The Lets Read Podcast - 192: MY NEW YORK CITY STALKER | 28 True Scary Stories | EP 180

Episode Date: June 20, 2023

This episode includes narrations of true creepy encounters submitted by normal folks just like yourself. Today you'll experience horrifying stories about College, Farms, & New York City Stalkers... 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 & Bonus Content!►http://patreon.com/LetsRead

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For context, I think I should mention that I grew up on a very large farm in the middle of nowhere in southern Idaho. It wasn't in the mountains like you might be thinking. It was just grass and hills for miles. My mom and dad were both raised in big cities so when they got married they figured they'd give their kids more of a farm life to grow up in and I always loved it. We had goats, chickens, ducks, turkeys, you name it, we had it. The only thing I didn't have was much more freedom from my parents. My dad was a goat farmer and his job was working on the farm. He sold goat milk, made cheese, and of course sold the meat. My mom was just a stay-at-home

mother so she was also around all the time which basically meant I had no alone time and no privacy. When I was little, I didn't mind much. I loved having my parents around. I held my dad with the farm work and taking care of all the animals and I was always in the kitchen baking and cooking with my mom. But by the time I reached middle school I was ready to grow up and I guess do what every kid does when they hit puberty. Just kind of pull away from your parents I guess. It was hard and my parents hated it. I think that's because my brother was so much older than me and had already left the house by that point. I was their little baby girl and they weren't quite

ready for the teenager rebellious phase to hit yet. Every weekend we would go out to dinner as a family. We would meet up with my brother and his girlfriend and it was actually really fun. This night though I just wanted to stay home. My mom insisted that I go with them and when I refused she offered to stay with me so I wouldn't be alone. I begged and begged her to just let me stay there alone and finally after what felt like forever she agreed. My dad wasn't happy about it but she told him everything would be fine and if I needed anything I could just call. They were only going to be around a 45 minute drive to the city and I was ecstatic. I felt like for the first time in my life I was free. That night my mom and dad gave me a hug and a kiss and said their goodbyes. They gave me the rundown that all parents give

when leaving their kids home alone for the first time, such as cell phone numbers, the restaurant they'd be at, calling 911 for an emergency, etc, etc. They went in one ear and out the other. I was just looking forward to staying up late and watching shows I wasn't supposed to watch. You know, normal kid stuff. I should also mention that we had a German shepherd named Ghost at the time. He was an all-white German shepherd and I always thought he looked more like a wolf. My parents got him when I was just a baby and we grew up together. He was like my shadow.

I'm sure having him around also gave my parents some peace of mind when leaving me that night. My mom and dad finally left at around 7pm and I was excited. I heard my parents pull out of the driveway and I was on the couch in seconds. Ghost joined me and we watched some TV for a while. About an hour went by and nothing of significance happened. I watched some stupid TV shows on MTV that my parents didn't normally allow and ate some candy that I'd saved up from Easter a couple of weeks before. An important thing to mention is we didn't have any curtains on any of our windows. We lived in the middle of nowhere and we weren't really worried about anyone seeing in.

Plus, my mom loved the morning sun shining in through the windows without her having to go around the whole house opening them. After it had been around an hour and a half since my parents left, my mom called to tell me that they wouldn't be home when they had originally said because my brother and his girlfriend also wanted to see a movie with him that night she told me she'd come home to be with me if being home alone longer made me uncomfortable but honestly i was super happy that i'd be getting a few extra hours of alone time so i told her i'd be fine and to go enjoy the movie during one of the show's commercial breaks i rushed into the kitchen to get a bowl of ice cream. I heard Ghost starting to bark in the living room, but figured that he just saw one of the many bats that were flying around that time of night, so I thought nothing of it.

Only this time, he would not stop barking. It got so annoying that I remember yelling at him to stop, but he just wouldn't let up. I walked into the living room and couldn't help but scream when I saw what Ghost was barking at. There was a man standing there, right outside the window. He was wearing a white rubber Halloween mask that had a huge painted smile on the front. I couldn't see his eyes, but oh my god, he was insanely creepy. I froze in pure terror and looked at this man as he stared back at me. I felt tears rolling down my cheeks and I guess my fight or flight kicked in because before I knew it, I was screaming at ghosts to follow me and running upstairs to my parents'

bedroom. When I got to the top of the stairs, I just couldn't help myself. I looked back. I had to know if he was still there. He was. Only this time his hand was raised and he waved slowly at me. His head tilted upward so I was still in his view. I got into the bedroom and locked the door behind me.

At this point, I was bawling. I totally regretted staying alone and all I wanted was my mom and dad. I rushed over to the nightstand and picked up the landline to call my dad, but there was no dial tone. I wasn't too worried about it considering my father had given me a cell phone to use in emergencies, but the only problem was that it was in my room across the hall and I didn't want a chance going back to where this masked man could see me. I had no other option though. I was not just going to wait around for my parents to come back hours later with this man just feet from me outside the house. I mustered up every bit of

courage I had, unlocked the bedroom door, and I ran as fast as I could. And in the ten seconds it took me to get to my room, I noticed the man wasn't outside the window anymore. The window was open and he was now standing at the bottom of the stairs. I involuntarily screamed almost as loud as I could and heard his footsteps begin to run up the stairs after me. Ghosts began lunging toward the man, barking, which made him hesitate for a moment, and this was long enough for me and Ghosts to get into my room and lock the door behind me. I grabbed the phone out of my drawer and dialed 911, desperate for someone to get here as soon as possible. The man outside my door began trying to handle. I watched it jiggle as he tried to get into my room, the whole time, never actually speaking

a single word, and I think that's what terrified me even more. The operator answered and barely understood me through my hysteria, but she got the gist and told me that an officer was already in the area and would be there in only five minutes. She told me to stay on the line until he showed up and something in me thought that I should loudly say, Okay, so an officer will be here in five minutes. He'll be here in five minutes, right? The second I spoke those words, all the jiggling and noises stopped. The handle stopped moving and for all I knew, he had completely left the house But God, my heart was racing I knew I wasn't leaving that room until I was sure an officer was there to help me

And just like the operator said, an officer was at my house within that period of time I saw the lights outside when he pulled up and I did hear sirens I heard them enter the house and run up the stairs yelling for the man to get down to put his hands behind his back. This was just confirmation to me that the man hadn't left, and I was so glad that I hadn't tried to exit my room when I thought that he'd had. They arrested him, and one of them took him away while the other waited with me. I guess they had called my parents who were rushing home. They ended up finding multiple slain goats on the property. They had very clearly been killed with stab wounds scattered across their bodies. When the police found him, he was still standing outside my door, just staring at it, blood on his body.

They never even looked at them when they came in. The man never did say why he did this. He actually never spoke at all. After this period of time, we did find out that he was sentenced to 10 years in prison, to our relief. My mom and dad thought of selling the farm and buying another one after that traumatic event, and potentially going to a state across the country where they thought he would never find us if he did eventually get out, whatever his motivations may have been. But the masked man ended up taking his own life in prison before that could ever happen.

And to any child out there who wants freedom from their parents when they're still too young, just remember, in your scariest moments, they are the people you wish that were there the most. I'm a 17 year old guy with a pretty interesting life if I do say so myself. My mom left when I was very young and my sister and I had been raised by just our dad ever since. We live in a pretty large farm in the Rocky Mountains and life for the most part is very peaceful. I had some friends who lived nearby by our standards and I would regularly make the three mile walk to their houses to hang out with them. So when I asked my dad that night if I could go, he didn't even think twice when saying yes. I had made plans with my friend Jimmy to sleep over and I was pretty excited. Plus, the walk is gorgeous in

the afternoon sun. I was 14 at the time so when I packed my backpack it was only snacks, monster energy drinks and some pajamas. I gave my dad a hug and kissed my little sister on the forehead before heading out. The first part of the walk was just through the fields. I remember stopping every so often to take pictures with my disposable camera of the newly developing crops my dad and I had just planted a couple of weeks prior. I regretted wearing only shorts and a tank top as the sun beat down on my very pale skin. I could see myself turning red as the minutes passed and at the end of our property was a small creek and some barbed wire fencing passing through it. We had it in place to try to deter the wolves and mountain lions in the area and we were sick of losing so many of

our animals to them. It's technically illegal to set up wolf traps because it's considered inhumane but my dad was just so angry that he just did it anyways and that brings us to the worst night of my life. I passed through the barbed wire fence and through the creek. I made it about 40 or so feet into the forest before I heard a loud crunch and felt pressure on my ankle. I remember not understanding what the sound could have been and looking around for a possible source. I started to feel a burning sensation on my leg and when I looked down, I saw one of the very large wolf traps clenched around and through my leg. The spikes were completely embedded into my skin and the blood was oozing out from between the wounds. I began to scream from the pain,

hoping someone would hear me and help me out of this, but I I began to scream from the pain, hoping someone would hear me and help me out of this, but I was in the middle of the forest with no one to help me for at least a mile. I felt myself getting lightheaded from the shock and blood loss, and I couldn't allow myself to pass out. This was a situation where I knew I would need all the time I could get before bleeding out. I knew the only thing out of this would be someone finding me, but that would also mean waiting. My dad didn't let me have his cell phone, so calling someone was out of the question, which meant my only hope was Jimmy noticing that I didn't show up and calling my dad. I took off my tank top and tied it around my leg to try and stop the bleeding. At that point, I could no longer feel my toes, I couldn't feel my foot at all.

I tried prying open the trap but as a very skinny teenage boy that was just not going to happen. I sat there for about an hour trying to figure out a way out of this and the only thing I could think of was that I could either wait for someone to notice I was missing or I could muster up the courage and strength I had left in me and begin to crawl back toward my house. Thankfully my dad's laziness was actually a good thing for once as he'd not bolted the trap down. It had started getting dark at that point so I reached into my backpack and grabbed the pajama shirt I had packed and put it on. I knew moving at night was not an option. I needed to see where I was going,

if I was going to be dragging this heavy trap attached to my leg as I crawled. I found a fairly large tree nearby and an agonizing pain crawled over to it. I propped myself up against it and couldn't prevent my eyes from shutting out of pure exhaustion. I woke up to the sound of snapping branches nearby. I looked around, but it was pitch black and I could see nothing. I took out my disposable camera and took pictures with the flash, pointing it in every direction to see what was out there. I shook in terror when I saw two glowing eyes staring back at me in the distance,

and some distant howling. It was so loud I would have bet my life that those wolves were standing right next to me, and the night went on for what felt like days. I managed to stay awake until the morning light started to peek through the trees and I was relieved that there were no longer any animals surrounding me in my very vulnerable state. I had lost all movement to my lower half of my leg, but the pain was still there in full force. I slung my backpack onto my back and took a deep breath before getting onto my hands and knees and starting to crawl back. The weight of the trap dragging behind me as it pulled on my leg was almost unbearable. It felt like something was trying to saw my leg off with a rusty butter knife. Every inch I moved felt like absolute torture, but I had to press on.

I had finally made it the 40 feet that it was to the creek and then came to another obstacle. The creek was shallow enough to walk through no problem, but crawling would be another story. As I entered the water, it was just deep enough to cover my mouth and my only source of breath was through my nose. The water splashed as I crawled and I would panic each time some of it entered my nose, thinking I was going to drown before I made it back onto the farm where my dad could possibly see me. That wasn't the case though. I made it through the creek and took deep breaths

relieved to have survived that part of the horrible journey I found myself on. I started to crawl toward the barbed wire fence and screamed in pain when the trap got caught on a rock basically cutting away at my leg as I unknowingly began pulling it apart. At that point it started to feel like it was hopeless. I contemplated giving up. I felt like I was dying and there was going to be no way I'd actually make it home. In four hours I'd only made it about 50 feet. I lifted my leg from the rock and stared at the fencing in front of me. I knew there was no way I could climb over, so under was my only option. I tried lifting the fencing as I squeezed underneath, but there was nothing I could have done to stop the barbs from digging into the skin on my back.

The pain on my back was bad, but somehow distracted me from the pain in my leg. As bizarre as it sounds, it kind of gave me some relief. And inch by inch I made my way closer to the house. I was at the crops again, looking at the plants that I admired only the day before that now made me angry to even look at. It was a reminder I was still somewhat far from home, from my salvation. I was covered in dirt, sweat, and blood, but the second I could begin to see the frame of my house, I was determined to live. I began picking with the pace as best I could and dragged myself by my elbows that were now scraped and bloodied beyond recognition. When I finally made it to the steps outside my house, my body was completely shot, and the last thing I remember was my dad

yelling when he found me. My foot had to be amputated and I was in the hospital for a few months from the infections that I ended up getting. My dad was fined for the traps and was forced to dispose of all the ones around the property. My cousin never thought to call my dad that night as he just figured that I got in trouble or got grounded and he just continued doing what he was doing and he's always felt really, really bad about it. I don't blame him though. And even though the experience was horrible, I wouldn't change a thing. It showed me what it means to be alive and I couldn't be more grateful for the lessons that I've learned. I'm a fairly cautious individual. I always told myself that I'd never be like other people who get themselves caught in dangerous situations,

but that's exactly what happened. I'm a 28-year-old woman and I currently live with my husband, Sam, and our 3-year-old daughter, Elena. My husband and I both grew up in the area and when we got married, we decided a nice house on a lot of land would be perfect for us. We'd never been the city living type and we wanted our daughter to have a lot of space to play. Over the five years that we'd lived here, we'd purchased a lot of farm animals off Craigslist. We started with chickens and then pigs and then eventually goats. Just over a year ago I suggested to my husband that it would be fun to get a cow. We could milk her and she wouldn't have to have her calf taken away like most dairy cows so we felt that we were doing a good thing.

