television crime program 48 Hours. In the episode, Lily talks about how someone must have noticed someone in their life

acting strangely, and how if the killer was hiding in their midst, they wouldn't be able to hide forever. She also stated that whoever was close to them must have an idea of their guilt, and were just as guilty as the murderer if they failed to come forward. All the while, her murderous husband is sitting next to her, seemingly unfazed by the gravity of his wife's words. This raises the question, did Lily know? Was she actually aware that her husband had killed her friend as some kind of punishment and was so terrified of him that she opted to cover his tracks? It's impossible to tell, and until Lily Koppel confirms such a theory,

it remains pure conjecture in the eyes of the law. Lauren Mayonza, the roommate who survived the brutal night, left Napa and relocated to Los Angeles. She later told members of the press that she had been traumatized by the events of that Halloween night, to the extent that she actually felt more comfortable in a relatively violent city like Los Angeles, that she felt more at home there considering the things she was haunted with. Eric Koppel remains behind bars, where he is serving two life sentences with no possibility of parole. Yet his internal segregation from civilized society is of little comfort to those left behind. For there will be many, many more like Eric. Undetectable, silent evil that we'll never be aware of until it's far flat or a squeal, a wobble or peel, your tread's worn down or you need a new wheel,

wherever you go, you can get it from Tread Experts. Conquer rugged terrain with on-road comfort. Until June 15th, receive up to $60 on a prepaid MasterCard when you purchase Kumho RoadVenture AT52 tires. Find a Kumho Tread Experts dealer near you at treadexperts.ca slash locations. From tires to auto repair, we're always there. TreadExperts.ca Everyone's got a pro.

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Find your pro at your local Tread Experts. From tires to auto repair, we're always there. TreadExperts.ca On the night before Halloween of 1975, 15-year-old Martha Moxley joined a group of friends to participate in what's known affectionately as Mischief Night. Mischief Night, sometimes known as Devil's Night, is an informal holiday on which children and teenagers engage in pranks and vandalism. In particular, Martha and her friends focused on Ding Dong Ditch, knocking on doors and ringing doorbells before running away. And what's known as TPing, when rolls of toilet paper are hurled over trees or houses so that long trails of paper are formed. According to her friends, on the night in question, Martha had been flirting with an

older boy named Thomas Skakel, and the two had been witnessed sharing kisses before falling behind a fence together. Martha's friends left her in the company of Thomas at around 9.30pm, knowing better than to try and separate the young couple. Little did they know, it would be the last time they'd see Martha alive. The following morning, Martha's mother walked out into the large communal backyard at the rear of her home after spotting something lying under a tree. When she approached, she let out a blood-curdling scream. It wasn't some elaborate Halloween decoration. It was the lifeless corpse of her own daughter, Martha, and she had been bludgeoned to the point of being almost unrecognizable.

Her pants and underwear had been pulled down and pieces of broken golf club were lying near her body. There was also evidence that that once the golf club had broken, her killer had begun to stab her with the sharp end of the broken club. It took a lot of work, but police eventually traced the sale of the golf club to none other than the Skackle family, whose son, Thomas, had been cavorting with Martha just the night before. Given that he was the last person to see her alive, Thomas Scackle became the case's number one suspect. Yet police discovered that Thomas' father had forbidden access to his school and mental health records. It was also around then that police announced a second suspect in the case, that of Kenneth Littleton, who had started

working as a live-in tutor for the Skakel family only hours before the murder. Over the years, Thomas Skakel significantly changed his alibi for the night of Moxley's murder. However, his younger brother Michael made a shocking confession when he claimed that he had been window peeping and touching himself in a tree beside the Moxley property from 11.30pm to 12.30am. On top of that, two children who knew Michael from his time in a treatment center for troubled youths testified they heard Michael confess to killing Martha with a golf club. One of these children, Gregory Coleman, testified that Michael was given special privileges

and had bragged, I'm going to get away with murder. I'm a Kennedy. And it was true. Michael's aunt, Ethel, was the widow of U.S. Senator Robert F. Kennedy. And what's more, his grandfather, George, was the founder of Great Lakes Carbon Corporation, one of the largest and wealthiest privately held corporations in the United States. And just as Michael predicted, no one was charged, and the case remained cold for decades. Sixteen years later in 1991, when a man named William Kennedy Smith was acquitted of carnal assault, a rumor was spread that he was present at the

Skackle house on the night of Martha's murder. It was also implied that the much younger William had either been involved with the murder or at least knew the identity of the responsible party. In the end, these rumors were proven to be completely baseless, but the intense media speculation resulted in Martha's case being reopened. With Michael's uncle rushed and hiring the Sutton Associates private detective agency to conduct their own investigation of the murder. The investigation was inconclusive, but what came to be known as the Sutton Report was eventually leaked to the media, and it revealed that both Thomas and Michael had radically changed their stories since the

initial investigation, thus imparting a great deal of suspicion on each of them. This led to numerous Greenwich police detectives becoming convinced that Thomas was the killer. It took seven long years after the case was reopened, but in June of 1998, it was decided that there was enough evidence to formally charge Michael Skakel with murder. Shockingly, despite Michael supposedly having committed the crime when he was just 15 years old, a judge ruled in January of 2001 that Michael would be tried as an adult, setting his bail at half a million dollars. The trial began on May 7th, 2002, with Michael Skakel insisting he was at his cousin's house at the time of the murder.

However, the prosecution was quick to point out that the same tree Michael had been touching himself behind on the night of the murder was the very same tree under which Martha's body was found. This was the prosecution's central argument, that Michael had been watching his older brother kissing Martha and had approached her for similar affections once she was alone. When she refused, he'd run into the house, grab the golf club, then beat Martha to death in revenge for rejecting him. The argument was apparently a strong one and on June 7th of 2002, Thomas Skakel was convicted of murder and sentenced to 25 years to life in the Garner Correctional Institution

in Newtown, Connecticut. But Thomas had always insisted on his innocence, and in 2007, his attorneys filed for a new trial based on a theory involving Jitano Tony Bryant, cousin of Los Angeles Lakers player Kobe Bryant, and a former classmate of Skakel at the private Brunswick school in Greenwich. Bryant said that on the night of Moxley's murder, one of his friends had wanted to attack Martha, but he had been advised not to come forward as the case had already been solved. It took until December of 2016 for the Connecticut Supreme Court to uphold Michael Skakel's murder conviction with a 4-3 majority decision, adding that the conviction was the result of overwhelming

evidence presented by prosecutors, and that his legal representation had not been incompetent, as he'd attempted to assert. The very same year, Skakel's cousin Robert Kennedy Jr. released a book entitled Framed. In it, he insisted that his cousin had been set up by the authorities and that an innocent man had now been languishing in prison for almost two decades. It seems ironic that Michael believed he would get away with murder due to his family connections, when in reality, even those high-profile relatives would be totally unable to help him escape justice. Born in Nagoya, Japan on November 22nd of 1975, Yoshihiro Hattori was the second child of Masaichi and Mieko Hattori. In August of 1992, when Yoshihiro was just 16 years old,

he traveled all the way to Baton Rouge, Louisiana, as part of the American Field Services Student Exchange Program. There, he was hosted by the Haymaker family, consisting of parents Richard, Holly, and Webb, their teenage son. It was a trip that was supposed to enrich Yoshihiro's life for the better. With his English language skills vastly improved by his stay in Louisiana, he could return to Japan as a highly sought-after business asset, a status which promised a long and successful career in the field of his choosing.

But in reality, it was a trip that Yoshihiro would never return from. In early October of 1992, Yoshihiro and Webb Haymaker received an invitation to a Halloween party that had been organized for the Japanese exchange students of Louisiana State University. Set for the night of October 17th, Yoshihiro's choice of costume was a white tuxedo and a slicked-back disco hairstyle, both of which made him look uncannily like John Travolta's character from the movie Saturday Night Fever. Then at around 8pm, Yoshihiro and Webb drove over to the party which was being held at East Baton Rouge. However, when they arrived at the street in question,

they became confused over which house they were looking for. The two young men walked up the driveway of one particularly decorated house, believing it to be the site of the party, when in fact, it was the home of Rodney and Bonnie Paris. When Webb and Yoshihiro rang the home's doorbell, Rodney and Bonnie became nervous. They weren't expecting anyone and no one had called ahead to let them know they'd be dropping by. So instead of going directly to the front door, Bonnie Paris went instead to the home's side entrance and peered around a corner to see who was ringing the bell. There stood Webb and Yoshihiro, Yoshi in his tux while Webb wore a neck brace and bandages with fake blood staining them, evidently some kind of

accident victim. They were quite obviously in costumes befitting the occasion but when she called out to the boys, they approached her and Bonnie panicked. She ran back inside, slammed the door and screamed out to her husband, Rodney, get your gun. Rodney Parris, a 30-year-old butcher, heard his wife's terrified cry and simply reacted, running to fetch a.44 Magnum revolver from another room. Outside, Webb and Yoshihiro must have realized that they rang at the wrong house, and began to walk back down the driveway towards their car. That's when Rodney Parris burst from his home, aiming the revolver at them and commanding them to freeze.

The boys were terrified, and Webb began to beg Rodney not to shoot them, explaining that they were looking for a party and had simply rang at the wrong house. Yoshihiro, on the other hand, didn't seem to understand what was going on, and for some explaining that they were looking for a party and it simply rang at the wrong house. Yoshihiro, on the other hand, didn't seem to understand what was going on and for some reason reached into his pocket to produce a camera. It may well have been simply to show Rodney that the pair meant no harm, but it also is very possible that Yoshihiro believed that the whole thing was nothing but a Halloween prank. You see, the.44 that Rodney was pointing at him included a laser sight, something that was still very much a novelty

back in 1992. Therefore, it stands to reason that as someone who wasn't well acquainted with the use of firearms, Yoshi might have believed the very real handgun to be nothing more than a sci-fi prop, a prop that Yoshi might have wanted to take a photograph of. Either way, Rodney caught sight of the camera in his hand, mistook it for a firearm, and fired a shot into Yoshi's chest from a distance of just five feet away. Yoshihiro fell, gasping for air, while Rodney Parris ran back into his house for cover. Webb, horrified by what he just witnessed, sprinted over to a neighboring house to fetch help, but when this neighbor returned, saw Yoshihiro and begged the Paris family to call 911, Bonnie Paris told them, go away. It took far longer than it should have to summon medical aid, and by the

time EMTs appeared on scene, Yoshihiro was already on death's door. The single shot had torn through both upper and lower lobes of his left lung, resulting in a huge exit wound to the rear of his ribcage. That wound was so catastrophic that within just a few short minutes of being in the ambulance, Yoshihiro passed away from blood loss. Shockingly, the Baton Rouge Police Department actually released Rodney Paris shortly after following his arrest, declining to charge him on the grounds that Yoshihiro was trespassing. The decision caused worldwide outrage, prompting the intervention of both Louisiana Governor Edwin Tuttle as well as the Japanese Consul General. Only then was Rodney re-arrested and charged with manslaughter. He attempted to defend his actions by claiming that Yoshihiro had an extremely unusual manner of moving, adding that anyone would have found the experience to be

a frightening one. But Yoshihiro wasn't dressed like some monster or demon. He wasn't covered in blood-soaked rags like his companion, Webb. He was wearing a poorly fitted, off-white tuxedo. He looked objectively comical, not in the least bit threatening. At his trial for manslaughter, Rodney Paris was painted as an average Joe, or as his defense attorney colorfully phrased it, he was a man who liked sugar in his grits. A person who was coming at me from behind the car. They were moving real fast, he told the courtroom. I pointed my gun and hollered at them to freeze, but they just kept coming. Again, I told them to stop, but they kept moving, laughing while they walked.

