The Lets Read Podcast - 196: MY PSYCHOTIC SECRET ADMIRER | 25 True Scary Stories | EP 184

Episode Date: July 18, 2023

This episode includes narrations of true creepy encounters submitted by normal folks just like yourself. Today you'll experience horrifying stories about Secret Admirer, 7-ELEVEN, & Creepy Phone Calls... 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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🎵 🎵 🎵 🎵 🎵 🎵 I'm probably older than most people here. My story takes place way back in the 1990s. Most people hadn't even heard of the internet yet. Besides, the telephone, handwritten letters were still the most common way for people to communicate.

If you've had something to say and time wasn't important, telephone, handwritten letters were still the most common way for people to communicate. If you've had something to say and time wasn't important, you'd scroll your thoughts out on a piece of paper and mail it off. For hundreds of years, humans would commit their most heartfelt feelings to paper and send them around the world. Receiving a letter from a loved one while separated could be a welcomed remedy for a homesick heart. This was especially true during times of war. A letter from a sweetheart or parent could lift a soldier's morale. So important, many were read over and over, often being read out loud to fellow soldiers in quiet times between engagements. It had its pros and cons, but I look back on it fondly. I make sure to keep any letter I receive now.

The sender must have had something special to say by going to such trouble when faster options are plentiful. At sixteen I was sent the first of many anonymous letters, a pattern that would continue for almost a year. Other than the gender of the sender, I knew nothing of their identity. Their purpose was much clearer though. They wanted me to know how much they loved me, and it appeared that I had a secret admirer. Although I'm sure a lot of people would see that as stalker behavior today, I didn't. I was the focus of a girl's affections and I loved it.

Up until this point, I had zero luck with any girls. Not only was I an awkward introvert and overweight, my severe acne made me a bit of a pariah, as I once put it. With the arrival of the first letter, I felt something that I hadn't felt in a very long time. Normal. Most guys in my position probably have tried to discover their admirer's name. I preferred not to know. I only found out later by accident. The potential was the most exciting thing about it. It could have been anyone and everyone. I let my mind take over and in this fantasy the sender changed depending on my crush at that moment. Almost everyone I knew was a possibility at some point. Everyone except for who it actually turned out to be.

If I remember right, the truth came out just after my 17th birthday. My main focus now was on where I was going to attend college. I would be the first member of our family to go and my parents were naturally excited about this. I guess in all the fuss, my younger sister felt ignored. I'm sure there were other contributing factors, but they have been lost to time. Regardless, an argument ensued in which she let the name of my secret admirer slip. I've been bragging about my forthcoming scholarly prospects and she'd had enough. Her words are the only thing from that

time that I know I'll never forget. You think you're so smart, but you haven't even figured out that Carla is the one who's been writing all those stupid letters. The revelation made me sick. Carla was my sister's best friend. I'd known her my entire life, and she was only 14. I wanted it to be a lie, but I knew that it wasn't. I never told anyone about the letters, and certainly never would have told Nicole, my sister. She had to have had inside information. Here's the part in the story where your writer made a big mistake. One I'd regret for a long time to come. I was furious once I'd learned my admirer's identity and I called Carla to give her a piece of my mind. In retrospect, I was far harsher than

I needed to be, but I felt so betrayed, not to mention stupid. When I hung up, she was bawling her eyes out. I didn't care. In my mind, she deserved every word. After that, I tried to start over. So much of my life had been wrapped up in the fantasy, and college was all I had left, and I focused all my energy into it. Had my sister and I been speaking at the time, I may have seen what was coming. One night before bed I let my dog Lucky out to do his thing. I was in the kitchen making peanut butter and jelly when I heard a crack followed by a yelp. Lucky ran inside. He was limping and blood was running down his back leg. I freaked out and yelled for my parents. They ran in and

I showed them Lucky's injury. We were fortunate to have an emergency vet nearby. We called him and he told us to bring him in. When he told us that Lucky had been shot, likely with a.22, we were mortified. No one had any idea who would do such a thing, but it wouldn't be long before I found out. I was playing a Nintendo game when the phone rang. My mom yelled for me to answer it, which I did. An unfamiliar voice asked me by name and I identified myself. The anonymous caller then asked how lucky I was doing. I said that he was doing well before I realized that no one outside of our family but the vet should have known about the shooting. I sheepishly inquired if I was speaking to the vet or someone

who worked for him but the caller said no. Then it hit me. This had to have been the shooter and I was mad now. I started yelling and asked why he would do such a mean thing. The caller turned out to be Carla's brother, Clint. I never met the guy, but he certainly knew me. He claimed that his sister had been a basket case since my call. She wouldn't eat or leave her room and often cried herself to sleep. His demand was a simple one. If I didn't want my dog to die the next time, I would apologize to Carla in person. I didn't need any time to think. I didn't want Lucky to suffer any more than he already had. I was still livid

with the guy but I agreed and hung up. Although I briefly considered telling my parents, I decided to deal with it myself since I'd been the cause of all the trouble in the first place. Later that day I walked over to Carla and Clint's house and apologized. Clint insisted on being present for it. I groveled and begged her to accept the apology and she did. Once he was satisfied, Clint left us alone to continue our discussion. Her and I spoke for another half hour. We discussed the letters among other things. She hadn't actually ever expected us to get together. She just wanted to share her feelings without there being any weird stuff between us.

I apologized again and promised her that we could be friends. We hugged and I went on my way. The following day another call came from Clint. Just the sound of his voice made me sick to my stomach. And it wasn't bad news though. He just wanted to thank me for the apology. Carla was back to her old self and started eating again. I was still a bit nervous and double checked to make sure that things were okay. He promised it was. We'd speak a few more times after that and he turned out to be an okay guy. Don't get me wrong,

I still think the guy's a psycho, but I can almost understand why he did it. Even a crude a-hole like myself would do just about anything for my family. Life went into high speed after that. Before I knew it, I was starting college and the events of my prior year were all but forgotten. Lucky would make a full recovery and go on to live another six years, even playing a small but important part in my wedding. If you're wondering what happened to Carla, I'm sorry to say that I don't know. Her and my sister lost contact when they went off to school and haven't spoken since then, at least to my knowledge. Whatever she's doing now, I hope she found a guy her age and

they're doing well. And for the sake of the guy's health, I hope he doesn't ever upset Carla the way I did. He'll certainly regret it, it seems, as I speak from first-hand experience. The End In the spring of 2017, I had a somewhat unnerving experience with a girl's father that leaves me remorseful to this day. The whole episode started a couple of months earlier. I was nearing 23 and my life was headed nowhere essentially. One cold evening after work, I discovered a note under the windshield wiper of my car. It was dark and I was tired so I stuck it in my pocket and drove home. The next morning I remembered it and took it out to read. It was from an unknown girl. She'd seen me in the store before and was interested in getting to know me.

It didn't say how she knew which car was mine, but I didn't really care. The small details weren't important. After almost a two-year dry spell, things were finally looking up, so I thought. Another week passed and a second note appeared. In a nutshell, my secret admirer wanted us to meet that coming Friday. If I was interested, I was to leave my answer in the same place as she had been leaving her letters. Naturally, I was very interested. My next shift, I stuck my answer under the driver's side wiper and prayed that she would pick it up. She did just that and left a time and location behind for me to meet her. This took place on a Wednesday which meant

that I only had one full day to prepare. I got up especially early the next day so I could get everything done before work. In addition to a nice short haircut I also combed every man's clothing store I could find for the perfect outfit. I eventually got what I needed and headed to work. By the last hour of my shift on Friday, my guts were a churning mess. I had two hours between getting off of work and date time, which I spent on the toilet. Around a quarter to seven, I took a quick shower and made my way to the spot. I entered and instantly made eye contact with this amazing girl. If this was her, I had hit pay dirt. The girl stood up and

approached me. She introduced herself as Carissa and told me I looked very handsome. This had turned out to be the luckiest day of my life. We sat down at the table and looked at each other. The waitress walked up and took our drink orders. While we waited, we made small talk. Both of us were clearly nervous and stumbled over our words. I was so amazed at how beautiful she was. It was like God had made her just for me. The red of her hair was like fire and her blue eyes reminded me of jewels. The waitress returned and we ordered our meals. Things began to get more relaxed after that. I asked her the normal stuff

like her background and family. I told her more about me and how I'd arrived at my present state, the usual stuff I guess. I knew even before the date had ended that I wanted to see her again and she happily agreed and we'd made plans for the next Saturday. As childish as it made sound, I was already falling in love. The week in between the first and second dates seemed like an eternity, but when the time did come, I was no less excited to see her than the night we met. The two of us would continue meeting for another month. There was no sense of urgency, yet it didn't seem logical to drag our feet either. She expressed the desire for me to meet

her parents. A serious step in any relationship and I was both excited and terrified in equal measures but she assured me that her folks would love me. I went into the meeting with that in mind. Overall, things seemed to go well, although I did sense a bit of hesitance on the part of her father. I could tell that he was a very traditional type of man and attempted to portray himself in the same manner. I couldn't tell if he accepted me or not, so I had to rely on Carissa's assurances. I had no idea how bad things were about to get. In hindsight, I question if I should have been more honest about my past to avoid any unforeseen things creeping up on me unaware.

Perhaps I wouldn't have been caught so unprepared when it did happen. It had only been three or four days since meeting with Carissa's parents when a terrifying thing occurred. I was driving home after working a double and I was exhausted. I had just exited the highway and was about a mile from home when the lights of a cop car lit up my rearview mirror. I pulled over into the nearest parking lot and removed my license and insurance from my wallet. The cop approached my driver's side window and I was shocked to see that it was Carissa's dad. Somehow, in the tension of the meeting,

I forgot to ask what he did for a living. He hadn't given me that cop vibe that night, but it now made sense. I was unsure why I had been pulled over. Maybe I had been swerving because I was tired. It was possible. I rolled down my window and said hi. He ignored me and asked for my paperwork. I gave it to him, and he walked back to his car. Something seemed off about the entire scenario. I knew for a fact that I wasn't speeding, nor did I have any malfunctioning parts in my car. When he returned, I asked him for an explanation. He ignored me and handed my papers back. His silence and aloof manner were starting to make

me angry. We just stared at one another for about 10 seconds before he finally coughed up a reason. Not word for word, but he informed me that he had done a background check on me and discovered that I had an arrest for drug possession and DUI when I was 18. I admitted to it and explained that it was a stupid mistake and I'd learned my lesson. I hadn't drank any alcohol or touched another drug since then, not to mention had as much as a ticket in the intervening years. He wasn't listening.

I was told explicitly that I was never to see his daughter again, and this made me furious. She was an adult, and he had no say in the matter, and I told him as much, and this was the wrong thing to do. He told me if I insisted on seeing her again that I would be harassed by him and his fellow officers to the point of planting drugs in my car or on my person. I felt the air had been knocked out of me. That was it. I tapped out. It had taken me this long just to be able to get a decent job.

I wasn't willing to lose everything for a girl I hardly knew. If it had been a test of my determination, I'd failed. I indicated that I understood and he sent me on my way. I wasn't going back to jail for anyone and the thought of going back terrified me. I wasn't a tough guy. My first visit still haunted me five years later. I put off the phone call until the end of the following day. I considered just sending her a text but thought it too cowardly. Around 9pm I made the call. I tried small talk but she could sense what I was doing and demanded I spit it out. I did it as fast as possible and hung up.

I wanted to give her the real reason but thought it may cause more problems down the line. She called back a few times that night but I didn't answer. What was done was done. I never saw or spoke to her again. To my relief, her dad held his side of the bargain too. I don't harbor any ill will toward him. I suppose I may have done something similar if I had a daughter. I can't really say for sure. My life is going okay at present, but a day doesn't pass that I don't think of what could have happened. I hope she found someone who makes her happy, I guess. There's a lot I wish I could take back, but hurting that messages from a phone number I did not recognize.

This was especially unnerving as I had only been in the area a brief time. Because of some problems I'll get into later, I had essentially been forced to flee from my hometown in the middle of the night. My number was a new one and I could count those that I'd given it to on one hand. I thought I'd been careful. I deleted the first few without reading them but soon thought the better of this. What I found left me very ambivalent. It appeared that I had picked up an anonymous crush somewhere along the way. I was flattered by the attention but not knowing their identity was also scary.