After about six months with her we realized that she was just way too much work to take care of for her and her calf and we wanted them to go to a home that had the time to take proper care of them. I was really sad about letting her go, but I also knew it was the right thing to do. I suggested to my husband that we list her on Craigslist and he agreed that it was a good idea, so I listed her immediately. We knew she would sell fast given that she milked well and came with her calf. With only a few hours of listening to them we got around 10 emails. We weeded out the scams and one person stood out to us. They said that they had a 50 acre farm and other dairy cows so they had experience.

They also said that they could pick her up as soon as possible for the exact price that we were asking. We were so happy that they were going to go to such a good home. The only problem was my husband was going out of town for work the next week. He told me multiple times that he was not comfortable with a stranger coming to the farm when he wasn't going to be there, but I was a little too trusting and was positive it would be fine. The people in our area were good people and I hadn't heard of anything bad coming from animal purchases in the area. The people who were coming told me that they were a husband and wife named John and Betty. In the moment I did make a little joke to myself that their names were so boring that they almost sounded fake.

But the thought passed and it didn't cross my mind again. I gave them our address and told them that they could come to pick up the cows the next day at around 4pm. That night my husband gave my daughter and me a kiss and left for his work trip. My husband was very serious when it came to him leaving us alone. We had set times that we would call each other and if I missed a call he would alert the police. It may seem dramatic to some people but it was our routine and if it gave him more peace of mind when he left then I was more than okay with it. The night came and went without incident. I woke up early at around 6am to let out all the animals to feed and give them water. They were all so excited to be out for the day since it rained the day before and they had been cooped up inside. Elena always went out with me in the morning and it was so cute

seeing her interacting with all the animals. I let the cows out for what I thought would be the last time. I rubbed their backs and essentially said my goodbyes. At around 1pm I made Elena and myself something to eat and got her dressed in different clothes for the rest of the night. We then sat on the sofa and waited for 4 o'clock to come when the cows would be picked up. Throughout the day I'd done my routine calls with my husband to tell him how we were doing and if I'm being completely honest, I totally regretted letting strangers come to the house without him being there. I started to have this really horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that I just couldn't shake. John and Betty called to tell me that they were only five minutes out so I went out on the porch to greet them as they pulled up.

I had just put Elena down for her nap so I was completely alone out there. The first thing I noticed when they pulled up was the masks that they were both wearing. I immediately began running back up the steps to my house before hearing one of them yell, no, no, no, you get back here now. He had a very thick southern accent that was almost hard to understand. I felt something hard being pressed to my back and I immediately knew it had to be a gun. I asked them with a shaky voice what do they want, but I didn't have any cash. And they quickly told me to shut up and if I wanted to live, I'd do exactly as they said. The woman, Betty, had a very raspy voice, almost like she'd smoked

for 40 plus years. I could tell she was also from the south when she said that you're gonna go inside and get every piece of jewelry you own, put it in a bag, and give it straight to me while John here gets whatever he wants, and you won't put up a fight. The first thing I thought of was my daughter. I couldn't let them find Elena. I didn't know what these people were capable of. I told her I'd comply, but I already knew I wouldn't. I really couldn't't and I had to

keep my daughter safe. I went inside my house, Betty close behind me as I walked toward the bedroom. My husband kept a shotgun under the bed and I knew if I could just get to it I might be able to save my daughter's life and possibly my own too. I keep my jewelry box under the bed. I need to get under there to grab it, okay? My voice was calm at that point because I was so worried that she was going to suspect something was up. Whatever. Just give me what I asked for, she said, and I could feel her spit landing on my face while she talked.

She was missing most of her teeth so I wasn't surprised. Disgusted, but not surprised. I got on my hands and knees on the floor and peered under the bed. And there it was, only inches away. I knew I would have to be fast if I was going to get out of this without getting myself and my daughter killed. In one swift motion I pulled out the gun. And boom. Without thinking or aiming I fired a shot.

The force of the blow made this Betty fly across the room, her chest completely demolished by the blast, and the smell of gunpowder lingered in the room mixed with the scent of her blood, splattered across the walls and on the floor as it oozed out of the large hole that I'd just put in her chest. She was gone within seconds. It was a double barrel so I knew whenever John would come running in, I'd only have one chance to take him too. My adrenaline was pumping. I didn't even think of the person that had just died in my bedroom and all I could think of was keeping my daughter safe. If I died in the process, so be it.

John did come in the room yelling for Betty, but he took one look and before I could get a shot off he was running down the stairs and out the door screaming Jesus Christ while his voice cracked seemingly out of sadness. I ran to get Elena and carried her with me to the front porch where we sat. The police showed up 30 minutes later saying my husband had called and said something was wrong at the house. I hadn't called him at our scheduled time so he knew something was up

and I could barely talk. I swear that I had gone into shock. I sat there with my daughter while the officers searched the house and found the body upstairs and it turns out, of course, those names were fake. They were never able to identify the man, but the woman was someone that the officers knew well around the area. She'd been arrested multiple times on drug-related charges.

That day was the worst, most traumatizing day of my life, but it taught me a very valuable lesson. Never assume strangers are worthy of your trust, and never underestimate a mother's love for her child. To be continued... I'm a cow farmer in the Midwest. It's not the best work, but it is work and with how hard it is to find a job with decent pay these days, I've learned to appreciate it. The job entails cleaning up after the cows, checking their hooves, milking, and helping them give birth when necessary. It's a pretty messy job when you look at it from the outside, but I've gotten pretty used to it. I don't even smell the stink anymore like I did when I first started. It used to be almost unbearable but now, really nothing. The farm was my father's before me and his father's before him. And the story I'm about to tell you is my dad's. He told

him to me back when I first started the job as almost a what not to do when tending to the animals and working on the farm. He's long past now, God rest his soul, but this story has haunted me for years so I figured I'd let other people hear it and judge it for themselves. This is back in the 60s when dad was in his early 20s. He worked on the farm with his father, Bill, at the time. He hated it. He hated the stench that would only get worse when the heat came in the summer and picking up after the cows was the worst. See, the cows stayed in this huge barn. It was actually more like a big warehouse where they're fed and kept throughout the night.

They got to graze during the day, and throughout the night the cows would defecate and their feces dropped to the concrete floor beneath them. Then in the morning when the cows would go out to graze, my dad would take a really long hose and spray the droppings to the end of the building down a shaft that leads to a big tank below the barn. The tank would fill with the droppings and once a week we had a guy that would come by and empty the tank and dispose of the waste. It was really nasty work but my dad did it nonetheless. Well, my grandfather decided that it was just too much work to do on the farm with just himself and my dad so they decided to hire another farmhand. They didn't get anyone interested in the job for the first few weeks until they met a man at a local feed store named Fred. He was in his late 20s and eager to work.

He hadn't had a job in years and was desperate for pay since his wife was pregnant with their first child. My grandfather hired him right there in that feed store and by the next day, Fred was on the farm working harder than anyone my dad had ever seen work. He was determined and super ambitious. He was constantly running around the farm fixing stuff they needed fixing and trying to learn absolutely everything it was that they did. He loved the job and told everyone how he just wanted to be good at what he was being paid to do. He believed in good honest work and that people should earn the money they're working for. My dad admitted he loved having Fred around not just because he worked hard but also because he was gullible and pretty easily manipulated I guess. My dad had certain tasks given to him by my grandpa

throughout the day and each time he was told to do something he just passed that task along to Fred. He didn't mind because he didn't know and my dad didn't care because it meant less of the work that he hated. About four months went by with Fred doing most of the work around the farm and my dad even started to find it a little funny that he really would do whatever he was told. Without question, he was happy to do it. One hot summer morning, the cows had just gone out to graze and my grandpa told my dad to spray the droppings down the shaft at the end of the barn like he usually did. My dad then passed the job along to Fred as he sat along the side of the barn to have a smoke. When Fred was done, he came outside to tell my dad

that he had an idea that he thought would highly benefit the farm. He told my dad that if he emptied the tank below the barn themselves, they would be able to use the cow feces as manure in the fields. It would fertilize the plants and make them grow bigger and faster. My dad told me that at first he thought the idea was stupid but then he figured it would be funny to see if Fred actually tried and emptied that feces tank so he agreed. He didn't tell my grandpa because he knew he never would have approved and he just wanted to see how this would play out. He showed Fred where to go to the release valve and emptied the tank into the big barrels. He told him to be very careful and to not turn the valve too fast,

otherwise the line would get clogged and they'd have to call someone to fix it. My dad then left Fred alone to do what he had planned and decided to take a walk around the barn to check the gates and make sure everything was in order. What my dad didn't know at the time was that Fred would end up turning the valve too fast and the line would end up getting clogged. Fred would then open the tank from above and reach a pole into the sludge to try and dislodge whatever was blocking the line. My dad heard screaming coming from inside the barn and he rushed over to see what was wrong. He made his way down into the

tank and was horrified by what he found. Fred had fallen into the huge 5,000 gallon tank that hadn't been emptied for a week and was now drowning in the thick feces, desperately reaching out for help. By the time my dad got to the top of the ladder and looked into the tank, all he could see was Fred's hand poking out of the brown goo. He grabbed onto it and tried pulling him out, but he had no leverage at all on the top of that tank. He managed to pull Fred up long enough for him to tell my dad that he was just trying to fix it himself since he knew that they'd have to pay someone for his mistake. He felt bad, and my dad reassured him everything

would be okay and to just hold on. And that's when his grip failed and Fred plunged back under the thick excrement once again. This time, no part of Fred's body was able to be grabbed onto to possibly rescue him. My dad had no idea what to do so he ran across the farm as fast as he could to get my grandpa who immediately called the police and by the time they made it back to the tank, Fred's hand had disappeared under the sludge and there was nothing my dad and grandpa could do but wait. The police showed up with firemen and they didn't know much of what to do either. They ended up reaching a metal pole down into the tank with a sort of loop on the end and when they pulled Fred out, it was very clear that

he had passed. My dad was horrified and felt like it was his fault. He knew it was a bad idea but thought it would be funny. He could have stopped Fred but his own arrogance let him do it. Fred's wife became a widow and she never remarried. She named their son after him and eventually moved out of town. My dad made a point to work as hard as Fred did every day for the rest of his life in honor of the man whose death he felt he was responsible for. My dad passed away in 2018 and the last thing he said to me was to never take advantage of someone's hard work. It was March 28th, 2000. My husband Robin and I had just moved to Fort Worth, Texas from Seattle, Washington.

My husband had just gotten a job offer that he was really excited about. In his words, he just couldn't pass it up. He's an architect and the firm he wanted to work at was down there and I couldn't say no. He was so happy and I was so happy for him. We had four children, a 13-year-old boy named Josh, a 10-year-old girl named Jamie, a 7-year-old April, and our youngest, a 3-year-old girl named Jamie, a 7-year-old April, and our youngest, a 3-year-old girl named Paula. Our kids were super excited. They had heard of cowboys on TV and they kept telling all their friends that they were moving onto a farm with a bunch of animals and that they were going to be farmers. It was really cute. When we first got to our house and the farm,

everything was very peaceful. We moved in early March and got mostly settled about two weeks later. We didn't have any animals in the farm, since we were still in the process of getting into a routine with the kids. Their school was about a 15 minute drive from our house and we weren't comfortable at the time sending them on the bus. March 28th started out regular, just like every other Tuesday we'd spent in the house thus far. We got the kids ready for school and headed out the door. My husband went to work and I came back with Paula. She was like a mini-me in every way, followed me everywhere. I adored her and I like to think she adored me.

On his way back from work, my husband picked up the kids from school. They got ice cream on the way home and were pretty riled up from the sugar rush. When they came inside, I had them do their homework and as soon as they were finished, we sat down to watch some TV. It was in the evening hours of the day when all the chaos started. Sirens began blaring all around us. We lived in Seattle all our lives, so we'd never really experienced anything like that before. My husband immediately recognized it as a tornado warning and he told us all to get into the

bathroom and close the door. Our house had no basement or shelter so we had to make do with what we had. I'd never even considered tornadoes could be in our future when we'd plan to move. All six of us huddled into the bathroom. We laid on top of one another to try and hold each other down just in case. My husband was on top shielding us with his body. The house started to shake and our daughter started to cry and scream. Paula was grabbing onto me as tight as she could. Joss was trying to act brave but I knew that he was terrified. The look in his eyes as he stared back at me said it all. The sounds of windows breaking and debris flying had become louder and louder as the minutes passed.

I was praying for my children's lives, for all our lives. This was not our time to die, I thought. All I could think about as the ground shook underneath us was how they still had so much of their lives left to live. I wanted to see them grow, graduate high school and college, fall in love, get married, have a family of their own someday. I was terrified at the thought of that possibility not happening. After being in the bathroom for ten minutes, we felt the house shake like nothing we'd felt before. The roof was torn off in seconds and now all of us were screaming and terrified. My husband held onto us with all his strength as each gust

of wind threatened to pull us up into god knows what and take us who knows where. At this point, I was terrified, crying and holding onto whatever piece of clothing or body part I could grab on to keep our kids safe underneath us and away from the danger that was looming above, screaming like a highway. Suddenly, I felt Paula begin slipping out of my hold. I had started to scream her name to try and get my husband's attention, but when I looked over, he wasn't there. I grabbed to Paula and managed to put her back underneath me, not before she hit her head pretty hard against the wall from the wind pushing her. She went completely silent and was no longer crying. I knew something was wrong but I just

had to focus on the situation at hand and get her help when the time came. I was worried about my husband. I hadn't even noticed that he'd been taken away by the storm. I prayed and prayed that he would be okay as I put the full weight of my body on my children's to keep them weighed down and out of harm's way. After what felt like eternity, the storm rolled on and the wind finally slowed down and everything became silent. We all got up out of our positions and I picked up Paula. She had been completely limp and I noticed blood trailing down the side of her head, and tears rolled down my face as I assumed the worst.