I was scared to death. I had no choice. I'm just sorry that any of this ever happened. The prosecution was quick to establish that at 6'2", Rodney towered over the 130-pound Yoshi, and that he was armed with one of the most powerful handguns on the market. Yoshi had nothing in his hands but a small disposable camera. What's more, the two teens had actually announced themselves upon arrival, as both Rodney and Bonnie testified that they were only aware that someone was outside because they'd rang the doorbell. They weren't sneaking around the property, probing for an entry point. All they'd done was call at the wrong house.

The police officer who first arrested Rodney on the night of the murder then took the stand, telling the jury that while in the back of his patrol car, Rodney had told him, Boy, I messed up, huh? I made a real bad mistake back there. Rodney knew what he did was wrong, and that he grossly overreacted, or more accurately, that he'd acted negligently on the overreaction of his wife, Bonnie. This was pretty much what his defense attorney's entire argument hinged on, the idea that Rodney Parris was simply defending the woman he loved. He was coming real fast towards me, Bonnie Parris said simply defending the woman he loved. He was coming real fast towards me, Bonnie Parris said when she later took the stand. I never had anybody come at me like that

before in my life. I was terrified. There was no thinking involved. I wish I could have thought. If only I just stopped to think. It seemed like an open and shut case. A skittish couple had hideously overreacted to nothing more than an honest mistake, and a teenage boy had lost his life as a result. But just after a week after the trial began, the world was once again horrified when the jury returned a verdict of not guilty, after deliberating for just three hours. A courtroom full of spectators burst into spontaneous applause when they heard the news. Yet thankfully, Rodney didn't get away completely scot-free. Following a civil suit filed by the Hattori family, the Supreme Court of Louisiana ordered Rodney to pay over half a million dollars

in damages to Yoshiro's grieving relatives. As of 2013, it was reported that Rodney was divorced, broke, and living in a Louisiana trailer park. He may have escaped justice, but he clearly can't escape the legacy or the memory of what he did that chill October night. Rodney Paris is a man plagued by the closest thing to an actual real-life ghost. A sense of crippling other for Marvin and Ethel Brandlin. They lived in a quiet suburban neighborhood, but one that came alive with young trick-or-treaters every time Halloween came around. Marvin and Ethel loved seeing the effort all the kids put into their costumes and handsomely rewarded any that arrived on their doorstep with fistfuls of miniature candies. As the evening went on, the frequency at which trick-or-treaters

called at their door began to dwindle, and by around 10pm, the Branlyns believed they'd be undisturbed for the remainder of the night. However when their doorbell rang out one last time and Marvin went to answer it, the sight that greeted him made his blood run cold. On the doorstep stood a young man wearing a pillowcase for a mask, and when Marvin suddenly found a gun being pointed in his face, he realized it was no trick-or-treater. According to Ethel, the young man wanted money, but it was by no mere happenstance that he'd ended up on their doorstep.

Because when Marvin Brandland laughed and claimed all his cash was in the bank, the boy with the pillowcase for a mask knew he was lying. We can only imagine how haunting it must have been for Marvin, knowing this person had somehow gained inside knowledge of his home's finances, and in his desperation, he made a grab for the boy's pistol. But the robber was fast, pulling the trigger before Marvin could disarm him, and sending a bullet tearing through the homeowner's throat. Knowing the robbery had gone horribly wrong, the robber pulled off the pillowcase and fled the scene. Ethel ran to her husband's aid, but not only was she unable to save him, she was too late to catch a glimpse of his killer's face. Police pinned their hopes on

pulling a DNA sample from the mask, but that line of inquiry proved inconclusive and with it, the case went cold. But what's objectively terrifying about the murder is that the killer might well be in the Brandlin social circle, and is possible even a not-so-distant nephew or grandson. As of 2010, the case was reopened, but to this day, there's not a single suspect or arrest pertaining to Marvin Branlin's murder, and as we stated, the killer could have been hiding in plain sight all this time. So, be careful who you answer your door to this Halloween because lurking among those innocent trick-or-treaters could be some very dangerous people. To be continued... On Halloween night of 1998, an African-American man in his early 20s by the name of Carl Jackson

was driving his girlfriend and her young son home through the New York City borough of the Bronx, when suddenly, an egg slammed into his car windshield. Egging, a popular but degenerate Halloween tradition in which innocent, unsuspecting people are pelted with raw eggs. Most of the time, the intention is fairly innocent, and the result is people are pelted with raw eggs. Most of the time the intention is fairly innocent, and the result is nothing but some mild humiliation. But sometimes, childish pranks can lead to frighteningly volatile consequences. Naturally, Carl was feeling rather protective of his girlfriend and her infant son. So when he spotted the egg throwers laughing on the nearby sidewalk, he stopped his car, got out and began to approach them, castigating them for potentially causing a

severe traffic accident. Most of the teenagers took the dressing down in their stride, as Carl called them out for being immature deadbeats who needed to be taught some respect. He didn't lay hands on the teenagers, he knew better than that, instead using some creative but colorful language to shame them for their actions. But one of them was unable to handle such skewering criticism, and as Carl Jackson climbed back into the driver's seat of his car and drove off, 17-year-old Curtis Sterling climbed into his own vehicle and began a stealthy pursuit. Sterling waited until Carl and his girlfriend had arrived at their destination and had gotten out of their parked car. Then, no sooner had he climbed out of the driver's seat, Carl was greeted with the sight

of an angry 17-year-old pointing a gun in his face. It would be the last thing he'd ever see. Carl tried to talk but Sterling wouldn't let him, pulling the trigger and sending a bullet punching through the young man's skull. Carl was dead before he hit the pavement. He had turned 21 years old just three weeks before he was killed, and his mother Gloria described him as a quiet young man who was just starting a promising career as a data entry clerk for the company Morgan Stanley. I think it took us two years to even talk about it, 62-year-old Gloria Jackson later said. We were just devastated. We never thought that anyone

from our family would be murdered, especially on a holiday for something so stupid. Curtis Sterling was sentenced to 20 years in prison for the killing, and on every single Halloween that followed his incarceration, Gloria Jackson sent him a greetings card. Time after time, year after year, they said the same old message. I'm glad you're still here. This took place in mid-2008. I'd been out of school for over a year. The economic downturn was just beginning to affect the job market and a lack of any stable financial prospects was causing me to fear for my future, not to mention my living arrangements.

I was almost 26 and had yet to achieve any of my goals. Unlike me, all my friends had careers and were on the path of starting families. I didn't even have a boyfriend. Since money-making opportunities were thin on the ground, I accepted a job house-sitting for a rich couple in the city. Other than watering their plants, there was no real reason for me to be there. The building had a concierge's desk that required any visitors to sign in and a security guard. My presence made no sense to me, but they were offering actual money, so I didn't care much. The agreement was for seven days, Friday to Friday.

When I signed in that first evening, everything had the appearance of calm and stability. The guard on duty accompanied me on the 15-floor elevator journey to the apartment. During the course of our ride, he introduced himself and we made small talk. Del was a tall, oddly thin young man with a patchy mustache and short, slicked back hair. He was nice enough, but I got the feeling that he was trying to impress me. More than once, he mentioned how much importance his position afforded him. I must admit his attempt at flirting did flatter me a bit. Even if I wasn't attracted to him. It was nice to know someone may have been interested.

When we arrived at our destination, Del let me in. We said our goodbyes and I assumed I'd probably never see him again. After I had a quick look around the apartment, I decided to have a little snack before bed. I noticed a note from the owners on the table. It was just your basic, make yourself at home and enjoy your stay. I took them up on their offer and raided the fridge. Once I was stuffed full of expensive deli meats, I got the urge to sample an open bottle of wine. I didn't dare take more than a few swallows worth, just in case I was taking their invitation a tad too literally. I can't say I was any more

impressive than the cheap stuff I drank, but hey, when in Rome. Having made my mark on my new domain, I cleaned up my mess and headed for bed. I did very little for the next two days. Other than eat and sleep, I spent most of my waking hours watching Netflix on my client's massive TV. Del came by on my second evening to give me a temporary card key. We spoke for a few minutes. I think he tried to ask me out at one point but his wording left things a tad ambiguous. I erred on the safe side and played dumb. He eventually ran out of things to say and I used the opportunity to slip away. Things were quiet after that. By Monday, I was becoming stir-crazy.

Just after lunch, I stepped out for some fresh air. During my walk, I grabbed a coffee and flipped through some magazines, but soon, Netflix began calling and I returned to the building. I ran into Del and he struck up a conversation. I listened kindly until I saw my chance and bid him a good day and proceeded to the elevator. As the doors closed I noticed he'd already began talking to a parcel delivery guy at the desk. You could see the annoyance on the guy's face. I couldn't help but chuckle. He wasn't really a bad guy, he just tried too hard. Nothing else of interest would occur until the wee hours of Thursday morning. I had turned in around 12.30 and was deep asleep when a loud banging shook me awake.

Disoriented, I wasn't sure what was happening. I sat up and listened, and almost immediately it restarted. Now I could tell it was coming from the front door, and a sick feeling of fear began growing in the pit of my stomach. It began again, but now I could hear it was coming from the front door, and a sick feeling of fear began growing in the pit of my stomach. It began again, but now I could hear a person yelling. I timidly walked up to the door and looked out the peephole. There stood Del, looking intently at the hole. My fear instantly switched into anger.

This was going too far. I prepared to curse him out but before the words could leave my mouth, something stopped me. There was something strange about his expression. I looked out again. He now appeared to be in a full panic. He ran across the hall and banged on another door then returned. I figured I should see what the matter was so I yanked the door open, fully prepared to give him a butt chewing if necessary. Del began ranting about something and I stepped out into the hall and realized what he was so worked up about. The smell of smoke filled the hall and a light grey cloud was turning the corner towards us about 50 feet away. I could now hear the faint sound of the

smoke alarms coming from the floors below but wondered why there was none going off on ours. All the anger I'd been feeling just a moment before disappeared into the smoke. Without a second thought, I grabbed Del's outstretched hand and we ran for the stairs. The smoke got less and less as we descended, and we must have made it down in record time. Several of the residents were assembled in the lobby, and they looked around cluelessly. Vidal sprang into action, and together, we started to lead everyone out into the street. The firemen were already beginning to arrive. They were fortunately able to put the fire out within the hour, and nobody suffered any more than mild smoke inhalation and a few minor burns.

Things began to wind down around dawn and most everyone had been checked out and the last few residents were making arrangements for temporary housing. My opinion of Del had changed drastically over the last few hours. His bravery and leadership impressed me greatly, honestly. And that's why when he asked me to join for breakfast, I gladly agreed. After a quick stop at my place to change into something a tad more public, we had a wonderful meal. I would get to see a whole new side of him. It turned out he was an amazing artist. The security job was just temporary until he could get on into the entertainment industry.