I was terrified that I'd been located and began planning another move. As I was just days away from leaving, a new message arrived that made me rethink my decision. It read, please don't be afraid. I mean you no harm. It is the exact opposite of that in fact. You brighten every room in which you enter and my world is all the better by you being in it. I don't know you well, but I sense you may have had a traumatic past. Please allow me to help you heal those old wounds. I may not yet have the courage to face you, but I dream of a time soon when I may come to you, and we can truly get to know one another and hopefully build a future together. For the sake of love, please give me a chance.

After reading that, I was at a loss. I'd never had another human being express their feelings in quite such an honest way. The situation was odd, but a large part of me had been craving this type of attention my whole life. If you've never had a normal healthy relationship like me, you'll understand how beautiful his words sounded. This was the first time in months that I'd allowed myself to relax and stop looking over my shoulder. It was uncharted territory for me, but I didn't think that I had anything to lose at that point. For the present, I'd stay where I was.

My admirer and I traded occasional messages for about two or three months, and everything was going well. He grew more and more courageous, and until the day came that he suggested that we meet. Many questions had yet to be answered, and he promised that this would be the time. I knew the day would come and even look forward to it sometimes, but that deep-seated fear of being discovered kept me reluctant. I had one female co-worker I trusted and we discussed it. Her opinion was that I couldn't hide myself away forever. If I thought this man was worth risking finding happiness, I should go for it. It sounded like a solid stance to me, so I let him know that I was ready. We came to an agreement and I began preparing myself for the meeting later in the

week. A strange thing happened on the day the date was scheduled. Just an hour prior, he sent a message claiming that his car had broken down. I suggested that he get an Uber to my place and we could go out to dinner in my car. Up until this point, no one but my employer knew where I lived. The fewer who knew, the better in my mind. When the message arrived, I stood and stared at the phone screen for a long time, unsure of how to proceed. Something about the message bothered me. It all seemed overly complicated and pointless. For a brief moment, I almost agreed, but at the last second I came up with a better suggestion.

I said, I got a better idea. How about you just take the Uber to the restaurant and I'll meet you there. If things go well, maybe I can give you a ride home after. Had he agreed to this, things may have gone differently. But he continued pressing. Now, some red flags were beginning to go up. I'd really like to see you before we go out. Wouldn't you like to know if I'm a toad before wasting money on me?

Come on, I'll be a good boy, I promise. He texted me. His pushiness made me uncomfortable and was unlike his prior behavior. My gut was telling me to cancel. I waited until a few minutes before I was to leave and sent a message saying that I couldn't make it. I felt like a real tease but I wasn't willing to risk my safety after all I'd gone through. He tried to change my mind but by now I'd convinced myself. After he sent two more messages I got fed up and turned off my phone. I figured that I could deal with a fallout in the morning. What awaited me the next morning was nothing short of terrifying. 22 more messages. Each one sounded more desperate than the prior.

However, it was the last that made my blood run cold. You're smarter than I gave you credit for. You may have gotten away from me today, but it's only a matter of time before I catch up with you. I've already gotten your number. Your address is next. You can run before I catch up with you. I've already gotten your number. Your address is next. You can run, but I will find you. Then you're going to regret the day you left.

Neil This was the day that I've been dreading for over a year. Neil was my husband, you see. We'd been high school sweethearts who'd married right after graduation. Everything went okay until he was laid off and he began drinking heavily, and this quickly led to him abusing me mentally and physically. Things came to a head the night that he beat me so badly that I actually lost our child that I was carrying. It was incredible trauma, and he didn't seem to care. I knew right then that the man I'd fell in love with was gone.

A heartless psychopath had taken his place, and I no longer had anything holding me there. The next night, I waited until he passed out and I made my escape. I took the little money I had and contacted a woman from the local women's shelter. She had approached me earlier in the year and given me her card. She told me when I was ready, she'd help me disappear. And that's just what she did. The only mistake I made was contacting my niece to let her know that it was okay. That must have been where Neil got my number.

His way of luring me in was certainly imaginative. I'd completely forgotten how manipulative he could be if he wanted something. He used that to his advantage and it came very close to working. Although he didn't appear yet to know my location, he was right. He would find me if I stayed where I was. So, as I had twice before, I quickly threw my possessions into my car and moved on. I'm currently living across the country, or maybe I'm not, from where I was at the time. A lot of people reading this might wonder why I'm going through all this trouble. All I have to do is get the police involved, right? I did try that course in the beginning, but he violated the orders and attacked me anyway.

That way almost cost me my entire life. Never again. Until he realizes it's not worth his time, I'm willing to continue bouncing from place to place, putting down no roots. Even if I die single and alone. Every moment I'm safe makes it worth it. If you ever find yourself in a similar situation, do not hesitate to reach out for help. It may mean the difference between life and death. Let me start off this story by saying it is a very long one. One that unfortunately doesn't have a concrete end as of yet. I do wish to remain entirely anonymous, so I will not be using any real names just in case. I'm currently a 29 year old female. I'll be calling myself Kai. At the time of the beginning of this tale I was 19. A little backstory, I was pretty much a loner in high school. I had only really one friend that we'll call Alex that I hung out with. During my 8th

grade year, Alex and I dated a bit over the summer. Unfortunately, things did not end up going well, another story for another time, but he unnerved me with some of his behavior. It was in my 9th grade year that I met the boy that I would later marry and we'll call him Colby and this is where our story has its true beginning. It was 2009 and I had recently graduated high school in my local hometown after moving back from Montana. Colby and I had been dating at this time for around 2 years and we were very close. My last year of high school I spent most of my time hanging out with him and his friends, a group of wild, misfit young men. I loved them all. For the first time in my school life I felt accepted, wanted. They had their faults, yes,

but anything weird they did was nothing compared to what was going to walk into our lives next. I'm a year and a half older than Colby's so after I graduated, he still had one more year to go. It was in that year that he met who we'll call Jake. He met him in a vocational class that he took as an optional course, and sometimes I wish he had never stepped foot in that classroom. It all started when Colby had befriended Jake enough to give him my phone number. Colby explained that the boy had been homeschooled and was terribly lonely. He seemed to have the same interests as Colby and I, so I didn't terribly mind. At first, I

felt sorry for him. He did actually call me the same night that Colby gave him my number, reason being I was working on a project that required voice acting, which he was extremely into. We talked for a bit and he seemed like an okay guy. As the weeks progressed, Colby was delighted that we were all getting along so well. Unfortunately, that didn't last long. One night after we had maybe a handful of phone conversations, I was about to hang up with Jake and call Colby when he says to me, Wow, you're so easy to talk to, I've never felt like this before.

It's like I've known you my whole life. Taken aback, I merely agreed before quickly hanging up. I shrugged off the offhanded comment and tried to forget, but that was a big mistake. The following weeks were a torrent of daily calls. Jake began calling every single day. At first, it was kind of nice to have someone to talk to during the day. I still live with my parents, but they were busy wrapping things up with selling the house back in Montana and my older brother worked odd hours. Jake then began exhibiting some behavior that truly began to throw me off. Like I said, he would call daily. He would expect me to talk to him for hours too. If I hung up, he'd just call right back. And I know what you're thinking, just don't answer.

Well, I wanted to do that after a while, but I didn't want my parents finding out what was going on. I did try mentioning all this to Colby, but he managed to convince me that I was just being paranoid. I know now that I wasn't. At July, Colby and I's good friend, and we'll call him Mike, was having his birthday party. He also knew Jake from the same class that he'd shared with Colby, so he was also invited to the party. This was my first time meeting Jake in person. I was already wary of this guy, but I won't ever forget the way he looked at me the first

time he saw me, like a lion looks at an antelope. He politely introduced himself and shook my hand, making me internally shudder. Not once did he even seem to blink while looking at me. Colby could tell that I was a little uncomfortable, so he led the way into the living room and we sat down on the love seat. Jake entered and sat down on the couch, with Mike standing behind him. After a few moments, Jake patted the seat next to him while looking at me. You know, you could sit over here. I don't bite. Yes, he really did this right in front of Colby. You have to understand Colby is a nice guy to a fault. He honestly had felt so sorry for this kid that he continued

to give him the benefit of the doubt. Uh, why would Kai sit over there? I'm over here and I'm her boyfriend. I remained quiet, merely nodding while cuddling into Colby's side. Jake pouted, but the rest of the party went on fairly normal. When it came time for me to leave, however, Jake became overwhelmingly upset that I didn't give him a hug. I ignored this and went home. For all intents and purposes, this story should have ended there. Should have, but didn't. Jake is a master at making others feel sorry for him. A few weeks later and throughout the summer, he continued calling me daily. It got to the point of angering Colby when he would call me and wouldn't be able to get through. I had made up my mind that I had

had enough of this and was not going to play nice anymore. If he annoyed me, I was going to tell him. One evening Jake called me, groaning when I saw the caller ID I picked up the phone. Jake's cheerful voice greeted me and we chatted for a while before he said possibly the most disturbing thing he'd said yet. It's not like he'd cheat on Colby with me. Annoyed at this point with his antics, I shot back, no, I love Colby and Colby would kill you. This seemed to put an end to things for a while. That fall we all got a job working at a haunted attraction nearby on a farm.

We were all overjoyed to get to work together. Jake unfortunately put a stop to that too. The hours were from around 6 to 12 or 1am. We usually timed it where we would arrive at around 4 or 5 so we would have time to put all our costume makeup on for the attraction and relax a bit prior to work. Well one day when we arrived I had to use the bathroom very badly. Thinking nothing of it, as we were on a farm I informed Colby that I would be walking down the little hill for a bit, my code for bathroom. Colby nodded in understanding and agreed to stand I would be walking down the little hill for a bit, my code for bathroom.

Colby nodded in understanding and agreed to stand guard and I walked down the little slope and set about to do my business when I heard Jake calling for me. I heard Colby telling him that I'm going to the bathroom and not to go around back of the barn. And yes, you guessed it. Here I am with my pants down and here comes Jake around the corner of the barn You know, exactly where Colby told him not to come Colby runs him off but not before he manages to steal a quick peek I still shudder to this day recalling that Jake had done a lot of other creepy things over the years since then Such as staring directly at me while Colby and I kissed one time. Other things I simply cannot say here as they're too explicit.

We do still have contact with him and I still occasionally see him. So Jake, if you're reading this and can work out that it's you I'm talking about, please take a hint. In high school, I took part in something I would live to regret. Although I never thought of myself as a mean girl, I see now that I wasn't far off. I had a small group of female friends and we all thought we were the coolest of cool. We didn't fit in any group per se, but we were closest with the preppy people. More than one of us dated football players and became pretty popular by default. It was a very vapid and empty life in retrospect, but in my 16-year-old mind, I was among the elite of the school. On the other end of the spectrum was Dwight.

He was everything you think of when you hear the term neckbeard. His bathing habits were almost non-existent and his overblown sense of intelligence made him a lot of enemies. Most if not all the students I knew couldn't stand the guy. One day during algebra class a few of us came up with a funny trick to play on him. It was cruel but we believed that he deserved it because he annoyed us. God was I a stupid girl. The plan was this. We would write anonymous love letters and drop them in Dwight's locker.

If all worked out, he would believe that he had a secret admirer and make an idiot of himself. The end of the plan was something you have to wait a little longer to hear. That same day, my girls and I got together at lunch and wrote the first letter. We drew straws to decide who would deliver the letter and I got together at lunch and wrote the first letter. We drew straws to decide who would deliver the letter and I came up short. I waited until class started and slipped out to use the restroom. This was when I dropped it into his locker. Over the next few weeks, we'd continue with the letters. Soon enough, news reached us of Dwight's secret love. He had been bragging about her before school.

He told us first hand about how sexy she thought he was and among other things. The urge to laugh in his face was almost unbearable but none of us gave the game away until the time was right. That time came two weeks later. The lunchroom would be the place to spring our trap. Homecoming was coming up and we decided to use it to our advantage. His secret admirer was ready to show herself and she wanted him to ask her to the dance. Just to make things that much crueler, he was told to bring a rose with him when they met. When the day came, we told all our friends about our plan. They wanted to be there to witness the funny scene themselves.