At this point I was thinking that I lost my husband and one of our children. We walked out of the bathroom and into the rubble that was once our home. I found my husband lying in the front yard, obviously thrown there by the wind. I could see him, gasping for air as I rushed over to him. I held his head in my hands and I told him how much I loved him, and the first thing he asked between gasps was if the kids were okay. I told him Paula had gotten hurt and I could see the worry in his eyes. Thank God, we did get help soon after from the disaster relief team. We had no way of calling anyone and our cars had been thrown by the wind so all we could do was wait until they showed up and found us. We were all taken to the hospital and myself, Josh, Jamie and April had minor cuts and bruises.

But I'm so, so grateful to say that both my husband and Paula survived. Paula had extensive brain damage and still to this day requires around the clock care, which is incredibly sad for the circumstances, but I'm just thankful to God that she's still with us. My husband broke multiple bones throughout his body, but he did recover fully within about a year. We're just so thankful that they both survived. The whole incident was just so terrifying that we decided moving back to Seattle was our best option. Our families were there and my husband got another job offer that he said was just as good. Our lives were forever changed that day and we hope we never have to experience anything as

terrifying as that ever again. To be continued... Please excuse if something doesn't exactly make much sense. It's hard to remember things from when I was that young and I still do have PTSD from the entire thing. Before I tell you what happened that day, I guess I'll explain how we even found ourselves in that position in the first place. My dad was the kind of guy who, when he sensed his mind on something, he had to do it and there was no talking him out of it. I know it annoyed my mom, but she always supported him on all his ventures, you know, because of love or whatever. So when my dad said he wanted to buy a farm and grow wheat for a living, my mom wasn't completely shocked. My dad had saved up a lot of money from his old job as a car salesman, and he already had a house picked out for us. My mom only told me recently that she was frustrated that my dad didn't take into consideration how she felt about it.

But the day after he suggested it to her, they listed the old house anyways. And it sold relatively quickly and my mom and dad only had a couple of weeks to pack up the home that they lived in throughout their whole marriage. My mom said when we got to the farm it was just a total disaster. The house was in shambles with dust everywhere and the land looked like it had been a place for BMX bikers to ride with tracks and small hills everywhere. Over the course of a few months my dad managed to level all the fields and partially fix up the house before beginning to run out of the savings that he'd had. My mom had no idea at the time that they were broke,

but figured something was up when all her expensive jewelry went missing. She found out later that he had sold it to pay for the huge tractor he bought. My mom started to become unhappy in the marriage and felt like all dad cared about was his dreams and never her feelings. She continued to put on a brave face though for me and basically just sucked it up. My dad worked all day and night in the fields to prepare for the crops that he planned to eventually grow. But there was always seeming to be something preventing him. The soil wasn't nutrient dense enough, there wasn't enough direct sunlight, the neighbor's goats kept coming onto our fields, there wasn't enough direct sunlight, the neighbor's goats kept coming onto our fields, there wasn't enough daylight to sow the seeds, the tractor needed fixing,

etc, etc. Eventually my mom gave him an ultimatum, start the crops within a week or we're moving back into the city where he could get a proper job again. She hated being on the farm and she knew that he was a big time procrastinator so she figured he wouldn't do it and we'd be back in the city where life would be good again within about a month. But with utter shock and complete disappointment, she was wrong. He got straight to work the next day on the tractor tilling the earth to prepare for seeding. She told me she was hoping he would recognize her desperation to escape that place and

finally put her feelings first, but she was wrong. After three days, he began sowing the seeds. He was out in the middle of the field that day when his tractor stopped working. Mom could see it smoking from where she was standing inside the house, so she called out to him to ask if everything was okay. He yelled from across the field and assured her that it was all good. Then she told me to go outside to see if he needed some help. I walked outside into the fields towards my dad and asked him if he needed me to do anything. He told me he was going to check the tractor for anything that needed fixing and told me that I could sit in it for a while if I wanted to while he did his thing.

Of course I said yes. I was a 7 year old kid. What little kid that age wouldn't want to sit in a tractor? My dad helped me climb up and for the next 15 or so minutes I sat there looking at the levers and buttons while my dad walked around the tractor looking for the problem that was causing it to malfunction. He told me not to touch anything while I sat there and I kept my promise for the time being, but it was just bigger than me I guess. I pulled on one of the levers and felt the tractor lurch backward quickly in one swift motion. My dad grunted and I heard a thud, but I didn't think anything of it. I hopped out of the tractor and looked back and saw

half of my dad's body pinned beneath the tractor tire. He was still aware and talking and told me to get mom. I ran as fast as I could back to the house and burst in the door. Now, at seven years old, I had no knowledge of how to contain my emotions at a time of emergency. I had tears running down my face and the best way my mom could describe how I sounded was a crying, mumbling mess. I was trying so hard to tell her what happened but the words just wouldn't come out so instead of talking I just started to point outside toward the tractor. She seemed to understand it was something urgent having to do with dad when she quickly ran to the door toward the field. Poor mom was struggling to get over to him.

The ground was heavily broken up from the tractor and she kept failing in her attempt to get to him. By the time she finally got there I saw her drop to her knees. I made my way over to them as fast as I could. My dad was telling her everything was going to be okay while she cried, leaning over him. She kept saying how she couldn't live without him and she needed him to survive. He had begun to not make much sense in his words, but I could tell even at that age that he was trying to say that he loved her. My mom, determined to save his life and not thinking logically, got in the tractor

and managed to drive it off of him. This obviously only made it worse. His lower body was a mangled mess and he was losing blood fast. From what I could see, his legs were almost completely flattened and bones were sticking out of his flesh. My mom told me to look away but to tell my dad that I loved him. I had no idea what to do. I couldn't speak and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't look away. That day my dad took his last breath and soon after my mom rushed inside to call the police. When the paramedics got there they told my mom that there was nothing anyone could have done to save him My mom has tried telling me ever since that, that his death wasn't my fault And that I was just a child

But for years, and all I've gone through, and all the therapy that I pushed myself through I know in my heart that I killed my dad that day. It was Halloween. My mom and dad had gone to an adult Halloween party at their friend's house and left me, a 14-year-old male, and my sister home alone to hand out candy to the neighborhood kids. We lived on a small farm surrounded by other small farms and Halloween's were pretty mellow. My sister was 12 and had finally gotten to the age where she thought trick-or-treating and dressing up was embarrassing and I just liked staying home and playing video games with my friends so I didn't usually go out on Halloween. The only issue that night was my parents had forgotten to get candy so

they told us to hand out whatever fruit or pretzels we had in the kitchen. And that was so embarrassing for me, having to give kids something they didn't want on the one night of the year that they were supposed to be getting candy. I wasn't too worried about it, given that not many kids lived in our area so we figured that we wouldn't have to answer the door much at all. We handed out the first batch of apples to disappointed kids and by 11pm we assumed that we were done for the night. Then came a knock at the door. It was late and I didn't really want to answer the door again but I figured it was just little kids and I didn't want to be rude and ignore them when they could see that the lights were on inside. I got to the door and pulled it open and was shocked to see four very tall guys standing there, all in mass, holding their pillowcases open, seemingly expecting candy.

Sorry guys, we don't have any candy, we've been handing out apples to the kids all night. Might have some pretzels if you want some. The tallest one in front just tilted his head at me almost like he was confused by what I was saying, but none of them actually spoke. I didn't really know what else to do so I started to close the door. When I went to shut it all the way, one of the guys put his shoe between the door and the door frame to prevent me from closing it. I opened the door again to ask him what his problem was but instead, he and his friends just pushed their way inside. I yelled for my sister to run and hide before being shoved to the ground. One of the intruders pulled out a bat out from under his robe and in a low, deep voice said,

We didn't come for any candy. I managed to get onto my hands and knees before being kicked in the stomach, knocking me to the ground once again. I tried screaming, but the thing about living on a farm with more land between you and your neighbors than the average neighborhood is no one is going to hear you scream when you need help, but I kept screaming anyways. It's Halloween. You really think anyone's going to think twice about a kid screaming? And this made the rest of them laugh behind their masks.

Look, I don't know what you want, but I can give you money if you just leave. Please, you don't need to hurt anyone. I expected a response, but he just laughed at my shaky voice. In a baby talk voice, one of the guys said, Aw, look the little baby's scared. Where's daddy to save you when you need him? I felt a stinging at my side as the guy with the bat swung it directly into my ribs. I was trying to listen to the voices to figure out how old they were and from what I could tell they seemed young enough to be teenagers. There was a lot of

thoughts going through my mind in that moment. I mean they definitely weren't mature at all and I crawled to the corner of the room in pain as they spoke to each other about what rooms they would go in and what they were going to take. One of the guys took me outside while the others looked around the house for whatever it was they wanted. I saw my sister on the roof, hiding outside her window from the man that I could see had just entered her room. The guy that took me outside had me by the collar of my shirt and was leading me toward the barn. He opened the door to the pig pen and pushed me inside. Threatening me with the bat, he made me roll around in the mud and film me as he forced me to oink. I was terrified,

exhausted, confused, embarrassed and felt completely humiliated at what I was being forced to do. The guy was laughing the whole time too. He told me to get up and let me out of the barn and back inside the house to show the rest of his friends what he'd done to me. And they only just joined in the torment. They made me drink the toilet water, eat trash from the trash can and other things I can't even speak of as they pulled me around. The whole time I was just hoping they wouldn't find my sister. The strange thing is they hadn't even mentioned her once. They took me to my room and began taking turns throwing punches. I had no idea what I had done to deserve this horrible

beating and torture that I was being put through. I was just going through torture in my mind and I had no idea. I almost blacked out many times. Ten minutes into the beating I heard one of them ask me where my sister was. They told me that they wanted to have some fun with her and that they'd stop hurting me if I told them. And this was the moment I decided to stop talking completely. They could hurt me all they wanted. I was not letting them near my sister. They asked me again, spitting my face each time I refused to talk, but there was nothing they could do to me that would get me to give her up.

Eventually they tied me to a chair in the kitchen and just exited the house after thoroughly trashing the place. And I must have blacked out at some point because when I woke up I was in the hospital attached to just a bunch of machines. My mom was crying when she noticed me awake and took her time to tell me exactly what happened. It turns out the girl I had just broken up with the week before asked her brother to scare me as revenge for hurting her. I guess he and his friends were just insane for taking it to the extent that they did. I guess they just got caught

up in it, as disgusting as that sounds. Thankfully they were all arrested, but only the brother was actually sentenced to some jail time. He received five years for aggravated assault and home invasion charges. The other guys got probation as a plea deal for ratting him out. I'm still in a lot of pain since this happened less than a year ago, but I guess there's one thing I'd tell kids answering the door for Halloween when their parents aren't home. Always check your peephole first. This is the first time posting here and this event happened in 2018.

I work at a SeaTac airport which I still think is probably the smallest international airport I have ever seen. The airport was so small that your workstation almost forces you to work alongside with other jobs. In this case I work in sales and we were stationed next to the wheelchair lane which usually had one wheelchair pusher in the lane. Now, keep in mind, I was only 19 when this incident happened. I would say I'm a sweet person who goes out of my way to start conversations with people that looked bored since I worked night shifts at the airport. There were practically nobody flying, and there would be more workers than passengers. Therefore, we meet Mike, who's around the age of 20-23. Mike was one of the wheelchair pushers who looked completely out of it,

zoned out and didn't seem very talkative. Me and Mike worked side by side in lanes, he would usually come to give the person in the wheelchair lane a lunch break and then proceed to go back to pushing people in wheelchairs throughout the airport. The 30 minutes we saw each other every day was completely awkward and quiet, until one day he overheard me and my co-workers' conversation about depression. He propped up in his chair and goes, yeah, I agree with you, depression sucks. And that's when I realized, oh man, this kid doesn't just look depressed, but he probably is. No, I didn't know how that small interaction changed our perspective on Mike. He would join our conversation and even went out of his way to say hello and give us a little hug

while he finds us throughout the airport. One day my lead suggested me and Mike should go out for tacos since we both kept complaining about how nothing opens late at night and we were always hungry. Now we've known Mike for almost a month now and his depression filled body started filling with joy every time we would find out that we were stationed next to each other. At this rate we laughed it off saying no way, it would be too weird if we went alone together. I was currently single and was no way attracted or interested in Mike like that. He then looked at me saying, I actually know this amazing Mexican spot that's nearby if you're actually really hungry.