And as we went our separate ways that afternoon, I made an unexpected decision. I wanted to see Del again. And I did. For the next seven and a half months, we continued dating. It was never super serious. We both knew his future lay in California. And when the call finally came, he and I said our goodbyes and he boarded the flight to a better life. We do still speak from time to time, but we've both moved on with our lives and I doubt our partners would approve of anything more. I'll go ahead and

end my story here. There have been a few other exciting, scary incidents in my life and I may post here again in the future when I have the time. Probably the most important lesson I've taken away from this whole incident is to avoid making split-second decisions about someone you've just met. Their ways may be strange, even occasionally annoying, but you should give them a chance. Heroes can appear at the most unexpected times and heroism in the most unexpected of people. Del is one of those people and just for that, I feel blessed to have known him. We'll be right back. Until June 15th, receive up to $60 on a prepaid MasterCard when you purchase Kumo RoadVenture AT52 tires. Find a Kumo TreadExperts dealer near you at treadexperts.ca slash locations.

From tires to auto repair, we're always there. TreadExperts.ca. My story takes place in 2014. I was two years out of college and couldn't keep a job to save my life. My attitude wouldn't change until much later. Anyhow, I got connected with a house-sitting agency. The job itself was cool, but the woman running the place was just a jerk to everyone. You may be seeing a pattern here, but I promise you in this case, I wasn't the actual problem. Well, I put up with her terrible attitude for as long as possible. Nevertheless, the day came when I gave her a piece of my mind. I've gotten a whopping three

months of experience in the business at this point, and somewhere of my mind. I've gotten a whopping three months of experience in the business at this point and somewhere in my crazy mind I got the idea I knew the business better than her and I decided to go independent. I put up a post selling my skills on a few sites. Nothing came out of it at first but I got my first call on that following Monday. This job unfortunately fell through at the last minute. I was back at the beginning. It took six more days before another offer came through and this was from a family just 10 miles from me. They were planning a vacation and needed someone to take care of their dog. The father with whom I spoke sounded very nice. We made an appointment for the following

day for me to come around. The next day I dressed in my best outfit and drove out to meet them. The house was set off by itself on four acres near the county line, a mostly rural area. I'd sat for another family nearby so I had no reason to be suspicious. As I pulled up to the house I was a little disappointed by the state of the place. Despite being a large house it was somewhat run down. Also the family's two cars were at least 10 years old and a little beat up. I didn't want to be a snob but I had a feeling the inside wouldn't be much better. The idea of spending three nights there sounded a lot less appealing now. None of this mattered though. I had made an appointment and I was going to keep it.

Besides, nothing said I had to take the job if I didn't want it. With all this in mind, I rang the bell and put on my happiest face. The door was answered by a well-dressed young man who identified himself as the father. It did strike me as odd that a man would dress so neatly but stop at his shoes. A pair of old, raggedy running running shoes but I assumed he had a reason and put it out of my mind. He invited me in and we sat together in the kitchen. I was relieved to see that the interior was in better shape but I did notice a slight musty smell. The job was looking a bit of a mixed bag. I was leaning toward turning it down, but what came in the next half hour or so

would determine my final decision. While we waited for his wife to join us, the man and I made small talk. I was told she was putting the kids down for a nap and would be just a moment. I could hear movement down the hall. There was no indication that he was lying. However, as the seconds passed, small little things began to bother me. For starters, there was no sign any pets or children lived there. No toys laying around, no sippy cups, no water bowls or dog beds. The closer I looked, the less it looked like anyone lived there at all. Yet, it was fully furnished, but no dishes sat on the counters or appliances ran in the background. I began to feel a slight unease.

Something was telling me to get out. And while this was all going on inside my head, the father was talking. He was telling a story and using his hands a lot. And this was when I noticed his fingernails. Why would a man who seemed to care so much about his appearance have such dirty fingernails? Strike two. This is a mid-level office worker if I had to guess. He would certainly not be doing manual labor.

Even if he had a hobby like woodworking, wouldn't he bother to at least clean under his nails? I'm well aware of how stupid this all sounds, but put it together, with all the other things I've noticed, my instincts were telling me to leave. I knew if something was wrong I needed to play it cool. If not, I didn't want to cause a scene. No sense in destroying a business before I've even got it off the ground. As calmly as I could, I said I had forgotten something in my car. I'd go out and grab it, then return in just a moment. I smiled and stood up. As I turned to walk away, the man grabbed my wrist and held me. Strike three. This was all the proof I needed.

My heart began to pound. He looked at me and spoke through gritted teeth. You're not going anywhere, honey. All the kindness had left his voice. The true face now stared coldly back at me. Panic surged through every inch of my body. I knew I wasn't going to leave this place the same person I was when I entered. That is, if I ever left at all. I noticed his eyes jumping back and forth from me to the hall. He appeared nervous. Perhaps his partner or partners were being detained by something.

All I knew was that I had to get away before they arrived. I waited until he looked toward the hall again and took my chance. I yanked my arm away as hard as I could. His temporary lack of focus gave me just enough advantage to break free. I ran straight for the front door. I had wisely worn flats instead of my usual heels. This decision was the thing that allowed me to get away. Any woman reading this knows why. And no sooner had I broken free my captor yells out to his accomplices. Why he hadn't called to them until now still eludes me. Not bothering to lock my car door was another choice I'd made that would ultimately benefit me. The distance, although just a few feet from the door

to my car, seemed like miles. I made it into my car and was able to lock the door before they managed to catch me. It wasn't until I was in the midst of juggling with my keys that I saw the second of the men. While I struggled to get my car started, my now two assailants banged on the car and pulled at the door handle. The second man was much larger than the other. There was no way I would have gotten away from him. I did finally get the car going and sped away from the property. It was the first time I can recall taking a breath in the preceding five minutes. As I sped down the highway, I called 911 to report my near abduction. I wasn't sure if my attackers were still pursuing me or not. Instead of heading

home, I made for the nearest police station. I didn't dare let my guard down until I was safely inside the building and speaking to an officer. I quickly repeated my incident to the cop. He filed a report while we waited to hear from the patrol cars that had been sent to the house. It wasn't a shock to hear that the men had fled. What did shock me was what the officers discovered in the master bedroom. The report stated the following, but I will be paraphrasing. When officers White and Dawson reached the largest bedroom of the home, they discovered it had been stripped bare of furniture. In place of the furniture,

the walls and floors had been covered in multiple layers of what looked to be contractor's plastic sheeting. What purpose the assailants had in mind for the room can only be guessed at this time. I still tear up at the thought of what awaited me in that room. I've never been a religious person, but I can't help but feel someone or something was watching out for me that day. I wish I could say that my would-be attackers were caught and are now doing life in prison, but the truth is, they remain unidentified to this day. The house they had used turned out to be uninhabited. After the death of the owner, the family had let it lay fallow. No further hints were needed.

I decided the independent house-sitting business wasn't for me. I continued to bounce between jobs until I got on with a small printing shop. The family that runs the place are the kindest folks I've ever met and they were far more forgiving of my little quirks than my previous employers. I'm coming up on my fourth year with them and I hope I'll be there until my retirement. Now that I'm seven years older and more mature, I've learned just how dangerous the world can be. In my early twenties, I wouldn't have thought twice about traveling to strange places alone. In retrospect, my overconfidence and my ability to protect myself is what led me to that house and no one could have convinced me I was wrong. Since that day I have become much more

vigilant about my safety. I don't go anywhere without crossing all my T's and dotting my I's. By far, the most important thing I do is listen to my instincts. They are what saved me that day. Don't worry about offending someone if you feel you may be in danger. We have these senses for a reason. Please, pay them close attention and be careful, ladies. Goodbye, and stay safe. I recently had an experience I'd like to share here. For the past two years, I have worked for a service that places house sitters with clients in need of such people. Besides having to sit in one or two dirty homes, my job has been without note. There would be no indication that this following position would be any different.

I arrived just before 7am as I was instructed. My clients were on their way out. They were a young couple with one child heading on their first family getaway since the pandemic began. The father left me with a few last instructions and they were on their way. The house itself was a nice two-story structure you often see in more affluent areas of the country. Not my most posh assignment by far, but very comfortable nonetheless. I unpacked my things in the guest bedroom and made myself familiar with the home's layouts. From the look of things, my stay would be a quiet one. I expected to spend my times, as I usually do, watching a film or two on streaming services

or catching up on my YouTube subscriptions. For the first three days, everything played out as I had planned. It would be the fourth which I'd be tested in a way I never thought possible. When I rose from bed that Sunday, the sun was just beginning to peek over the trees. I prefer to awake early when I am working just in case someone is scheduled to drop by. My livelihood relies on my good reputation. I never want to endanger that and people do talk after all. Just after 7 I sat down to do some paperwork and heard a knock at the door.

I answered and a tall muscular older man introduced himself as Chris. He was the neighbor directly across the street. He proceeded to warn me about a recent string of home invasions happening in the city. Although there had been no indication these criminals had designs on the specific neighborhood, he felt it was necessary to let me know this. I assumed to keep my eyes open and stay safe, and we spoke a further few minutes before he said goodbye and I returned to my work. This news was somewhat concerning, but I felt safe. The family surely would have warned me. I assumed that Christopher was being overcautious and

tried to put it out of my mind. The remainder of my afternoon was wasted in front of the television, a pastime I seem to enjoy more and more as I age. At around 5pm I decided it may be time to make dinner. There were several large frozen meals available so I heated one in the microwave. Just as I was sitting down to eat a knocking came at the door. For the second time Chris was there to warn me. Only this time he insisted he had noticed an SUV with dark tinted windows driving around. They had passed down the street several times.

I was kind and didn't laugh in his face, but I wanted to. I thanked him and we went our separate ways once again. I now knew who he was. Most neighbors had that retired person that stares out their windows all day, waiting for the smallest thing to happen. And this must have been Christopher. Despite his entertaining behavior, his repeated interruptions were becoming a bother to me, I thought. And I was fortunate enough to avoid any further interactions with him for the remainder of the day. I slept and rose again just before dawn. I expected Chris would arrive soon, but I was able to enjoy my morning meal and paperwork without any further annoyances. Things were pleasantly quiet and as I sat down to watch a film,

I was beginning to believe that I may have the day to myself. Unfortunately, it was not to be. I had fallen asleep and just after 2pm, a ringing of the doorbell shocked me from my sleep. I expected it to be Chris, however, as I peeked through the small window, I saw someone else. Another man. He was well dressed and I assumed was another neighbor. I put on my kindest smile and greeted this random stranger with a good morning. He looked a little confused but quickly regained his composure and asked for the homeowners.

I informed him that they were out of town at the moment and told him when they would be expected back. And he just thanked me and smiled. Something about his smile was unsettling. I was unable to end the conversation before the man rushed toward the door. Out of nowhere, another man appeared and joined him. I tried to close the door, but the might of them together was too much for me. I was unsure what they wanted, but I was positive I needed to call for help as soon as possible. With no other option, I relinquished my hold on the door and ran. The men spilled in behind me. I had no immediate plan but I noticed the stairs and sprinted up to the second floor. I just needed enough time alone

to dial 911. Thankfully I got it when I jumped into a hallway bathroom. The two men were close behind me and fortunately I was able to get the door closed and locked before they could reach me. I pulled my phone from my back pocket and dialed as quickly as possible. I could feel the men's bodies banging against the door as I leaned on it. The operator answered and I gassed out my trouble between heaving breaths. Not long after, the banging stopped. A loud yelling and rumbling replaced it. Then I heard what sounded like a group of people running down the stairs.