About 20 or so of us hid around a corner until we showed up. He arrived on schedule, rose in hand, but nobody was there to meet him. He began looking around nervously and that's when we popped out and began laughing. The whole lunchroom was staring as we pointed and mocked him. His face turned a bright red and he looked as if though he was about to begin crying. He ran off at this point so I can't say if he actually broke down or not. To this day, it's the thing I'm most ashamed of doing. After our horribly cruel joke was done, we went on to other things, all but forgetting

about Dwight. I don't remember seeing him for a few days after that, not that I blame him if he wanted to lay low for a while. Homecoming came and went, and this was when the scary stuff began happening. My first experience was mild compared to some later things. Our house got toilet papered just before a big rainstorm. It took two weeks to get all the paper out of the trees and bushes. A similar thing happened to my friend, Stormy. She got lucky though. Without the rain, it wasn't hard to clean up.

Things grew more serious from there. Another close friend of mine had her cheerleading yard sign burned in her front yard. All the windshield wipers on my car were ripped off and the windows were covered in shoe polish. Stormy's brand new birthday present, a beautiful red Mustang, was keyed up and down both sides. Similarly, I had all four of my tires slashed We had nothing to give the police or to our parents The truth is, we made a lot of people mad and we couldn't prove it was anyone over the other One final statement would cause us to break One weeknight around 2am, a loud crash came through my window

I left out of bed to see glass all over the floor. I couldn't see what had caused it until I turned on my overhead light. Stuck halfway under my bed was a brick with a letter attached to it. Before I could read it, my mother started banging on my door. I was unsure what it said so I ripped it off the brick and stuck it in my pocket prior to letting my mom in. She did her usual overdramatic thing while I cleaned up the glass. Things quickly blew over and she went back to bed. I did a temporary patch on the window and crawled back into bed myself. Only then did I unfold the note.

It was scrawled in black ink and read simply, Say you're sorry. The next day at school I showed it to the two other girls. We still weren't positive that Dwight was the one doing all this but we were desperate. We were scared and just wanted it all to be over. We waited until we saw him at his locker and confronted him about the note. He was calm and unconcerned. He took a quick glance at us and said something to the effect of, I don't know anything about it, but maybe you should start by apologizing to all the people you've screwed over. All the terrible stuff might stop.

That was just what we had planned, and just what we did. One by one, each of us who had been attacked told all of our victims that we were sorry. I can't say every apology was heartfelt, but we did. One by one each of us who had been attacked told all of our victims that we were sorry. I can't say every apology was heartfelt but we did it. A few people told us to screw off but we accepted it. A funny thing happened after doing all that. I began to feel better about myself actually. I had been an insecure child my whole life. Slowly, I made the effort to be kinder to people and it paid off. By graduation, I had befriended several of those I once openly mocked. It cost me a few of my old friends, but I didn't miss them much. Because of that one cruel joke, I'm a far better person than I was at 16.

After all these years, one little question remains. Was it Dwight who did all those awful things to us? He was at our 10 year class reunion and I considered asking him. In the end I didn't want to dredge up all that past ill will so I didn't. It was the most probable answer but there are others just as possible. Maybe all our victims play their own part, a bit of murder on the Orient Express if you will. I won't say I'm glad it happened in that way, I was terrified and I don't believe in violence to get what you want. I will say one thing though, I hope he's truly as happy now as he appeared when I last saw him.

I wouldn't wish this style of revenge on anyone. You don't want him as an enemy. To be continued... I had been best friends as far back as I can remember. All through primary school, we'd always be in the same classes. She was family to me. Unfortunately, things began to change about the time high school started. I began to see her differently. I don't know why, but I suddenly became convinced that I loved her. And I don't mean the way that I always had. This was special. It's a very confusing time for boys regardless, but my newfound love for her left me disoriented and scared. It was new and uncharted territory. Without advice from an experienced older male, I had zero idea how to proceed or if I should at all.

The answer came to me one evening while watching an old movie with my parents. The lead character was in a position similar to mine. He talked about something called a secret admirer. This is when a person sends letters or notes to someone that they're interested in but does so anonymously. This sounded perfect to me. I could tell Lindsay how I felt without her knowing it was me. Then I could hear how she really felt without the possibility of our friendship messing things up. Hopefully, she'd fall in love with her admirer and I could reveal myself. I sat down at my desk that night and poured out my heart to her, or at least her secret admirer did. To be safe, I snuck out early the next morning and rode my bike to the post office.

I kissed the envelope for luck, said a short prayer and dropped it into the box. It was all up to God now. The wait was agonizing. On day four, Lindsay mentioned a surprise that she'd gotten in the post. I played it cool, but my heart was pounding like a jackhammer. The way she talked about the letter was somewhat unclear. She would smile while recalling some things while also calling it juvenile and foolish. It was not good looking, but I was far from discouraged. I couldn't have walked away if I wanted to. Lindsay become my world and I couldn't see any future without us together.

And I continued with the plan. With each new letter, I could see her warming up to together, and I continued with the plan. With each new letter, I could see her warming up to her secret crush, as she put it. Looking back, she wasn't the only one to change. I began to love the power I had over her. Hearing her speak about her admirer and knowing she had no clue it was me, it was an intoxicating feeling. I'm a bit disgusted about how I viewed things then, but it's part of the story, so I do have to include it.

Before I knew it, a year had passed and we'd begun to drift apart. I kept up with the letters but gradually saw her less and less. Her popularity had increased and her friend group changed. I was the opposite of popular. She didn't ignore me in front of her new friends, but I got the impression that I'd slipped way down on her list of importance. I understood why everyone loved her. Maybe not like I did, but it made sense. As long as I had her to myself once in a while, I was happy. Then I heard news that she was seeing someone, and it felt like a knife in my gut.

I wanted to be cool about it, but just under the surface, I was livid. I feared the little time we still had together would evaporate and I proved to be right. Every time I called her to hang out, she'd be busy with him. I maintained a cool facade, but it was just that. I often cried myself to sleep. The truth was finally beginning to hit me. Her and I had no real hope of ever being in a real relationship. I'd friend-zoned myself without even realizing it. Even then I didn't stop the letters completely. On the rare occasion I felt optimistic I'd sit down and pour out my feelings on paper. More than once, I had to tear

up the letter because I mentioned something that would give me away. I couldn't stop my anger from showing through. I was never mean to her, but I considered her boyfriend fair game, and this would be the mistake that unmasked me. I regret it to this day. In my last letter, I must have said something too revealing. I wouldn't be aware of this until I ran into to this day. In my last letter, I must have said something too revealing. I wouldn't be aware of this until I ran into Lindsay's boyfriend. He was busy at the moment but wanted to speak to me privately. We made arrangements to do so a few hours later. We met at a park near my house. He was already there when I arrived. I assumed he wanted to ask my opinion about a gift for Lindsay's upcoming birthday.

I offered my hand as a greeting as I approached, and rather than shake it, he punched me solidly across the chin. I crumpled up like a piece of paper. Then he kicked me square in the nuts. I'm not sure how long I was unconscious, but when I did regain a semblance of clarity I felt a cold object on my neck. It was a knife, a sharp one. All he had to do was apply the least amount of pressure and I'd be dead before I could count to sixty. I realized I'd messed up bad. He proceeded to tell me that he knew that I was Lindsay's secret admirer and that he would kill me if I ever spoke to her again. As terrified as I was in that moment, my pride wanted me to say no.

This would mean the end of all my dreams. Fortunately, I didn't listen. I reluctantly agreed and he put the knife away, giving me one more good kick in the side as he walked away. As anticlimactic as it sounds, that was the end. I'd had the fear beaten into me and I didn't want another helping. The guy was a well-known psycho around town, and from that day on, everything was over. I'm not sure if Lindsay actually knew what had occurred, but she treated me as a stranger for our remaining time in school.

I wouldn't hold it against her either way. I crossed a line and deserved what I got. Seeing her only made things more painful so I did my best to avoid any place that I thought she may be. Even after her and that particular boyfriend broke up, I kept my distance. The damage had been done. It's been 12 years since high school ended yet I still think about her often. My recent divorce has put her in the forefront of my mind lately. Even if that door is closed forever, I hope whoever she's chosen to spend her life with that she is loved as much as I loved her then. I want that more than anything, even if it isn't with me. I won't lie, I got caught up in the romance of it.

I'd been single too long and my barriers were down. He said all the right things and the roses didn't hurt his case. I fell in love with the idea of a mysterious and handsome stranger wanting me and only me. Had everything stopped there, I would have been disappointed, but at least I'd be left with the beautiful fantasy. They did not, and I allowed myself to hope that we could be together one day. Until then, I'd write to him about the other plans I had for myself after the restrictions were lifted. He was tolerant of this initially, but soon,

his letters became more and more demanding. Who I could see or where I could go, and despite my reservations, I agreed to his rules. He was just looking out for my best interests, I guess. And after all, it was just make-believe anyway, right? Our correspondences continued and when talk of restrictions being lifted came to light, I was contacted by my former boss and asked to return. I happily accepted and wrote to my admirer to share the good news. To my surprise, he was anything but pleased. According to him, I was violating our agreement.

I was confused and wondered how he expected me to survive. All the benefits I had been receiving would soon end. I had no other choice but wait tables again. My reasoning, no matter how logical it was, fell on deaf ears. I got only curses and found names in return. This was a crossroads in our relationship and for me, there was only one clear way to go. As the opening of public spaces got closer, I chose to end things. It had been wonderful, but it was time to drop the fantasy. No matter how awful this made me feel, it was the right thing to do. I was not a kept woman, nor would I be if it was possible. No man, regardless of how much I loved him, was going to make that sort of

ridiculous demand on me. Agreeing to a few superficial things while we were trapped inside of our homes was one thing, but what he wanted was just ridiculous. I wrote all this in a letter as nicely as I could and sent it out. It didn't take long to receive his reply. I hadn't expected him to be happy, but what he wrote shocked me to my core. Things had now moved way past petty name-calling and curses. He was threatening me, but not just me, my family also. He included actual information about my parents that terrified me. Their addresses, phone numbers, jobs, everything. If he thought this would change my mind, he was very wrong.

All he'd managed to do was make me mad. With all the letters in hand, I filed a report with the police. Had I had an actual name, I would have filed a restraining order. Going through this process really drove home to me how ridiculous the entire situation was. Falling in love with an anonymous man was the height of stupidity. For all I know, it wasn't even a man. You never know in a mess like this. What little I could do was done.

I notified my friend of my actions in a letter but have yet to get a reply. It's been more than two months and I hope this means that he's moved on. I chose not to let my parents in on the threats. I didn't want to scare them if there was no immediate danger but probably embarrassment was a stronger motivation. My mom would never let me live it down, that's for sure. And unless there is a change in the coming weeks or months, it looks as if though he's been scared off. I don't think I'll post any future updates, no matter what happens. I'd rather just put it all behind me and try to reclaim the normal life I've been deprived of the last two years. Despite wanting to use my

mistakes as a warning to other girls, if I thought anyone could identify me, I wouldn't have written this. But I have. So if any girl reading this finds herself in a situation similar to mine, throw the letter away and forget about it. This is real life, not a movie. No handsome prince is going to kiss you at the end of the story. In real life, you always end up with the frog. I had a guy come into the 7-Eleven I was working at, and when I was ringing up the items he wanted, he started getting all fresh with me, saying stuff like, you're real pretty and what time do you finish work? I lied to him and told him I was on till 11 even though I was finishing at 6, which was only like an hour away. He said he'd come back then and we could go out for a beer or something, but I advised him not to since my boyfriend would be coming to pick me up around then and he really wouldn't like the idea of some random guy hitting on me.

That didn't seem to bother the guy too much though and he made some dumb comment about how he'd make my boyfriend see things his way or something. I just nodded like yep I'm sure you will and I could see him getting kind of angry before he walked out of the store. It didn't bother me too much, as he was only going to come back to the store later on to find out I wasn't there and by that time, I'd be safe at home and away from any pervy creepers. But then at six, when my shift finished, I walked outside with my purse only to see a car door open about twenty or thirty feet away. I swear I just about felt my stomach tie into a knot when I saw the creeper step out. I did a straight up 180 degree turn on my heel and started walking back into the store, then just went right behind the counter into the manager's office after telling my co-worker

to say I'm on break. He seemed real confused for a second, but as I shut the door and listened right at the edge of it, it was maybe only 30 seconds at the most before I heard him say, oh, her? She's just on break. I'm sure she'll be out in a minute. Normally, I'd take the bus back home, but that night, I knew I'd have to get an Uber if I wanted to make it home without being seriously harassed. So I called the Uber, waited for it to arrive, then tried to just walk out as fast as I could. I didn't see the guy in the store and I asked my co-worker real quick, are they waiting for me?