They serve the best fish tacos. Not knowing the fat idiot that I was, I didn't decline. I loved eating late at night and Mike never gave me stranger danger vibes I guess. I agree because I don't see the harm going out to get tacos before I sleep. We exchanged our numbers and I headed home before him since I clocked out about an hour before he does. Now when I arrived home I was getting dressed to go out to eat and the plan was to just meet up at the spot since the Mexican spot ended up being only about 5 minutes away from my house. I get a text from Mike saying he wants to pick me up. I kept refusing because I just finally got my driver's license and the place was only 5 minutes away from my home. After almost 40 minutes of us insisting how we were going to get there, I

finally gave in to have him pick me up, which I would later regret. Now, I was a big girl, like we're in the 200 zone compared to Mike, who was very thin and short, so I wasn't worried if he attempted anything with me. I told him to pick me up along a street down the road because I didn't really want him to know where I exactly live just yet. In his beat up trash Toyota pulls up and we head to the Mexican spot. We got our food and it was amazing that we went for seconds and we had a good talk watching the soap opera that was on television. After we were done, we get back into his car where he was supposed to drop me back at home, but he stops. He looks at me and says, can we talk in private? I know a spot. I kindly refused and told him it's already 2am and we should probably get back home and he says,

I know it's late, but I just have a lot going on in my life and you're the only person that's really hung out with me like this. And the kind of idiot that I am, I said sure. Already seeing him driving down the road I noticed so many red flags as the street lights start disappearing the more his mood and tone starts to change. A complete change in atmosphere starts to emerge around Mike. He starts telling me, I sure do hate the society about women nowadays. They all have this stupid standard. I hate them. I hate them. And I'm like, did I just find a woman hater? Mike never rubbed me off as being that way. He's just starting to seem every time he attempts to talk to a woman they blatantly reject him and me being a woman is now this

dummy that he's projecting all his female hate talk towards. I was actually too stunned to speak because he became a whole different person during the drive. We arrive at an abandoned skate park in the middle of God knows where, and he tells me to get out. I listened, and here we are at 2am, sitting on a cold concrete floor in freezing temperatures. He goes on and tells me how he hates women, and how he would lie to his passengers he takes in his wheelchairs and tell them that he's from the UK and speaks in a British accent. And I was just so overwhelmed, like what in God's name is happening right now? He then talks to me in a British accent from there on how he would give his life up for God and God was the only one keeping him chained down. He looks me dead in the eyes and says, God would

want me to castrate myself since he doesn't want me touching or being near a female creature for my own safety. I was completely quiet the whole time, confused, questioning myself how much of a fool I was to even think that I thought this guy liked me, and I was completely wrong. After 30 minutes I was getting cold since this female creature that I was was anemic. I told him I would like to go home now, and he says, no, and proceeds to talk in this British accent about how God is coming to rescue him. I felt like I was in a movie because I can't believe what was even happening. After he noticed I started shaking my leg, he then says, I guess we can proceed back to the car. We go back to his car and a miracle happens.

My mother calls me. I was expecting her to scream at me, asking me where I was and to come home like she normally does, but this time she says in a calm voice, where are you? Now, she's Vietnamese, and in Vietnamese I tell her that I'm out getting food with a co-worker, and she says, okay, have fun, and hangs up. And again, in disbelief that she didn't care where I was at almost 3am for the first time, I lie and say, what? Oh, you want me to come home? Ah, okay, I'll start heading home soon, and pretend to hang up the phone. I look at Mike and say, sorry, my mom wants me to go home now. He punches his wheel and sighs annoyingly loud, which gave me a jump scare for a moment, and he starts his car and just sits there in silence, annoyed and kind of

grinning the whole time. He eventually starts driving, pulls out his phone and literally throws it at me. Open it, he says. Already exhausted and still not believing everything that was happening, my eyes grew fixated at over the hundred notes on his phone. What is this? I asked. He says it's songs and poems he's wrote. He looks at me and says, go ahead, pick one. I don't quite remember what the notes said. The only key words I saw were betrayal and woman and they stood out to me. And he says, ah, that one. Would you like for me to sing it to you? I straight up said no and he continues to sing it for me and the worst part, he sings in this British accent. The whole drive was him singing in a British accent how God's plan is to stray him from the human race so he can overcome himself.

I was zoned out the whole car trip. It all didn't feel real. My sense of danger gets lower due to how exhausted I was and how I was listening how this man wanted to eradicate the female species off the face of the earth, quote unquote, and how our, quote, judgment day was coming. He drops me off on my street and even had the audacity to say, I had such a lovely time with you, darling. I slam his door shut and run down my street before he had a chance to start up his car.

And after that incident, I ignored all of his messages, which he texted me two-page long things of how he's sorry and how he believes God was here to put us together, and how my Asian-ness was the only thing holding him back from committing to real love with me. I stood in the back of my station to avoid talking to him. He would follow me back to my break room and thankfully my manager was there and yelled at him to buzz off before he called security. He later got the hint that I was not interested but continued to stare me down every second he had in the same station with me. Thankfully during that time I found a second

job and my whole schedule was changed and I never had to see him at work again. I saw him at Target once but quickly ran back to my car before he had the chance to walk up to me. And I later found out that Mike was actually living with one of my lesbian co-workers, staying on his couch. I told her everything he said and did and she was completely shocked. And she'd never saw Mike like that. He was just very quiet and would crack a joke here and there. I advised her that she should keep a close eye on him, and she thanked me for relaying all that information and, eventually, he was forced to move out later due to whatever actions he did in those ensuing months. I'm going to start this story off by saying that at the time this happened, I was a 19-year-old

sophomore in college. I was living on campus in their apartment-style dorms, and my college wasn't exactly in the nicest part of the city, so I'd usually drive a little bit further to go to grocery shopping so I could be in a little bit more of a safer area. The night this happened, I was going to cook dinner and realized I didn't have some of the spices I needed. Normally I wouldn't just say forget it and maybe something else, but the meat had already been thawed for a day or so and I needed to cook it. I debated just going to Walmart that was about two minutes away from my campus, but it was getting late and I didn't want to go there by myself in the dark. That Walmart is right next to a major highway and being a girl, by yourself, I felt uncomfortable

risking it. So instead, I went to the Walmart that was about 20 minutes away and a few towns over. I got to that other Walmart and bought my spices along with a few other things and checked out, no problem. By the time I was done, it was now completely dark out. I was back at the driver's side of my car and putting my few bags in the passenger seat when I noticed a woman, she was African American, maybe in her 50s, looking at the back of my car. At the time, I drove a really old car and if you knew your cars, it would be surprising that it was still running. I've had a few people in the past, older men usually, look at or come up and ask me about my car. I figured that

this is what that lady was doing and I kind of ignored it until out of the corner of my eye I saw her come around my car and stop about two feet behind me where I was standing. I was parked next to a parking lot median, so it's not like she was getting in a car next to me. Excuse me, she said. I turned around saying, yes, kind of prepared to answer, hey, what year or model is your car? My church has given out leftover boxes of food from our food drive to people in need. Can I give you one? We have them out in our car over there. This immediately set off an alarm in my head. I mean, she had just

seen me put my groceries in my car. Why would I need something else if I just went shopping? Also, the churches and food pantries around my college were usually cleaned out after they had their shopping days for the people who really relied on things like food drives. It was hardly, if ever, anything that was just left over. I had watched enough criminal minds and read enough Facebook posts to note that this felt like a human trafficking lure. I stuttered over my words a bit at first, trying to figure out what to say but finally got out, oh, no thank you, I'm good. I'd like to see it go to someone who really could use it. I felt like that was an okay response if she really was handing out boxes. Are you sure? They're just right over here in my

car, she said, taking a step and making the gap between us a little smaller. I was panicking. As she stepped closer, I tried to nonchalantly put my hand in my bag and look for the small pocket knife my dad had given me. My mind was racing as I tried to find the knife, but also tried to keep my face looking calm and not suspicious. I repeated to her that I was good and that the box of food should go to someone who could really use it. She finally seemed to let up, saying, Okay, have a good night, God bless you, and all that. I told her to have a good night as well, then as soon as her back was turned, I got into my car and locked all the doors. As I pulled out of my parking spot, I noticed that the car she was walking to

had three large men standing at the trunk of the car. They were barely illuminated by the parking lot lights, but I think it was an early 2000s white Nissan. As I tried to go down the parking lot aisle as fast as I could, I saw the men looking at the back of my car, just like the woman had. I then noticed where their eyes were shifted to. They weren't looking at my car, they were looking at my license plate. Just as I got to the end of the aisle, waiting to turn, I saw two of the men get in the front seats and the other man and the woman get in the back seat. The car started and they started to pull out too.

I was having a full-blown panic attack now. Just a week before, my friend had posted something on Facebook about how two men followed her and her mom through a Walmart. Again, I had watched enough crime shows to know that this wasn't painting a pretty picture. I finally got my opportunity to turn, but that car was coming up behind me. I made the quick decision to take a really odd way back to campus. I made a ton of turns and went through a lot of small streets instead of taking one of the two main roads. I don't think I saw the car again after I pulled out of the parking lot, but I was definitely not risking it. By the time I got back to my college, I had calmed down a little.

I started to wonder, maybe you're overthinking this. Believe there actually are good people in the world. And I decided that if they really were giving out boxes of food, then hopefully it does go to someone in need. That was until I was walking behind my car, heading towards my building. There was a SF, faintly written in white sidewalk chalk on the brown paint of my car. I was shocked and terrified, knowing that I definitely did not put that there. I said out loud, oh my god, as I practically dropped my bags on the ground and rushed to wipe the chalk off with the sleeve of my jacket. My car had been tagged. After a few seconds of wiping,

the chalk was gone, so I locked my car, grabbed my bags and raced into my building. I got in my dorm and saw the dinner I was supposed to make, but I had lost my appetite completely. I put everything away and went into my bedroom, still reeling over what had happened in the last 45 minutes. I sent the whole story as a Snapchat video to some of my friends, still reeling over what had happened in the last 45 minutes. I sent the whole story as a Snapchat video to some of my friends who were all just as shocked as I was. My one friend Sarah said that she thinks SF stood for single female. It made sense, which made the whole experience that much scarier. I called my mom afterward and told her everything that happened and by the end of the call she was

sending me an Amazon package with pepper spray in it. I didn't go out after dark or by myself for about two weeks after that happened. I'd have a friend from campus or work go with me or I just wouldn't go at all. The whole situation was terrifying but I think the strangest part about all of it was that I was supposed to have been in the safer area. I drove all the way to that Walmart because I had a bad feeling about the one that was closest to me. I started going to the Walmart that was closer to me after that, and I never had a negative experience at the closer one since I started going. It's hard to believe that all that stuff I've seen on TV and the internet could have almost happened to me. I need to explain two things before I tell this story. First, I have a sleep disorder and I've had it my whole life.

I sleepwalk, nothing too dramatic, mostly just do everyday things while sleeping. Open the fridge, put clothes in the washer without starting it, take the vacuum out of the closet and set it in the middle of the room and leave. That sort of thing. When I was younger, this was an every night occurrence, but now in my late 30s, this is a once or twice a year thing. Second, I am native. I have a healthy respect for the stories of spirits my

ancestors told. Many hunting trips I would sit around the fire with my dad listening to him tell stories of the tricks wendigos play to try to lure you to them. And while I'm unsure if I believe the stories of skinwalkers and wendigo, I don't tend to mess around, just in case. Shoot to roughly three weeks ago, my husband and I both work construction. We have hard, long, and rewarding days. Once dinner is over and planning for the next day is complete, the dogs have been taken out for the last time, our heads hit the pillows and it lights out until the alarm sounds,

and we sleep like the dead. I'm pretty sure a war could break out in our bedroom, thundering tanks and all, and we would sleep right through it, wondering in the morning where all the holes in the walls came from. Our bedroom is fairly good sized and has a small bay window in the corner. My husband likes to sleep with fresh air, so he takes the window side of the bed. This particular night though, something woke me up and I never wake up. The dogs were quiet, typical northwest weather, rain quietly tapping away, no thunder, no heavy winds. I looked the dark and quiet room over and nothing was out of place. The only noise besides the rain was my husband's box van gently humming away.

I was confused but decided to just adjust my blankets, flip my pillow and go back to sleep. As I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to relax, I heard my husband. Babe, babe, come out here and give me a hand with the boys. Confused and still foggy from being woken up from a deep sleep a few seconds earlier, I open my eyes to the pitch black of the room again. Rarely one of our three dogs will need to go out at night and if one goes, they all will go. We live in an incredibly rural area and it's easy for them to get lost in the dark woods. Not a good thing when you have bears, coyotes, cougars, and whatever else on our property. Babe, babe, can you come out here and help me with the boys? He called again, voice

right against the half-open window, not concerned, just demanding. Annoyed and groggy, I leaned up, propping myself up on a stiff pile of blankets to look at the window. It was too dark to see him. The floodlight is on the other side of the house. Babe, come outside, my husband demanded. It was the third beckon that bothered me. He was never that pushy. If something was wrong, one of the dogs wandered off and he would say that.

It's happened before where he would say something like, come watch these two real quick, I can't find Murph. Or something like that. Something just wasn't right. I was finally regaining my focus and shaking off the sleepies, quite awake at this point. And I knew it was him. My husband had a very distinct voice. He's a Sicilian from Queens and has a very deep unintentionally loud voice. It was at that moment, staring out the black window,

I realized I wasn't leaning on a pile of blankets. The pile of blankets was breathing. I was leaning on my sleeping husband, listening to him call me from outside the window. Babe, come outside. The voice came again from the window. I put my hand down on my husband's face. He was there asleep next to me, but his voice, or what I thought was him, was at the window. I lay down next to him, very very close to him and close my eyes very tight. In moments like these, I'm the type to just try and pretend it's not happening. I didn't hear it again and spent the next half of the night trying to fight off the spookies and had at some point finally fallen back asleep. I told my husband about it the next morning after his, oh my god you look like death comment.

I hadn't slept well. He laughed it off as I had probably had a creepy sleepwalking thing. The thing is, when I have a sleepwalking event I remember nothing. I don't recall dreaming, walking or anything from those nights no matter how hard I try. It's like a blackout. I am sure I was awake for this. Every time I think of it these past few weeks, I remember those hunting trips. Poking coals around in the fire with a stick while my dad tells his serious yet animated tales of wendigo tricks to get you to come with them. As silly as it sounds, I think there might be one in my woods. This was back in 2013 when I was living in New York City as a 23-year-old. I was living with my best friend from college on the west side near Times Square in K-Town.