Everything went silent after that. The operator continued to talk. I put my ear to the door, and there was nothing for almost a minute, then a faint voice said my name. It was weak at first. I almost thought it was my imagination, but then it came again. It was now much stronger and closer and I realized it was Christopher. I meekly answered, I was still unsure of what was happening. The men are gone, I got a piece of one of them but

I guess they didn't want no more. I did consider that this may be a trap, but I took a chance and opened the door. Standing in the hall was Chris with a bleeding cut above his right eye. He had a big grin across his face, and I got the impression he'd enjoyed his brief fight with the home invaders. We exchanged RUOKs, and I thanked him for arriving when he did, and I meant it this time. We met the police at the door and filled them in on what had happened. The paramedics fussed over Chris' cut, but he refused care, and we spent an hour giving statements. When all was said and done, I had to admit I owed Christopher a lot, perhaps even my life. It seems like he was just happy to be right.

Once the officers had gone, he wished me luck and returned home. It wouldn't be until I was alone that the seriousness of it all hit me. I spent the evening curled up in a ball on the couch and stayed there until the following morning. I was still quite shaken up, but I was alive. Christopher and I would never speak again. Other than a smile and a wave when I visited the mailbox, life had returned to normal. I didn't want to ruin my client's vacation so I waited until they returned and notified them of the attempted robbery.

They were naturally horrified and even offered me more money. I, of course, refused. I did make sure to let them know that they had an amazing neighbor. And to my shock, they mentioned they had only spoken to him once in the five years they had lived there. This made our interactions over the last week seem even more special. I sometimes wonder if Christopher had been put in place to keep me safe, maybe like a guardian angel. I'm well aware of how foolish this sounds, but I believe it nonetheless. I'm pleased to say none of the other jobs have been quite as exciting as this was, and I have yet to meet another man as kind and selfless as Christopher.

If you happen to be reading this, kind sir, I know no amount of thanks can ever equal your actions. On that day, you saved another man's life. A complete stranger. Somewhere out there in the world, a man lives happy today because of your selfless act. May your life be long and happy, and may your family remember you forever. I had an exceptionally upsetting incident on my third job house-sitting. To help you understand why it affected me so much, I should probably tell you about myself. I grew up in a single-parent home. My mom has always been a loving and understanding parent, but I think she felt pressure to find a new husband.

My dad left us so soon after I was born. She began dating almost immediately. This pressure caused her to make a lot of bad choices. She did the bar scene, constantly bringing home a new man. A few would stay but not for long. She never seemed to understand that you don't find a husband in a place like that. Every relationship inevitably broke down into arguments and fighting, and on more than one occasion, the fights got physical on both sides. My mom's love of wine did a lot to inflame tensions. And because of this constant state of chaos, I became a people pleaser and hated confrontation. It's the big reason behind

my panic attacks. I've worked a lot on my assertiveness but I sometimes fall back into my old habits. My story starts in 2015. I was bouncing from job to job. I've been having a hard time finding something in my degree field. A friend had recently become a house sitter and made it sound fun. She made it sound like a permanent vacation and I desperately needed one of those. She gave me a quick course on the ins and outs of the job and helped me land my first client. I was a ball of nerves but I got through it. The second client went much smoother.

It would be the third that would make me think twice about doing this long term. It was now mid-2016. I answered an ad asking for someone to sit a house a few hours away. This would be my first long-distance gig and I didn't want to mess it up. I made a list of questions and showed them to my friend. She suggested a few changes and I called the number. The homeowner and I made an appointment for me to view the property. I quickly made arrangements and drove up to meet him. He was a businessman, needing to leave town on short notice. My job would be to accept packages and mail, but most importantly, look after his dog. The dog's name was Bart. He was a St. Bernard mix and when we first met,

he didn't appear very interested in anything. He snipped me once and returned to his bed. It all seemed simple enough. I asked a few questions, and at the end of the appointment, we both decided that I'd be perfect for the job. I checked into my hotel for the night and returned the following morning. My stay would be for three full nights, and I was looking forward to relaxing and maybe even playing with Bart. That afternoon, I tried to do even playing with Bart. That afternoon,

I tried to do just that. Bart wasn't interested though. Instead, we lounged together on the patio. It was a beautiful sunny day. The slow, cool breeze in the shade made it feel like paradise. The home's slightly remote location allowed for a wonderfully peaceful environment. I felt calmer than I had in a very long time. Bart and I took a brief nap before going back inside for dinner. I ordered a pizza and cheesy bread. Afterwards, I opened a pint of ice cream I bought for such an occasion and parked my butt in front of the television. Bart was proving to be just as easy to handle as I'd hoped. He joined me on the couch and we watched a movie on Netflix.

We had completed a little less than half of it before the doorbell began ringing. This wasn't your normal ringing, however. The person was pushing the button over and over again. It was now well after 5pm and I wasn't aware of anyone visiting that late. I did briefly consider not answering it, but the incessant ringing made me think someone may need help. The woman I encountered on the opposite side of the door had very aggressive body language. I didn't say one word before she tore into me. She demanded to speak to the homeowner. I told her he was at a town on business. It didn't seem wise to let her know when he was to return. She didn't appear to believe me.

As she spoke she grew louder and became visibly angrier. I could feel myself getting increasingly nervous and I did all I could to convince her. Then she began cursing at me, calling me all these things and terrible words I'd rather not repeat here. She had convinced herself that I was the homeowner's new girlfriend. I hadn't noticed until just then, but Bart had walked up behind me. As he became more enraged, he grew more aggressive. The scene quickly became a cacophony of yelling and barking. I could feel a panic attack was on the way. I was completely overwhelmed by all of it.

Bart's booming bark echoed through the hallway. It looked like he would attack her at any moment. And things would only get worse from here. I'm not sure what I said, but it set the woman off, and she lunged at me. Bart reacted by lunging at her. By some miracle, I was able to get the door closed before anyone was hurt. After that, Bart calmed down a bit. He backed away a few feet and sat down, but his eyes stayed glued to the door. I slid down the door and commenced suffering one of the worst panic attacks I've ever experienced. The woman continued screaming and pounding on the door, and I was sure that I was dying. To his credit, Bart stayed where he was and did nothing.

And minutes passed and I was able to get enough control of myself to call the police. The operator did a fantastic job of talking me down. The police arrived and I made it clear that she attempted to assault me. The officers were understanding and took the woman away with them. I'm not sure if he was formally arrested, however. I was still very shaken. I was a heartbeat away from running back home. In any matter, I had to notify the homeowner of what had happened. He was extremely apologetic and begged me not to leave, but against my better judgment, I agreed to stay. Like I said, I tend toward being a people pleaser. Admittedly, leaving Bart alone after he tried to protect me would have been cruel. We finally agreed that my fee would be doubled.

It did feel like extortion and I knew it may affect my reputation, but I'd already decided this would be my last sitting job, so I accepted. I'd need all the money I could get until I found a new job anyway The next two nights were calm and quiet Bart stayed by my side the entire time It made leaving that much harder The homeowner and I had a brief conversation the morning he returned He was still very apologetic and explained what may have caused the situation He and the crazy woman had been dating

But he ended it because of her suspicious and controlling behavior. I didn't inquire any further and I got the impression he was very embarrassed by her. I'd already been paid, so nothing was keeping me around any longer, except for Bart. I bent down and gave my hero a big hug and kiss on the nose. I could already feel the tears welling up. I didn't want to make a scene of myself so I said goodbye and jogged away to my car. That was the worst and the last of my brief career in house sitting.

And I'll miss it for a second and as for Bart, that's a completely different story. We'll be right back. Car making a weird sound? I've got a pro. So who's that pro? The pros at Tread Experts. From tires to auto repair, Tread Experts is always there, helping you with Kumo tires you can trust. Until June 15th, receive up to $60 on a prepaid MasterCard when you purchase Kumo RoadVenture AT52 tires. Find your pro at your local Tread Experts.

From tires to auto repair, we're always there. TreadExperts. From tires to auto repair, we're always there. TreadExperts.ca Before I even get to my story, I want to emphasize the point of me writing this. There was more than enough blame for what happened to go around for all of us. The decision was ours to cut corners. Trusting our mother's home to a stranger was stupid. No one denies that. However, the events that unfolded as a result were 100% not our fault. We did everything society tells us to do. The police were called and their job was to protect my sister. They failed in their job. This is on their hands.

My number one aim is to impress upon you to know that it's important to fully vet any individual before allowing them to access your home. The following story is written to drive home this very important point. At the end of 2019, just before Christmas in fact, my mother passed away from a long-term illness. As I was already married and set up in a home of my own, my mother left her home to my younger sister, Emily. Emily had been renting up until this time. Release had just ended so she moved in until she was sure of what she was going to do with it.

She knew she had my support regardless of her decision. My wife and I threw her a surprise housewarming party for her. At the party, one of Emily's co-workers gave her a kitten as a gift. She'd been unable to have any pets in her apartment. It was love at first sight. The weeks after the party were life as usual for all of us. Emily managed to litter train the kitten and all was going well. Just before Valentine's Day, Emily's employer notified her of a business conference she was required to attend. It was part of her job, and this would be her first trip since she had moved into the new house.

Normally this would be simple, but now, with the kitten, things were a tad more complicated. My family was unable to watch the kitten because of my daughter's allergies. Kenneling was briefly considered until the price was found to be too great. Besides, she didn't like the idea of her precious little angel being locked up for three days. She chose to search on Craigslist for house sitters. An earlier call to her service proved too high also. She found this young girl, around 19, who claimed to be an independent house sitter. They spoke first on

the phone then met at the house so she could look around. The girl seemed kind and professional. After agreeing on an amount, the deal was set. Two weeks later, Emily kissed her kitty goodbye and left for her trip. She checked in the first night and all sounded like it was going well. Two days later, she returned to a nightmare. The clean beautiful home she had left was now scattered with clothes and dirty dishes. When she confronted the girl, the girl got mad and said she wasn't a maid. Things only got worse from there.

My sister was horrified to see that the litter box was full and the kitten had already began going on the floor. Certainly not the poor cat's fault. This infuriated my sister and she refused to pay the girl. An argument broke out and the police were eventually called. They really couldn't do much other than force the girl to leave the property. But the girl was furious. She vowed she'd get back at my sister as she left. This was all said in front of the police but they obviously didn't take the threat seriously. The officer went on their way and my sister began cleaning up the mess inside. A few days passed and Emily tried to put the experience behind her. That Friday, soon after returning from work, a man rang the to put the experience behind her.

That Friday, soon after returning from work, a man rang the doorbell and asked for her. She identified herself and the man began demanding the money owed to the young girl. My sister calmly explained the situation but he only grew more aggressive. Although she was now terrified, she held her ground and refused. This was when the man backhanded her. She fell back and hit her head on the floor. Unfortunately it wasn't done. He approached her and demanded the money again.