And the guy shook his head, still confused but kind of getting the gist of what was actually happening. They asked if I wanted them to call the cops and I shook my head, just gunning for my Uber as I pushed open the glass door. I didn't see the guy anywhere and I was so set on getting into the Uber that I didn't look left or right as I walked out of the 7-Eleven, so I had basically no warning that the guy was about to grab my arm and jerk me back. He looked really, really angry as he growled, you lied to me, and called me a bunch of names as I tried pulling away from him. Luckily, my Uber driver saw absolutely everything, and he stepped out of the driver's seat to be all like, hey, let her go or I'll call the cops. He did let me go and just

smiled at the Uber driver as he told me, this isn't over. I don't like being lied to. I wish that was all bluster too, that he was trying to act hard just to save a little face, but he wasn't. And for the next three months, he made my life a living hell. He kept showing up outside of the 7-Eleven, to the point where I had to blow a ton of my wages on Ubers to and from work. Then there was the time he actually tried to follow me home, and I had to actually tell the Uber driver what was happening so he could drive into the city just to shake the guy's tail. I tipped that guy massively. Even though he initially refused to accept the payment for the ride,

he insisted on cancelling until I burst into tears and begged him to take the money in my tip. I couldn't make it someone else's problem. I couldn't have that on my mind as well as all the other stuff. I developed something of a relationship with that one specific Uber driver and he became kind of a father figure who always accepted my ride requests whenever he was working and made sure that no one followed me home. He was also the guy that told me that I needed to get the cops involved and I thought that this guy was going to hurt me. That he knew people with the same mentality and that they only ever actually gave up when the law got involved.

I didn't even know why I was surprised when I found out that the guy had a previous conviction for stalking and he seemed to know the legal process like the back of his hand. He knew the process of getting the restraining order through the courts would take weeks at a minimum and he'd come visit me in the 7-Eleven just to taunt me sometimes and he'd only leave once I'd threatened to call the cops on him. That was just about the only thing that seemed to really get to him too. The fact that he'd been arrested and convicted over something like that before. I wanted to tell him that he was pathetic,

that he'd never ever have a good normal woman all to himself, that he'd always be some deranged psycho who got off on terrorizing those who couldn't defend themselves. But I didn't. In fact, I was told by one of the cops I spoke to, do not antagonize this man under any circumstances. We don't know how far he'll push this if you make him angry. If it's possible, do not engage him whatsoever. So like I said, that was my life for like a whole three months, until the day finally came when my mom got the call from our family's attorney saying a judge had finally approved the restraining order. For those wondering, it took so long because this guy had no history of actual violence and the whole arm-grabbing

incident wasn't actually classed as an assault for whatever reason. The day it finally came through though he must have gotten some kind of notification of it because he just stopped showing up at the 7-11. Seeing him waiting for me outside whenever I finished was such a regular occurrence that when he finally didn't show up I actually cried with relief. I told Carl, the Uber driver, that I thought I was finally free and we had a miniature kind of celebration on that final drive back to my house. He still picks me up from time to time too, sometimes when I've been out drinking with my friends and it's awesome to be reunited with him after such a sickening ordeal.

I suppose half the reason I'm sharing this is to help other girls avoid going through the same thing I did. Don't hesitate to get the cops involved with something like a stalking issue. There are literally laws in place to help deal with things like that. But the big thing, don't ever show a soft side or seem like you're playing hard to get. If a guy shows you any unwanted attention, either completely ignore him or make it clear that you'll just call the cops. Heck, carry a stun gun or pepper spray if you're legally able to in your state and just show that SOB that you're carrying so they leave you alone. I just don't want any other girl to go through what I went through because

I honestly lost almost four months of my life to this guy's mental abuse. So this might sound like a pretty dumb story at first, but it was legitimately one of the freakiest things to ever happen to me and to this day, I've never been able to properly explain it. I used to be the assistant manager at a 7-Eleven here in Austin. Really early morning shifts too sometimes and this one morning I'm just walking around the store doing a little stock check while sipping a cup of coffee, one of those disposable ones with a lid and stuff. Suddenly I think my fingers slipped on it or whatever because it went spilling out of my hand and onto the floor.

I sort of jumped back so the hot coffee wouldn't spill onto my shoes. But then when I looked down, I couldn't see any coffee cup and there wasn't a drop of spilled coffee on the floor or anything. I didn't immediately think anything weird had happened, I just figured the cup had rolled under a shelf or something so I got down on my knees to look for it and see if there was any kind of spillage at all. Nothing. No coffee cup, no spilled coffee, nothing. I stayed down there for a few seconds looking around, thinking it might have rolled this way or that, but I couldn't see it anywhere. I checked all the shelves in the aisle I was standing in,

thinking it might have been caught on one, but again, nothing. This was right before I was due to open the store so it wasn't like I had all the time in the world to look for it. So after rolling up the shutters and unlocking the doors and all that stuff, I went back to looking for the coffee cup. At that stage, I still wasn't freaked out or anything, more like just really confused and honestly I just put it down to tiredness from having gotten up so early. After my second attempt looking for it I still couldn't find it and that's the point where it started to really bother me. It's actually kind of hard to describe, like an itch that I couldn't scratch or something.

I needed to know where that freaking cup had gone for the sake of my own sanity. I had access to the security cameras and since it was early enough for no one to be in the store, I figured that I'd just go back and watch the cameras to see where the coffee cup went when I dropped it. Lo and behold, it did hit the floor and it did roll under one of the shelves, so I made a careful note of which one then walked back to see if it was there. But as I was doing that, I had this weird panicky feeling, because I knew I'd already checked under that particular shelf and there was nothing under it. I checked again, but with this weird feeling of uselessness, knowing that there was nothing there and again,

there wasn't. That's when I started to get this sick feeling, not knowing if it was like my mind playing tricks on me or if something else was going on, something that I couldn't possibly explain with any rational logic. It was at that point that I walked over to the coffee machine, grabbed another cup, then walked to the same shelf the first coffee cup had rolled under. Then I kneeled down and threw the coffee cup under the shelf, just to see what would happen. In an instant, I could hear that it slid all the way under the shelf to the aisle on the other side, and I didn't need to look to know it was there.

But in frustration, I kneeled down again and checked everywhere for any sign of that first coffee cup. And when I couldn't see anything, I came up in frustration and cursed out loud. Immediately, I'm greeted by the sight of my first customer of the day looking at me like I was absolutely insane. It didn't help the fact that I felt like I was absolutely losing my mind. In fact, it made me feel even worse and after I got him his pack of cigarettes and his lottery ticket and he walked out of the store, I honestly felt like I was about to burst into tears. I'd never felt that kind of feeling before, I honestly felt like I was about to burst into tears. I'd never felt that kind of feeling before, and I'd never felt anything like it since. Like the whole memory of me dropping the coffee cup was just a complete fabrication,

or that I'd never even had that coffee in my hand to begin with. But then the security cameras clearly captured me dropping it, and the footage was high definition enough to be able to see where it rolled, so that part was very real. But then the big question of the whole morning remained, where did my first coffee cup go? I'd like to be able to say that I just let the whole thing go, I mean it was basically inconsequential, but I ended up obsessing over the whole thing for months, going down internet rabbit holes regarding microscopic black holes, temporal faults, all kinds of physical anomalies that remained what was referred to as fringe science. I asked a ton of questions on the likes of Quora and Reddit regarding what could have happened to my coffee cup, and believe me when I say I had to dredge through a ton of nonsense just to get to anything that even attempted to explain it using logic and reason. It actually got to the point where it

was seriously affecting my mental well-being in a really serious way too. I wish I could say I only lost sleep over it too but in reality I was losing sleep, I wasn't eating right, my relationships were beginning to be strained. That one little incident with a coffee cup almost ruined my entire life. I still don't know where it went, but I learned to just let it go and although where it went might be explained by scientists someday, by actual physicists who know what they're talking about, I'm okay with not knowing until then. We're going back almost ten years ago now, but one morning I dropped my son off at school and then drove over to a nearby 7-Eleven with my infant daughter. It was pretty early in the morning so there were only one or two other customers, and one of them was this older looking guy with a walker who was slowly making his way around the

store. I didn't pay him too much attention other than feeling kind of sorry for him. Then I picked up the few items I needed then headed out to my car. Right as I'm putting my daughter in her car seat I hear a voice behind me. I turn and it's the old man with the walker, only there's something weirdly different about him than when I saw him in the 7-Eleven. He was walking upright, not leaning on the walker, and his voice sounded much younger than you would have expected from just looking at him. I remember all he said was cute kid. Then as I turned around, I only got the slightest look at the guy in his brand new posture before he slammed the walker into the back of my legs. The force made my knees buckle and I almost fell right on top of my young daughter. I'm not exactly the tallest woman in the world so the height reduction from my knees buckling had me falling forward into my open corridor

and I had really tried not to crush her as I fell. I honestly thought that he was trying to get me, which was bad enough, but when he grabbed me by the hair and started to drag me up and off of my daughter, I realized he was trying to get to her instead. I honestly didn't think that I could get any more terrified, but the realization that he was actually trying to take my infant daughter away from me was just too much to bear. I remember letting out the loudest, most ear-splitting scream I've ever let out in my life, begging him not to

take my baby. He was so much stronger and faster than he looked, and I guess that was all part of his fiendish scheme to have everyone let their guards down around him. It honestly seems like divine intervention now that I look back at it, but someone was just pulling into the small parking lot just as he almost had a hand on my daughter, and seeing the struggle had them instinctively honking their horn over and over and a bit to break it up. I think they figured it was just an incident of spousal abuse or something because they were just honking and didn't get out of their car until I screamed over and over again he's trying to take my baby.

The moment they heard that they came bursting out of their driver's side door but then the guy sprinted past the passenger side and out towards the main highway. The second he did, another car comes speeding up and stops by him which I first thought might have been another person coming to tackle him or something but instead the guy climbs into the second car and speeds off with a screech of its tires. What horrified me in the aftermath was that it was quite clearly a well-planned and almost perfectly executed attempt to kidnap my daughter, and I wouldn't be surprised in the least bit if it had worked on a previous occasion. After the kind stranger calmed me down, they helped me call the cops as I tried my best

to calm my daughter down in turn. She was still too young to really know what was going on but she picked up on my distress enough to be wailing and crying until I managed to lull her off to sleep. The cops who arrived at the 7-Eleven a short while after said that they'd never heard of such a thing happening there before but they were able to check the street cameras outside the 7-Eleven to try and get a clear image of the getaway car's number plate. I stuck around long enough to find out that the car's plates came back as stolen, and the cop I spoke to said that there was a good chance that they just ditched the vehicle somewhere after wiping it down for prints. If they had already planned such a detailed operation out, there was a good chance they

planned for that too. The only saving grace was that the officer assured me that my report was a step towards catching them. A small step, but a step nonetheless. The horrifying experience I went through that morning wasn't for nothing, as not only did the cops now have a description of the guy who tried to do the kidnapping, but their failure to kidnap my daughter meant that they'd probably hesitate before trying the same plan again. I took a lot of comfort in that idea, and if it wasn't for the cop taking the time to reassure me of that, I don't think I'd have dealt with the trauma of it as half as well as I did in the months that followed. But I did a lot of praying too. Desperate prayers that whoever had planned such a horrifying kidnap would never, ever be successful,

and that no one else would have to endure the pure horror that I had. To be continued... My name is Kenji, and I'm from Japan, and I would just like to say that I love your podcast. I'm still mastering my English, so excuse any errors in my email to you. Now I would like to also say that listening to your stories helps my English and improve more every single day. And speaking of stories, I have one of my own for you, and although I'm not sure what kind of video you would include this in, I can assure you that it was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. Back in the year 2018, I was still a university student and to support myself, I worked part-time at a 7-Eleven here in my home of Chiodacho. Since the new school year hadn't quite started yet, I was still working night shifts, as despite the name, the 7-11 here is always

open 24 hours. I tried to take advantage of the quiet nights by getting a head start on my studies, but that didn't stop the nights from being incredibly boring. So when I wasn't studying or serving the odd customer who came in, I was cleaning the store down. That's part of my nightly duties anyway, but then it becomes a real benefit during the night time shifts and I can use up at least an hour each time I wipe down all the shelves, fridges, and displays. So one night, I'm cleaning the store when a customer comes in and starts browsing through some of the stock. I rush back behind the counter to serve him, but he told me that there was no rush and he might be a while picking out some cold tea for his co-workers,

as he too was working the night time shift as a security guard for a nearby apartment building. I thanked him for his thoughtfulness, then went back to what I was doing, which was cleaning down one of the refrigerator windows. I picked up my cloth and spray and began wiping down the fridge again, when suddenly, the entire store begins to gently vibrate. At first, it felt like there was some kind of very large vehicle passing the store outside, like a tank or something. I know that might sound crazy, but that's what I thought at first. But then, when it began to get more intense and everything on the shelves started to rattle and shake, one single word went through my head.