I was going through some tough times back then as I was unemployed at the time. I had a lot of time so I would go on walks by myself to clear my head from time to time and one night I was feeling especially depressed so I decided to walk to K-town to grab a drink for myself. I'm Korean by the way. I walked into a Korean bar and I got some weird looks from the waiter as I asked for a table by myself. After ordering a couple of soju bottles, I was feeling pretty drunk so I decided to walk back home. However, as I was exiting out of the bar, this Korean guy followed me. He looked pretty normal, just like a typical nice Korean guy that

might frequent that area. He told me that he saw me drinking at the bar by myself and that he would love to walk me home to make sure I get home safe. I politely declined, after all my apartment was pretty close, but he insisted and he looked so harmless that I decided to take him up on his offer. We walked like 10 minutes I think and it was quite pleasant. We were both a little drunk but I remember talking about all sorts of things, nothing really personal. When we finally arrived at my apartment I thanked him and wished him farewell. No, my apartment was a five story walk up and there was a main door where we needed a key to open it to get into the building as there was no doorman. I didn't think much of it and inserted the key to open the door and went in.

The door takes a while to close shut and it was my mistake for not checking before I went up the stairs. While I was approaching the second floor I heard someone grab the door from closing and I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I literally got goosebumps all over my body and I immediately felt like I was in danger. As I started to pick up the pace, I heard the footsteps going faster up the stairs. I lived on the fifth floor and I started to run up, clutching my keys in my hand. The guy started to run up the stairs as well and I can literally hear him getting closer and closer to me. This all happened in a couple of seconds but it felt incredibly long. I finally get to the floor and as I tried to open the door I looked back and literally saw the guy's head on the staircase. I rushed to open the door and I managed to close the door right on his face.

My heart was beating so fast and I didn't know what to do at that point. It was already 3am and my roommate was asleep. Luckily he didn't knock or anything so I decided to just go to my room and hope that he was gone. Around 7am my roommate woke me up. She said that there was a man standing in front of our apartment door. My heart instantly sank and I explained the whole situation to her. She and I went to the door and screamed that we were going to call the police if he doesn't go home. I looked through the peephole,

and he told me that he'll only go home if I gave him my number. We then called the police and saw him being escorted out. My roommate had to go to work, so she left the apartment and called me a few minutes later. She told me that she saw the guy speaking to the police downstairs, and apparently he tried to lie to the officers that I was his girlfriend and that we got into a fight. My roommate went up to them and explained to the officers that I do not have a boyfriend and she doesn't know him

at all. The police let him off with a warning. About two hours later I heard a buzz from the main door downstairs. Maybe it's the police I thought. Surely it can't be him again. I answered the intercom and I was shook. It was him again. Just give me your number and I'll go away, he said. I warned him that I'm going to call the police again if he didn't leave. A couple of minutes later, I heard ferocious knocks on my door. He must have gotten in when someone was entering the building, and I was terrified at that point so I immediately called the police. Unfortunately, the guy ran away before they got there. And the worst part about this experience was that my roommate and I were so scared to leave and come back to our apartment, I would have anxiety every time I come home, worried that I might see him in front of our

apartment door. For about a week, the police escorted us up when we felt scared and God blessed them for it. I never saw him again, but it was one of the scariest moments of my life. I'm an 18-year-old female and I went to the beach with friends and my boyfriend. It was a hot day so we had fun at the park and then in the evening went to Brighton Beach and took some pictures of the sunset. We were having a good time. My friend's J, a 19-year-old male and E and E, an 18 year old female and her boyfriend D, an 18 year old male and my boyfriend, 19 year old. So we're all sitting there. Me and my friends are wearing shorts because it was hot but the temperature was slowly going down. D leaves to catch a train. A drunk old man in his 60s approaches us. I could sense something was wrong

so I asked him about himself and he sat down with us. He seems friendly and just looking for human interaction. I like helping people and talking to strangers. He seemed to take a liking to me but I didn't think much of it. Basically, he told us about his messed up past, that his brother took his own life. His dad had prostate cancer and he got it too and only had about six months left. We were quite drunk so honestly we weren't all there. He told us about how in the morning he's going to jump off a cliff. Then he described his messed up life about self-harm, all sorts of terrible traumas. Obviously I didn't want him to off himself, so I opened up about my past too, all the abuse that I went through as a child, and it seemed to really help.

He took my hand and started stroking it. I didn't mind because he was just looking for comfort. Anyway, we all talked for about 45 minutes. He's still holding my hand and stroking the top of it. My friend is telling him about her past too and that it gets better. He takes our hands which is fine. He says that we are like his sisters, that he's homeless and he lives at the beach. He said he doesn't care about himself and only cares about other people. I asked, what makes you think you aren't worthy of being cared for? And he burst into tears and said,

I don't know. I feel for him. I take on too many burdens from others because I want to help. Anyways, it's getting colder. I'm in shorts and a linen top because I gave my hoodie to E. I'm really good at dealing with cold. My body usually projects warmth. He touches my legs and says, oh, you're boiling. Why are you so warm? Then touches my friend's legs and says she's freezing. We were still kind of drunk, so I didn't really think anything of it. Before all this, he was talking about how he respects everyone, especially women and any men who are disrespectful to them, that he'd deal with them. He told my boyfriend to take care of me. I ask if he likes jelly beans and then I give him a bag that I got from a store a few hours ago. My friend gave him a chocolate bar. We didn't really have any proper food.

He looks at me and says, you're stunning. Absolutely stunning. And without sounding like I'm vain, I have thick, very long curly hair, dyed red, which does get lots of compliments, an hourglass figure, and long legs, and a pretty face. I'm not usually freaked out when a stranger calls me pretty, so it didn't really raise any red flags. And he calls my friend pretty too. Anyway, we give him offerings and decide it was time to go get some food as it was about 8pm. Me and my boyfriend were about to go on a date and my other two friends went off to get some other food. So we get up and say our goodbyes. He places a kiss on my hand. He hugs each one of us a few times but on the last hug, he kisses E's forehead and then hugged me and lingered a kiss on my jaw. He touched my back and says, oh you're like a furnace. It was over so quickly and slowly I

didn't know what to do. At the time we were all a bit like, god what just happened? But that was yesterday and I talked to E about it and she says it made her so uncomfortable and me too. After we left him we all agreed to meet today and give him more blankets and food but we all talked about it and we figured that he was making some stuff up because it was so elaborate and practiced and didn't end up happening. I talked to a friend who always hangs out on the beach and she said that she knows him and that he's a bit weird, not dangerous, but definitely messed up. He tells everyone that he's going to take his own life and she's advised me to stay away. I went to the police station a few days ago to put down a complaint about some person who scammed me when I was trying to get a graphics card. A guy who seemed nice overheard the conversation and proposed to me to come over as he had

spare electronic equipment that he didn't use anymore. Saying that it could probably help someone else, he'd be glad to give it out. Now I didn't really put any hope into it as it was unlikely that I'd find anything interesting but I took up the offer. He didn't have that fishy person aura so I accepted coming over in a few days. I wouldn't show up alone though, just in case. A few days after I go to that house with my brother. First, the guy's not wearing a mask and tries to handshake me. There's this old person in the background watching us with a beer in hand and I can see from here that the yard is a complete mess and there's things everywhere. He guides us inside, we take

a look around and he starts pulling stuff out of a bag and it's like 15-20 year old graphics cards that are completely worthless. So I told him it ain't gonna work, it's too old. He tells us to follow him to the garage which is even more of a mess than the yard. Things laying everywhere and there's a very dirty pool, not even covered although we were still in winter. He shows us one of those first generation graphics cards, old and bulky. I tell him that it's not going to work either and he tells us to head to the shed behind the house with even more things. It's a shady place in a weird alley and I freaked out a little because the older person who hadn't said a single

word was now just following us behind. He rumbles through his shed, telling me the card he intended to give me was somewhere, but he just doesn't seem to find it. Too bad. I prepare to just leave, but then he asks me if we could look at a PC that doesn't boot. I accept and go inside the room, which is apparently the kid's room and is as messy as every other room. I approach the computer and it's missing keys. It's kind of dirty everywhere. I sit down with my brother and we start fiddling with the computer. The grandpa appears out of nowhere and sits behind my brother which kind of freaks me out by the way that he just kind of stares at us. I'm trying to fix the PC and then this mother comes in and tells me she doesn't

know much about computers and such but that she goes on the dark web. She asks me if I can check every device in the house to make sure that they haven't been pirated and that she's being spied on. At that point I just look at my brother, confused and we kind of mentally communicate, yeah we need to start getting out of here, it's getting weird. I tell the guy that I can't fix it and that it's above what I know and he seems to be okay with that. The old man lights up a cigarette in the room and we just leave. The guy keeps us and talks for like five minutes and they seem like they wanted us to stay for dinner. We tell them we have a bus to catch and kind of walk quickly

out of there. The mother stops us and asks if we're going to come back to inspect if their devices are pirated And I just say that we'll contact them again I panicked and blocked that number And we finally got out of there I don't even really know where to start to be honest. Me, a 28 year old female and my brother, a 25 year old male, have always been very close considering we're only 3 years apart in age and started hanging around with the same friend circle in our mid-teens. I had to move back in with my parents after a failed house share, it's a long story,

and my brother has lived in a house down the road from my parents' home for about the past four years. He works from home but only part time and hates his job. He came over about a month ago for coffee during his lunch break and I was off of work that day. So we were chatting and he told me about this girl that his friend had set him up with on a blind date and he was really excited. He went on the date about a fortnight ago and I heard all about it the next day.

I'm going to call her Sarah. So he told me Sarah was gorgeous, a year older than him, tall and slim, long blonde hair and green eyes. He said she's probably one of the most beautiful women he's ever met. I was so happy for him because I don't think he's had a girlfriend since he was 18 and the way he was talking about this girl made her sound like they got on like a house on fire. He brought up that at the end of the date she did ask him if he'd like to meet her aunt and sisters because he'd mentioned he's unhappy with his work life and she said that her family owns a business and he could come around for a meeting the next evening. I thought that was kind of weird, but he sounded really excited about it.

I did make my feelings known, telling him that it sounded like a multi-level marketing scheme and that they were going to try to recruit him. He just laughed it off and said that he'd be going around to their house to discuss it and if it was a triangle scheme, he'd just nope right out of there. I said okay, be safe, have fun, call me if you need help or for me to pick you up, etc. A few days passed and I sent him a text asking him how it went. He replied saying it definitely wasn't an MLM and there were more people there than just her sisters and aunt. He said that there were around 11 women there and that he was the only male. He got there and they made him tea and all the women were just chit-chatting until the aunt, a woman in her late 40s, comes out and shushes them all.

They all take their seats, including my brother who sits down next to Sarah and the aunt begins to speak. He says he wasn't really 100% sure on what she was talking about but it sounds like she was reading gospel passages or something, bits of English and bits of another language unidentifiable by my brother. The aunt asked my brother to stand up beside her at the front of the living room and all the women started passing around a basket and filling it with cash. Apparently soon after this collection was finished, the women started singing in this other language and then dispersed around the house. He said from that moment onwards,

it was just like a regular party and get-together. He was a bit baffled, but an hour later all the women had left, and he was helping Sarah clean up glasses and plates when the aunt came over and sat down at the kitchen table. She handed my brother the basket of money, which he didn't take so I don't know how much these women had given, and said to him that if he comes back every week for the meetings, he'll receive the same, if not more, payment for his presence. He asked Sarah later that night once he'd left what the heck he just attended, and she said it was a family tradition,

and as a man he should be rewarded, and she was really adamant about him coming back the next week. He didn't go back and blocked her on everything. But what in God's name did my brother attend? Why were they just giving him money for just existing? To be continued... My fiancé, a 27-year-old male, and I, a 23-year-old female, are soon to be married and are remodeling an old family home. We started working on the house about two or three months ago. My fiancé bought a bunch of tools to use on the house to renovate. The house had been sitting with nobody in it for over a year.

Keep in mind, the house is located in a fairly rural area. A few houses and trailers here and there but not too much traffic. We have a rodent problem and have been setting traps to catch them. Three weeks ago my fiancé went to check the traps and we had a rat that was alive. Long story short, he didn't want to take care of it so he left it. I go off to work at 9pm and went over to the house to take care of the rat. It was raining and my mom and brother came with me. I went to the back door and it was wide open and water was blowing into the house. I was pretty angry.

I thought my fiancé had left the door open. I shut it and finished my business there. I asked my fiancé why he left the door open and I shut it and finished my business there and I asked my fiancé why he left the door open and he claimed he didn't. I called nonsense on that and just left it at that. It didn't occur to me that somebody had possibly made a quick getaway. Fast forward to today, my fiancé and I went to our house to throw a whole bunch of trash and stuff into the dumpster we rented. When we went inside, we immediately noticed that some things were missing. Drills, sanders, etc. We realized that they had been stolen. We call my mother-in-law and tell her about it.

She says make a police report. What scares me so much about this is that everything began to click with that rat trap incident. Somebody had been scoping us out. I would go to her house by myself on many occasions and always had the creeps and like I was feeling watched. My little brother even remarked that he felt watched there as well and asked if we were sure nobody was in there while we were gone. I noticed a day when I was there alone that my dog

was acting very nervous and suspicious. She wasn't running and playing games like she usually does and didn't want me to go to the backyard or the wooded area. I'm glad I trusted her and my gut feeling. I don't know if the thieves were there but I'm glad I didn't find out. We're currently in the process of installing cameras. This had to have been somebody that lives near us and can monitor how often we are there. So the person or people that broke into my unfinished home. Let's never meet again. So we did catch a car pulling in like it was scoping the place out. The people inside never got out but they left. We asked a few of my fiancé's family members

about it and that was to our detriment. One of them went and spread the word that we have cameras and somebody in the neighborhood who owned the vehicle that we caught on camera slipped up and said that they already knew things had been stolen. Which to me is basically a confession because we hadn't told anybody about the robbery until the incident with the car was caught on camera. So now more people than necessary know and we probably won't catch the person who does it. We still turn the footage into the police and maybe they can dig up some information. The End This took place in Maine, a state in northeastern United States, around 2007 or 2008. I was in third or fourth grade and just for fun joined the local community service soccer teams with my friends from school. Usually one of the parents of the team would be the coach and another parent would act as assistant coach.