My sister, who was clearly concussed, didn't answer so he punched her unconscious. Apparently while she was out, he entered the house and stole all the cash from her purse. By the time she had awakened, he was gone. It took her several minutes to crawl to her phone and call 911. They arrived soon after and she was rushed to the hospital. I'm happy to say that there's no long-term physical injuries but mentally, Emily was a mess. And still is, honestly. To be frank, had I known the identity of the man and his location, I would have killed him. Fortunately, I regained my senses and agreed to leave it in the authorities' hands, despite their inability to prevent it. The responsible

parties were found and arrested within a couple of days. It wasn't some great mystery, after all. The man who assaulted Emily was an ex-boyfriend of the young girl. She had promised him half of the money to retrieve it. The young girl claimed she never intended anyone to be hurt, but her threat in front of witnesses, cops at that, sealed her fate. She managed to get away with probation because she had no priors. Her ex, on the other hand, had a long record. He was given three years. But once the COVID crisis began, he was released early. The entire family was less than happy to hear of the lenient sentences, but criminals getting off easy is nothing new under the sun these days. In the months since the attack, everyone has done their

most to be there for Emily. Her recovery is going well and she seems to be responding to therapy. The lockdowns have proved a blessing for her. She'd been able to heal at a much slower and calm pace. Until restrictions are lifted completely, she'd been approved to work from home. Her little furry friend has served as a priceless companion for her during this terrible time. Although some may say he was the cause of this whole awful mess, I'm glad he's been around to keep her company. When my husband took early retirement in 2002, we started planning a new chapter of our life together. We both had always loved to travel, so that summer the two of us began planning a vacation. Somehow we stumbled upon a house

sitting in a whole new world was open to us. On the surface it sounded amazing. Getting paid to travel and live in a new place each time struck me as heaven. We were both animal lovers too. Taking care of pets seemed to be a big part of the job, so we knew the job had to be made for us. After scouring the internet for related blogs and trading messages with a few people already in the business, we chose to take the plunge. I signed up with a nearby company that places sitters. Our first year was a roller coaster of highs and lows. One or two houses were disgusting. We even had a terrible experience with an angry neighbor. The job I'm about to share was

the most traumatic by far. At least for me. I'd be ill for a good part of 2004 and my husband had to stay with me. When I was finally able to go back to work, we began taking on a heavy workload. The following happened just before we took off for the Christmas holiday. Our next placement came up and we did what we usually do, visit the property and meet the pets we'll be taking care of, and everything looked great. The house was beautiful and clean, the dog was friendly and well behaved. We accepted and returned a week later. All was well for the majority of our stay. The house was set up on a hill with a beautiful view. We'd spend our evenings out on the deck watching the sunset. It was one of the best jobs we'd had

to date. Then, it all went south in the blink of an eye. One sunny afternoon, we decided to take our furry little host on a walk. The weather had been unseasonably warm and it seemed the perfect day for it. About fifteen minutes into our journey we came upon a neighborhood at the base of the hill. The houses all looked nice, some had been decorated for the coming holiday, we had no reason to suspect anything bad would happen. The two of us walked about halfway up the first street, taking in the decorations, and all of a sudden, I hear a cacophony of growling and screeching. I look down and see another dog was attacking our client's dog. I was so shocked it

took me a second to grasp the situation. I'd had no indication the dog was around us before that moment. I tried my hardest to pull the poor fella away from his attacker but it did no good. My husband had a stick he'd found and began walking with it, a habit I often teased him about. He started swinging it at the attacking dog. After a few good whacks the dog stopped its assault and turned toward him. He didn't wait to be attacked himself. He struck the dog five or six times before it had enough and ran off.

The actual attack only lasted 30 seconds at most, but the damage was severe. Our client's dog had deep gashes and punctures across its back and neck. The amount of blood was horrific. Somehow I kept my head. I cradled the poor guy in my arms as we fled back toward the house. My husband remained behind me to keep watch for the attacking dog just in case it returned. By the time we made it back I was awash in blood. I wasn't sure our poor friend was going to survive much longer. While my husband searched for animal hospitals I tried to stem the blood

with towels. We quickly had an emergency vet on the phone and he told us to hurry in. The clinic was luckily only a few miles away and the poor creature was whisked off to surgery immediately upon arrival. It wasn't until the moment I was able to relax that I realized the bigger problem. There was a dangerous dog running loose around a well populated area. What if it was rabid or attacked a child? I frantically called 911 and told them of the attack and impending risk. A pair of officers showed up at the clinic around 15 minutes later and took our statements. They assured us that animal control was out searching for the animal at that moment and they'd let us know when they caught him. When the officers had left I finally tried to clean myself up a little.

One of the vet techs was nice enough to give me a scrub top to wear. My shirt went directly into the trash and I washed off as much as possible in the restroom sink. Nothing was left to do but wait after that. Around 5pm we finally got the news. Our client's dog had made it through the surgery. Although very deep, none of the wounds had damaged any major arteries. Barring any post-surgical infection, it looked like he'd survive. My relief was great, but not enough to erase the trauma of the situation. It's taken a good few years for me to be able

to trust another person's dog again. Even now I get nervous when I see a dog off leash. It took two days before anyone had any information and we were finally notified the day before our client was due to return. The dog had been located that same afternoon. Happily, no one else had been attacked. I was kind of sad the dog had been euthanized. Stupid, I know. I guess I'm just a big softy and I understand though. A few weeks later, we were happy to learn that the rabies test had come back negative. Our biggest test was the following day. I was sure that this incident would be the undoing of our sitting career. We both expected the homeowner to blame us for what had happened, but he was surprisingly understanding.

He was of course concerned for his beloved pet, but appeared just as worried about us. The experience turned out to be a positive one. We house sat for him several more times after this. Those occasions were much less eventful than the first. Our furry friend, Jack, made a full recovery and lived another seven years before passing away in his sleep. Sadly for us, my husband and I have gotten too old to do the house sitting now. We finally called it quits in 2017. During our time in the business, we had many and varied experiences, but the worst by far had to be that day. It may have all worked out in the business, we had many and varied experiences, but the worst by far had to be that day.

It may have all worked out in the end, but I'd rather it would have never happened at all, and I'm sure Jack story specifically as an example of what not to do when you are seeking reliable help. To begin, this was 2018. A well-loved member of our family passed suddenly. An already stressful situation was made worse because of the funeral's distant location. We would have to fly if we wanted to arrive on time. Both my wife and I called multiple boarding businesses but they were all booked up. We then switched course and sought out house sitters. At some point in the search, a neighbor volunteered their son for the job. The boy had always been respectful and appeared trustworthy on the surface. I had my reservations but time was running out. It would only be 3 days

max. I didn't think he could mess up much in such a short time. We agreed on a price and the family began packing for the trip. Before we set out, I made sure to leave a note for the boy reminding him of his responsibilities and the location of everything he'd need. I then tried to focus on being there for my family. We arrived in town for the funeral and things went as well as could be expected. My uncle and I had been very close during the course of my growing up. He was the kind of guy you could count on in hard times. Without him, many of us felt somewhat lost. My aunt probably more so than myself and during our two and a half days away,

I didn't receive any calls or messages. I generally take this as a good sign, but I should have known better. What we would discover upon our return was not only shocking, but an honest-to-goodness lesson on who you should trust. By the time we all arrived back in town, I wanted nothing more than to get home and relax. It was just after 9am when we pulled into the driveway. Everything looked normal from the outside. It was the inside 9am when we pulled into the driveway. Everything looked normal from the outside. It was the inside that drove me over the edge. The moment I stepped inside the door, the acrid sweet smell of booze and vomit hit me. The kitchen itself was trashed. Dishes were stacked over the edge of the sink. Empty and half empty liquor bottles covered the counters. I was already

starting to get angry. Then I smelled the stale cigarette smoke. I despise nothing more than cigarettes. My grandfather was a chain smoker from the time I can remember and I had to watch him slowly die because of it. In the living area I encountered three young males sleeping. One was the boy, I say boy although he was nearing 17 at the time, who I left in charge of the home. I shook him awake. Rather than appearing scared, he calmly wished me a good morning. This made me even more livid. Had I been 20 years younger, I may have struck him. I did however verbally unload upon him. At first, I demanded an

explanation, but quickly realized nothing would justify the state of the house. The other two boys were now awake. I yelled for all of them to get out. My wife could tell I was very upset and she attempted to reel me back a little. In retrospect, I'm now glad she was there. I can't recall a time I've ever been so angry. My temper is not something I'm proud of. Losing control of my emotions in any way is not something I want my children to see. The boys slowly pulled their things together and left, but it wasn't over just yet. My daughter noticed our lab, Roscoe hadn't greeted us when we arrived. While I made sure the boys left, our kids began

searching the house for him. When my daughter went into her room, she not only found Roscoe, but her cat, Midnight, locked in the bedroom with him. It was obvious they had been there for a whole day at least. They had both soiled the carpet more than once. These are both older, housebroken animals who haven't had an accident since they were very young. I could feel myself boiling over. The stupid little boy hadn't even left them with a source of water or food. After all I'd seen, I had to contact the boy's father. Rather than being apologetic, he tried to stand up for him. He even gave me the boys will be boys line. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Weren't there any responsible parents left in the world? I proceeded to go on a tirade which

ended with me hanging up. Now I knew where the boy got his careless attitude. My kids dealt with the animals while I began the arduous task of cleaning the house. The angel that she is, my wife told me to go away and relax for a few hours. My pride told me not to but I knew she was correct. It did take a while but I was eventually able to cool off enough to fall asleep. When I awoke a few hours later it was almost as if it had never happened. The stench had all but disappeared. I'm still not sure how she did it and the house was just as clean as we had left it. Roscoe greeted me the way he always does and my beautiful wife gave me a cheerful kiss on the lips.

In a matter of hours, things were all right in the world again. Yet, I'll never forget. When they say you get what you pay for, it is true 99% of the time. I knew I should have hired a professional. Somehow, I let an acquaintance convince me to do him a favor. Not only was I guilted into it, he exploited my lack of time and tendency towards excessive frugality. The deal was just too good to turn down and you know what they say about that too. The one lesson I'm hoping to teach everyone who reads this, listen to your instincts. They exist for a reason. We as animals or whatever learn from experiences and they inform

our future actions. I'll include one more as it may be more important than the other. Hire professionals whenever possible. They usually know what they're doing and if they aren't trustworthy, they don't tend to last too long in the business. Don't let your friends or family hook you up with a deal or tell you they're just as good. Learn from my mistake. No one ever regrets hiring the right person for the job. I'm sorry. Last September I went on a few dates with a guy I met on Hinge and at first we really hit it off. He was charming, intelligent, respectful and well, we sort of fell into bed after the second date then ended up spending a few weekends together. I know I shouldn't have let him on like that,

but lockdown had me feeling really, really lonely. Couple that with the fact that I'd been working in COVID wards all summer and I had a serious backlog of stress to relieve. But when I had a bit more clarity, shall we say, I decided it just wouldn't have worked with the guy. He was almost 10 years younger, was just starting off a career, and thanks to the religious differences, introducing my parents would have been murder. So, around the middle of October,

I bit the bullet and broke it off with him. To say he took it badly would be an understatement. He basically refused to accept it and kept trying to change my mind with long rambling texts for almost a whole week afterward. I told him we could be friends but in the end I just ghosted him and by Halloween weekend it seemed he'd finally taken the hint. Cut to Friday the 30th the night before Halloween. I was on my way home from work, driving through Manchester city center and as I pull into the garage of my flats, I see someone stood across the road wearing some kind of monster mask. Not entirely unusual as there were lots of people walking around wearing costumes on Halloween themed nights out, etc.