Jishin, which means earthquake. The next thing I remember was turning with the intent of running back to the register to take cover under the counter, but as I turned, I saw the security guard running at me incredibly fast. I didn't know what he was planning on doing but when he shoved me back to the ground I found myself overcome with angry surprise thinking what did you do that for? Then before I could even ask him what he was thinking a pallet of glass bottles came crashing down from above the fridge I was cleaning which is where we kept all the spares

that would act as replacements for the fridge units. I'm not completely sure how heavy one of those are, but I know they're certainly heavy enough to cause some serious and permanent damage if one hit me on the head at those speeds, and it landed right where I'd been standing if the security guard hadn't shoved me out of the way. Suddenly, I wasn't angry anymore, not in the slightest, and all that fury changed into the purest form of gratitude I'd ever experienced in my life. I knew I had to repay it and we trained to take cover under the reinforced counter in case of an earthquake since it will protect us from any falling debris.

I shouted at the man to follow me to the counter and we both rushed towards it as best we could as all kinds of things fell from their shelves while the floor shook violently beneath our feet We took cover there for the next few minutes and although it felt like far longer the store stopped shaking after maybe only 30 to 40 seconds There's no doubt in my mind how that security guard saved my life or at least saved me

from some serious and irreparable brain injuries. It makes me wonder what would have happened if he hadn't have walked into that store that night. I'd have been all alone when the earthquake hit. There's a good chance that I'd be dead, having joined the list of 40 plus people who died that night when the earthquake struck, or at least not in a fit state to write this email to you. I wasn't a believer in fate or destiny before that night, but now, I'm not so sure. I used to work at a 7-Eleven here in the United States and the scariest thing that ever happened to me there was also the single most terrifying thing that's ever happened to me in my life.

It happened on a particularly quiet night and I was still kind of hungover from going out drinking the night before, so I wasn't even paying attention when the guy walked into the store. I heard the door sliding open, I heard his footsteps as he walked up to the counter, and then right when I was about to lift my head up to ask him what he wanted, he just slammed something down on the counter in front of me. I remember the first thing being the red splatter on my t-shirt. It was plain white, and the moment his hand impacted on the counter, all these little red specks appeared on my shirt. It was plain white, and the moment his hand impacted on the counter, all these little red specks appeared on my shirt. I already recoiled from the shock of having his hand

slammed down in front of me, but when I saw what he just slammed down next to the register, I recoiled even further. It was a tongue. An actual tongue. Even though it was soaked in blood, I could recognize the deep ridge running down the middle of it. It sounds like such a cliche when I think about it now, but I now know what people mean when they say that they were frozen in fear. The whole thing was an assault on my senses, and I think it just short-circuited my fight-or-flight mechanism to the point where I just didn't know what to do. Then the look in the guy's eyes as he stared at me, so calm but intense, with eyes so wide and unblinking that it was like he didn't have eyelids at all. It was only when he spoke

that I actually found the will to move, and all he said to me was, call 911. I bolted into the back office, locked the door behind me and immediately called the cops. All the while I watched the guy on the cameras just standing there at the register. He didn't move at all, he just seemed to be looking down and staring at the mess he'd left on the counter and given the gruesome nature of my emergency, there was a police patrol car and two cops pulling up outside in just a matter of minutes. The guy didn't put up any kind of fight when they moved to arrest him. He just held his wrists, allowed them to put the handcuffs on him, then let the cops take him away. Once he was safely out of the store, I walked out of the office, trying not to look at what was on the counter, then told the cops everything I knew.

It obviously wasn't all that much, but as I was talking to them, I noticed a few more police surrounding a car in the parking lot that still had the door open. I called the store manager from the McDonald's across the street, telling him that the cops had to close the store because it was an active crime scene. They rushed down to see what was going on, even though it was their day off, and after telling them what had happened, I went home to decompress. From what I heard later, the guy had gotten into an argument with his wife while out driving somewhere. Then at some point, he'd snapped, pulled up into a parking lot, stabbed her to death, then cut her tongue out. Then, for some point, he'd snapped, pulled up into a parking lot, stabbed her to death, then cut her tongue out. Then, for some reason, he picked hour 7-11 to walk into to slam the tongue he'd cut out of her mouth down onto the countertop. I was allowed to take a little bit of time off of work after the whole thing, as I just couldn't face going back there so soon. Even when I did go back, I was on edge the whole time for my first couple of shifts

and I just couldn't seem to shake the image of that bloody tongue just lying on the countertop right in front of me. The thing I just can't seem to shake is that it wasn't enough for the guy to actually stab and kill his own wife. He had to reach into her mouth afterwards and cut her tongue out. How completely insane with fury does a person have to be to do that? Like what could possibly possess someone to do something so horrifying to their own spouse? The guy didn't look like a monster either. He didn't look evil or deranged. All that gave his mental state away was that crazy look in his eyes, the one that had me frozen in fear. It just haunts me that seemingly normal people are capable of things like that. More than a decade ago, on one of the hottest days of the year,

I was taking my kids down to the 7-Eleven near our apartment block to get some big gulps. Just as we were walking past a public park, right near a tree line, this completely normal, well-dressed looking couple came out of the trees and starts walking right towards us. I actually couldn't believe it when the guy suddenly told me to give him my wallet and anything else in my pockets. I mean, I thought it was a dumb joke of some kind. They looked so well-dressed that they could have been office workers or something. I actually let out this nervous laughter, then asked if they were serious, and the guy answered my question by pulling out what looked like a fishing knife from his jacket pocket. When he opened it and pointed it at me,

I shoved my daughter behind me to protect her as best I could. But then just as I was going to do the same for my son, the woman grabbed his other arm and began pulling him towards her. I honestly felt like my heart was about to explode with fear. There's no other way of describing it and I suddenly just lost all sense of self-preservation as I leapt forward to attack this well-to-do looking woman who just grabbed my boy. The next thing I know, I felt what I could only describe as a cold punch under the ribs of my left side, and I looked down to see that the guy had buried his fishing knife in my stomach. What came next feels a little bit like divine intervention,

as two joggers had spotted what was going on and came over to intervene. This scared off at least one of the unassuming muggers, but as I turned to check on my kids, I just sort of felt like my legs fall out from underneath me, and I hit the ground hard. I remember hearing someone screaming and thinking it was my daughter, but when I looked, the woman who grabbed my son was on the ground crying and wailing with blood pouring out of her mouth. I honestly don't remember hitting her, but she seemed pretty adamant that I did and she

was actually trying to make out like she was the victim of the whole situation, maybe to avoid getting arrested when the cops showed up. The police that patrolled the park showed up not long after that and the cops actually started asking the woman what happened, like we were a couple or something. My kids had to tell them that she was the partner of the guy that stabbed me and this definitely threw the joggers off too because they had definitely assumed that that was the case too. The whole time I just kept begging someone to call an ambulance because I was pretty sure that I was bleeding to death. I got taken to the hospital and, to my complete disbelief, I was questioned about the incident as if though I was a suspect. I had no idea what this was about until a while after, when it looked more and more likely that I was going to be charged with battery for the woman

since it turns out she actually had a decently well-off family and had gotten into some vicious cycle of addiction with some trust fund junkies she met in the city. Her family actually tried to sue me when the charges didn't stick, but it was thrown out and she was sentenced for attempted kidnapping not long after. As for me, I had a tube in my chest for two weeks after my surgery to remove the knife, but I thankfully made a full recovery. Honestly, when I look back at it, I'm just glad my kids didn't get hurt in any way and I still run through all the horrific scenarios in my head where they didn't walk away from that situation unscathed. I work at a 7-Eleven part-time in between classes, and earlier this year, we got a little rush of customers in the early afternoon one time. I served two guys for coffee and smokes, and at the back of the line, there's this kid,

no older than maybe 11 or 12, just waiting there patiently with a backpack in his hand. I actually thought that he looked kind of cute, like a little gentleman out doing some grocery shopping for his mom or something. He gets to the front of the line and I ask him, what can I help you with, sir? In a kind of jokey, playful way. some grocery shopping for his mom or something. He gets to the front of the line and I ask him, what can I help you with sir? In a kind of jokey, playful way. Without a hint of emotion on his face, he just reaches into his backpack, pulls out a gun, and says, give me all the money. When he pointed it at me, I wasn't sure if it was real or not because where the hell would a 12 year old kid get their hands on a loaded gun like that? It's not like the 7-Eleven I work at is in some high crime area or whatever. It's actually located in a pretty nice place and although I've heard one or

two stories from co-workers about the trouble at the store, nothing had ever happened to me personally. There was one other guy in the store at the time and I had ever happened to me personally. There was one other guy in the store at the time and I looked over at him to see him kind of smiling at the kid, smiling and frowning, like he was amused but disapproved of the kid playing some dumb childish prank. I don't know guns, but I figured this guy did, so I tried calling this kid's bluff and asked him something like, you shouldn't point toys like that, sweetie. The cops might think it's real. The kid responds by cocking the gun and it has this real metallic sound that sends this kind of shock of fear running through me. I didn't know of any toy guns that made such

a realistic sound and as if to illustrate that he wasn't joking around, the kid pointed the gun in the air and actually fired a shot that went right over my head. After my ears got done ringing, and I came to, I heard give me all the money, in the same monotone, emotionless way, and I didn't hesitate in doing what he asked. I put as much cash as I could onto the countertop, then watched him fill his backpack with it before he just walked out of the store. I think the thing that scared me so much about it was that the kid just didn't seem to realize the gravity of the situation. He definitely seemed like he had something missing

about him. Like he didn't understand that he could have actually killed someone over whatever dumb thing he wanted to buy with that money, be it video games or candy or whatever it was. At least a grown-up armed robber understands that a gun is just a means of getting what he wanted and it's not a good idea to fire it or whatever just in case they accidentally shoot someone in the face. I get the feeling that even if I'd even tried to resist or tell the kid no, he'd have just shot me because it's what he assumed he should do. It's almost surreal to me how the closest I've ever come to death is at the hands of a child, someone who should have been so innocent and carefree and full of love,

but instead just felt nothing. One of the worst days of my life came right out of nowhere. I was working at my job at a local 7-Eleven, just burning away the daylight hours with no passion in life, no purpose, no nothing. Then suddenly, I feel this terrible headache coming on. I take a few painkillers, then got back to what I was doing. Some customer comes in, I ring them up for a coffee and a pack of donuts, and then that's the last thing I remember. I woke up in the hospital and the nurses were prepping me for surgery. I was told I'd been diagnosed with a bleed in my brain and that the surgery would involve drilling a hole in my skull to drain the fluid. Then, just as they were about to put me under, the head of neurology got in touch with

someone and called off the surgery completely. What actually happened is that I'd suffered an aneurysm and according to my doctor who told me this much later on, I would have probably been dead on the table just seconds after the surgery commenced. With a brain bleed the solution is to drill holes in your skull which relieves pressure and prevents your brain from swelling up and squeezing against your skull. If it does that, it can lead to some pretty serious brain damage, which is obviously very bad news. But in the case of an aneurysm, which is what is actually going on,

that kind of surgery can prevent sufficient blood flow to your brain due to the sharp drop in blood pressure in your brain tissue. This then basically starves your brain of oxygen, leading to acute tissue death, which obviously just straight up kills you. That head of neurology legitimately saved my life that day, and the whole thing dramatically changed my outlook on life. A person can still feel perfectly healthy, perfectly normal, and then one little weak blood vessel in your brain and boom. It can all be over for them. Life is a terrifyingly fragile thing, one that can really just end at any moment. I quit my job at the 7-Eleven when I was recovering in the hospital, then asked my dad and mom if they could put me up in my old bedroom while I trained to be a comic book artist. They

thought my choice of career was a little outlandish and I don't blame them, but I think the shock of almost losing me to some random medical thing made them re-evaluate a few things too. These days I work as a full-time comic book artist and although I don't make a ton of money, I feel like I'm actually living the life I want to, the one I was supposed to live, not one that's being dictated to me by my need for money or prestige or acceptance. I suppose I'm telling you all this because I hope everyone on earth can live that way too, and it honestly breaks my heart that some people don't have a choice in the matter. Because the idea that someone's life could just end while they were working some terrible

retail job, or doing just about anything they were working some terrible retail job, or doing just about anything they didn't want to do, I don't just find it heartbreaking, I find the concept utterly terrifying. Probably because I was just one surgery away from that exact same thing happening to me. 7-Eleven in a pretty good neighborhood here in Baton Rouge, so usually it's pretty boring. And whenever a customer does actually come in, they're usually really nice and polite. I know I totally lucked out with that little aspect of it, as I've heard some real horror stories of people who work in retail. But then this one night, I had a customer visit the store that put the fear of God into me, literally too. I was just minding my own business, playing with my phone behind the register when this sweet looking little old man came in.