But on this day, the assistant coach was sick so the community service center sent this other middle-aged older woman to sub as our assistant coach. Well, this day happened to also be one of our teammates, I'll call her Mel's, birthday. And she was having a big sleepover party where the whole team was invited. It was all we were talking about during the game and Mel was a really close friend of mine and this would be the first time sleeping at her house so I was really excited. We all were. During the game as I was talking to Mel about the sleepover party later, that assistant coach woman I'd never met before called my name out and waved me over to her. I've always prided myself on having good intuition and this was one of those moments.

For some reason I just got a real bad feeling in my stomach but I listened and went over to her. But as I stood about a foot away from her, she wiggled her finger in a motion to get me to come closer. And that's when my alarm bell started going off in my head more, so I leaned in just ever so slightly closer because I was too uncomfortable to step forward. Once I leaned in a little bit, I think she noticed I didn't want to step closer, so she leaned in too and whispered to me, so I'm Mel's mom. I'm going to be taking you to the sleepover party after the game, so come right with me to my car as soon as the game's over, okay? And I don't know why, but it just felt

really off. I hadn't met Mel's mom before, and she was indeed supposed to be picking both me and Mel up to bring us back to the party after the game, but it just felt wrong. So I stuck to Mel's side like Velcro the rest of the game, and as soon as it was over, I told Mel that we should run to her mom's car and I'd explain. So we take off in a sprint and Mel leads me to her mom's car and we both hop in. But as her mom turns around, my eyes widen. I say, wait, are you Mel's mom? And she looked confused and said something along the lines of, yes, of course, why? And that's when my heart sunk. Mel's mom was not the assistant coach stand-in lady. And I told Mel's real mom what happened and she was pretty concerned but

never did anything about it that I know of. And I told my family the next day but only my grandmother believed me. So nothing ever got done to find this lady or figure out why the heck she was trying to impersonate my friend's mom to lure me to her vehicle. And I just thought I'd share because this situation really stuck with me, and I've always worried that maybe she tried again and succeeded with another child. I've since searched the internet for cases of children, particularly young girls around 3rd or 4th grade gone missing from school or community service events, and haven't found any that resonate with what happened to me. But that doesn't mean they're not out there. It was a cold October night at around 11pm when me and my buddy were cruising and stopped to take a smoke break.

We got out of the car in a secluded area in a small village called Morsel. The place we walked was next to a dark running biking track which entered a forest. We sat down on the bench outside the tree line smoking our special cigarettes under the subtle light of the moon. A remarkable thing about this spot was that it was located in view, within 50 meters, of the horror house of Morsel. In 1996, three people were brutally murdered in there and it has since been sealed up. It is known that the interior is untouched since those of that crime. A documentary was made about this and that's how I know this info. And here's the other thing I know. The two murderers are already released from jail and by the time of my incident, one was let go from prison just months before.

Back to the bench, after 10-15 minutes our eyes were able to see better in the dark and I started looking towards the dark path running in the forest. Between the trees I saw something which I thought was a bag or a mask on a rope hanging from a branch at eye height. Immediately I told my friend and he agreed about that conclusion. But after moving a few steps closer and focusing our eyesight, we saw it was a grown man with a bag or mask on his head, in the dark. He was standing in some bushes and we saw the movement of his breathing and that he was wearing regular boomer clothes. First, we quietly told each other and said WTF and confirmed we both saw exactly the same thing. Reminder that this person was standing like 10 meters away from us and this was for 10 to 15 minutes in pitch black darkness. Then we were looking at him for another minute until I started yelling at him.

I just yelled things like, hey, come out. I did this despite being spooked by the strange experience. It's just how I am, I guess. He then raised his hand in the motion of aiming a gun and we ran back to the car as fast as we could. Looking behind my shoulder, we saw that he was keeping his arm aimed at us, but we couldn't make out if he actually had a gun. After getting out of there and composing ourselves, we did realize one more very disturbing thing. The guy did not want to mess with two adult young males. In the daylight, a lot of people traverse this place by bike or on foot. So, one of the possibilities is that this crazy man was going to intercept a lone person in the wrong place at the wrong time. At approximately 11.25am on August 1st of 1966,

a 25-year-old architectural engineering student at the University of Texas arrived at the Austin campus's main building. He was pushing a small dolly, one which carried a large and heavily packed footlocker, but as he wheeled the dolly toward the building's main elevator, he found it wasn't functioning. It was then that a helpful employee named Vera Palmer approached and asked if he'd like her to activate it for him. Thank you, ma'am, the student said. You don't know how happy that makes me. Standing at 307 feet tall, the university's main building is perhaps the most prominent and easily recognizable building on the entire campus. At the time, it was largely

an administrative building, but its 28 floors also contained a three-floor life sciences library and the university's herbarium. Yet on the 28th floor was a large observation deck, one which looked over the entire Austin campus, and it was the same observation deck that was the engineering student's intended destination. Once he arrived on the observation deck, the student ceased to push the locker laden dolly, kneeled down, and opened it. After reaching inside, he produced a scoped, bolt-action Remington Model 700, one of the most accurate long-range rifles ever produced. 51-year-old Edna Townsley, the observation deck's receptionist, gasped as the student produced the rifle and pushed to

raise the alarm. But the student caught up with her and sent the butt of the rifle crashing into the back of her skull. Once she was downed, he smashed the butt into her forehead, causing a catastrophic brain injury, then concealed her unconscious body behind a couch. Two visitors then entered the reception area from the observation deck and were understandably startled to see a man with a firearm standing before them. Yet the student just smiled, acting as if he belonged there and gave the pair a cheerful, Hi, how are you? They returned the greeting, headed to the nearby elevator, then returned to the building's ground floor. They later said they believed the student was there to shoot pigeons,

whose feces were a constant annoyance to the deck's visitors. But the student was not there to hunt pigeons. He was there to hunt people. His name was Charles Joseph Whitman, and one of the deadliest mass shootings in U.S. history was about to begin. Born on June 24th of 1941 in Lake Worth, Florida, Charles Whitman's early life was marred by vicious domestic violence. His father was a perfectionist authoritarian, and nothing his family ever did seemed to reach his impossibly high standards. His father was also an avid firearms enthusiast,

who began teaching Charles to shoot from a very young age. Charles became proficient in cleaning and maintaining weaponry, and by his teenage years, his father boasted that his son could plug the eye out of a squirrel from a hundred yards. Following his graduation from high school, Charles decided on a career in the U.S. Marine Corps. Life in the Marines suited Charles, who impressed his instructors with his sharp discipline and even sharper shooting. He scored.215 out of a.250 on his marksmanship test, earning himself a sharpshooter's badge in the process. Then, when his commanding officer noticed how intelligent he was, he was encouraged to apply for the Marine Corps Scholarship Program.

This would involve him attending college so that he'd be worthy of becoming a commissioned officer. Charles enjoyed his time at college, earning a reputation as a fun-loving hellion among his many friends. But there was a darker side to Charles too. He was once caught butchering a deer in his dormitory, and a friend recalled how he once gazed out the lofty exterior of the campus' main building before remarking that a person could stand off an army from the top of that thing before they got him. Although Charles met his wife while studying at UT Austin, his grades were not up to scratch, and he was forced to leave Kathleen behind while he

returned to the Marines. Charles was extremely resentful of the move, and back at North Carolina's Camp Lejeune, his conduct grew increasingly worse. In November of 1963, he was court-martialed for gambling, usury, and possession of a personal firearm on base. Following a court-martial and a demotion from Lance Corporal to Private, he was sentenced to 90 days of hard labor. Even after being demoted, Charles still enjoyed his time in the Marine Corps, but the separation from his wife was beginning to wear him down. He frequently expressed adoration for her in a diary he kept, as well as a desire to leave behind a life he loved just to be closer to her. Just over a year later, Charles did just that, successfully receiving an honorable discharge before enrolling at UT Austin.

Just two months before the day of the UT Austin shooting, Charles' mother announced she was leaving her father due to the prolonged physical abuse. Charles welcomed the decision and drove to Florida to help his mother to move to Austin. He was so afraid that his father might hurt his mother as she prepared to leave that he asked a police officer to stand guard as she did so. After his mother had settled down in Austin, Charles' father spent the modern day equivalent of $8,000 on long distance phone calls as he begged her to come home. He also made hundreds of calls to Charles who found the experience so stressful that he began abusing amphetamines to cope with the stress. He also began to experience extremely painful headaches and despite several trips to a doctor, nothing seemed to alleviate them. It's not clear how long Charles had been planning on carrying out the shooting, but it's suspected that on the day preceding it, he decided that he simply couldn't take any more. At around 6.45pm,

Charles began typing the note that he would leave behind, with one section reading, I do not really understand myself these days. I'm supposed to be a reasonable and intelligent young man. However, lately I've been a victim of many unusual and irrational thoughts. These thoughts constantly reoccur, and it requires a tremendous mental effort to concentrate on useful and progressive tasks. The note continues with Charles requesting that he be medically examined following his death, the goal being to determine if something was biologically contributing to his desire to kill. Charles also stated that he wished to save his wife and mother from the cruel, hurtful world they inhabited and that this would serve to save them from the

shame of the terrible crime he was about to commit. Although he did not mention it directly, this is undoubtedly a reference to the bloodshed he planned to unleash on the students of UT Austin. Shortly after midnight in the early morning of August 1st, Charles drove to his mother's Austin apartment, crept into her bedroom while she slept, then stabbed her through the heart with a sharpened combat knife. When police discovered the lifeless corpse, a handwritten note had been placed next to the body. To whom it may concern, it read, I have just taken my mother's life. I am very upset over having done it.

However, I feel that if there is a heaven, she is definitely there now. I am truly sorry, and let there be no doubt in your mind that I love this woman with all my heart. Following the murder of his own mother, Charles then returned home where he repeated the act of sneaking into his wife's bedroom before killing her while she slept. Once she was dead, he continued typing up his note. I imagine it appears that I brutally killed both of my loved ones, he wrote, but I was only trying to do a quick and thorough job. If my life insurance policy is valid, please pay off my debts, then donate the rest anonymously to a mental health foundation. Maybe research can prevent further tragedies of this type. Give our dog to my in-laws. Tell them Kathy loved him very much. If you can find it in yourselves to grant my last wish, cremate me after the autopsy. In the envelope he slid the note inside, and he wrote in blue ballpoint pen, 8166. I could never quite make it. These thoughts are too much for me. Later that day, just as Charles was set

to begin the massacre, Michael Gabor, his wife Mary, and their two sons Mike and Mark walked into the observation deck's reception area. They were in Austin visiting Michael's sister, Margaret Lamport, and she had accompanied them on a visit to UT Austin. Upon seeing them, Whitman grabbed a loaded, sawn-off shotgun from his footlocker and fired on the two Garber boys, hitting Mike in the shoulder and Mark in the head. As their parents fled, Charles followed them into the stairwell and fired down at them, hitting both Mary and Margaret. Margaret would later pass away as a result of her wounds, while Mary was left

paralyzed from the neck down with severely impaired eyesight. Moments later, Charles took the exterior of the observation deck and looked down at the vastness of the UT Austin campus laid out before him. Charles could see literally hundreds of people going about their business below and all of them were potential targets of his murderous wrath. Not only could Charles target almost every square foot of the UT Austin campus, but he also had a perfect view of nearby Guadalupe Street, which was home to coffee shops, bookstores, and other student hangouts. And with that, Charles took a deep breath, shouldered his rifle, and took aim at the innocent people below. The first unfortunate soul that came into Whitman's sights was 18-year-old Claire Wilson.

Claire and a fellow student named Thomas Eckman were departing the UT Austin Student Union when they fell into Whitman's sights. And there may have been an extremely disturbing reason why Claire was the first of Whitman's sights, and there may have been an extremely disturbing reason why Claire was the first of Whitman's victims. She was eight months pregnant, visibly with child, and Whitman chose to shoot her square in the abdomen. Her unborn son was killed instantly when the bullet struck her, and as Thomas Ekman rushed to their aid, he too was shot in the chest. Ekman died instantly as a result of the gunshot, while Claire spent the next three months recovering in the hospital. Whitman's third victim was 33-year-old Robert Boyer, who bled to death after a rifle bullet struck him in the lower back. At the time of his death, Boyer had been working on a paper which outlined a method of mapping out extraterrestrial black holes.

This paper was posthumously published in 1967 to critical acclaim, and his name now lends itself to the Boyer-Linquis coordinate system. Next to be shot was 31-year-old Devereux Huffman. Devereux was stopped dead in his tracks by the horrific sight of Boyer's shooting and received a bullet through the arm. He was only saved from an execution by the fact that he audaciously feigned death, laying still so that Whitman wouldn't target him again. Whitman then turned his attention to the nearby Guadalupe Street, where he spotted three Peace Corps volunteers on the way to lunch. David Mattson, Roland Elke, and Tom Herman hadn't heard the gunshots coming from the top of the main building, and only realized something was happening when a bullet ripped off a chunk of

Mattson's wrist. This same bullet then fragmented into pieces on the wall behind them, and a piece of the bullet's shrapnel tore its way into Elkie's arm. Roland Elkie dived into cover, waited a few moments, then emerged to try to drag his wounded friend to safety. Whitman then fired a round which hit Elkie in the leg and sent him crashing into the pavement beneath him. Homer J. Kelly, a shopkeeper who watched the two boys getting shot, rushed to their aid and attempted to save their lives, but he too was shot in the leg as he attempted to save them. Whitman then spotted 22-year-old Thomas Ashton approaching the scene, a friend of the Peace Corps volunteers who intended to meet them for lunch. Whitman put a single bullet through the young man's chest, which snuffed out his life in an instant. 21-year-old Nancy Harvey and her friend Ellen Eugenides were just exiting the main building for their lunch break when they heard the shots echoing around the area.