My flat happened to look over the part of the street where this person was stood, with two big glass windows leading to a little balcony. So when I finally get in, I walk over to the window to see if the person is still there. They were, still wearing their werewolf mask, and it almost looked like they were looking up at my flat. Bearing in mind that this person is completely alone and just standing there still as a statue. Weird but again nothing to freak out about. It was that time of the year. Then as I'm changing into my comfies and making a cup of tea a pretty horrible idea pops into my head. What if the guy outside was the one I'd

just broken it off with? What if he'd taken the whole thing so badly that he decided he wanted to, I don't know, teach me a lesson? The thought actually made my blood run cold for a second and with a grim curiosity, I walked back over to the window and took a look outside. My heart sank when I saw the person was still there, not moving, and although the mask did make it difficult to see what exactly they were looking at, it looked an awful lot like they were just staring up at my window. I then realized that I was in a bit of a predicament. I could text the guy, ask him if he was in Manchester, but that might mean he just misinterpreted it and I'd be bombarded with texts and calls again. Considering the guy wasn't doing anything wrong, I decided to just leave it.

Just because someone was acting weird didn't mean it was all about me. So, after telling myself to stop being so narcissistic, I just tried to relax and enjoy my Friday evening. About an hour later, I'd ordered food, so once I got the ding that it had arrived, I went down to the lobby to pick it up. I open up the door, take my dinner, tip the driver, and I'm just about to shut the door again when I see the same masked stranger stood in the exact same spot on just about to shut the door again when I see the same masked stranger stood in the exact same spot on the opposite side of the road. I'm trying to keep calm and telling myself to stop being paranoid but

just as I'm about to bite into my food, someone buzzes my flat. I have one of those phone handset things you can talk to people at the front door with so I pick it up and say hello, only to be greeted with silence on the other end. I think someone might have just buzzed the wrong number, rang it, and run away as a prank. That happened way more than you'd think, the perils of living in flat number 01. So I hang up. But then the buzzer rings again and when I pick up, I can blatantly hear breathing on the other end. Ticked off, I slam the handset down, march out onto the balcony of my flat,

and look over the edge to where I could look down at the front doors. And there he is, Mr. Wolfman Mask, stood right in front of my building's buzzer panel. He was there for me, and like I said, I had a bloody good idea of who it was. I remember when I shot it down at him, four angry syllables echoing around the street. Leave me alone. The Wolfman looked up at me, then sprinted off round a corner, then I walked back inside, grabbed my phone and texted the guy I'd just broken it off with. Try anything like that again and I'm calling the police, I wrote, then immediately called my sister back in Yorkshire to tell her every little detail.

The conversation probably went a lot like you can imagine. Me complaining about this clingy, bloody psycho or his sympathizing and advising me to call the police next time he tries anything. Me and my sister can stay on the phone for hours at a time just rabbiting away and that's exactly what we did for a while after. I can't even describe how much her voice made me feel that bit safer. And then about an hour and a half into our chat I get an incoming call from the guy I was dating so I tell my sister I'm gonna rag him

before giving her a call back. I answer the phone then basically launch into him about how if I thought he was going to be such an idiot about it I'd never have gone out with him in the first place, and that if he tries calling at my flat again, in a bloody mask, like some psychopath, I'd be reporting him to the police. At first he was just gobsmacked, like, you what? What do you want about, girl? And I totally mistook that for him being on the back foot because I'd rumbled his horrible little scheme. But then he goes on to swear that it wasn't him. Again, I call him out, calling him a liar and asking who else would be stalking me wearing a freaking Halloween mask. He used to talk about how much he loved horror films, so I thought that this was a dead giveaway. Then right while he's insisting

it wasn't him and that he's not even in the city center, someone starts knocking at my door. I wasn't really thinking straight at the time so I put the phone on my shoulder, walked towards my front door and called out, hello? I could still hear the guy I was seeing making his case on the other end of the phone, but from the other side of the door, clear as day, I hear a man's voice saying, Trick or treat. I just froze. If I had the guy I'd been dating on the phone, who was this person at my door, and how did they get into my block of flats? I get that same sinking feeling as I look through the peephole of my front door,

only to see that that same werewolf mask was staring back at me. You know how people say things like, I was so scared I could hear my heartbeat in my ears? I'd never known what that meant until that moment. This feeling of terror just ebbed up in my chest And then I could hear it Thump, thump, thump Then I just reacted Hanging up the call with the guy and calling 999

I couldn't stop my voice from shaking as I spoke to the operator And when I confirmed a few preliminary details I shouted so the man in the mask could hear few preliminary details, I shouted so the man in the mask could hear me through the door. I've got the police on the phone. I suggest you leave before they turn up. Their response was simply to punctuate their next few words with bangs on my front door. Trick or Treat All I could think to do was hide in my laundry cupboard and beg the police dispatcher to send whoever she could as fast as she could.

I was absolutely terrified whoever was outside would break in and find me. Then all I'd be able to do would be able to hold the laundry cupboard door shut with my legs. When he finally began to try to break down my door, I burst into tears. The dispatcher promised me that the police were on their way, but all I could think was, it's going to be too late. By the time they get here, it'll be too late and I might not even be alive to see it. The whole time the guy I'd been dating was trying to call me back, so every few seconds I'd have to decline the call to stay on the phone with the 999 operator. I know that's a weird detail to bring up, but it was honestly the perfect way to exacerbate

an already horrific situation. At this point I feel like I should address something obvious. Some of you might be asking, if she's in a block of flats, why aren't the neighbors doing anything? Surely they can hear all the commotion. Well, without giving away too much personal info, the Manchester City Centre flats I live in have only two large apartments on each floor and each set of apartments is locked off from the main stairwell with a keypad. Apparently a big part of luxury apartments is soundproofing and privacy, because only one person could have known what was happening to me,

my neighbor in flat 2. And apparently, they either weren't home, or were too scared to intervene, thinking it was domestic or something, I don't know. Either way, no one from my building was coming to help me and I knew it. And then, literally when things can't get any worse, the dispatcher tells me that the police have arrived, but that they can't get into the building without a key. The buzz in my apartment, but I'm still in the laundry cupboard with the guy trying to smash through my front door. I try to time it so I can jump out of my apartment, run to the intercom thing, and buzz them in, all without the guy breaking in and catching me vulnerable. But if anyone deserves a thank you, aside from the police officers to respond, of course, it's whoever made my flat's front door.

Because the guy outside went ballistic on that thing, and it barely even cracked. I can barely describe the relief I felt when I suddenly heard the police announcing themselves. The thudding on my door suddenly stopped, and the next thing I heard, a pained yelp as they tackled him. I'm just guessing all that because when I opened the door, two police had the guy pinned to the floor and were in the process of handcuffing him. I'm just guessing all that because when I opened the door, two police had the guy pinned to the floor and were in the process of handcuffing him. What followed was weirdly like a scene from Scooby-Doo, you know where the baddie's mask comes off at the end and they all recognize him as like the disgruntled janitor or whatever. Except in my case, the police pulled the guy's monster mask off but I didn't recognize him at all. And given that I didn't know him, I couldn't imagine why he might have targeted me in

such a way. It wasn't until early this year that I found out who he was and why he was targeting me. Like I said, I didn't recognize the guy but I had met him before. The reason I didn't recognize him was because he didn't have a ventilator on. When the police had gone through his phone during the course of their investigation, they'd found numerous pictures of a nurse, pictures he'd obviously taken without her being aware. Those pictures were of me. I treated him back in April of 2020, one of literally hundreds of patients we'd had that month, and the visual difference between a dying patient and a relatively healthy person is night and day in some cases. He could have come up and introduced himself and I wouldn't know him from Adam.

When they arrested the guy and got him back to the station, the police found that he was in possession of a knife, plastic zip ties, and emergency contraceptive pills. Hearing about that last part made my head spin. Like I actually struggle to comprehend how evil a person has to be to plan that kind of thing out, to consider the consequences and plan accordingly. The guy is still on remand awaiting trial, so I doubt there will be anything in the news about it until the verdict has come through. The whole thing has been on my mind a lot more since it's coming up on the anniversary. It feels horrible using that word, but I suppose that's exactly what it is.

And with that other murder in the UK news right now, it feels like it's happening more and more. Like the pandemic kinda squashed that kinda crime for a while, but now these psychos feel like they've got catching up to do. Maybe that's just me being slightly hysterical, but as my sister said, can you honestly blame me? I just hope the verdict goes my way, and a predator like that is taken off the streets for a long, long time. But the reality is, he'll probably be free to offend again, much sooner than any of us would feel comfortable with. 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, UFC Gold Blitz. Make instant deposits or same-day withdrawals. Download the BetMGM Ontario app today.

Visit BetMGM.com for terms and conditions. 19 plus to wager Ontario only. Please gamble responsibly. If you have questions or concerns about gambling or someone close to you, please contact Connex Ontario at 1-866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge. BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with iGaming Ontario. This happened like 12 years ago now,

and this is my friend's story, but it's legit one of the most frightening things I've ever heard so it'll fit well in this thread. Back when my best friend was in college she ended up going to an off-campus Halloween party with a few of her sorority sisters. It's there she had a chance meeting with a girl who claimed to have gone to summer camp with her back when she was like 13. The girl seemed to remember a bunch of stuff about my friend's life. Stuff she was halfway to totally forgetting, so the way she explains it, it was kind of freaky but nice to

catch up with someone from so many years ago. They have some drinks, smoke a little, but nothing heavier than that. Yet still, within like an hour of being at the party, my friend starts feeling out of it. Like this half-nauseous, half-exhausted feeling where all she wanted to do was go back home to bed. Her new friend calls her an Uber, then walks her down to make sure she gets in it properly. All pretty cool of her, at first glance only. She said she woke up sometime later and totally didn't recognize her surroundings. She wasn't in her sorority house, she wasn't back at her parents' place, and she was still in a really bad way. She puked up all over herself and she couldn't find her phone or purse or

any of her personal belongings. She then rolled off some dirty old couch in her room with just bare mattresses on the floor, then walks to the door and opens it which is when she hears two people talking to another room. She recognized one voice as the girl she'd met at the Halloween party but she didn't recognize the other and it was a guy's voice. She said that as she walked towards where their voices were coming from, she noticed it was still dark out which kind of freaked her out because she said she'd felt like she'd slept for hours. Then as she's walking towards the voices, she begins to hear what they're talking about and it wasn't good. The guy was talking about how they could move her now and you don't

know enough about her and it definitely sounded like he and the girl she'd met were arguing. The girl started talking about how she's perfect, no one will miss her. Then my friend walks in and asks them who they're talking about and that time she didn't know that it was only those three in the apartment but it soon dawned on her that it must have been her that they were referring to. My friend starts asking what they meant and they totally change the subject and pretend that they weren't even arguing. Then the girl suggests she goes back to the couch to get some more sleep. She doesn't even acknowledge the puke on her or the fact that she might need to go to the hospital if she just blacked