He was short, even shorter than me, so maybe 5'2 at the most, and he was dressed in neatly pressed khakis and a buttoned down shirt, almost like he could have just walked out of a church on a Sunday morning or something. When he brought his items up to the register, I made the usual small talk of asking him how his night was going, something I always did to help kill a few minutes of what were always long and boring shifts. He didn't answer my questions though, and when I looked up at him, he had this intense, almost angry look on his face like I'd said something that had really offended him. I didn't ask anything other than, so what has you out at such an ungodly hour? And looking back, I think it was the mention of God that got him riled up,

because the next thing I know, as I was handing him his change, he firmly grabbed my wrist, made direct eye contact with me and said, Hell, it's a real place, and the devil has already got his hand on you, girl. I was so scared that I opened my hand up and the change just rattled onto the countertop as he stared into my eyes. Then, with this thunderous look on his face, he swiped his change off the counter and just walked out of the store. I've never been shaken up by a customer like that before. I don't know if it was how deceiving his appearance was, how late at night and vulnerable I was, or if it was the fact that everyone was always nice, even in a job where it's so common for people to be just total jerks. I think maybe it was a combination of all three.

Just this perfect storm of surprise and fear that actually left me standing there, shaking in the quiet of the store. I've never had a customer like that since, but I find I always have my guard up now whenever I'm working late like that, because the one thing it taught me is that you definitely can't judge a book by its cover. I used to work at a 7-Eleven that was right next to an art school campus, so in addition to all the snacks and drink, we had a little stationary section and kept some stuff behind the counter too. One of the things we kept behind the counter were scissors, the kind that are sealed in a plastic casing and one day, this customer comes in, walks up to the counter with a Gatorade, then asks if he can have a pair of scissors too.

Of course, I grab a pair for him, scan them, then tell him the price of both of his items. But instead of getting his wallet out, he immediately starts removing the plastic packaging from the scissors. I didn't think it too suspicious at first. I mean, I figured he really needed them for some kind of minor emergency or something, and that he'd pay for them after cutting whatever it was that needed to be cut. Instead, once they're out of the packaging, he grips the handle like they're a knife or something, looks me right in the eye and says, I could just kill you with these right now, you know that? I was so stunned that I just didn't know what to say,

and I know he enjoyed the fearful look on my face because of the way he started smiling. All I could do was reach for my phone in my pocket so I could start to dial 911, knowing I had no real way of defending myself and just hoping the cops would arrive before he actually killed me. But just as I tapped the numbers out, I looked up to see him walking away from the counter, laughing to himself as he walked out of the store. I stayed on the line with 911 for a while, shaking as I told him what had happened, and when the cops showed up a little while later, they took their time since it wasn't an ongoing situation, and officer reviewed the security camera footage.

Turns out, the same guy had been doing the same thing all over town, picking out girls working retail on their own before shoplifting basic items like that. He had the same M.O. every single time too. He'd always get away with it by telling the girl that he could kill them with whatever he was stealing, be it a knife or scissors or even just a pen on one occasion. He never actually hurt anyone, not yet, according to the officer, but the cops were extra focused on getting him in cuffs because they felt like it was only a matter of time before he actually crossed that line and did hurt someone. Even though he took his time to show up, the cop was still really helpful and reassuring, and he gave me his cell number to call him

directly the next time he walked into the store. I mean, how much of a notorious kleptomaniac do you have to be to actually have a detective assigned to your case? And although I didn't hear about it afterward, I sincerely hope the guy never crossed that line and actually hurt a girl with any of the items he ended up stealing. The End Born on January 30th of 1989, Brandon Swanson grew up in the Minnesotan city of Marshall. Graduating high school in 2007, Brandon went on to study wind turbines at the Minnesota West Community and Technical College campus in a town called Canby. And by all accounts, Brandon was a dedicated student who enjoyed the idea of contributing to a brighter, greener future. May 13th of 2008 saw the end of the academic year, and to celebrate the cessation of studies,

Brandon and his friends attended two separate parties held in the college's student accommodation. Friends of his later said that Brandon had consumed alcohol at both parties, but since he knew he had to drive home later that night, he stuck to just one or two and refrained from getting drunk. At around 1am on the morning of May 14th, Brandon departed Cambie in his Chevrolet Lumina and began the 30-mile drive back to Marshall. It should have been a relatively simple southeasterly drive, but at around 1.45am that morning, Brandon called his parents on his cell phone to tell them that he'd driven his car into a ditch and despite his best efforts, he couldn't seem to remove it. He assured them that he was uninjured, but asked them to drive out to his location so they could

give him a ride home. It's possible that Brandon neglected contact emergency services because he feared he'd fail a breathalyzer test, even though it's entirely possible that he was under the legal limit. Besides, he was alone in the dark, shaken up by his near-death experience and pining for the protection of his parents. Moments after the phone call was made, Annette and Brian Swanson climbed into their pickup truck, then drove along Highway 68 in the direction of Canby. Brandon didn't know exactly where he was, so his parents kept him on the phone and told him to signal passing cars with a flashlight so they'd be able to identify his position. Yet after driving for around a half an hour, Annette and Brian had failed to spot any sort

of flashing lights from the roadside. Brian Swanson then asked his son if he could see any of the lights from any towns around him, with Brandon replying that he could. Brian suddenly realized that it was very possible that the lights were coming from the small town of Linde, which is roughly seven miles southwest of Brandon's hometown of Marshall. In order to better coordinate their search efforts, Brandon and his parents agreed to meet up in the parking lot of a bar that they knew of in Lind, and both began heading in that direction while staying on the phone with one another. However, just after 2.30am, exactly 47 minutes into the phone call, Brandon's parents heard something on the other end of the

line that made their blood run cold. Their son suddenly cursed loud, as if taken by surprise by something, then remained silent for the remainder of the call. His parents called his name into their phone over and over again, but failed to get a response from him. Brian Swanson then ended the call before attempting to call his son back, but Brandon failed to answer. His parents then continued calling his cell phone over and over again, and when Brandon neglected to pick up a single call, it became increasingly obvious that something horrible was happening.

At around 6.30am, Brian and Annette Swanson contacted the Lynn Police Department to report their son missing, but to their horror, the cops didn't take their concerns very seriously at all. They were told that it was hardly unusual for young men that age to stay out all night after the last day of college classes, with Annette Swanson recalling that one of the officers said, and I quote, Brandon has a right to be missing. Brian and Annette had to forcefully make the case that Brandon wasn't just out partying, nor had any kind of falling out taken place. It was only once they had explained the dire nature of the situation that the Lynn Police Department took any action. Later that morning, deputies discovered Brandon's abandoned vehicle

lying in a ditch just off of Gravel Road along the Lincoln County line, about a mile north of Highway 68. Given the location of the scene, Lincoln County Sheriff Jack Vizzecki found himself drafted into the investigation and was charged with giving a statement to the media regarding the progress of the investigation. Vizzecki stated that after examining Brandon's car, there was no obvious signs of foul play, but that it was also clear that whatever happened to him had occurred some distance away. They had attempted to employ some rather traditional trafficking techniques, but due to the surrounding area consisting of mostly grass and gravel, it was almost impossible to determine which direction Brandon had walked. With his cell phone being traced to the nearby Yellow Medicine County,

ground search teams focused their efforts around that area, with multiple teams of bloodhounds being assisted by an aerial flyover unit. Later that day, one of the trafficker dog teams picked up a three-mile scent trail that snaked through some nearby fields in the direction of an abandoned farm, then along the Yellow Medicine River to a point where it appeared to enter the stream. Brian Swanson recalled that Brandon had mentioned hearing running water as he walked, so the authorities began to theorize that he may have fallen into the river and drowned. Boats from the state's Department of Natural Resources were deployed along the river, deputies walked the river's banks, and ATVs were deployed in the

surrounding area. After the original search efforts turned up no traces of Brandon, most of the resources were reallocated to different missing persons cases. Many believe that since Brandon hadn't showed up again within 48 hours, there was a good chance that he was dead, but others refuse to give in to such a cynical mindset. The Swansons left their porch light on all night every night as a symbol of their hope that Brandon would eventually return, while Sheriff Vizzecki continued to walk the two-mile search area of the Yellow Medicine every day for the next month, after promising the Swanson family that he'd do all he could to bring their boy home alive. By the fall of 2008, Sheriff Vazeky had convinced neighboring sheriff departments to resume the search for Brandon, and with planted fields having been recently harvested, there was no better time to do so. In these searches, cadaver dogs began to pick up the

scent of human remains into an area northwest of Porter, one that had not been searched during earlier efforts, and by spring of 2011, more than 122 square miles had been searched. Yet despite such a mammoth attempt to recover a trace of the missing Brandon, not a single usable lead could be recovered. For all intent and purposes, it was like the young man had simply dropped off the face of the earth. As far as tangible theories to explain his whereabouts are concerned, there's little evidence to suggest that Brandon drowned that night. Brandon was merely within earshot of the Yellow Medicine River and was nowhere near the edge of it. On top of that, when one of the cadaver dogs followed Brandon's scent to the water, it continued up across the other side and along that riverbank

to another gravel road which led to the Yellow Medicine County line. Brian Swanson also recalls that any alcohol his son consumed earlier in the evening notwithstanding, he did not seem disoriented or confused during their phone conversations. As for the possibility that Brandon absconded of his own volition, there is little to no evidence to support that. He and his parents had a close, loving relationship, enough so that his first thought was to call them at the first signs of trouble. He had never professed any desire to run away before and, if he had, there would

have surely been sightings of him in the surrounding areas during the days that followed. The only theory that cannot be ruled out is that of some kind of foul play, and this is the explanation that Sheriff Vizzecki had put the most stock in. To him, the fact that Brandon's final words to his parents consisted of a single, terrified expletive tells him all he needs to know. Someone could have been lurking in the shadows, he once said, and they got him that way. But who exactly is they? Many have suggested that Brandon is the victim of a single or serial murderer, the identity of whom has yet to be established. Highway 68 is frequented by interstate long-haul truckers, and some of the most prolific and uncatchable killers in American criminal history have practiced that exact profession.