They immediately ran back inside the building and informed a security guard of what they'd heard, yet the security guard assured them that he'd received no word of any gunfire around the campus and told them it was safe to leave. They walked back out of the building just in time for a brief ceasefire while Whitman reloaded his rifle. But after walking just a hundred yards away from the tower, Whitman spotted them and opened fire. Nancy was shot in the hip, and through some hideous stroke of misfortune, the shot ricocheted off a stone pillar and flew back at Ellen, striking her in the hip, and through some hideous stroke of misfortune, the shot ricocheted off a stone pillar and flew back at Ellen, striking her in the leg. The next unfortunate souls spotted by

Whitman were two 17-year-old high school students named Alec Hernandez and Karen Griffith. Hernandez was shot in the leg while delivering newspapers on his bicycle, while Griffith's right lung was pierced after being shot in the chest. Hernandez survived his wound while Griffith would pass away in the hospital seven days later. A UT student named Thomas Carr ran to their aid after seeing them hit the ground. Whitman would shoot them through the spine as he tried to stem the bleeding of Karen Griffith's wound, and he passed away within the hour. Moments later, 23-year-old David Gunby remembered he'd left one of his books at the university library. As he walked to retrieve it, one of Whitman's bullets tore through his upper left arm and entered his abdomen, slicing up his small intestine as it did so.

After Gunby was shot, teenagers Adrian and Brenda Littlefield who had gotten married just nine days earlier were shot as they exited the UT Austin main building. Both would survive their injuries and were some of the first to be rescued by first responders when an armored car arrived on campus to evacuate the wounded. 18-year-old Claudia Rutt and her boyfriend Paul Bolton Sontag had just bumped into a close friend of theirs, Carla Wheeler, when they heard the gunshots. All immediately ran for cover, but during a brief lull in the shooting,

Paul stood up to look around, Whitman saw him, aimed his rifle, and shot him through the head, killing him instantly. Claudia then rushed to Paul's aid while Carla tried to restrain her to prevent her from being shot. Whitman aimed at them and fired, sending a bullet into Claudia's chest. She too would pass away from her wounds almost immediately. At the time of the shooting, Paul Sontag's grandfather was the acting news director of a local news station. Tragically, he only learned of his grandson's death when the victim's names were read out live on air. When he heard the shooting commence, 29-year-old electrician Roy Schmidt dove into cover,

but like Paul Sontag, he revealed himself during a brief law in the shooting. Whitman put a bullet through his abdomen from over 400 meters away, and over the next 30 minutes or so, he slowly and painfully bled to death. Shortly afterward, 24-year-old Billy Paul Speed would become the only police officer to be killed in the shooting. Speed was taking cover behind some decorative balusters on Austin's South Mall, and Whitman managed to put a bullet in him through a small gap in the m. Speed was taking cover behind some decorative balusters on Austin's South Mall, and Whitman managed to put a bullet in him through a small gap in the masonry. Speed was rushed to a hospital not long after, but died during emergency surgery. PhD student Harry Walchuk was then shot in the chest while leaving a magazine store on

Guadalupe Street, while UT basketball coach Billy Snowden was struck in the shoulder while standing in a barbershop doorway. Abdul Kashab, a 24-year-old exchange student from Iraq, was then shot near the corner of Guadalupe and 24th Street. His fiancée, Janet Palos, would also take one of the Whitman's bullets shortly before 21-year-old Sandra Wilson was shot. 21-year-old Lana Phillips was then shot through the shoulder before Oscar Roy Vela and his girlfriend Irma Garcia were shot near Hogg Auditorium.

A shot then struck 26-year-old carpenter Avelino Esparza's left arm, shattering the bone, just before Marine veteran Robert Hurd was shot. 18-year-old John Scott Allen was looking at the tower through a window of the student union when a bullet smashed the glass. Whitman fired with such speed and accuracy that his second shot severed an artery in Allen's right forearm. 30-year-old funeral director Morris Homan was using his business's ambulance to take victims to the hospital when he was shot in his right leg. He later recalled, I'd laid there for about 40-45 minutes, listening to two construction workers arguing about who was

going to expose themselves to recover me. F.L. Foster and Robert Frida were then wounded by friendly fire when they passed in the way of bullet exchange between Whitman and police officers shooting from the ground. This was quickly followed by two visiting Mexican tourists, Della and Marina Martinez, being wounded by bullet fragments. Dolores Ortega then suffered a cut on the back of her head, caused either by flying glass or one of Whitman's bullets. Within just 30 minutes, the University of Austin's campus had transformed from a peaceful place of learning to a veritable war zone,

with scores of police officers laying down covering fire as assault teams rushed the main building's front entrance. A police sharpshooter in a small plane was driven back by Whitman's return fire, but continued to circle at a distance, seeking to distract Whitman and further limit his freedom to choose targets. Whitman then began to fire through a storm drain at the foot of the observation deck's wall, continuing to target police officers on the ground as others rushed up the building stairs. First to reach the 27th floor were officers Jerry Day and Houston McCoy, who were accompanied by off-duty police officer Ray Martinez and a retired Air Force tail gunner named Alan Crum. One of the first wounded people they encountered was 19-year-old Mike Gabber,

one of Whitman's first victims. Mike gestured to the observation deck and weakly told the man, he's out there. Ray Martinez was the first man onto the observation deck, telling Alan Crum to remain at the door. Jerry Day and Houston McCoy reached the observation deck just moments later. Then around 1.24pm, Martinez and McCoy rounded the northeastern corner of the observation deck just moments later. Then, around 1.24pm, Martinez and McCoy rounded the northeastern corner of the observation deck. Martinez opened fire on Whitman, but missed all six shots of his revolver. McCoy then leaped out while Martinez was firing and saw Whitman's head looking over a light ballast. McCoy fired at the top of the ballast, hitting Whitman between the eyes

with several pellets. Whitman died instantly, but Officer Martinez was so terrified that he grabbed a spare shotgun, ran over to Whitman's lifeless body, and fired a shotgun blast directly into his left arm. Martinez then had to take cover as officers on the ground, who didn't realize Whitman was down, continued to pepper the observation deck with rounds. One of the worst mass shootings in U.S. history was finally over. But the painful aftermath of the 16 murders and countless injuries had just begun. Immediately following the shootings, the main building's observation deck was closed off to the public. After repairs were made, the tower was reopened in 1968, but was closed off again seven years later following a quick succession of people taking their lives. The university then installed

a stainless steel lattice and other security features, and it was reopened again in 1999. But admission was purely by appointment only, and all visitors were screened by metal detectors. UT Texas then established its very own police force, one of the first in the country, and graduates of its police academy still undergo a wide variety of training programs designed to help them prepare to combat threats if local SWAT teams are unavailable. In 2006, a memorial garden was

dedicated to those who died. On the day it was opened, the tower's clock was stopped for 24 hours beginning at 11.48 a.m., with the day itself being declared Ray Martinez Day. Following Whitman's death, but not as a result of his last wishes, an autopsy was performed on his body, with a particular focus on the man's brain. This was how doctors discovered a small brain tumor pressing up against his amygdala, and there was some speculation as to whether or not this contributed to his state of mind preceding the shooting. One doctor stated that, It is the opinion of the task force that the relationship between the brain tumor and Whitman's actions cannot be established with clarity. However, it's conceivable that the tumor contributed to his inability to control his emotions and actions.

Yet, another forensic investigator theorized that since the tumor was pressing up against Whitman's amygdala, part of the brain related to anxiety and fight-or-flight responses, that it's almost certain that it contributed in some way. A joint Catholic funeral service for Whitman and his mother was held in Lake Worth's Hillcrest Memorial Park on August 5th of 1966. Since he was a military veteran, Whitman was buried with military honors. His casket was draped with the American flag. This caused outrage among the American public, who believed that no such honors should have been bestowed on a mass murderer such as he.

Although Whitman's actions have all been forgotten about by some Americans, millions were haunted by his actions and characters in the years that followed. Perhaps one of the most succinct diatribes was written by Texan country singer Kinky Friedman, who actually graduated UT Austin during the same year as the shooting. In his song, The Ballad of Charles Whitman, Friedman sings, The doctor's tore his poor brain down, but not a snitch of illness could be found. Most folks couldn't figure out just why he did it, and them that could would not admit it. But there's still a lot of Eagle Scouts around. The End Back when I was doing my PhD, I lived with these two guys in a shared house on 20th Street in South Slope, Brooklyn.

They were both doing their doctorates too, both crazy smart guys, and the whole idea was that we kept the house somewhere quiet and free of parties so we could actually get work done. One of the guys, we'll call him Andy, always respected that arrangement, as did Steve, the other guy that I lived with. Only, Andy was in a relationship with a girl who was not good for him. Maybe it was the other way around, maybe he wasn't the nice guy I always figured he was, and it was him that was bad for her. Either way, I think they fought more than they got along and over a few months

in the spring of 99, things between them got worse and worse. They used to fight like cats and dogs anyway and I lost count of the number of times Andy came home in a bad mood because of something she'd done or said. It got to the point where he just seemed angry all the time. But as much as we politely suggested he just end the relationship, he just couldn't seem to do it. I don't think I'd have minded so much if he just kept it away from the house, but he was always bringing the girl over, taking her up to his room and after a few hours, these huge fights would break out with shouting and screaming and crying. And in a time before noise cancelling

headphones, this was a major problem for me and Steve. But then came this one fight between Andy and his girl that started to sound less like a verbal one and more like a physical one. I remember my room shaking a little, taking off the old school foam coated headphones I was using to try and block the sound out and thinking, uh oh. There were a few more bangs and crashes then I heard a door slam and then I heard the sound of Steve and Andy having some sort of conversation in the hallway. From what I could tell, Andy then ran down the stairs and slammed the front door of the house as he walked out into the hallway. From what I could tell, Andy then ran down the stairs and slammed the front door of the house as he walked out into the street. Next thing I knew, Steve is knocking

on my door and he doesn't wait for me to answer before he walked in. I'm worried about Andy and Layla, he says, which I honestly thought was kind of funny at the time because we were always kind of worried about Andy and Layla, which was the name of the girl he was dating. He catches me kind of smirking about the whole thing, which I know was cynical of me, but I was just so sick of the whole thing at the time and he follows up with something like, No dude, really, like, he's just done something. I asked what made him think that as apart from the crashes and bangs it was

basically no different from any other fight they had and I figured all the noises were from slamming doors or punching walls or whatever. He then told me that it looked like Andy had blood on his knuckles but again it was nothing that wall punching couldn't account for. Steve then insisted he go check on Andy's room to make sure that nothing had happened, and I thank god he persisted because if we just kept ignoring things and plotting Andy's eviction, things might have escalated where irreparable damage was done. So, we walk over to Andy's room, expecting maybe a few dents in the wall and some smashed CD cases or something.

We knew Layla liked to break his CDs whenever she was mad. But then, when we go to open the door, it was locked. Andy never locked his room. We were just at this level of trust where he didn't expect each other to go nosing around each other's rooms, and if we did, there was probably a good reason for it. Borrowing something, borrowing a few quarters, or some paper, that sort of thing. So the fact that Andy's room was locked all of a sudden, that was just a major red flag to us. We knocked on the door, not really knowing what to expect from it, but we were greeted with silence, so we figured Layla had left the apartment before he did. Right after that, another one of our discussions about getting Andy out of the apartment started. How he was making it difficult to work, how we didn't want him affecting our

progress and whatnot. Then, right as we're talking, we hear something coming from inside Andy's room. It sounds weird but I honestly thought it sounded like a cat at first. It was like this long, drawn out yowl or something. Only, because we knew Andy didn't have a cat, there was only one thing it could have been. Me and Steve gave each other a look as if to be like, oh god, it's Layla. So we knocked on the door again and asked if she's okay. And again, we're greeted by some long, drawn-out groan, and that's when I start to get really, really scared for her. What kind of condition had Andy left her in that she was just totally unable to get a word out? What state was she in that all she could do is reply with a groan like that?

We started hammering on the door again, asking Layla if she could say anything, if she was able to unlock the door, that kind of thing. Then, as the moments ticked by, her groan started to sound a little more lucid, more like grunts or cries, and that's when we realized that she might be gagged. We knew we had to do something about it, and that thing was calling the cops and the EMTs before smashing the door from its hinges. Only, we're PhD students, not bodybuilders, and the doors and house shares were pretty well built so no matter how much Hollywood-style shoulder banging or door kicking we were going to do, it probably wasn't going to be enough. That's when he set about running around to do, it probably wasn't going to be enough.