out from some alcohol. Naturally, the friend starts getting really, really suspicious about the whole thing. Like even though she felt like death warmed up, it was obvious how bad the vibes were in that dingy little apartment. So she starts looking around for her phone and purse but again she can't find them. She then asks the girl where her stuff is and the girl won't tell her. She had to threaten to call the cops before the girl returned any of her stuff and she didn't even hang around to call a taxi. She just wanted out of there. She didn't tell us about this for a long time and when she did it was from an I think these people tried to rob me perspective. But the more I think about it, the more I think it wasn't just an opportunistic robbery of a drunk girl. I think, and hear me out, that my friend almost got

trafficked. I asked her to think about one solid memory of the girl she'd met from camp, and she didn't have one. I then asked my friend if it was possible that the girl could have guessed the stuff about her, or not exactly guessed, I think the girl was using cold reading. I think the girl pretended to know her so she could get close enough to spike her drink with some kind of muscle relaxant or something. Getting spiked would explain why she'd felt like she had a stomach flu for like 24 hours after, as well as obviously accounting for a blackout. Then, there's the state of the apartment she woke up in. I don't think that there were a pair of slobs living there. I think that was some kind of holding facility, where girls are

kept before they're moved on to other places, maybe even other countries. Finally, if she really did hear the pair talking right, move her referred to moving her out of state so she wouldn't be found any easier, but didn't know enough about her. I'm not sure what they meant there. Maybe the idea was to find girls from broken homes or whatever. They hadn't realized that she was a college student or anything. As for the she won't be missed comment, I'm not sure how they could have come to that conclusion. Maybe the girl just wanted to be paid for finding and drugging someone, while the guy knew they had to be more careful. I get a lot of this is purely theory of mine but it's something I've been obsessed with

for quite some time. I've gone over it, analyzed the facts over and over again. Every single time I come to the same theory. Those people were part of a human trafficking ring operating around the Pacific Northwest, possibly over the border in British Columbia too. And to those who might suggest it, I don't believe my friend, my best friend in the world, would ever make something like that up. We won't pursue it and she won't pursue it because she's scared of what she might find, not because she's lying.

So please, until I can get more information together on this thing, and trust me when I say I'm trying, please be careful around bars and parties around the Pacific Northwest. Because there are people out there, people you'd never expect, and they want to turn your life into a living nightmare. All for a few hundred bucks. Okay, this happened way back when I was a kid, maybe 6 or 7 years old, so if I can't remember everything exactly how it happened, forgive me, I'm just getting across the gist of it. So it's Halloween in the early 1980s, and me and my little brother went over to a neighborhood friend's house after trick-or-treating. The plan was to stay overnight

and enjoy our Halloween candy over some child-friendly movies. I think we watched The Dark Crystal on VHS if memory serves. Everything went well and we all went to sleep up in our buddy's room, totally carefree. Then, in the middle of the night, we're all woken up by his dad who seemed to be in some kind of panic. Our buddy lived alone with his dad after his mom passed away a few years earlier. It was a real sad story. So it was literally just him and his dad and although he didn't admit to anything wrong, we kids could just tell something bad was happening. And believe it or not, the fact that it was late on Halloween night made the whole thing even scarier. Our buddy's dad then bundles us all up into his car and we take

off way faster than any car I'd been in before. I still remember hearing the screech the tires made and thinking, oh man, we must be going really fast. Again, definitely not good on my nerves when I was already half asleep and panicking. It wasn't until the fact that we'd driven for a good few minutes that our buddy's dad spoke up. He said something like, Kids, I need you to be calm, but I won't lie to you. Some bad men broke into the house just then, and I think they might be following us. We were like eight and six years old, dude, so we just lost our absolute minds hearing that, wailing and screaming, calling out for our parents, all the while our buddy's dad just keeps revving his engine and

driving as fast as he could. My buddy kept asking him, dad who's following us? Please, who's following us? His dad just kept responding with, I don't know. And I swear I can still remember the fear in his voice to this day. To kids, grown-ups are supposed to be the fearless, jaded masters of the surroundings, so seeing one scared sure does hit different. We're already in a state of absolute frenzied terror in the backseat, when out of nowhere, my buddy's dad must have looked in his rear view or something because he just screams, Oh God, they're behind us! Again, Hugh Moore high-pitched screeching from the backseat. I remember that all I could really do was hug my little brother and tell him I loved him.

He was screaming so hard he was forgetting to breathe and I honestly remember being worried that he'd like die of fright or something. But eventually we all hear the announcement of, I think we lost him. We all managed to calm down a little after that. I can't remember how long we drove for after that, I do remember we stopped at a gas station somewhere just outside of town. The dad didn't drive up to the pumps like the other drivers though. He drove around back where it was all dark and told us wait here until I come back before promptly locking us in the car. We waited patiently for a little while, emphasis on little though because it didn't take long before we started to worry

about the bad people, whoever they were, finding us in the car, all alone, away from our buddy's dad. That motivated us to get out of the car before anyone bad showed up, and this was also back when you could unlock a car door with those little switch thingies they built into the door, and since we were young and not dumb, we were able to get out of the car. So then me, my little brother, and my buddy all walk around to the pumps hoping to find his dad. We look everywhere, even in the little store where you go to pay, but he was nowhere to be seen. Naturally, we assumed the bad man had gotten him, and that we're going to be lost forever in some strange place, which once again prompts a freak out. This freak out then obviously attracts the attention of people standing around and one of

them must have flagged down a cop car or something because the next thing I know, there's a state trooper pointing at us like, oh my god, it's them. Get em. We hear that get em like an aggressive get em, you know? And since we're already supposed to be on the lookout for people who wanted to get us, well, you see where this is going. We bolted away from the cop, assuming the worst, and ran back towards the empty car. As you can imagine, the cops quickly catch up to us, grab us up, and take us over to the patrol car. They take us home to our parents which was

confusing to say the least because we had this idea that they were going to take us to jail. When the cop dropped me off back home I remember my mom comforting me while the cop talked to my dad about something and a very watered down version of that was relayed to me the next morning. I was told that my buddy's dad was not feeling very well and that there was no real bad men chasing us the night before. They said this guy had a sickness in his mind that made him see and hear things that weren't real but they seem it, almost like the way a movie seems real. Being 8 years old, all this info just blew me away. I had no idea what schizophrenia was back then, and try explaining some clinical diagnosis to someone who barely understands math yet. But still, I'm glad they put that kind of gentle spin on it because even as an adult,

I find the idea pretty horrifying. According to my mom and dad, the neighbor guy was perfectly normal until he lost his wife, but apparently the grief was so intense that it started him on his sharp downward spiral, one I don't think he ever really recovered from. I know he ended up in a psychiatric care somewhere and that our buddy went to live out of state with some relatives but Other than that, I don't really know too much about what became of them Maybe I'll look the guy up on Facebook, my old buddy I mean, see if he lives nearby I don't think I'll remind him of that Halloween though because, God, if I'd rather not be reminded of it

Lord knows he'll want to just forget all about it. I run a Halloween supply store here in Minnesota and on Halloween I had an employee call in sick on the most important day in her sales calendar. You guessed it, October 31st. They're a trusted, hardworking, loyal employee so I didn't hold it against them in the slightest but I won't lie, I was a little irritated when I had to cancel my day off and drive down to the store to pick up the slack. But hey, such are the troubles of being the boss so I just told her to take as much time as she needed and that I'd fill in for her around the store. I planned on making it to the store before 11am but truth be told I couldn't arrive until around the afternoon and even then I barely made it there at all because the journey resulted

in one of the most frightening things I've ever been unfortunate to bear witness to. So like I said, it's Saturday morning and I'm driving down the interstate in the middle lane. I casually glance up into my rear view and I do a double take when I realize some car is literally zooming down the highway and now on my butt. The car then changes lanes and catches up with me pretty quick, only when it draws level with me, I look over and see some lady banging on the passenger window with this look of terror on her face. I thought it might have been a prank at first, but it was either a Golden Globe quality performance or something terrible was happening to that woman.

I sped up to them and the girl noticed me again and this started her off screaming, only this time I can clearly make out her shouting the words help me through the glass. I decided that I couldn't just let it go, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I found out something happened to her so I positioned myself behind them so I could follow the car as best I could and pulled out my cell phone to dot 911. I know I shouldn't have been using it while driving but as the cop explained to me afterward I did exactly the right thing. They pulled people over for texting or chatting, not when there's a legitimate emergency to attend to. And in this case, the legit emergency was the

fact that the driver had one hand on the wheel and was using his free hand to beat the life out of this girl in the passenger seat, the same one begging for help. But anyway, this guy must have seen me with my phone to my ear in his rear view because all of a sudden, he guns his engine and tears off down the highway so fast I could barely keep up. But when I did, he moved over in front of me and came to a complete stop. At that point, I didn't know if he had a gun or what, so I just played it safe, went around him and exited the highway. Where I was positioned, I knew the guy wouldn't be able to drive over the overpass without me seeing his car but even so, after I got back on the road, he totally managed to shake me off his tail.

Thankfully though by that point it was way too late for him and the cops had enough info to find him and pull him over. I only know this because I ended up passing the car and the cop car that pulled it over and in a split second I saw the guy being held down by a cop to be cuffed. I come to find out through local news that the guy in question was the girl's ex and was in the process of basically kidnapping her before driving her to god knows where to do god knows what. It was very scary following them, not just because of what I was seeing but because at some point I was speeding close to 100 miles per hour just to keep up with the guy's vehicle, hence why I said I almost never made it to my store at all. It was definitely worth it though, because like I said, that guy might have been about to do something really bad to that girl, and I'm just glad I got to be moving out of the apartment I lived alone in.

I had spent the previous few days moving my stuff out and by Halloween I only had a few of the heaviest items left over in a closet. Having cleared out the closet almost fully I noticed a serious damage to the interior wall hidden behind an ironing board that I never used, I brought my own. A huge chunk of it was missing and there was some drywall on the closet floor. I got nervous because I knew I might lose my deposit so I decided to try and address the issue before my landlady came over to inspect the apartment. After moving everything out of the way I noticed that the space in the wall fell down into what I assumed was the same closet but in the apartment underneath me. I knew right away that it was mice or rats because I've seen them do this exact same thing before, those hungry little idiots eat through anything and everything. Next, I got a flashlight to look down to see if there was a bunch of mice down there

and if I needed to call in an exterminator or something. Annoying, sure, but better than losing my deposit entirely. So I stuck my head in the hole and shone the light only to find it was completely free of any signs of vermin. No droppings, no mice, no gnawing marks, but there was one thing I noticed that was definitely out of place, and that was the small ladder in there leading up to my closet. So I freaked out quietly and turned off the flashlight, my head spinning from wondering what I had just uncovered. I saw some light being cast into the

space from the lower floor and I saw a shadow move, as though someone was standing there and then moved when I turned the light off. I yanked the ladder out, actually damaging the wall even more in the process. I then ran out of my apartment and across the street to a Denny's parking lot, where I swiftly called the cops on my cell phone while I watched my apartment for any signs of intruders. As soon as I hung up, I saw the blinds in my window kind of open for a few seconds and then close again. I knew it. There was someone in my apartment and they must have gotten in through that hole in the apartment below me. But it raised the question, who was living below me and why were they trying to tunnel into my apartment? The cops arrived within a half hour,

I let them into the apartment and who's hanging around in there but my neighbor from directly below me. Over the next few weeks I come to discover that he hadn't left his apartment in almost three whole years as a result of developing an acute case of paranoid schizophrenia. Apparently this night wasn't even the first time he'd visited my apartment when I was out. I remember noticing white gray flecks or powder around the apartment from time to time. I thought it was the stucco ceiling flaking off because the place was so old and there was never any obvious trail back to the closet. But I know now for certain that he got drywall on himself when going through the hole. I also strongly suspect he swept up after himself or at least

covered his tracks in some other way. Otherwise, I'd surely have noticed the intrusions much sooner. Another time, I closed the blinds before going out on a hot day to keep the place from getting stuffy and came back to them being open. That must have really clued me into what was going on, but I have this way of of doubting myself like, did I shut the blinds? But the worst part is I remember hearing crying and wailing sounds coming from my closet as far back as a year before I moved out. Long wails that would start and stop in the middle of the night. Piecing those pieces together and realizing why I could hear them so clearly, nothing to do with thin floorboard at all,

that really gave me the creeps for a long time afterward. I think their paranoia clearly rubbed off on me a little because when I moved into my next apartment, I pretty much scoured the place for any subtle entry points or any other structural weaknesses. I still love Halloween time. Spirits and demons and monsters are all scary enough, but they'll never be as scary as real people can be. To be continued... 911 dispatcher and I recently was asked a pretty interesting question regarding our busiest days of the year. Well, let me tell you. There's no exact rhyme or reason to emergency calls. They're as random and varied as the people calling in.