But if Brandon was set upon by someone who intended to kill him, there's no evidence of any violence being committed in the immediate vicinity of Highway 68. It's very possible that Brandon was abducted, marched off to a different location somewhere in Yellow Medicine County, then killed and disposed of in a manner which left no trace. But what if he wasn't killed, and whoever took him had a fate worse than death in store? What if Brandon is still alive, and became a victim of human trafficking that night? What if those final words spoken to his parents were prompted by the sight of someone who wished to keep him a terrified, starving prisoner, one to be abused daily, long after those that loved him believed he'd passed

on. Of course, the last point is complete speculation on my part, but with the complete absence of evidence, it's impossible not to touch on every plausible explanation, even if some are increasingly outlandish. It might sound incredibly morbid, but perhaps some cases of human trafficking might be something of a blessing in disguise. It means that there's a slim possibility that Brandon and his parents will be united someday, if by some miracle he manages to escape. The alternative is almost too horrible to contemplate. That one night, a promising young man made a single foolish mistake after a night of celebration. And while on the phone with his concerned but loving parents,

while they were trying to get their only son to safety, his life was violently snatched away. Back when I was 19, I'm a girl by the way, I used to work at this cookie stand in the big mall not too far from my house. We had this cheap business cell that we'd used to take pickup orders on so when it started ringing, I rushed to pick it up so I could take the order. I hear this guy's voice on the other end and right away, I started thinking it's a prank call or something. This might sound weird but you know when you can practically hear a person smiling on the other end and right away I started thinking it's a prank call or something. This might sound weird but you know when you can practically hear a person smiling on the other end or rather trying to hold back laughter or something. His voice sounded exactly like that.

He says, uh, do you make cookies to order? I told him, sure. And that we make chocolate chip, double chocolate, macadamia nut, raspberry, white chocolate, all those. And then he starts asking a bunch more questions, sounding weirdly anxious as he does so. Asking what time we're open until, where in the mall we are, all this other stuff. And I'm just staying polite and answering all his questions. When I'm done answering his questions he asks me what types of cookies we make again. And I really started getting the feeling that something was weird and off with this call. I'd literally only just told the guy what kinds of cookies we made and it's not like it was a huge list or whatever. But still, I stay professional and repeat myself.

Then he just says, okay thanks, and ends the call. I'm thinking to myself, well that was weird, but I just carry on with my shift as normal thinking the guy just might turn up and buy something or whatever later. About an hour later, the phone goes again and when I answer, I can blatantly recognize the exact same voice on the other end of the phone asking me the exact same questions as before in the exact same tone. Uh, do you, um, make cookies to order? Again, I keep it professional. It was my first real job

and I really didn't want to get fired, but I was definitely starting to feel like I was the victim of some dumb prank call, like maybe it was being recorded or something. So although it was definitely starting to feel like I was the victim of some dumb prank call. Like maybe it was being recorded or something. So although it was definitely a little passive aggressive, I opted for something such as... Oh, hey, it's you again. We spoke earlier, right? Well, if you remember, we make chocolate chip, double chocolate, macadamia nut or raspberry, and white chocolate. You want me to put you down for an order? Just let me know what time you can swing by to pick them up. There's a slight pause and I actually think he's going to place an order, but all he says is, your hair looks really pretty

today. For a second, I thought, knew it. This is some sort of weird prank. But then I paused and thought to myself, can he actually see me? I was so taken aback that I remember replying, excuse me? And although I expected to just hear a bunch of guys laughing, there was just silence before he just hung up. And I suddenly found myself really on edge, going back and forth between thinking it was a prank and thinking, oh god, can he actually see me? I was so distracted by it that my next customer actually asked me if I was okay, and as much as I assured him that I was, I was definitely still feeling a little on edge. By saying that, it didn't take me long to assure myself that it was such a generic

comment that he probably wasn't watching me and that it was all just some creepy prank call, probably from a bunch of bored middle schoolers or something. But I also had this deep suspicion that whoever it was would call back eventually, and as it turned out, that suspicion was correct. Only maybe a half an hour after the second call, the phone in the cookie stall goes off again and this time, I definitely recognized the last few digits of the guy's number. Part of me just didn't want to answer the call, but another part of me wanted to let the guy know that he definitely couldn't intimidate me with just a few prank calls. So, I picked up the phone and gave him a curt, yes? He then says

it again, your hair looks really pretty today. So, I hit him with a, oh yeah? What style is it in? So, then imagine my horror when he not only describes the exact style it was in, but also brings up the pink highlights I had dyed into it like a week earlier. I didn't know what else to say other than, you call here again and I'm reporting your number to the cops, before hanging up. As soon as I did, I started leaning out of the stall and looking around trying to spot someone hanging around and watching me from a distance, but there was no one there. That really freaked me out, thinking the person had walked past me at some point during my shift, that I'd probably looked

at them and just had no idea that they had such creepy intentions for me. Just to be sure, I ended up saving the number in the phone under creep so there'd be no doubt about who was calling in the future. If the creep number came up, I'd just end the call without answering, then report the whole thing to my boss and the cell phone company so we could get the number blocked. They tried calling a few more times about an hour later, but I just did as I'd planned and ended the calls almost as soon as they came up. After that, they stopped trying and by the time it was the last hour of my shift and almost time to close up the stall, I started to feel a little calmer again.

Then, right as I was about to close up shop, the phone rang again. This time from a different number than the creep's so I immediately picked it up. As soon as I say hello, I realize that I've made a huge mistake. It was the creep and all he'd done was switch numbers somehow when he realized that I wasn't going to pick up. I also realized that I'd made a huge mistake in telling him when we closed because the first thing he says to me is, you're close to closing time right? Then I'm guessing you're walking out to the parking lot to your car. That had my heart racing, because yes, that's exactly what I was going to do,

and either it was just a really good guess, or he'd been watching me way longer than I thought he'd had. For a second, I just didn't know what to say in return. I was so freaked out that I was actually stunned in the silence. But although the words didn't come immediately, I just knew that I had to be aggressive to try and show that I wouldn't go down without a fight. It took every ounce of bravery I had in me and it may have been an overreaction initially, but I told him if I see anyone following me to my car, I'd claw their eyes out. I thought that might be enough, but the guy just laughed, then started saying stuff so evil and obscene that I honestly don't want to repeat it. Whoever was calling me that day had something wrong with them to dream up things like that.

I know I should have just hung up the call straight away, but I think I was just so stunned for a second that I kept on listening. Something about their tone changed too. They sounded less like a dumb teenager and more like an intelligent, older man who was so full of this sick, twisted aggression. I was so scared that it actually took me a minute to get myself together enough to hang up. And as soon as I did, I called my dad and told him everything. How I didn't feel comfortable closing the stall on my own and would he be okay driving down to walk me to my car. Of course, he came as quickly as he could and he called the cops as I was closing up to tell them the number the guy called from. I was fighting back tears the whole time and when I finally got

to my car I just burst into tears. My dad comforting me as I told him some of the things the guy had said to me over the phone. Just repeating them had him going pale and shaking with anger. I've honestly never seen him like that before and every single evening after that he'd show up an hour after I finished work, watching as I closed the stall down and then walking me to my car. For some reason the cops were unable to trace the exact caller and they couldn't actually track the guy down, but they told us that they'd pinged the numbers off of two different cell towers in our county and he was definitely a local guy calling from somewhere relatively close. And other than that there was nothing they could do but tell us to contact them if it ever happened

again, as well as practicing caution when it came to my daily routine. That just wasn't good enough for me or dad, as it amounted to hoping that nothing would happen to me, and as dad put it, hope is not a plan. It sucked having to leave that job, as it was pretty much unsupervised and I got to take home any cookies that weren't sold at the end of the day, as it was pretty much unsupervised and I got to take home any cookies that weren't sold at the end of the day. But it was either quit or risk the situation with my stalker escalating to the point where he'd actually show up and do something. Like I said, I don't really want to repeat the things that he'd said he'd do to me, but I can promise you, they really didn't sound like empty, abstract threats. They sounded like

things that he'd put some serious thought and planning into, which is exactly why I found them so upsetting. We later found out that another girl, who worked at the same mall I used to, ended up getting similar phone calls that ended up in similar threats, so it wasn't just me that had to suffer through that kind of abuse. In fact, it's actually kind of shocking how many other girls experience that kind of abuse in their lives at some point. And although most of the creeps don't actually follow up with it, I can tell you from experience that it can be an extremely stressful and frightening ordeal, especially when you're young. In the year 2008, life began to take a turn for the better for 49-year-old Salt Lake City native, Charles Peck. Following a messy divorce back in his home state of Utah, he had met a girl named Andrea from California,

and she had recently asked him to move in with her so they could begin planning their dream wedding. However, this wedding would never go ahead as Charles would tragically become caught up in one of the most horrifying disasters in US history, one which would spark off one of the most chilling unsolved mysteries of our age. On September 12th of 2008, Charles was on his way to Los Angeles for a job interview. He had worked as a customer service agent for Delta Airlines at Salt Lake City International Airport for 19 years, and he knew finding a job in LA was a crucial part of his romance-fueled relocation. Charles had gotten engaged to his

fiancée, Andrea Katz, just over seven months earlier, and the painful process of his Utah divorce had left him pining for a change of scenery. So, once they learned of a customer service vacancy at Van Nuys Airport, the couple felt like fate had sprinkled a little bit of good fortune onto their plans. After flying over to LA from Salt Lake City, Charles bought an LA MetroLink ticket to its final stop at Moore Park. There were almost 250 people on that Friday evening train, and it was due to arrive at its final destination at 4.45pm, where Andrea planned to pick Charles up. Engineer Robert Sanchez was at the helm, and he had guided the train from Union Station during the second half of the split shift.

However, as the locomotive passed through the Chatsworth part of the city, Robert made a single fatal mistake. He had ran a red light. Accident investigators would later confirm that Robert had been texting a friend at the time, and it was this that had caused him to miss the stop signal and fail to give right of way to where the double track merged into one line. As a result of his negligence, the Metro collided with a freight train traveling in the opposite direction at a combined speed of 83 mph, and the results were nothing short of catastrophic.

Upon learning of the collision, emergency vehicles rushed to the scene of the accident before dozens of first responders worked frantically to free those who'd become trapped inside the mangled carriages. L.A. firefighters later described a vision of pure hell, with mangled and maimed bodies, screaming survivors and almost half a mile of torn and twisted metal lying under the blistering SoCal sun. One firefighter described how he'd witnessed a priest, who just so happened to be a surviving passenger, giving the last rites to some of the dead and dying. Andrea Katz, Charles' fiancée, was understandably terrified when she got word of the crash while en route to Moorpark station.

Yet upon checking her cell phone, she discovered she had a number of missed calls from his cell phone, which obviously gave her a great deal of faith that he had survived the crash. When Charles wouldn't answer her return calls, she tried not to worry too much, as there was a good chance that he was caught up in the whirlwind of chaos while following any major disaster. Instead, she contacted some of his immediate family members, who began making their way to Chatsworth in an effort to track him down. In the hours that followed the Metrolink crash, around 35 calls were made from Charles' cell phone to his friends and

relatives. Those that answered heard only static rather than his voice, but all assumed that he was either trapped in the wreckage, too injured to talk, or that his cell phone had somehow been damaged in the collision. Confident in her assumption that he was still alive, Andrea recalled yelling support and encouragement to Charles through the din of white noise, assuring him that rescue was on the way and that everything would be fine. Efforts to free those trapped in the wreckage carried on throughout the night, with rescue workers using the signal from Charles' phone to try to locate him. Calls from his cell phone would continue until 3am on the morning after the crash,

with each one brightening the hopes of those who believed that he was still alive. Then an hour after the calls stopped, the rescue team finally found Charles, but contrary to the hopes of those who cared for him, he had not survived the crash. But not only that, his remains were in such a state that medics determined that he had died on impact. He was one of at least 25 people to be killed that day in what remains one of the worst commuter train accidents in US history. Yet if that was the case, how could he have been making phone calls to his loved ones

for the past 11 hours? Many have suggested the impossible, that Charles' spirit was somehow using his phone's frequency to contact those close to him for one final goodbye. Scores of webpages detail people's accounts of calls, voicemails, and emails that have been received from the recently deceased, and even seasoned horror author Dean Kuntz had claimed that his dead mother once made contact with him to warn him about a dangerous situation. Yet despite them being improbable, there are certain unifying factors among such calls. They usually occur a short time after the person's death, typically reach people to

whom the deceased was close in life, and are often either distorted by static or sound as if though the caller is very far away. In an interview with CNN, fringeology author Steve Volk called these instances crisis apparitions, and suggested that such phenomenon occur when a very strong bond exists between two people, one that cannot be extinguished by the death of an individual. This might be a compelling argument, but I think we can agree it's not a particularly scientific one, and in the interest of veracity, we're forced to consider more tangible explanations. Numerous more believable