That's when he set about running around the house, looking for something heavy enough to bash the door down. We had a few old tools lying around, but it's not like we knew how to use them to dismantle the door handle and unjiggle the lock or whatever. We also knew that just a hammer and a wrench weren't going to be enough to bash the door down. Maybe to bash a big hole in it, but that would take time. And it turned out it was time we didn't have because right when we were debating whether or not to start bashing, Andy returns home. All we heard from the kitchen was the front door opening and closing so we cut him off in the hallway with an initial question of, What did you do, dude? He tries to pass it off like there's nothing going on, looking at us like we're crazy and

then trying to get past us to the stairs. And that's when I notice that he's holding something in his hand, something that's wrapped in a brown paper bag. We start asking him, what's in the bag, Andy? But again, he plays it off like we're acting all crazy and asks us what's with all the questions. Thankfully, we'd already called the cops by that point and they'd assured us that they were on their way. The only trouble was, we had to leave the door open for them and Andy had just closed it. I wouldn't normally be worried about going to open it again, but I was very concerned about what Andy had in his bag. He starts telling us to get out of the way of the stairs. We tell him we can't do that, and he knows why too. That's when his facial expressions change drastically,

and he gets this really dark and frightening look about him. We tell him that the cops are on their way, and then we ask him again what's in the bag. He doesn't reply, and for a second, I thought he was about to reveal a hatchet or knife or something from the bag and start swinging at us. But he didn't. He just backed up towards the door, giving us the same furious look without saying a word. Then as quickly as he showed up again, he just left. Steve later said that we should have at least tried to detain him, like jump him and then just keep him in place until the cops arrived to arrest him. But even the cops agreed that was a bad idea. He was in a very, very violent mood that night, and if what we believe he was planning is correct, I don't think he'd have had much of a problem hurting us, maybe even as bad as he was planning on hurting

Layla. And speaking of Layla, the reason why she sounded like she was gagged was because that's exactly what happened. Andy had knocked her out, then tied her up and gagged her to keep from going anywhere. He knew she'd go to the cops about him hitting her and he wasn't prepared to let that happen. We still don't know what he had in that bag, but we're pretty sure it was something to finish the job that he'd started on Layla. We didn't hear about him being arrested or anything. Andy had come to NYU from Arizona, so it's possible he just fled back there somehow and has kept a low profile ever

since. Or maybe he was arrested and we just didn't hear anything about it because after he ran away that night, he basically dropped off the face of the earth. If he was arrested though, the officers we dealt with that night certainly didn't hear anything about it but they were basically beat cops so I'm not sure how far their informational reach was in that way anyway. Whatever happened, I'm almost certain we'd saved two lives that night, Layla and Andy's. I'm obviously more pleased that we saved Layla's as no matter how irritating she could be, no one deserves that kind of treatment. But I know we saved Andy's too because if he had killed her or done any serious, irreparable damage to Layla, he'd be in prison now for a long, long time. So I used to know this girl in college who started out really sweet.

Like this real wholesome Midwest girl who came from a super church going christian family And for the sake of anonymity, we'll just call her Kate College was her first real taste of freedom and with that freedom came certain privileges As well as certain temptations We were the ones who got her the first wine cooler she ever drank, and, as horrible as it sounds, it was fun to corrupt someone pure like that. I mean, she wanted to drink, and the way we saw it, it was either we let her do it in a controlled, safe environment like our dorms, or she might go out and do it somewhere not so safe, with people who didn't

have her best interests at heart. We used to drink once a week at the most and only on weekends, mainly because it was hard to scrape the money together and to find someone or somewhere that wouldn't get us carded. But then after a few months of purely weekend drinking, Kate started wanting to drink on a Tuesday or Wednesday too, just to break the week up for what she called pump day drinks. I know she borrowed the concept from other students who did the same thing, but we just couldn't handle being hungover in the middle of the week, especially if we had assignments or early morning classes. Sure, we did it once or twice just to live some of that wild college life,

but after a while, we all started being like, Kate, chill, we don't have the money. Or Kate, chill, we got classes in the morning. She started out like a good influence on us, but after the holidays came and went, it was like we had to be the good influence to her. Then it got to the point where when we didn't want to party midweek or all weekend, we were lame or weren't living to the fullest or whatever phrase she borrowed from the burnouts who were all destined to drop out during their sophomore years most likely. This all built up to Kate just ditching us in favor of a much more party-oriented friend group, which we were real sad about. But there was a lot of cattiness involved, so it's not like we reached out to try to help her. It wasn't until she needed it most that we tried to actually help her. I remember coming back to the dorms one day and when I walked into the corridor that me and most

of my little friend group were stayed in, I immediately knew something was wrong when one of them came to meet me in the hallway. She had this look on her face like she'd just seen a ghost, and I use that phrase very carefully too because when I went into her room, it was like I'd seen a ghost too. Sitting on her bed, having lost a ton of weight, was Kate, and when I say she looked like a ghost compared to the girl we once knew, I really do mean that. She looked like she'd died and come back to life or something, like she was a zombified version of herself. I could barely believe it was even the same girl. My friend said that all she'd done when she first showed up at the dorms was cry,

so it was hard to get the actual story out of her for a while, but here's the gist of what happened to her in the time that she'd been away from us. As you can probably guess, Kate started partying more and more with her new friends, but she found out that they were into way more than just drinking. They were smoking a lot of pot, taking molly, and even doing coke when they could get it. Some of them were these rich Rhode Island girls who got a monthly allowance from their parents and their dealers knew it so they kept giving them stuff on credit and then collecting the debt every couple of weeks. Katie didn't have that kind of luxury though, like her parents supported her but only when it came to buying books and whatnot. But what she did have was a completely clean slate with some of the dealers her new friends were buying from and when they maxed

out their credit with them, I'm not sure how much that was, they pushed her to buy on credit. She said she was scared to be in debt at first but after the partying started she basically forgot all about it, especially with her new friends saying that they'd cover her debts when the time came to collect. Like I said, I don't know how deep she was in with them, but it must have been a whole lot because when it came time to cover her debts, her new friends basically ghosted her. And that's when the threats from the dealer started coming. And they were calling her phone like non-stop, sending her all kinds of threatening messages and stuff. And that's when she came running to us for help.

She wanted us to hide her, keep her clean, help her get her life back on track, and honestly, we were only too willing to help her like that. We stopped drinking in solidarity with her, basically cut out anything remotely tempting so she could get herself back to normal. We helped her get a new number, helped hide her away from her new friends, who were anything but. We thought she was doing so well, but then one day, Kate just disappeared. She stopped showing up to our dorm, stopped answering her phone, and she stopped going to classes too. First thing we did was head over to her dorm, and since she had a room on the ground floor, we were able to go around back to see if any of her stuff was still there. As far as we could tell, she'd left everything behind. Clothes, shoes, laptop, only thing we

couldn't see was her phone. But since her charger was still plugged into the wall socket near her desk, she couldn't have left without that and expected to be able to use her phone. We just went straight to the campus police and told them everything we could. And when they couldn't find her anywhere around campus, they got police from the wider area involved too. We were hoping that when they got in touch with Kate's parents that they'd find that she'd just dropped out and gone back home to, you know, properly dry out, escape the dealers, but that just made things worse. Her parents hadn't heard from her at all, and she certainly hadn't moved back west. I think this is where giving her some anonymity is really

in order, because at first her parents couldn't believe she'd gotten into drinking and drugs in the way that she did. Then, when it finally sank in, they were absolutely devastated. And that was probably the most heartbreaking thing, seeing the pain that her folks went through when they realized their precious little angel had been corrupted by life on the east coast. They did a couple of very emotional public appeals, one just for the college, then one for the tri-state media. No one came forward, so after that, Kate's name officially made its way onto missing persons registers both national and regional.

I'd like to say that there's an ending to Kate's story, and a happy one too. But that's all I have right now, not until she turns up somewhere, either dead or alive. Officially, she's just a missing person and I hope to god she's still alive somewhere. But the idea of her just being out there, making it on her own with no money or whatever, it doesn't fill me with hope. I feel like it's just a matter of time before she's finally found. And I'm definitely not looking forward to that day, and that's mainly because I feel like me and my college friends have to shoulder some of the blame. It was us that got her into drinking, and when I look back at it, we should have kept her away from it like it was the freaking plague. I don't think I'll ever

really forgive myself in that way, and no matter how many people tell me that what happened isn't my fault, there will always be a part of me that feels as if I'm the one that killed Kate. Back when I was a broke college student, I worked part-time in a fast food restaurant for beer money. I worked there on and off for two years and whenever winter rolled around, we could get a lot of homeless guys just stopping by to keep out of the cold. We let them hang around if they didn't bother customers, which sadly was only a rare handful. It wasn't nice, but we had to call the cops a lot. It was no problem getting rid of the bad ones and we took a lot of pride in taking care of the nicer guys, giving them coffee and other stuff.

But then there was this one dude who never did anything we could toss him out for, but that bothered just about everyone in there, staff, customers, and homeless guys alike. I remember the night he showed up, this real young guy, about my age, with extremely pale skin and this almost blank expression. And he gave us workers the creeps because sometimes all he'd do was just stare at us while we worked. Whenever we returned the guy's glance, he wouldn't even pretend he wasn't looking at us. He'd just stare right back, the same blank expression on his face, almost like he was looking looking at us. He'd just stare right back, the same blank expression on his face almost like he was looking right through us. I'm sure you can understand why we all got such bad

vibes from this guy. After about two weeks, the guy stopped showing up and honestly, none of us thought too much about it since we were just glad to see him gone. Then, maybe like a month or two later, one of my co-workers goes off on break, then comes running back like two minutes later, waving his phone around like a crazy person. When we looked at what he had up on his screen, we all saw an article from a local news site showing a young guy who was in jail for attempting to murder his mom. The story said that he stabbed his mom almost 20 times, which was disturbing enough. But then the picture attached to the article made it all the more chilling because it was the same guy who came into our store for those two weeks.

Made me think how close some of us were to getting that same treatment. Because I mean, if a dude will just stab his own mother like that, how would someone he didn't care about fare if they made him mad or something worse like that? So this miniature nightmare happened many moons ago, way back when I was just a naive little sophomore in college. It's something that's always stayed with me and although it wasn't the sunniest of college anecdotes to tell my eldest before she left for Dartmouth, I feel like it properly prepared her to practice caution, especially when it comes to alcohol and those she imbibes with. So this one

night, I accompanied a girlfriend of mine to a friend of her boyfriend's. It was his birthday bash, so naturally she'd gotten herself an invite. Only trouble was, he'd only invited one girl. Her. She then asked him if she can invite one of her friends so she's not the only lady there, and being the nice guy that he was, her boyfriend says sure, OP can come along too. I mean it kinda helped that I had a car and could give her a ride, but I didn't mind as she always gave me gas money out of her waitressing tips so I didn't mind driving. The party is over at his dorm which was sectioned off into what were basically a bunch of different shared apartments and after a night of laughs, dancing, and heavy, heavy drinking, we all basically crashed into our different rooms. Most of the boyfriends' guy friends left, but obviously the other guys who

lived there retired to their separate bedrooms for the evening. My friend goes into her boyfriend's room for you know what and I'm left sleeping on the couch. I'm pretty wasted so I think I was out within seconds, my head touching the couch cushions. But god knows how long later I wake up to this figure standing in front of me. I couldn't make out which of the boyfriend's roommates it was but I kinda sit up like who in God's name is that? And I literally just hear a drunken slur of, Oh, you're not supposed to be awake. Sorry. And then whoever it was walks back into their bedroom. Not supposed to be awake?

I mean, what would he have done to me if I hadn't been awake? That I try not to think about as I gathered up my stuff and walked out to my car. I was still blasted and I know it was super irresponsible of me to not just get a cab. But at the same time, and I'm not using this to excuse driving drunk, would you want to hang around that apartment where some stranger tried to touch you? I think what was just as bad as the whole incident was the fact that when I told my friend and her boyfriend about it, they just sort of laughed it off like, oh that's just X, he's kind of weird when he's

drunk but I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it. I know she just didn't want to start any drama with her boyfriend because he and X were pretty tight with them being roomies and all. Let's just say I found out how much of a friend she really was that day and how even though she helped with gas money, at the end of the day all she was very interested in were her own interests. And needless to say, I did not drink with any of them again. The scariest thing I ever saw in college is probably not what a lot of you are expecting to read. I'm seeing a lot of answers about crazy roommates or creepy professors who got fired after making advances on their students. Heck, I've even read a few half-decent ghost stories.

I mean, not ones that I believe, but they weren't half bad as stories. My story, on the other hand, isn't nearly as dense or traditionally horrifying, and unlike some of these longer and more drawn-out stories, it was over and done with in just a few seconds. Basically, one night when I was out drinking at this one place that was easy to get into without getting carded, I watched a guy just waltz up to the bar while I was drinking with friends, drop something into a girl's drink, and just fade back into the crowd. I don't mean to sound like I admire this guy because what he did was something only the scum of the earth do, but the way that he was just so

stealthy and smooth about it, I mean, he should have been working for the CIA poisoning Russian warlords or some nonsense, you know what I mean? He managed to move in and out of there in a way that people just didn't look at him at all. I mean, people could see him, but he managed to just, like, blur into the background so that barely anyone paid any attention. I mean, if I hadn't been looking at that exact spot at the bar, I wouldn't have caught it, and neither did anyone else as far as I know. Obviously, the first thing I did was notify the bartender and of course, I told the girl too. He exchanged the drink, no questions asked, then directed me towards one of the bar's bouncers who asked me some questions about the guy. I told him everything I could,

what he looked like, what he was wearing and stuff, but I never found out how it ended up. It's just scary how fast it happened and I guess he must have been watching from somewhere and then just scrammed when he saw the drink had been exchanged or whatever. I'd heard a lot of stories about that kind of thing happening, I just never thought that I'd ever see it with my own eyes. And this is in 2017 too, like way after the whole big scare about it, and there was a guy just still trying the same old thing of drugging girls, so he could probably do some evil stuff to them. To be continued... you get a story, be sure to submit them to my subreddit r slash let's read official and maybe

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