But I will tell you this. Weekends are noticeably busier and two particular days of the year are ones we come to dread. The 4th of July because beer and fireworks don't mix, and Halloween. I don't know what it is about Halloween that makes people go crazy, could be the alcohol or the sugar overload from all the candy, but there's a definite spike every year, especially when Halloween falls on a weekend. So, I think it was either 2014 or 15, but Halloween fell on a Saturday and if I'd have known what would be in store for me, I probably would have just taken a sick day. The first was the guy who called sounding incredibly drunk, slurring his words,

talking really slow, couldn't remember basic stuff about where he lived, that kind of thing. Only through the course of the call I discovered that, no, this guy isn't drunk. He just seems that way because he'd shot himself in the head and survived. Even now, I don't know whether it was, you know, him attempting to take his own life or just an accident, but the moment of realization, imagining what he must have looked like, I had trouble sleeping after that shift, just to put it that way. Oh, and sadly, he was dead by the time EMTs got there. I thought he might have gone quiet because he was looking out for the ambulance, but

no, must have just passed away while I was talking to him. Later that night came the call from a girl who'd apparently been followed home after attending a college party. As she'd gotten home, someone had basically pushed through her door behind her as she unlocked it. When he left, it was safe to do so and she called 911 and got me. I still remember the way she screamed when she heard knocking on her door again. I had to yell at her to try to make her understand it was the police and not the guy coming back. It was horrifying to think that just a few hours before, this girl could have been the happiest, most carefree college girl in the country. Then all it took was one evil waste of

life and she was completely traumatized. But by far the worst call I got that day, the one that happened almost right at the start of my shift, from the 15 year old kid who'd arrived home to find that his father had hung himself. I had to basically talk him through the process of finding out if he was cold and if he wasn't, I'd have to instruct him to try to cut his own hanging father down, all while this poor kid is literally just losing his mind from the horror of it. A few minutes later, the kid stops answering my questions and the dispatcher next to me gets the emergency call from the neighbor saying they don't know

what's going on, but there's a kid standing in the street just screaming. I think about that poor kid a lot, and I absolutely detest his father for doing that to him, when he knew his son would be the one who'd find him. As I said, there's very little in the way of patterns that emerge when working dispatch, but trust me, there are one or two days that never fail to amaze you with how messed up people can be and Halloween is definitely one of them. To be continued... 2017 that our four-year-old son introduced us to Blue Mommy. He had learned to talk about six months prior, but it was mostly just nonsense talk for a while. That is, until he introduced us to Blue Mommy. At first, we figured it was just an imaginary friend or something, or like a way to make me jealous by claiming he had two mommies. We weren't entirely sure. But it was only when we began to ask more about Blue Mommy that me and my husband started to get a little creeped out.

According to him, Blue Mommy was almost exactly like me in every way, except for a few key differences. Blue Mommy has all blue skin with long dark hair and all white eyes. We knew that because we asked him to draw her for us one time. Blue Mommy also picked him out of his crib at night and then turned off all the lights without ever having to touch any of the switches. And the thing that really got our attention was when he told us that Blue Mommy's arms and head are covered in bandages because she has a lot of boo-boos. And for those of you that are

unaware, boo-boo is what we called any kind of graze or cut. He added that Blue Mommy never, ever smiles, but we later determined this was because she had no mouth. He also told us that Blue Mommy could take her head off and it would still talk like there was nothing wrong. It also happened to be the case that Blue Mommy really didn't like Daddy. And the way our son said it with this big, wide smile was honestly one of the creepiest things I'd ever heard. He told us all this stuff for maybe a year or a little more and then suddenly just stopped. If we ever asked where she was, our son would always point to the same spot, a corner of the room behind his open closet door. He would also wake up crying almost every night during this time and once during a really rough night, my husband went in to ask

him what was wrong and his answer was, blue mommy won't let me sleep. Obviously, this was greatly concerning for us, and me and my husband took him to a variety of child psychologists and therapists who thankfully assured us that his behavior was perfectly normal for a boy his age. Some kids have an overactive imagination, only they can't distinguish between what's real and things they've just made up. So as much as there really was no such thing as Blue Mommy, and I won't have a bunch of cranks telling me it was a ghost or whatever, it didn't mean our son wasn't actually suffering in some way. Thankfully he grew out of the habit, like I might have mentioned, and we moved on to the next child-rearing hurdle that faced us.

We laughed about it these days and say stuff like, you know how kids say the funniest things? Well, I was headed to a Halloween party, purely wholesome I assure you, with another kid and her mom. I remember this really vividly, but that Captain and Tennille song, Love Will Keep Us Together was on the radio and me and my friend were singing along to it. I couldn't listen to that song for a long, long time after that night. It just brought back the worst memories. I mean, panic attack level anxiety, and this is why.

So at some point in the journey, I can't possibly decide why she thought this would be a good idea, but she decided to race a transit train, hoping to get across the tracks before the train stopped traffic. I remember the moment we stopped singing and realized what she was trying to do. She gunned the car and my heart began to just pound in my chest. I was thinking, no way, she's not, she can't. But she did. Me and my friends are in the back seat actually screaming out no as we got closer and closer to the tracks. All the while we can hear Tony Tennille singing I will, I will, I will be there to share forever.

Such a happy song, but now it just reminds me of this intense fear of death. Thankfully, the train didn't exactly hit us. It was more like she hit the train, but it still did a lot of damage. Luckily, because I was in the backseat, I was injured the least, but I was still pretty messed up from it. I had a pointy piece of metal pierced through my jeans and flesh until it hit bone. Had she been a second faster, the train would have hit us side on and killed us all. I think these days she would have been charged with something, maybe CPS would have gotten involved too, but back then it was just labeled an accident and nothing came of it. Could be because she and her daughter were so badly hurt, like they both suffered broken bones, concussions, you name it. Kind of sad really, but because of

the whole parents hating each other thing, I wasn't allowed to be friends with the girl anymore and her family ended up moving away before the end of the school year. I also know her mom wasn't working and later found out she had serious emotional problems which resulted in her drinking heavily. This probably contributed to why we crashed in the first place, but yeah, the whole thing was just an ordeal, one that left me on crutches for months afterwards. So I basically had to skip Halloween that year. So it's Halloween when I'm 14 years old and I'm planning on going trick-or-treating. Mom's friend calls, says she's going to a Halloween party, wants to know if I'll babysit

their two-year-old for $20. I say no. She offers $30, I say no. She offers $40 and I realize how much candy I can buy for that so I shut up and accept her offer before she calls someone else. So I go over to the house and the kid wanted to go play outside. No biggie but since it was fall in Alaska I wanted to make sure that it wasn't too cold out before I accidentally turned the kid into a human popsicle. I step outside to check their thermometer. The front is on a swing and locks behind me as soon as I walk out. I had no phone and since it was Alaska, the closest neighbor was too far away for me to leave the kid alone in the house to get help. And again, just in case I didn't make this clear,

Alaska. So I'm not just going to catch a cold if I get stuck outdoors overnight, I'm going to die, literally. In a panic, I ended up ramming into the door as hard as I could until the lock broke and I could get in. The kid was okay, got in the laundry but otherwise had no idea anything was wrong. She's all goo-goos and ga-ga's while I'm choking back tears of relief. I thought I would get into trouble for breaking their door, but the mother said I could have broken a window and she wouldn't have cared. That my safety came first and she was just glad I was okay. Just to be clear, I didn't break the door itself.

Just the lock and it wasn't a standard deadbolt or anything, just a gate latch that was opened by a hidden string on the other side. The door couldn't be unlocked because the string had wrapped around the locking bolt so it would pull tighter the more it was pulled. I opened the door by slamming against it enough that the bolt bent and I could get my fingers in there to lift it. It took a good hour or two of bashing the door and about an hour to replace the next day. This is probably going to get buried because there's no mention of ghosts or demons or laughing jack or anything like that, but in terms of actually being scared

for my life, I think this definitely tops the list during my teenage years. I have a very vivid memory from my childhood that involves eating Halloween candy after going trick-or-treating for the first time. Me and my big sister sat down in her room, emptied all of our candy onto her carpet, then started this elaborate system of trading out stuff we didn't like for stuff we did. For example, I swapped out all my peanut M&Ms for the little chocolate ones because I was at age where my front teeth were wobbly and then I just let them melt in my mouth. Then right as we're stuffing our faces, mom walks in and says she needs to take a look at the candy we had just to make sure it was safe. She then comes back with a bunch of stuff in a bowl and was like, have at it girls. Then the next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital. A pretty nurse with curly blonde hair and bright red

lipstick kept worrying over me. I think I may have been strapped down but I don't remember. I have no idea why I didn't put up a fight because I do remember there being a tube down my throat. To this day I can't stand the thought of gagging or throwing up. It takes me right back to that hospital bed and this gripping feeling of terror and helplessness. For some reason I couldn't understand why she was so worried. On top of that, my dad would randomly burst into the room looking pale and terrified and I didn't understand why he kept leaving until way later when I was told they had my sister and I in opposite rooms. Apparently my heart stopped three times before

they were finally able to stabilize me and my sister was in an even worse state. After that we never saw our mom again and it took us years before anyone told us what had happened. Mom had been mad at dad, they were separated, because he'd had a beer before driving us over to her place. So in a bizarre attempt to teach him a lesson, she figured she'd crush up a bunch of rat poison pellets before sprinkling them over our candy. It turned out to be a total psychotic break, and she was institutionalized following the incident. Needless to say, Halloween has never been a holiday I've ever been able to enjoy, and I'm sure you can all understand why. To be continued... Hey friends, thanks for listening. Click that notification bell to be alerted of all future narrations. I release new videos every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 7pm EST.

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