suggestions have been put forward which attempt to explain the many calls Charles Bone made following his grim demise. Shockingly, some have argued that the calls may have been the work of heartless trolls, who sought to spread anguish and chaos in the aftermath of the catastrophe. Yet even the most cursory analysis shows that this is highly unlikely, as only a select group of people knew he was traveling that day, and would have taken an extremely powerful piece of hardware to scan the exact site of the disaster for phones to hack. Another more feasible theory is that of a device malfunction. Yet a fault with the handset wouldn't explain why the calls only seemed to extend to Charles' loved ones and not his wider contacts. It was as if someone had hand-selected only those

closest to him, as if it really was Charles himself that was controlling the phone beyond the grave. Despite the many attempts to categorically explain what happened with Charles' phone that day, no one has ever been able to do so, and a huge contributing factor is that his cell phone was never actually recovered from the Metro's wreckage. Perhaps the whole thing is just a frighteningly unfortunate failure of technology, nothing but a tragic coincidence. But just maybe, Charles really did somehow cross the barrier between our world and the next, as a way of saying a heartbreaking final farewell. Farewell. A few years ago, my daughter and her friends wanted to go to London for her birthday. It was to be Ella's first time traveling down there unaccompanied, but we reckon that since

she was 18, technically an adult, and was traveling with her friends, that it wouldn't be a problem. She had plenty of spending money since she had her phone with her too, she had access to map applications and other things that would prevent her from getting lost or what have you. As long as she kept her phone with her, she'd have everything she needed and wouldn't lose her train tickets as they were those e-ticket things. We also set her up with Apple Pay so that she couldn't accidentally spend all of her cash and be left with nothing for emergencies either. Don't get me wrong, me and her mom were still quite nervous about her heading off on her own for the first time, but all the things I just mentioned definitely eased our minds when it

came to her safety. As the morning ticked over to lunchtime, I got a text from her saying that she'd arrived safely and that she was heading to Oxford Street to get some shopping done. After that, I tried to distract myself with football as best I could so that I wasn't constantly worrying about her. Her mom was the same, telling me to just relax that she'd call us if she really needed anything. In the end, I actually managed it too. I put my phone on charge, went to do some gardening, and had a cup of tea in the sun while my wife went off to her Pilates classes in the early afternoon. Then it was about 2 o'clock when I decided that I'd waited long enough to give Ella a call to see how she was getting on.

So I get up and head over to my phone, only to find that I have about 4 or 5 missed calls from Ella. I was kicking myself for not having my phone closer to me and I somehow managed to leave it on that do not disturb mode that I put on when I go to bed, but it wasn't exactly like I was panicking or anything as I called her back. But then, as soon as the call was answered and heard the voice on the other end, I felt my stomach drop. All I heard was, hello? And I instantly knew the person answering the phone was not my daughter. It was a deep voice, a man's voice, and for a second I actually thought that I might have called someone

else by accident. I had to pull the phone away from my face to check if the call was connected to Ella and not one of my work colleagues or something. When I asked, where's Ella? There was a slight pause before the man on the other end just said, Ella's gone. Then a second later, he hung up. Bit of a weird reference here, but remember in Jaws when there's the bit with Martin Brody seeing a shark attack happen for the first time and the camera sorta zooms in around him as this sense of pure horror hits him? That's exactly what it felt like, standing there with the phone in my hand, realizing that something

completely terrible might have just happened to my little girl. I need to throw in a little side note at this point, and that's how if I'd actually kept calm and thought sensibly about the whole thing, I'd probably have avoided most of the horror that came after. But I didn't. I went into complete and utter panic mode, and for some stupid reason I decided to call Ella's phone back. Whenever whoever it was picked up on the other end, all I heard was laughing, which filled me with this combination of absolute terror and absolute rage. I demanded to know where my daughter was, and the person on the other end sounded nothing short of pure evil when they said something along the lines, somewhere she'll never escape from. But don't worry,

we're gonna treat her really good. I just started shouting, where is she, where is she, over and over again, stopping only when I heard the same sick laughter coming down the line. I only managed to pull myself out of it when the guy started saying, do you want to talk to her? Do you? Well beg. Beg us and maybe we'll let you. I knew I had to do something. I mean actually do something before it was too late. I just hung up the phone and dialed 999. I was still telling the operator that my daughter was missing, describing what she looked like and who she was with when my wife came back from her class. When I told her what was happening, she went into panic mode too, and I struggled to hold back the tears when she cried

telling herself that she knew it was a huge mistake to let Ella go to London on her own. But then, when she calmed down slightly, she got out her phone and started calling someone, and it was only when I asked her who it was she was calling that I realized that I might have severely overreacted. I realized that I hadn't called any of Ella's friends, and we made sure to get their numbers as well as the numbers of their parents right around the time that Ella announced that she wanted the day trip to celebrate her 18th. I waited on hold, waited for some kind of detective or something, while my wife suddenly perked up with one of Ella's friends answering her phone.

I heard her saying, Sophie, who are you? Is Ella there? Then there was a brief pause before she almost wailed and, oh my god, thank god for that. Then she burst into tears again. She then got up from a kitchen chair, walked over to me for what I thought was a hug of relief. But she didn't hug me, she just started smacking me about the face and shoulders. Ella was fine. She just lost her phone and it just so happened that a gang of absolute oxygen thieves had picked it up, then decided to play an extremely cruel prank on the person who called her phone, the person they knew was her dad because the

number was labeled as such. It was all for nothing. I completely overreacted, let the cruel laughter of those little idiots and the panic of thinking that I'd lost her completely impair my judgment. And I felt like an idiot too, like a complete and utter moron. But there's one thing I need you to understand and that's how what I thought was happening, what I wrongfully assumed was happening, is every parent's worst nightmare. The kind of fear that thought fills you with, you just can't compare it with anything else. Then I was so prepared for the worst that it was almost like I wanted those prejudices to be confirmed. I wasn't an overly protective paranoid father. I was right. The world was horrific. It was cruel, a predatory place, and I never should have let Ella out of my sight. Only, that wasn't true. All that had happened is that her phone had fallen out of her handbag, or she'd left it on a table and some little idiot had

decided to play a cruel prank on me. I suppose this is a bit of a washout story in some ways. Ella was never really in any danger, it was all just in my head. But for a few moments I thought my entire world had ended. I thought me and my wife would be two of those parents that your heart bleeds for, making some tearful appeal on TV while begging their little girl's captors to let her go. For as long as they've been around, scary stories and urban legends alike have used the telephone as a central theme. From H.P. Lovecraft's The Statement of Randolph Carter to the opening scene of the multi-part Scream franchise, creepy telephone calls have captured the imagination of worldwide audiences for almost a hundred years now. Yet back in 2007, a series of mysterious and terrifying events in the U.S. state of Washington proved once and for all that real life can be far stranger than fiction. This is the story of the Restricted Caller.

In the Tacoma suburb of Fircrest, 16-year-old Courtney Kirkendall began to experience something very strange indeed. Her friends began to complain that she was sending them some rather cryptic text messages and asked her what they meant. But there was one major problem. Courtney hadn't been texting them at all, and she had the empty sent folder to prove it. Before Courtney's parents had the chance to address the issue, her phone began to receive a series of phone calls from someone with a scratchy voice, who called from a number which simply read restricted. The calls consisted of the man with the scratchy voice, who called from a number which simply read, restricted. The calls consisted of the man with the scratchy voice describing whatever Courtney was doing at that particular moment,

letting her know in the creepiest way possible that he was somehow watching her from afar. Yet these calls weren't just restricted to young Courtney, as one of the Kirkendall's neighbors, Andrea McKay, also found herself a target of mysterious calls. One day, she answered a phone while cutting limes in her kitchen, only to have the mysterious caller tell her that he preferred lemons. By the time that their Kirkendall family noticed that all of their cell phones were behaving strangely, they decided to contact their local police department. They complained that their phones were not only sending text messages on their own,

but they were also turning themselves on unprompted, with the ringtone spontaneously changing. They also informed the police of the bizarre phone calls that they were receiving and, after turning the devices over to the police, they were assured that any further calls would be traced in order to identify the mysterious caller. In the days that followed, when a call came into one of the family's phones, police began to quickly trace the origin of it. Yet when they finally identified the source of the calls, they came from a place they least suspected. You see, according to the trace program, the calls were coming from Courtney's phone,

even when it was switched off. This led police to recommend that the family switch cell phones altogether, but since they couldn't afford to, they simply kept their current phones and hoped the problem would subside on its own. But instead of petering out, the calls only grew more intense. Heather Kirkendall, the family matriarch, claimed that during one call, the scratchy voice caller said, they say you're going to die, we hate you, we're going to murder you. The calls also started coming during the midnight hours and even if the family members turned their phones off, whoever had control of their devices would simply switch them on before calling. In the end, they were forced to take the batteries out at night in order to get any real sleep. Arguably, the most terrifying call came to the neighboring McKay

family, with the caller claiming that there was going to be a shooting at their children's school. The caller also seemed to know the exact school that they were attending, which made the threat all the more frightening for their terrified parents. The McKays were so scared and upset by the call that they called the threat into their children's school, but thankfully, no such shooting ever occurred. The next escalation in the calls came when one didn't feature the scratchy voice caller at all, but rather a recording of a private conversation between members of the Kirkendall family. One such call featured a recording of a conversation between one of the family members and a detective

who was dealing with their case, as if to show that the caller was well aware of their attempts to apprehend him. It was like the caller knew the police were almost incapable of catching him, and the Fircrest PD had stated on multiple occasions that the investigation was floundering. It's entirely possible that the scratchy-voiced man had heard the submission somehow, in the same way he'd listened to and recorded the family's conversations. Despite the caller violating several federal laws, law enforcement was still warming up to the idea of cybercrime in 2007. Fircrest Police Chief John Cheeseman told the media,

We're almost dumbfounded. We've never seen anything like this. Their confusion was such that, at one point, the police actually suspected one of the family members as being the guilty party, with one detective stating that, at this point, we aren't saying it's someone inside the family, but it's someone that is close enough to them to know this much about them. It seems like it's someone who is tied into the group, a family member, a friend, or enemy. For a brief period, the story of the Kirkendall's digital harassment

drew the interest of both the regional and national media. But when the police failed to bring about a speedy resolution to the case, journalistic interest seemed to drop off entirely. To this day, the case remains entirely unresolved, and although incidents of phone hacking are relatively rare, they're surprisingly easy to pull off. Phone hacking, or phone breaking as it used to be called, has been going on since the telephone was first invented. Telecommunications enthusiasts began by hacking payphones and learning how to impersonate phone operators in order to make free calls, and if a person had access to the right technology, tapping a phone line was a frighteningly simple process. Even today, in the age of advanced digital security and two-step authentication, phone hacking is still a very real possibility.

With hackers remaining only one or two steps behind even the most cutting-edge technology. And these days, it's clear we rely on our phones for almost everything. They serve as our wallets, our televisions, our record players, our cameras and our photo albums. You need only remind yourself of the minor panic you last experienced when you thought you'd lost your phone. It's scary enough thinking that we've become addicted to them but perhaps it's even scarier to realize that they're perhaps one of the most potent attack vectors in our lives. There are people out there with the power to turn something that makes our lives easier into something that can make our lives a living hell. With just the small piece

of plastic we carry in our pockets, someone can steal from us, blackmail us, and terrorize us. So unless we, as a society, begin to exercise a kind of sharper digital discipline, the things we rely on most remain gateways by which pure torture can be unleashed. To be continued... Thanks for listening. Click that notification bell to be alerted of all future narrations. I release new videos every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 7 p.m. Eastern Standard Time. If you get a story, be sure to submit them to my subreddit, r slash Let's Read Official, and maybe even hear your story featured on the next video. And if you want to support me even more, grab early access to all future narrations for just $1 a month on Patreon, and maybe even pick up some Let's Read merch on Spreadshirt. And check out the Let's Read podcast,

where you can hear all of these stories in big compilations and save huge on data. Located anywhere you listen to podcasts. Links in the description below. Thanks so much, friends, and I'll see you again soon.